Veneris Dies

Veneris Dies is this Parisian duo’s first EP. And it’ll be a revelation to anyone who lends an ear. If we absolutely need to label things, these six tracks are electronica, but with that extra spark that makes all the difference. Both in their early twenties, Pierre-Elie Robert and Charles Valentin had not produced anything officially until now. A couple of tracks individually, but never anything that truly satisfied them. They had to  join forces. 

They met only two years ago through friends they had in common. And that isn’t always enough, especially when their lives were so radically different. Pierre-Elie had a peaceful childhood and his father was a pastor and a pre-eminent oboist. Charles however was  the rowdy child of bohemian art publishers. “We were talking about music that day, remembers Pierre-Elie, I suggested that we go recording sounds out in the street. And for once, someone said yes”. 

This was a Friday or a “Vendredi” as it’s called in French. And that’s where their name comes from. Simple ? Yes and no. “Vendredi” means many different things to many people. A day of endless possibilities : Friday penance, good Friday, the day before Sabbath, the promise of a great night out, of a wild life…who knows? But mostly, it is the day of Venus (Veneris Dies), Roman goddess of love, who saw her lover get killed by a warthog. The animal they chose for their logo.    

Chance is only the starting point for Vendredi. And it is never enough, even if they give it an important role in their music. Chance is the melody of an accordionist they met in Venice (Chiara) whom they hired on the spot for an improvised session right as they were finishing their EP in the coastal Italian city. Chance is also the crackling sound of a fire starting in their tiny student apartment right as they were recording Le vide et la lumière. This very concrete approach is reminiscent of English musician Matthew Herbert, creator of a type of house music inspired by everyday sounds. 

That’s how Vendredi works. By tuning in, with their instinct, and then by patiently polishing their work in order to reach a beautiful and fragile equilibrium. That moment suspended in time between two opposites. The cold of machines and the warmth of sound. Phantasmagoria and reality. Just like on James Blake’s first records, the herald of London dubstep with his ghostly voice and his passion for R&B, which the two friends listened to for nights on end when they first heard him. As they did with the records of saxophone player Pharoah Sanders, Flying Lotus or King Crimson. Always that extra spark. 

The rhythms are still soft on Veneris Dies, but they are filled with a muted violence that grows more powerful every time you listen to it. When he creates them, Charles finds inspiration in the techno roots that he grew up on as much as in the Russian romantic composers, especially Rachmaninov. Harmony is Pierre-Elie’s job. Which makes sense considering his baroque upbringing listening to Bach and Haendel. And when the two of them tune in to perfection, it results in the vertigo experienced in Le vide et la lumière. Three minutes of an impossible encounter. Vendredi truly is the day of endless possibilities.