Tromblon, a French hardcore group, deliver an outpouring of poignant passion on their new record Je me fiche d’être Français, which translates as “I don’t care if I’m French.”
Tromblon perform pointedly free-wheeling and noisy hardcore, with dramatic rhythmic flourishes that seem to capture a feeling of inward anguish before eventually moving into an anthemic push on behalf of surviving amidst the absurd. The music packs weighted but thoroughly energetic leaps, like capturing the feelings of desperate persistence and an ambition to overcome formidable difficulties. The central perspective feels despondent yet refreshingly determined.
As the record’s title suggests, these songs thematically explore churning turmoil like that which might be found in situations of existential uncertainty about the direction of socio-political developments. The very first song, “Adieu la vie,” says, in part (in translation): “Scarred, Swept… Proud to be traitors to the nation. We are the nation’s traitors, This is not our war.”
These sorts of issues carry an immeasurably personalized facet. When a nation’s leaders contemplate war, for instance, their decision could be the difference between whether certain individuals live in relative peace or die under violent circumstances. This decision-making process and related developments can be metaphysically destabilizing, because how can anyone be expected to feel security regarding the future without knowing that, save catastrophe, they’re definitely going to be there at all?
When struggling against the deeply rattling unease that Tromblon explore in their urgent music, little feels unaffected by the emotional storm. Thanks to the persistently rich drama across Je me fiche d’être Français, the anxiety feels all-consuming, like suffering alone under the weight of a mental cloud that feels so formidable that the cloud itself has become central.
The rhythmic swings begin right away on the album’s opening track, while the following song, “Adieu l’amour,” features dynamically hard-hitting groove. The next couple of tracks feature some moments of slower instrumentation, but the previously established ragged energy courses through pretty much the whole work. It’s like the sound of getting thrown to the ground by a suddenly emerging crowd on a sunny city street as Tromblon explore a lonesome vantage point of tumultuous chaos.
The record’s final two tracks, including the over 7-minute long closing track “Traîtres à la nation,” feel oriented around compelling atmosphere. The final song in particular features processional drum rhythms and a slower but still richly expressive tempo that help shape the album’s angst into striking passion.
The musical flourishes feel smooth and make the whole journey feel quite real. The combination of the record’s emotive dynamics with the formidable hardcore undercurrent feels like a musical expression of a grand and cathartically energetic communal protest chant. Here, tension and resolve clash, sparking a strained but enlivening push for a rejuvenating jolt of emotional freedom.
Listen to Tromblon below!