Pitchfork

French drummer and composer Guigou Chenevier formed Volapük in the early 90s with cellist Guillaume Saurel and clarinetist Michel Mandel. Fringe music lovers will recognize Chenevier from his infamous rock project Etron Fou Leloublan, one of the original RIO bands (Henry Cow, Univers Zero), and from appearing on Fred Frith's 1981 Speechless LP. He also played on one of the first real post-rock records, Vidéo Aventures' Musiques Pour Garçons et Filles (1980), reissued on CD in the late 90s and of interest to anyone at all into experimental rock. Chenevier's own work tends to feature angular, top-heavy riffs over his own precise, pitter-patter drumming and with a penchant for playful improvisation. In Etron Fou, he worked with sax and guitar or organ in sort of a DIY avant-prog vein; with Volapük the emphasis is closer to European folk, albeit highly energetic and sharply dynamic.

Where Is Tamashii? is Volapük's fourth record, and second to feature violinist and vocalist Takumi Fukushuma (formerly of the brilliant Japanese experimental ensemble After Dinner). The band specializes in an expert fusion of folk, circus music, gypsy dances and sounding like something that would go very well over a silent film about murderous clowns. Fukushuma's occasional vocals also bring a few of the songs into a realm similar to Czech vocalist Iva Bittova's eccentric avant-pop. All of this happens without the slightest hint of "Art," though the fact that Chenevier had to pull his musicians from classical conservatories should tell you something. There aren't many bands playing this kind of music, but I can say without hyperbole that Volapük is by some measure the best.

Despite the distinctive ingredients that go into Volapük's songs, the best ones are those that aren't obviously tied to any particular style. The title track begins as a cumbersome, yet sweet string-led ballad; when Fukushuma's vocals enter it becomes a very odd (and just as alluring) form of café J-pop. And just as soon, Mandel hits a deft, repeated figure on bass clarinet suggesting modest chaos is never far from this band's minds. Likewise, "Impro Cloche" begins as a kinetic, repetitive math-rock vamp, but when the clarinet rears its head, and Chenevier drops his wind-up toy breakbeat, the whole mess transforms into a 21st Century version of Raymond Scott's powerhouse big band. Midway through, a violin wails as if being tortured, the rest of the band sneaks out and Chenevier is left to pound out his way with what sounds like a can of soup and silverware. Le awesome.

Elsewhere, Volapük's folk roots shine through, as on "Boom Boom" (classical Asian) and "Pas de Panique" (tango/French chamber dance crossing). On these tunes, their abilities to pull off less intense music are obvious, though Chenevier can hardly hide his restless figures for very long. "Mission" begins as aggressive pouncing with drums and cello, and adds a fluttering violin to announce its lengthy mid-section development. Chenevier's playing occasionally reminds me of Can's Jaki Liebezeit in the way he translates minimal flash into maximum pulse; during the solo section, his playing under Mandel's low-key, slightly Klezmer-influenced solo is admirably restrained. The gradually work up an intense dialogue, even with Mandel doubling himself with another solo at the same time, yet never approaching anything close to skronk.

Volapük's previous three records were released on the Cuneiform imprint, which should give yet another idea of what to expect for anyone familiar with that label's roster. As it happens, the band is much more accessible than their pedigree might lead one to believe, though that might come down to the crispness of their arrangements. I can say that music at once as joyous, strange and accomplished is few and far between, so with any luck this catches on outside their small circle of fans. Chenevier's projects can always stand more exposure, and Where Is Tamashii? is on par with the best of them.