The Big Idea release their new album ‘Half a Dozen’ today.
The Big Idea returns with Half a Dozen, a bold step into grittier territory. Shedding their famed DIY concepts, the six-piece delivers their most direct and impeccably produced album yet. Recorded live with Jeremy R. G. Snyder (Idles, DITZ), the album channels a dark, British-inspired energy reminiscent of Fat White Family and Black Country New Road. Amidst the noisy guitars and expansive brass, their unique blend of psychedelic krautrock, cynical humor, and explosive friendship anthems cements their status as a unique force in French indie rock.
The Big Idea - Half A Dozen
But it's also the number of musicians that make up the La Rochelle-based band, and above all, the number of albums that can now be counted in the discography of the sextet, formed in 2014. After a quadruple album in the form of a detective story, a "board game" record, an opus recorded on a boat in the middle of the transatlantic, or the double vinyl in the form of a fairy tale, the six childhood friends have never been short on concepts, always on albums recorded with whatever means they had at their disposal.
It is on these last two points that the band decided to go against the grain: *Half a Dozen* is neither a concept album nor a DIY album. Despite the great mastery of "home" recording they have demonstrated until now, The Big Idea finally explores the conditions of a studio recording for this album. Having lived communally since 2015, and now based in the Bordeaux region since 2021, the band, which votes on every decision unanimously, took the time they needed to write and rehearse this new album. The tracks were then captured in a live setting over a short week after months of rehearsals, by New York producer Jeremy R. G. Snyder, who has participated in the American and European tours of bands like Idles, DITZ, or Lambrini Girls.
While The Big Idea has not abandoned its infectious energy, one senses that the time for fairy tales and sailing adventures is over. *Half a Dozen* is imbued with a dark humor that had not been heard in the band's discography until now. This is likely the poisonous influence of British bands like Fat White Family (who wouldn't disown the toxic groove of "Wild Oyster") or Black Country New Road (whom one can almost hear on "Sycamore Trees" and its hallucinatory ending where free jazz saxophones meet a stifling distortion). Their outlook on the world is now a tad cynical ("These Days" and its chilling mantra "I’m sick of these days"), absurd (the formidable single "Tangerine’s Tango" and its furious loop), or even downright postmodern ("Red Pink & Yellow" and its icy vocoder). Amidst the increasingly noisy guitars, the brass section now takes all the space it deserves, further reinforcing The Big Idea's uniqueness within the French indie landscape, with an album boasting impeccable production.
If there's one thing that immediately strikes the listener on this new album, it's the even greater osmosis that unites the six musicians. The band has played together extensively this year, and it shows. The compositions allow for moments of instrumental trance where radical risk-taking nevertheless feels natural. The eleven musical pieces that make up *Half a Dozen* gradually move away from the "song" format to venture into even freer forms: psychedelic krautrock passages and spoken word are at the heart of the record. And when the band ventures into the exercise of songwriting, it's often to deconstruct it with a smile (in the style of Syd Barrett on "Dead, Dead, Dead!" or Gang of Four on "Let’s Dance").
Their influences, once more American, now wander across the English Channel. However, the band avoids the pitfall of following the trend of crank wave, windmill scene, or other Brexit rock (assuming these terms have any meaning). Behind this English gloom that transpires on the album cover and certain tracks, The Big Idea remains that band of big-hearted friends who love to share their joy, leaning on the corner of a bar ("Kind With The Barman"), and shouting friendship anthems at the top of their lungs ("Come Close"). They remind us that if we're going to talk about all the absurdity in the world, we might as well do it by joking with a big smile, a full glass, and a great band of mates.
