For Felix Müller aka The Offline, a journey is always as important as the destination. His instrumental music, rooted in yester year soul, funk and soundtrack, has an episodic quality, snapshots which compile to reveal an overall mood. It all began in 2022 with the ‘En Clair-Obscur’ EP, a set of sleek instrumentals mapping his photography gig along the coast of south-west France. The bold ‘La couleur de la mer’ followed, an imaginary film score sweeping through the world of beach encounters, hidden villas, heroes, villains and hair-pin car chases. Then it was a return to the steamy mysteries of Marseille for last year’s ‘Les Cigales’, a collection which saw The Offline pare down the Mancini and dial up the tight Khruangbin vibes.
So what itinery does Müller follow on his new album ‘La grande évasion’? From his comments previewing the new release it sounds like The Offline might have gone for the full epic: “It tells of the departure, the daring, the beauty, the unknown. It tells the story of saying goodbye and arriving back home with all the memories you have collected along the way”. Cryptic, quizzical but enticing, the sweep of ‘La grande évasion’ gets signposted immediately with the flamboyant La grande evasion (Thème principal). From louche funk and loose vibes haunted by plot-thickening harpsichord, the tune opens out into the widescreen with a full orchestral flourish, picking up the melody then launching it skywards.
From here you might suspect that The Offline’s latest sees a return to the classic soundtrack drama of ‘La couleur de la mer’ but this album scales up in different ways. It’s a packed offering, sixteen tight tracks where styles gently merge and mingle. There’s a Tijuana zing to Aurore alongside its nimble tip toeing bassline; De Paris à l’Amazonie brings in silky wah-wah chops as well as a clipped bossa rhythm; and the Herbie Mann-esque light funk of Les oiseaux de mer sways to a lilting samba.
The ways these blends subtly flavour each tune highlights the connectivity between The Offline ensemble and Müller’s compositional ideas. It’s no surprise to find Chris Hill (drums), Hans-Christian Stephan (flugelhorn/trumpet), Felix Behrendt (Rhodes/organ) and Kimo Eiserbeck (saxes/flute) joining him once more, bringing with them a natural awareness of The Offline’s focus on understatement and space in the soundscape. The calm shifts within songs sound so effortlessly that they never sound forced or telegraphed. On Dans les grands espaces Euro-film shadows meet smoochy soul then plunge somewhere darker as the bass locks in and the organ swirls. Les îles manoeuvres even more deceptively, starting as a mid-paced Tommy Guerrero skank then closing in the region of doomy synths and prog chiming keys. It’s a meticulously crafted genre collage of ascending guitar patterns and sharp Daptone horns which pictures a dreamy other world.
The Offline project is clearly drawn to the niche peculiarities of Library music but that is just a starting point which Müller uses to shape his own sound. Over the last three albums he’s been working in the business of minute detailing, creating something that’s deceptive in its familiarity but intriguing because of the smoke and mirrors approach. You often wonder whether The Offline is hiding something but still want to discover where he is heading.
The Bandcamp bio for ‘La grande évasion’ hints that the album’s original journey was going to be into deep space but Müller shelved the fantasy by returning to memories of his own travels and their impressions, both real and emotional. On Boulevard National he returns to Marseille for a fresh expression of the city’s steamy wildness set to snaking Anatolian psych-guitar lines, retro horn shades and the swirl of a Hammond-toned organ. The crisply arranged L’excursion strolls smoothly along some sun-kissed promenade whereas the minimal La vie de nuit has a weary apprehension about it, the tune’s hook repeated simply on trumpet and guitar until the sound gets briskly sucked away.
This album again highlights how capturing mood and moment in a musical minature is one of The Offline’s strengths but sometimes it can feel as if he’s rifling through the slide-show. He does stretch out more on the dynamic Le trip, a tune which brews steamily in the smooth jazz zone until Kimo Eiserbeck’s feisty sax solo stirs the equilibrium thrillingly. The expansive farewell song Thème de l’adieu sees Eiserbeck’s sax bringing cooler tones to the album’s melancholic finale, a perfect touch on this last dance scenario.
It’s telling that Müller signs off ‘La grande évasion’ with Nikonos V, a jaunty Grant Green-ish guitar number named after his trusty camera. He’s captured another journey with this album, the highs, lows, mundane and magical, setting them in place to look back on and re-consider. It’s retrospective music yes but sprinkled with a strange, compelling charm.
Get your copy of ‘La grande évasion‘ by The Offline from you local record store or direct from Deep Matters HERE
