When I first heard French Class, I felt as if I were Napoleon in 1798 gazing up at the sand-covered marvel of the Sphinx. There I was, as if painted by Jean-Leon Gerome himself, sitting on my horse, while the desert winds bit into my face and eyes and soul.
But now, with the release of Five, the sand around the Sphinx having been diligently extracted, the rest of its body — with its mysterious splendor — has been exposed. And what a wonder it is!
This meeting between west and east — between the French army and the Mamluks — is reproduced on the album’s cover art: The yellow background suggests the endless desert; bandleader / beatmaker Megumi Kimata, wearing a cowboy hat instead of Bonaparte’s famous bicorne, stands before a very large kitty, who is, of course, the Sphinx; Napoleon’s horse has been replaced with a Mustang’s horsepower; and in the distance, hovering over the god-cat is a building resembling St. Basil’s Cathedral (itself a blend of Muscovy [west] and Byzantine [east] cultures). (If only there was some kind of Rosetta Stone to decipher the hieroglyphic characters that adorn the banner; but there may be something to the fact that there are five symbols and the album is also named Five.)
French Class’s Five is about this blending of identities, whether that be one of cultures or of gender stereotypes, or, even of fruits (for instance, mixing peach with mango). In French Teacher, Megumi recounts their experience attending the titular French class of elementary school. In Boy Goes Goth, a boy (perhaps Megumi, perhaps not Megumi) sheds his skin — like a snake, also depicted on the cover — to adorn himself with the sub-culture of another. This sampling of cultures — of appropriating, to use a term that I think is unfortunately maligned — is what allows for new and interesting ideas to occur. It is to free oneself from the mandated dress codes; with Five, French Class is saying, “Dress however you want! Be however you want! Jump from flower to flower, like a honey bee, and leave behind a colourful trail of pollination! Wear puffy shoes! Dance like a maniac! Walk like an Egyptian!”
• • •
To read the rest of this review — and more by Steve Schmolaris — visit his website Bad Gardening Advice.
• • •
Steve Schmolaris is the founder of the Schmolaris Prize, “the most prestigious prize in all of Manitoba,” which he first awarded in 1977. Each year, he awards the prize to the best album of the year. He does not have a profession but, having come from money (his father, “the Millionaire of East Schmelkirk,” left him his fortune when he died in 1977), Steve is a patron of the arts. Inspired by the exquisite detail of a holotype, the collective intelligence of slime mold, the natural world and the suffering inherent within it — and also music (fuck, he loves music!) — Steve has long been writing reviews of Winnipeg artists’ songs and albums at his website Bad Gardening Advice, leading to the publication of a book of the same name.
