What flavour of pop are Genevan duo Citron Citron, avant- arty- absurdist- alt, lo fi -leftfield- chamber- surreal, synth – electro – experimental – no-wave or bits of all these thrown in at random and rising to the top at different times? No matter, more important things about Citron Citron can be said: the musical partners, Augustin and Zoé Sjollema are brother and sister; their grandfather was Rainer Boesch, renowned avant garde composer and pianist; they named the band in the memory of their late cat; and they make fine off kilter, endearingly quirky, bewilderingly engaging records.
Their debut album, 2020’s ‘Chagrin Blue‘, smoothly set out some foundations, sixties euro pop tripping and skipping in an analog synth mode, part retro but also risk taking. Now comes the next glide forwards with their follow up collection ‘Maréeternelle’ out via the ever dependable Bongo Joe Records. It’s an album where the experimental poppyness and bright vocal harmonies are still central plus their analog allegiances remains strong. For the buffs there’s even added interest with tracks featuring Grandfather Boesch’s rare EMS synth from the seventies and overdubs added using instruments at Friberg’s Swiss Museum and Centre for Electronic Music. But there’s much more to ‘Maréeternelle’ which represents a sharpening up of Citron Citron’s distinctive tang.
This time around there’s an immediacy in the album’s brisk, almost live sound driven by the internal energy of the songs and captured by Bongo Joe stalwart Benoit Erard’s crystal clear mix. The album’s kick off highlights this uptick in Citron Citron’s sonic presentation. Nuages Défile shimmies from its waterfall of synths and gathers up a rolling, ‘State Of Independence’ momentum as the song unfolds. The melody is sumptuous, the rhythmic chug smooth and the synth bassline so right. The waltzing Est-ce que tu dors ? follows with a similar sheen, blending new-age trills with the cinematic sweep of Midge-period Ultravox. There’s a poetic charm in these songs inspired by journeys spent and sleeping cities plus an undertone of haunted spookiness, ghosting beneath the surface.
You’re never quite sure of direction with Citron Citron on ‘Maréeternelle’ as the atmosphere shifts subtly within and between the songs. This intriguingly is one of the album’s strengths. Take the New Romantic dancefloor romp of Rafales which bounces between OMD synth lines, disco bloops, post punk chants and an irresistible vintage pop hook. Then there’s the surreal Par un temps pareil, sung by Augustin, almost deadpan in a fine Baxter Dury way. As the sound of crows caw over a chunky Cab Voltaire/Kraftwerk stomp, the Farfisa sounding lines swoop and circle to add to the quirky psychedelica.
Citron Citron also ensure that their songs don’t shy away from the difficult or complicated on ‘Maréeternelle’, using lyrical directness and tempered sounds to sensitively make emotional contact. Crise d’aaaangoisse follows a serious sombre sway, Zoé’s vocals tinged with an urgency but stoically holding it together as she describes, maybe from a personal perspective, the struggle with anxiety. It’s powerful without being melodramatic as are the tunes that explore similar themes like the post-classical Dans ma bulle where the precise Ciani synth phrases yearn with a lone violin.
Familiarity with the album, plus google translate for non-French speakers, reveals the honesty and depth of the duo’s new songs. That dimension is underlined by the hymn-like Mer Du Nord, a transportive song which the duo performed at their Grandmother’s funeral (she passed away during the making of ‘Maréeternelle’). It needs to be listened to rather than written about,
As well as being a collection where Citron Citron bravely open up and share, the album also suggests where the partnership may be heading post album two and beyond. Bazar tout nu is the least synth infused track on ‘Maréeternelle’ but the pair don’t lose their usual focus in this dark, dreamy piece. There’s weepy guitars, acoustic strums, bass twanging on the beat, tambourines, hi-hats and an eerie violin swerve which neatly disrupts the flow. Augustin takes the vocal straight, downcast and maybe defeated in this stark song of loneliness.
Two instrumental cuts also highlight the range and future possibilities within the Citron Citron soundscape. In Portamento, the intricate dynamics draw on the Sjollema siblings classical starting points with Zoé’s swooning violin allowed to flourish in an arrangement of exquisite balance and detail. There’s a nod to early new age spaciousness here which also comes through on the album’s other non-vocal tune Ruines. This features Fhunyue Gao’s celestial theremin setting the tidal tone amongst the swirl of synths and restrained guitar distortion. The tune’s coda, all pastoral simplicity with Augustin’s gentle acoustic guitar and Zoe’s curling violin, provides an astute and telling close to ‘Maréeternelle’. It proposes resolution and rest at the end of an album which twists and turns but never settles on the obvious. That’s Citron Citron pop music.
Get your copy of Maréeternelle’ by Citron Citron from your local record store or direct from Bongo Joe HERE
