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Divine Dances. In plural form. The fourth album from DjeuhDjoah & Lieutenant Nicholson couldn't have a more explicit title. Masters of emotions and feelings, the duo has always known how to express melancholy and nostalgia with precision. Yet this time, all their efforts have concentrated on a single goal: taking listeners by the hand -- no, by the ear, obviously! -- to bring everyone back to the dance floor and explore a variety of atmospheres together. And naturally, a variety of styles. Funk, ndombolo, electro, hip hop or zouk, each new vibration discovered carries away the previous one to form a dancefloor where all eventually come together. Divinely light. The body, surrendered to this call to dance in all its forms, has been so caught up in the whirlwind of groove that the mind has fallen in behind it to continue as one. Words explode into syllables that metamorphose into notes, then perfectly align with those from the score. One second. A bit of attention. Caught by an irrepressible groove, then comes the moment to slalom through melodies to discover, at the turn of a rhyme, a new meaning. Approached head-on, certain overly serious themes would empty the room and bring the atmosphere down to lead levels. The diagonal approach, humor, and apparent nonchalance of the two men are the best weapons at their disposal. Their Trojan horse to put substance into their form(s). To evoke transidentity, consent, economic malaise as well as the spiritual, or to tell little stories of frustrated loves, seemingly insoluble but which will end well. Anthony Hilaire for Creole words, Sarah Solo for hip-swiveling soukous, Patrick Bebey for pygmy flute notes, and Grégoire Mahé to bring electricity to DjeuhDjoah & Lieutenant Nicholson's songs; styles blend in a musicality worked into its smallest interstices. Gathered on this dance floor illuminated with '80s disco brilliance, you observe brassy notes slithering under the electronic veneer, synthesizer keys splashed by furious hip movements. To raise your eyes to connect with the spiritual is to watch the sky become constellated with crystalline Fender Rhodes notes, destined to fall like rain on the heavy bass of afrobeat groove. Smiles attached to faces, no one should think they can get through the ten tracks of Divine Dances while remaining seated: he's doomed to fail.
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