Review Summary: The best 90s German Indie Emo you never heard.
A flash in the pan. A shooting star streaking across the sky. A spark that illuminates the oppressive darkness for that brief and precious second. 125, Rue Montmartre’s Self Titled 7” is short. Painfully short. They shouldn't be able to create such an experience this emotionally diverse and painfully alive in such little time; a fully fleshed story told in so few words. And yet they do.
In just three songs 125, Rue Montmartre tell a story more poignant and impassioned then most artists can manage in full length albums. Beneath the grain and static of the haphazard production, an uncomfortably beautiful short story unfolds.
Pain and nostalgia are intertwined and delivered in waves of distorted guitar lines. The atmospheric transitions between songs are subtle enough that it never feels jarring or unexpected. The unbridled sadness and fear of the first track segues into a nostalgic and melancholic break, which in turn flows into a spirited and bright eyed romp against the negativity that had preceded it. Each song retains enough atmospheric elements from the previous one so that the narrative never becomes muddled. Instead each song organically advances the journey forward. Its unbelievably satisfying and empowering to listen to each song and understand how they thematically build off one another and evolve. Real Development and growth is made during such a brief time. The dissonant guitar that wails and rages in opener “Disco Hijack” is not the same guitar cheerfully plucking along to a carefree beat in closer “Safari”. It’s so much more relatable to hear the music twist and build upon itself, reflecting an incredibly personal journey.
This personal and self reflective nature of the album can be traced back to the delivery of talented vocalist, Kerstin. Her despondent spoken word delivery escalates to borderline screeches in a way that evokes both an unspeakable horror, as well as a bottomless sadness. The instability of her speech is so tangible it’s practically dripping from every word she speaks. It’s the juxtaposition of this raw fervent style, with her nostalgic and optimistic vocal melodies, that really elevates this album to greatness. It’s hard not to empathize with her voice, regardless of what style she employs, allowing the music to be tonally diverse while retaining its vulnerable core.
This is a weird album; a rough preservation of some of the finest late 90’s emotive hardcore, riddled with off putting and confusing production values. The short length is unfortunate and yet it might be what makes this album so great in retrospect. 125, Rue Montmartre have created something special; a story that burned fast but burned bright. A spark that burned with an unforgettable ferocity and vulnerability.
