INUI is one of those bands that strive not to reinvent anything but to reinvent themselves in everything. In nature and in chiaroscuro, what emerges from their almost-Inuit throats is utterly powerful. What resonates, first and foremost, are the voices. Modern and alive. They tremble, sometimes with rebellion and torment, and at other times with warmth and lyrical flights. What we hear is volcanic, liquid, and airy matter. Full of vertigo.

Infused with onirism and frenzied rhythms, flirting with jazz and the trance of electronic music, with the audacity of primal arts. INUI's music is multifaceted. Multiple and unanimous. Care for detail and choice of movement inhabit it. Square like an experimental pop machinery, committed like a rock thrust, the music of the quartet is stunning. Positively stunning. Stubborn and persistent. The quartet ignites with Incendie (TN: Fire), takes a long breath with Aria (TN: air), and engages in shamanic rituals with Primitives. Is INUI tautological? Yes, also. With rebounds and without redundancy. The hypnosis is clear. In the continuum of this exploration of sound and musicality, the two voices pursue and find each other, playfully jostle and merge. Clémence Lagier's voice explores and seeks to express the gentleness and harshness of an imagination woven with forests, migratory birds, and surreal reverie. Valeria Vitrano's voice, powerful and mellow, carries the sounds of a Sicily where volcanoes rumble, where waves crash against rocks with passionate fury. Supporting and enveloping the two voices are the bass and percussion. Fluid, tireless, and powerful. Maya Cros holds the bass in one hand and the ostinatos and psychedelia in the other. Dimitri Kogane strikes the drums as naturally as others breathe. Profusely.

Text: Guillaume Malvoisin | Photo: Sylvain Gripoix