Roméo Poirier, “Off The Record” (Faitiche, 2025)
This fourth solo album from the reliably fascinating French collage artist is billed as “an amusing romp through the discarded history of recording studios.” That claim probably wildly oversells this album’s comedy value, but Off The Record is definitely unusually playful and entertaining for a sound art album. It is also quite an immersive, unexpectedly beautiful, and occasionally even haunting album that impressively continues Poirier’s hot streak. Stylistically, most of the pieces resemble the warm, skipping loop ambiance of classic Oval, but the unpredictable and overlapping samples of studio chatter, sound checks, and false starts adds quite a lot of mystery and depth to that vision.
Much like its predecessor Living Room (assembled from samples of his father’s music), Off The Record feels like both a loving homage and an inventive deconstruction/détournement. This is most evident on “Steve A.” (a thirty second collage of Steve Albini saying the word “studio”) and “The List.” In the latter, an array of Poirier’s friends and peers (Jake Muir, Andrew Pekler, etc.) list a series of iconic and influential studios (INA GRM, Black Ark, etc.) over a sensuously pulsing ambient dream fog. It is one of the album’s most beautiful pieces despite the music remaining relatively understated and unchanging, as the space between the various voices gradually decreases until they overlap in a hallucinatory jumble. Apparently Poirier’s inspiration was partially borrowed from the Accumulation style associated with French artist Arman (and others) in which unaltered, mundane items are combined into an assemblage. The artistry lies primarily in the curation and placement of the materials and Poirier shows a real gift for that here, as Off The Record’s best moments attain an elegantly woven spell of sublime beauty from a host of forgotten, discarded, silly, and otherwise meaningless studio moments.
To his credit, Poirier finds an impressively ingenious array of compelling ways to recontextualize his studio detritus throughout the album, playfully dabbling in everything from dub to exotica to soul (and tossing in some well-placed amusing samples along the way as well). While the first two pieces function primarily as a gently deepening immersion into Poirier’s vision, things soon settle into a nearly unbroken run of highlights starting with the album’s third piece (“Langsam”). Some pieces are more musically substantial than others, but they all tend to follow a similar trajectory in which studio chatter on a specific theme is gradually transformed into something unexpected and compelling. In “One Two One Two” for example, Poirier unleashes a host of eclectic clips of various engineers and artists endlessly counting off, but the final moment blossoms into a sensuous ambient haze with finger snaps and a trumpet hook. Elsewhere, “Ssttuuddiiooo” transforms a chopped and skipping loop of the word “studio” into an unexpectedly soulful and sexy groove that suggests a hypnagogic Madlib deconstruction. “Silencio” is similarly musical and even more substantial, as a dubby bass throb anchors a sensuous and dream-like voyage through a swirl of voices, subtle electric piano, and string flourishes.
The overall effect is akin to a series of clever and amusing magic tricks, as it is always a delight to hear the seemingly disjointed parade of aborted takes, sound checks, dialogue snippets, and mishaps improbably blossom into something wonderful (sometimes with a delightful final reveal to boot). For example, “Snare Drum Mic” is a languorous fantasia of lush strings, Hawaiian-sounding lap steel, and snatches of singing that ends with guy explaining (and then exasperatedly re-explaining) that he accidentally banged into the snare drum mic.
Aside from the charming premise, flashes of humor, and ingenious execution, I was unexpectedly impressed with the general vibe of the album, as the juxtaposition of orchestral samples, snatches of jazz, and bleary ambient synths feels like a hallucinatory and impressionistic taste of mid-20th century Hollywood grandeur. That element really makes this album feel like an immersive experience much greater than the sum of its parts. I also love how the endless cavalcade of interruptions and false starts give the album a mischievously elusive feel that lies somewhere between an existentialist comedy and a series of flickering mirages. Neat trick. My only caveat with Off The Record is that it leans more heavily towards art than ambient beauty, so curious listeners may want to give Hotel Nota or Living Room a spin before delving into this more minimal and conceptual detour.
Listen here.
