MYSTERIOUS AIR | Cours Lapin

THE LANGUAGE OF SMOKE: Cours Lapin creates atmospheres of intrigue, strangeness, and gloom, with glints of beauty that sparkle like an ocean world of bioluminescence. The music is transporting, conjuring images of early 19th century French nightclubs, and jade-edged quellazaires on the Champs-Élysées — letting off thin elegant streams of smoke into the air in a cumulus of mystery. The band is comprised of four Danish film composers, Jonas Struck on guitar, Asger Baden and Peder on keyboards, and chanson Louise Alenius. Their sound is multi-faceted, and may simultaneously remind listeners of the cabaret qualities of the band Paris Combo, the left-of-center modernity of Portishead, the softness of Mazzy Star, the passion of Edith Piaf and the blue mood of Nina Simone. Alenius’ vocals are fragile and broken, hitting high pitches, reedy and whispery as cool wind.

Cours Lapin has a uniquely amalgamated sound. The band would seemingly be as comfortable in George Gershwin’s 1920s America as much as the Roskilde Festival or the modern Nottinghill Art Club in London, England. The band’s new album isn’t an exercise in the arcane. These 11 theatrical songs are dreamy, highly melodic and intricately shrouded. On one of the album standouts, “Homme Contre Femme” (Man Against Woman), Alenius drapes her silky voice atop sparse pizzicato violin and keyboard. The band has a keen sense for cinematic structure, opening the record with the song “Un, Deux, Trois” (1,2,3) and closing the album with the appropriately titled “La Fin” (The End). “Cache, Cache” (Hide and Seek) rests its seductive rhythm on a slick upright bass groove, making the song feel like the background to quirky spy thriller. There is a melancholic tinge to the entire album, visible in the song titles themselves: “Mes Larmes Secrets” (My Secret Tears) opens prettily like a rusty music box, and the song “Le Jour Le Temps S’arrete” (The Day Time Stopped) introduces harp and horns, lazily lilting away by the song’s end, into the graceful elegance of a pixie dream. “Blanc” (White) is a light track with rolling folk guitar, a metronomic tap, and a toy piano or keyboard resonating like a harpsichord.

The band name, Cours Lapin, literally translates to “rabbit path” or “rabbit’s course” — and the song of the same name confronts the relation between hunter and prey. It’s a Tom Waits-styled number with steady bass pacing, ever-changing and alluring melodies kept in time by traditional jazz percussion. Alenius’ voice is so rich it almost feels like she’s double-tracked. Same with the sexily meandering upbeat number, “Le Son Dun Escargot” (The Sound of the Snail). But it’s also a track where the rest of the band really gets to show its chops. The last three-quarters of the song soars with jazz guitar, bass, keyboards, drum brushes, muted brass, and crashing cymbals. This is one of the best albums of 2010. It’s nothing short of captivating. Cours Lapin’s self-titled LP has been out in Denmark through Fake Diamond Records, but will be released September 13 in Europe, and the following day in North America. Note: French song-title translations are unofficial and made by David D. Robbins Jr. –– David D. Robbins Jr.

Cours Lapin “Cache Cache”