Review Summary: One man’s cathartic liberation painted in sound.
It’s proven to be quite a whirlwind decade for Hugo Leclerq, better known as Madeon. Going from winning a Pendulum remix completion and creating smash viral mash-up sensations from his parent’s basement in Nantes, to working with Lady Gaga and releasing his lively and vibrant debut, Adventure, all in the space of five short years. Time waits for no man in electronic music it seems, when they smell fresh blood it has to swim fast to survive or be eaten by the fast turnover it creates.
Warm, alive and fuelled with youthful exuberance, success came quickly for the Frenchman. The album, which combined floor filling collaborations and tender solo pieces to showcase just how much was already on his plate at the decidedly young age of twenty-one. All looked as pleasant as the summer’s day the album became the soundtrack for, yet behind the colourful façade of the album’s passion and exuberance, lay the exhausted soul of its creator. Unbeknownst to his fans, anxiety, creative burnout and depression was slowly turning such a bright beacon into a flickering candle, that wasn’t far from going out altogether. Emerging from the vacuum with Shelter, collaborating with fellow genre luminary Porter Robinson, Leclerq’s vocal and instrumental performance highlighted a more restrained delivery, almost bordered on the empathetic with its tenderness. It showed how the confidence had waned but was still able to fuel an artistic vision that stood up as one of the most renowned genre songs of the decade. However, when the bright lights of the acclaimed Coachella live shows were removed, he was back in that struggle, unsure of what the future would hold. With the writing on the wall as clear as day, Leclerq realised change was necessary to enable himself to produce music again and re-invigorate his creativity, taking bold risks that would hopefully disperse the shadows of the domineering light that he was bathing in and manifest a clearness from the fog. By moving to California, working tirelessly on his own crafting that vision for two years, it resulted in in
Good Faith. An album whose desires stem directly from the title: to offer up an emotional confession of all that had been bottled up whilst bathing the listener in the aura of positivity that the Leclerq himself had longed for. He stated declaratively with happiness on social media that this was the start of a new era. Given the excitement and hopefulness those posts displayed, maybe, just maybe… he’d gotten his creative vigour back.
The personal nature of the album is apparent not just musically but in the visual iconography as well. The brimming guest artist such as Passion Pit, Bastille and Charlie XCX are stripped away and the lush, wide and open landscapes of Adventure’s artwork have been painted over. In its place, is Madeon himself, bathed in a cooling aura of bright colours, representing the calmness around the negative image it was structured from. Opening song
Dream, Dream, Dream kicks things off emphatically, and immediately puts his new vision into view by blasting gospel samples, soft synth accents and deep autotuned and pitch corrected vocals at you. Letting us know that the weight of his pain is easing, exhibiting profoundly from the pulpit that we are listening to his artistic rebirth without a shade of regret. It paints a tapestry of emotion that feels incredibly raw and takes the breath away as its simplicity doesn’t overwhelm the tone it creates, setting up a standard bearer for what’s to come with authority and poise. It suddenly takes a familiar yet unexpected turn with
All My Friends, a single that masquerades social anxiety as a bouncy party anthem, something that brazenly rewards those who managed to connect the dots whilst pleasing those who didn’t. A more natural yet scared vocal delivery opens up that the fear still remains, even though he willingly admits they're of his own making and that change is inevitable. It’s catchy melody, funky bass lines and steady tempo drills it into the head, being warm and sensual to further imply its deceptive practices evermore so, making its status as the album’s debut single justify itself wholeheartedly. Continuing the strong start,
Be Fine doesn’t hold back as it bluntly utilises sharp keyboard textures, guitar licks and more gospel samples to steer the listener away from said fear, encouraging them to stop listening to the voice in one’s head, and all will… as it calmly states… be fine. It’s delivered with genuine heart while using its post-chorus trails to puncture those drilling synth lines to retain some fun and catchy pop sensibilities. It's highlight, the luscious and soothing bridge, builds to an uplifting climax that makes this song stand out above the equally dynamic and powerful offerings that came before it. A marginal vocal siesta allows the more dextrous side of Madeon’s production skills come into play, with the duo of
Nirvana and
Mania. These two songs are at opposite ends of the tonal spectrum but portray the suffering in light and the fight against the dark poetically well. The former quietly climbs its ladders, accenting with distorted hip-hip-inspired vocal samples and threading synth arpeggios to outline the calm before the storm, as thumping drums punishingly push the latter into focus. Its combination of haunting wailing vocal samples and disconcerting lower octave synth lines show the light at the end of the tunnel as it blasts into confident melody, highlighting the light as a feather, clean cut and flowing sound that Madeon is known for but exhibiting the growth that has been obtained. It’s baffling though, that this duo isn’t self-contained as one track given the cohesiveness these songs share together. When they could be walking in the same direction, they are forced to stray off on different paths unnecessarily, causing the first moment of painful strife to insert itself forcibly.
