Potochkine
Sang D’Encre
Young & Cold Records
Parisian duo Potochkine started making forays into dark dancefloors seven or so years ago, at a time when the combination of darkwave and techno they plied was just starting to coalesce and gain momentum before becoming arguably the defining sound of recent clubbing. Thankfully for Potochkine, there’s always been a certain extra flair in their delivery, partially rooted in classic French electro, that’s remained their trademark: in the layoff between 2021’s Sortilèges and the new Sang D’Encre, there hasn’t been a rush of bands capable of imitating their sound. The intersection of immediate but decidedly grimy beats and vocal je ne sais quois that got their foot in the door is strongly underlined on that new record.
Whether Sang D’Encre is your first point of contact with Potochkine or not, it’s hard to imagine a more pure and uncut one-two hit of their style than its opening tracks, “BI” and “Endorphines” (the latter of which has been getting plenty of club play since its release as a single more than a year ago). Both immediately go for the jugular with bin-rattling bass programming which is both chitinous and inhuman, yet also hot and fluid, like the blackened surface of a Pāhoehoe lava flow just barely disguising the fire beneath. Pauline Alcaïdé’s vocals are invariably the other point of focus, simultaneously controlled in their riding of the rhythm but also extemporizing with a loopy mania which feels like it could send the whole enterprise crashing over the guardrails in half a measure.
All of the above is welcome and nicely presented stuff throughout Sang D’Encre‘s first six tracks, either as DJ fodder or as a tight 22 minute workout for anxiously cathartic home listening (one can imagine dishes being scoured with far too much vigor to the 150 BPM kicks and vocal trills of “Partir”). But the presence of 16 minute ambient closing track “La Source” throws a wrench into the otherwise sleekly efficient works. Gradually moving from field recording style atmosphere to a soupy blend of pads, spaced out rubber pulses, and ghostly vocal figures, it’s an experience akin to watching clouds pass across the moon at a nearly imperceptible pace. Taking up far too much of Sang D’Encre‘s run time to be a simple combo breaker amidst or denouement after a traditional LP, it makes for an unresolvable, yet not at all unpleasant, inversion of everything Potochkine have presented themselves to be up until that point.
There’s no denying the immediacy of Potochkine’s sense for beats and for exactly how much and how little programming’s needed to augment them here. The sort of minimalism which can yield club heaters but obscures personality is never a problem for Potochkine thanks to Alcaïdé’s presence, and a left field move like “La Source” shows that there’s much more to them than their most immediate elements.
