{"id":11592,"date":"2020-03-02T00:00:00","date_gmt":"2020-03-02T05:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/panm360.com\/?post_type=records&p=11592"},"modified":"2020-03-02T10:52:37","modified_gmt":"2020-03-02T15:52:37","slug":"nos-jours-ne-sont-plus-les-memes","status":"publish","type":"records","link":"https:\/\/panm360.com\/en\/records\/nos-jours-ne-sont-plus-les-memes\/","title":{"rendered":"Nos jours ne sont plus les m\u00eames"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

With the grace of a black cat, Ludo Pin, a Parisian living in Montreal for a decade now, sneaks surreptitiously into our winter bubble, stirring up emotions the way others might shake a small glass ball to see the flakes fall back into the reflection of the sun.

Minimally but brilliantly supported by Navet Confit’s subtle touch in production and mixing, the electro-pop album Nos jours ne sont les m\u00eames<\/em> distils suave, melancholic and capably wrought poetry over vivid percussion and samples punctuated by guitars, synths and xylophone.

Without being what used to be called a \u201cconcept album\u201d, it\u2019s a chronicle of a romantic break-up in a disenchanted world, expressed in a manner much closer to spoken word than rap.

That said, it would be nice if the narrator stepped out of his comfort zone more often and cut loose a bit, as he does on the last track, the title track, and a nod to the poet Louis Aragon.

An avid reader of Houellebecq and Virginie Despentes, Ludo sways from familiar heartbreak to incipient revolt, as the listener is won over, slowly but surely.<\/p>\n\n\n\n