Sadistic Sex Daemon

[Disclaimer – I had written a first review for this release, more than ten years ago. Without claiming that one to be better, a retrospective look was much needed.]

Following the success of Misanthrope Immortel, Misanthrope was as close as ever to become the true big thing in French extreme metal – when no one was caring for a young act named Gojira, which had hardly released its debut album. Only – Misanthrope never became the big thing. The dynamics suddenly broke. Half of the band left. Masterminds S.A.S de l’Argilière and Jean-Jacques Moréac would later confess they barely talked to each other at the time. Guitarists kept on jumping on and off, until a young man who initially did not impress anyone, Anthony Scemama, joined as a temporary member – to eventually become the longest-standing guitarist in the band, but that’s another story. Half of the solos on the album we’re discussing now were indeed played by a session guitarist who, probably, did not feel much involved either. And, last nail in the coffin, Jean-Baptiste Boitel announced at the last minute his participation to the recording sessions would be limited to sound engineering and keyboards supervision. When a long-time member, integral to the sound of the band for its most acclaimed albums, is relegated to the puppet role of “samples and sounds”, with his picture grossly copied and pasted from another release, you realize it does not smell good.

Sadistic Sex Daemon was probably the best album Misanthrope could pull out at the time, considering the calamitous situation. It was wisely kept short – ten songs, none of these especially long, plus an interlude. Granted, it is no masterpiece, it just could not be, and there are a few moments one can feel the guys clearly do not care, like the whole song Bonaparte,(*) collection of boring riffs topped by an unconcerned S.A.S de l’Argilière mumbling the “Napoléon Bonaparte” chapter he just picked from a random history book. The title track is desperately tepid; it may boast the most efficient chorus of the whole album – big groovy riff with the mere title hammered four successive times over it, plain, simple and uncompromising – SADISTIC SEX! SADISTIC SEX... DAEMON! – but that’s pretty much all. Still, the Misanthrope heart beats on, keeping the trademark elements which made the prog death metal quintet – or was it quartet, trio, depends – successful: complex song structures, loud virtuoso bass lines with the occasional solo, a slice of orchestral keyboards, and de l’Argilière’s unique exalted voice. Only, the fun is over.

Because this is a work of anger. That was to be expected. Never, since the demo days were over, had guitars reigned so supreme, with multiple superimposed tracks to create a wall of sound, and aggressive riffing. Jean-Jacques Moréac, bass player and main songwriter for this album, started his metal career by playing technical thrash; now, exalted by anger, these thrash roots are showing again – obvious on a song like Armageddon à l’Elysée, for instance. More surprising perhaps, the black metal touch felt in the main riffs of the title track or in Grand Démonologue, of which it fits the mystico-satanic theme. Misanthrope, always claiming to play extreme metal in the broadest sense, hadn’t fiddled too much with black metal before. Not that it is unpleasant.

No ballad on this album, no acoustic guitar, and exclusively harsh vocals – a unique occurrence in a band which values vocal versatility so much. This does not mean there are no soft moments, but those take a different shape: mid-tempo rockers like Révisionniste, Romantisme Noir, respectively the opening and closing tracks, or Conversation Métapsychique with its eerie piano intro. Then the majestic La Marche des Cornus, perhaps the pinnacle of the work, even if awkwardly placed: it indeed starts with a one-minute-long noise/keyboards intro (sometimes referred to as Into Perdition) which breaks the flow of the album, and would have worked much better as the opener. I’ll admit I am positively biased towards Misanthrope Immortel, so it is no surprise I would praise above all the song which reminds the most of that album. Amongst the overall gloom, its upbeat verse and occasional melodic leads sound refreshing. Of course it is also the most keyboard-laden track, so perhaps it will be a hit-or-miss to some.

Now, that’s a case where the lyrics deserve special attention. Remember, the guys were angry. Three short months later, more angry guys would bless us with such gems as Frantic, Shoot Me Again and the likes. Anger was definitely not a good artistic advisor that year, and when de l’Argilière goes politically explicit, this leaves an unpleasant taste. While he had dabbled in history and politics before, the form remained largely symbolic (think La Momie de Marianne, etc.). The direct approach does not fit the Misanthrope style. “Nazis ain’t nice”, that’s the bare message of Sans Complaisance; thanks for the insight, but where is the poetry gone, you know, this word you were so infatuated with in your early days? Perhaps you just wanted to make us forget that on this same album you also penned two overtly anti-democratic songs, Révisionniste and Armageddon à l’Elysée. Anyone a tad familiar with Misanthrope knows this is likely posture, the character S.A.S de l’Argilière talking and not the man Philippe Courtois hiding behind the mask. Still it does not make any sense to write these lines, amongst the most controversial of your whole catalogue, at the exact same time you complain about the general negative image – “bunch of overpretentious assholes”, “pro-monarchists”, “arrogant aristocrats” – you are getting.

But nothing, perhaps, could illustrate the state of confusion the band was in better than two tracks I still cannot decide if they were signs of genius, or outright we-don’t-give-a-f*** attitude. L’Extinction d’une Etoile first, a fast number on a generally mid-paced album, which would work fine if it weren’t for these goofy synth bleeps and inept lyrics, which sound as if de l’Argilière wanted to revive the “god-like” texts of his avant-garde days – the poetry we were talking about – and failed in a blast of stupid megalomania. As for Le Dernier Répond... alright, it’s a mere spoken interlude, and it’s only ten seconds.(*) And, after all, how many metal musicians before have brought their own father into the studio to tell a few lines? Brilliant... and so dumb, at the same time. Perhaps is it the very definition of genius.

Highlights: La Marche des Cornus, Armageddon à l’Elysée, Romantisme Noir

(*) Neither Bonaparte nor Le Dernier Répond were included on the English version, which features the equally dull Contemplation instead.

Bonus CD

The French digipak edition came with a bonus disk, of which the sole interest consisted in its two first tracks, both of respectable quality for B-side material. Nouvel Enfer is another fast-and-direct take, while the mid-tempo Chair Organique is built on a funny synth motive which is likely to stick in the head for some time.

The following four tracks are mere alternate versions of songs from the main album – two instrumental, and two English-sung versions. The disk also contains bits of studio footage as a .mpeg file, the big hype back in those days. More than the actual content, it is the attempt at breaking the band’s image to pose as “normal people” which is significant. Strange paradox, when one remembers that the first disk features Armageddon à l’Elysée.