I’ve always had mixed feelings about Italian neo-classicists Ataraxia. I loved Saphir and Mon Seul Désir, I wasn’t so keen on Lost Atlantis and The Moon Sang on the April Chair, and the less said about Vittorio Vandelli’s solo album A Day of Warm Rain in Heaven, the better. So does Paris Spleen belong with the sheep or the goats? Is it hot or is it not? Well, the first thing to say about this concept album created in collaboration with drama company CircuZ KumP is that it’s culturally and temporally situated some distance away from the neo-medieval compositions that Ataraxia are best known for. Instead, the mise-en-scéne of Paris Spleen is the bohemian demimonde of Paris in the early 1900s, the Paris of absinthe and laudanum, Montmartre by gaslight, the Théatre de Grand Guignol, the Boulevard de Clichy and its cabarets macabres. Song lyrics are taken from the prose-poem cycle Le Spleen de Paris by the celebrated Symbolist poet Charles Baudelaire (first published in 1869), and the album is themed around cabarets, carnivals, conjurers, contortionists and catacombs, mentalists, mediums and mesmerists, burlesque revues, freak-shows and other low culture.  

The opening track, ‘Bienvenue à L’Enfer’ (‘Welcome to Hell’ – no relation to the Venom track!) sets out the album’s phantasmagoric attractions in the style of Joel Grey’s MC in the film Cabaret – ‘Ladies and gentlemen, signori e signore, mesdames et messieurs, bienvenue à l’enfer… we are proud to present you a new terrific cabaret show…’ The music accompanying these dramatic announcements begins with spooky organ and timpani, joined by strings,  crashing cymbals, brass and accordion. The next song, ‘Où Vont les Chiens?’ is the first of several lugubrious pavement café-style chansons, based around the classical guitar of Vittorio Vandelli and Giovanni Pagliari’s accordion. Trombone, courtesy of CircuZ KumP’s Safran UdU, is also prominent, but the song, and indeed the album in general, is dominated by the extraordinary vocals of Francesca Nicoli, who here abandons the clear upper registers of Ataraxia’s more medieval work and instead swoops up and down the octaves like a hungry seagull. This is undeniably a feat of vocal virtuosity, but like the voice of Diamanda Galas, which this somewhat resembles, it’s very much an acquired taste, and the extent to which you’re able to enjoy Paris Spleen is likely to depend very much on how much Francesca’s vibrato-heavy, operatic, vocal acrobatics appeal to you. Other touchstones for comparison might include Miranda Sex Garden, Amber Asylum and Circulus. Francesca’s voice reminds me a little of Circulus’ Lo Polidoro, and the bluesy piano line which introduces ‘N’importe Où!’ is also reminiscent of Circulus’ ‘Wherever She Goes’. A less obvious comparison is to The Doors – think of the famous sleeve photo for Strange Days, and Ray Manzerak’s carnivalesque organ playing. Anyhow, to get back to the album under consideration here – ‘Le Marchand de Nuages’ (‘The Cloud-Seller’) is really lovely, with bagpipes accompanying lilting classical guitar for the most medieval-sounding song to be found on here. ‘Petit Chanson Lycanthrope’ features duetting male and female vocals accompanied by barrel organ and accordion, with Francesca’s breathy girly whispering bringing to mind Jane Birkin’s work with Serge Gainsbourg (another big Baudelaire fan). ‘Tango des Astres’ is a big-top blowout, with drum rolls, cymbals and Latin piano.  

Given its subject matter and musical idiom, Paris Spleen is of course deeply camp, but I found it an intriguing and rewarding work – which is why I’ve gone on about it at such length. It’s a pleasure to hear real musicians playing real instruments, rather than yet another keyboard-based project, and if you’re up for an evocative evening of nostalgia for bygone times and the simple pleasures of cabarets and carnivals, get this album and let Ataraxia send in the clowns for you. ‘Buon diverrrrrrtimento!’ as Francesca Nicoli excitedly exclaims. This one goes in the pile of good stuff by Ataraxia.