The question most likely will be asked of me whether the review of Livre Troisieme by Les Chants du Hasard belongs on the metal site. Even more pertinent – is Les Chants du Hasard metal? The answer, in the word of the sole mastermind Hasard himself, is “it is irrelevant”. Here is the piece of music which has no metal surface trappings of any kind, yet it stirs the gamut of powerful emotions the way metal does it for me. So, I concur, Livre Troisieme deserves to be reviewed here, and it is damn good.

After Le Moine is over and Les Prismes begins, you get an idea that Le Moine was not simply an intro otherwise irrelevant to the rest of the album, but instead it is a tone setting ominous overture the way classical music operas unfold. Leading with tragic minor notes, and going through a panoply of vocals, from male operatic to crazy demented, you sort of get a clue as to what to expect the rest of the way. Don’t expect easy listening, stop right there if you don’t have any appreciation or love for classical music, embrace with open heart if you are a student of music in an academic institution or enjoyed bands like Lacrimosa or Angizia in the past. The orchestral and operatic on Livre Troisieme is not fleeting or momentary. It is the absolute mainstay, and really the only fare. The real instruments sound, I hear clarinet on Les Prismes, barrel grinder and violin on La Comptine, French horn on Le Repos, and their placement are just exquisite. I know a French conservatory orchestra professor helped Hasard to mix the album but, honestly, I wish production would have been even juicier and lusher. The levels have been certainly pulled back a little, which makes the overall result not overwhelming and allows vocals to shine. And vocals of many kinds are certainly present here. From soprano (Les Prismes) to funeral female mourners (Les milliers d’une fois) to male tenor (L’oubli) to kids voices (La Comptine) and old people spoken words (La Comptine) to all kinds of crazy discordant demented growls (Les Prismes, Salve Regina) Livre Troisieme is full vocal expressivity. All of this mass of sounds unfolds slowly and very pensively, almost percussion-less, with a few kettledrums (L’oubli) providing the ill-omened backdrop. Without growing tedious at all, the album constantly probes emotions ranging from tragedy to triumph and from euphoria to despondency. Whenever hope emerges, in the form of the opening waltz on Les milliers d’une fois, the gloomy warnings soon return and desperation rules again. Madness and clarity alternate (Le Reflet) and the nerves are constantly rubbed. This is a soundtrack of somewhere between mental asylum, church altar in an abandoned monastery, demon exorcism, and funeral requiem. Basically an awesome experience if you just let go and let it wash over you. Interestingly enough, Livre Troisieme doesn’t linger a moment too long, doesn’t overstay on any of the tracks and once the final chords of Le Repos seize going with the album on repeat allows for another rewarding sonic experience.