REVIEW: Decibelles - Tight

Laura Kerry

By some accounts, the Lyon, France-based band Decibelles met in 2014. By others, it was 2015 or 2016, but in any case, the group began a handful of years ago, when its founding members were teenagers. Now in their mid-to-late twenties and several albums into making music together, the experience is evident. In their new album, Tight, the trio—now comprised of Sabrina Duval, Fanny Bouland, and newest member Lamson Nguyen—Decibelles shows off their style of pop and punk with a dynamism and bravado that speaks to a sense of ease.

From the first feedback-heavy notes on the LP, Decibelles make their presence known. The opener, “Mess,” is aptly named; it floods the ears with fuzzed-out and screeching guitars, crashing drums, and screaming vocals reminiscent of the bite of Bikini Kill Kathleen Hanna and the yelp of Le Tigre Kathleen Hanna. Throughout the album, the trio uses their guitars as expressively as they use their voices. Guitars shriek, hang in suspense, and drive aggressively. In “Pas Les Humains,” an interlude of sorts, people fade into the distance as glitchy, indecipherable speech, leaving layers of instruments to forcefully propel the listener into the second half of the album.

Beside the assertive guitars and dynamic yelling exists a lighter, poppier strain that runs through Tight. Counter to the opening song’s title, the album’s name also represents it well. Decibelles makes tight, well-crafted music that takes care with its melodies and their underlying compositions. After “Mess” comes “Super Fish,” comprised of a brighter, more rigidly-structured sound. Reaching Strokes-level fuzz, the guitars set the tone for a clearer, airier track. “Sausage Day,” “Le Seum,” and “Witchy Babes” also favor a sparser, plainer tone with more more pop sentiments. Though production sometimes feels thin on these quieter tracks, they allow Decibelles to achieve an overall balance on the album, alternating between total submersion in noise and breaths of fresh air.

While they mix in brighter, gentler sounds amid the aggression, Decibelles is anything but soft in their sentiments. At the center of Tight are proclamations of independence, empowerment, and general feminist badassery. In “Sausage Day,” they dismiss the complaints lodged against women’s appearances, singing, “Your skirt is too tight / Your clothes don't fit you right / They say they are looking for romance... / I just want to dance.” In “Hu! Hu!,” a propulsive song structured around repeated yelps, the singer repeats, “Are you kidding me?” Later, she challenges, “Do you think I’m your damn secretary / Do you expect me to make your coffee / You’re not my daddy.” Like riot grrrls who came before them, Decibelles use a punk platform to tackle what’s on their minds, not only singing about their boldness, but also enacting it with their sound. “Should I be scared of the night?” Decibelles repeat in “Hu! Hu!,” but after a listening to their easy, fun, and striking new album, it’s hard to imagine that they fear anything.

REVIEW: Decibelles - Sleep Sleep

Kelly Kirwan

Say “New wave” to certain people, and you may just get your ass kicked. There’s the infamous tirade of French Journalist Kickboy Face (AKA Claude Bessy), explaining the post-punk, pop inclined genre was a figment of the imagination (and yes, that’s putting mildly). It isn’t surprising that one of the subsets of punk sparked such intense reactions, with their synthesizers and experimental approach—because the genre as a whole thrives off fierce, in-your-face opinions against the mainstream.

But whether or not you believe electronic elements dull the music’s hard edge, you can’t deny the clout of artists and bands like Billy Idol and Siouxsie & the Banshees. Not to mention the more recent new wave/punk inspired band, Decibelles, and their fresh EP Sleep Sleep. 

The three-piece, all-female troupe is a Lyon import (so “cold wave” may be more geographically specific when describing the movements that influenced them). True to their punk roots, their ensemble is stripped down and straightforward—Sabrina Duval and Fanny Bouland divvy up the vocals, along with their respective guitarist/drummer titles, as Emilie D’Ornano rounds out the trio with bass. Their tracks are frenetic and keyed up, especially the album’s eponymous opener.

"Sleep Sleep" wastes no time easing you in with an introduction—you’re plunged full-force into hard-hitting drums and guitar riffs. The lyrics are delivered in an undeviated, French-accented chant, “Dreams make my visions real / Everyone says you’re really strange” and embody that mindset of embracing alienation. Being misunderstood isn’t something to shy away from, it’s proof you’re one up over society. The EP’s agitated, confrontational feel makes its titles tongue-in-cheek. "Sleep Sleep" is not a sweet little ballad, lulling you into a dream state, just like "Glitter Sea" doesn’t evoke picturesque images of calm, sunlit oceans. These songs are taut and tense, evoking a kind of head-thrashing hypnotism.

One of the standout tracks is "Baloo Naked in the Jungle," which weaves hollow, percussive beats with light cymbals, as the Decibelles repeatedly work themselves into a dither after brief moments of relative calm. (Extra points if you caught the Jungle Book reference, which actually carries some anti-establishment themes if you take a hard look at it). Then there’s the album’s closer, "Vol de Nuit"—“Night Flight” in English—a five-minute track of low timbres that’ll build a knot between your shoulder blades. The first flurry of vocals comes at the one-minute mark with a flit of shrieks, and then continues on with its sullen, on-the-cusp-of-mayhem instrumentals. It feels like a feverish anthem for after-hours anarchy, and dispels any doubt about the Decibelles punk standing.

The electronic, power-pop nuances of their music haven't left them with a blunt edge. They’re still sharp tongued and fast-footed, and definitely worthy of your attention. And, let’s face it, whatever the controversy may be over “new wave” music, in true punk fashion, these girls probably don’t give a shit about labels anyway.