Miracle emerges from the other side with mournful piano leaving the air open for Madeon’s sombre vocals to open the wounds of his decision of going to America. The autotuned notes ache with worry and anxiousness, setting up the onslaught of layered child’s vocals and forceful high octave synths bathing in a wave of euphoria supplanted with humming harmonising brings calm over a steady drumbeat, ending with Callie Day’s haunting proclamation questioning the song’s title. Despite the impact it garners, it sadly feels wounded in its projection, struggling to hit the heights it wanted to. Trying hard to stand out and hitting an emotive ceiling in the process. It represented the that potentially, a damaging tonal shift the album could spoil the fun, but this concern is immediately tossed aside thanks to the rousing
No Fear No More. It's defiant in boisterous character and beat as distorted autotuned vocals again push against the softer electronic accents, whilst the inclusion of the West Los Angeles Children’s Choir in the chorus combined with the wailing bouncy chorus echoes Adventure’s vibrance and catchiness. It’s one of the few times that the ‘enhanced’ vocals allow the rest of the song to breath, allowing it to emphatically state without question where Madeon’s talent melodic and production can be found working its magic.
Hold Me, Just Because slows things down with a soft-spoken, heartfelt ballad that eventually blossoms into a steady processional menagerie of bright sounds that is reminiscent of Adventure deep cuts like Innocence and Home in execution. Its use of hand claps and deep drums try to drive things forward as the song floats in the ether not hitting any real marks of interest, feeling like a disconnect from all that came before it.
Heavy With Hoping continues what the prior song established but delivers it with more sincerity by utilising its slower speed, rising octave keyboard accents and soaring distorted vocals to push it into ethereal territory. Its instrumental wave increases, showing where
Hold Me Just Because failed by taking the time to stretch its elements out to create the desired reflective mood, it hits home and makes it feel more alive despite its equal simplicity with what came before it, making it the lone standout from this section of slower songs in stasis. Much like
Nirvana and
Mania earlier you’re left wondering how these two aren’t just one long track as once again as cohesion and flow is once more lost in favour of sheer numbers to pad out the experience.
Borealis further takes this meandering slow crawl to the finish line, with soft piano sections gradually shapeshifting with bass, steady drums and string accents into a calming wave of sound, almost a sense of relief that it’s over for the man behind it. Madeon’s lyrics reflect on where he is now and what he has created, as the process through this song seemed to have been with, which pair up well but fail to have its efforts smash through the wall with one last bang. Instead, it leaves you confused by its open-ended nature, but empathetic in what message that conveys: that the journey isn’t over, and this is only the beginning of something larger. Sadly, a solid closer song is left pining for more, as an alarmingly short run-time comes to an end without the pomp that had preceded it at its opposing axis.
With
Good Faith, Madeon has shown that he has turned a corner in his life, found his feet and planted them strongly, carrying more meaning with his music that Adventure had done. This was his emotional release, being stripped of the frivolities his debut album possessed and showing his masterful ability to mould melody and electronic beats with ease. It allowed the music and his direct song writing to speak more clearly than it ever had before; and by achieving that tonal goal it can be classed as a success. Its direction and storytelling give it wide scope for praise, but with it the frailties of the man himself left a few open wounds, creating flaws that could’ve easily been scooped out of this painfully euphoric capsule. At 35-minutes, it feels agonisingly short, losing steam before it felt finished mostly thanks to the second half not swinging for the fences as vigorously as the first. One or two faster tempo inclusions nestled amongst the slow burners could’ve remedied the issue and make it climax with a more intense finale rather than the gradual exhale it became. Madeon’s lack of vocal range being aided with autotune and pitch correction despite showing its strengths intermittently, often hurt more than aided the songs they nestled within. It strived to go higher yet kept hitting a ceiling that it never decidedly broke. The quality of the production stands out with noble consistency and roundness, but the order they were placed in the track listing embraced cohesive chaos that failed to buoy up its thunderous start, leading to its progressive decline. However, through that error of orderly progressive judgment, Madeon implied much like himself, the album had to tire and run out of energy somewhere. It poetically justifies itself as a musical entity, which is exactly what he desired to do, as this album could only go as far as he was willing to push it. The errors made are a reflection of the man and will repair themselves as he does, now that he’s able to look back on it and take the effort in for all it's worth.
Good Faith is engaging, rich and poignantly introspective while still retaining the fun that Madeon’s discography is known for; giving its all until it collapsed from exhaustion. This truly is one man’s cathartic liberation painted in sound, although further care is required to see whether Leclerq’s vision of a new era can be maintained going forward. Is it the start of a long and arduous marathon or a rapidly fast sprint? Only time will tell.
