Is There Any Good Reason That I Should Be Scared?

This is pretty much my new favorite thing:



This guy, François Virot, does not even have a Wikipedia page. The closest thing Wikipedia has is some Marquis who got his head cut off in the French Revolution.

So, this guy is from Lyon, and he was in a noise pop band called Clara Clara which has no videos on YouTube. He's been playing the guitar since he was seven because he wanted to impersonate Kurt Cobain, but thank goodness that he doesn't sound like Kurt Cobain at all. He does, however, make very frightening faces when he's singing his own songs:


There are loads of La Blogotheque videos here, including some more Fançois Virot. And here is where you can download you very own copy of Say Fiesta! It's labeled Cascade Kisses, but that's incorrect so just change it yourself. His debut album came out in September, and it is a lo-fi freak pop masterpiece called Yes or No: Here is what last.fm had to say about the album:

"In a nutshell, then: it’s the record of a sage, recorded by a kid. Achieved with no superfluous addition: one guitar, sometimes two, one voice, sometimes two, or three, plus an acoustic rain of hands on wood, bits and pieces of percussion. Or else, a beautiful suppressed anger against whatever, overflowing with generosity, acoustic guitar strings assaulted with no second thought whatsoever, escalating songs, funk to the core, rageously melodic, that never fears total exposure be it in full sun or a car’s headlights in your eyes. What does François Virot’s pulsing heart look like, you’re wondering? Depending on the moments, what you will hear in this programmatic Yes Or No is: an either melancholic or joyous folksy rout, a fake grand reunion recorded onto tape in total solitude, moments of mingled pavement-esque and beatlesy descent, and that same brio that you like to hear in Animal Collective (we’ll be frank with you: you will think of Animal Collective from time to time, François does like to strum his guitar like it was a percussion piece, and play in dark, savage forests). Eventually, you will hear a voice that is both singular and precious. People who were lucky enough to see and hear François consume himself on stage at the back of a basement or a spacey flat know it too too well: François needs to wince in order to hoot, yet his chanting never sounds like groans. From deep down in his throat, his voice, gently saturated with matter, likes nothing more than to settle in your ear and levitate, harangue it without assaulting it. You either love it or conjecture about the fact that you may hate it, and then you end up loving it anyway."

YES.