One of the lessons of this past year is that there's surprisingly fertile ground to be tilled between D'Angelo and Avey Tare. Between them, stripped-down R&B and arty, slurry, ritualistic avant-pop privilege a similar kind of guilelessness. Both modes do impressionism well, and both have no problem letting vocals veer into the moans and murmurs one might hear at a séance. Differences abound, of course, but so do signs of fruitful communion-- among them Autre Ne Veut. A one-man act from New York (he prefers to keep his identity secret), Autre Ne Veut shares qualities and a scene with acts like How to Dress Well, Games, and, less directly, soul-aspiring indie bands from Bon Iver to Yeasayer. But Autre Ne Veut has something special. For one thing, every song on his self-titled debut is a marvel, each in its own way. For another, the way he steers his voice toward the eccentricities and extremes of R&B sounds disarmingly logical, natural, and heartfelt.
To speak of R&B in this context might just be another way of saying, "He really sings-- like, he really leans into it." But it's less his voice than his way with hooks and trills and melody that signals Autre Ne Veut as someone who could transcend the arty underground (if he wanted to, which he may well not). Wherever they find a context, the songs on Autre Ne Veut are packed, concise, abstract pop dynamos. The disarming album opener "Tell Me" spins like a pop song in a centrifuge, with Autre Ne Veut singing against himself in overdubbed layers over a backing track that manages to cast harsh, disorienting electronic smears in a comely melodic role. It's seriously out-there stuff, but also, oddly, possessed of a directness and clarity that could work just as well on a lost album by someone like Billy Ocean.
There's also a sort of bravery at play in some of Autre Ne Veut's more unflinching moves. In "O.M.G.", he lays down his guard with lyrcs directed to a prospective paramour-- "Oh my god, I can feel it in my body," and, "Everyone says it's the perfect night"-- that are sung as if by someone half-remembering an older cousin's tales of what 1980s pop radio sounded like. But then the song snakes around and finds Autre Ne Veut hesitant to do the deed-- filled with neuroses and empathy for someone he'd rather not hurt, even if by chance. "I don't want to be your heartbreak," he sings. "I don't want to be the one to make you want to have to work."
"Wake Up" is comparatively spare, with Autre Ne Veut urging himself to get out of a relationship in a severe falsetto. Parts of his vocals peal into a sort of demonic mode (like Avey Tare when he pushes past his range), and the subtle, spacious track behind him is rendered by cheap digital gear. But again, there's no overstating how also sturdy and strong it is as a certifiable "pop" song in the end. The same goes even more for songs that totally go for it, too. Over a hooky strobe effect and some chintzy, chancy chimes that give everything a sense of grandeur, "Drama Cum Drama" lays out a store of great melodic vocal ideas that Autre Ne Veut files through with seemingly very little effort or deliberation. He does the same on other highlights like "Two Days of Rain", "New Depth", and "Soldier". The way really gifted guitarists or keyboardists might attach little arpeggios or counterpoint lines to a melody while just fiddling around? Autre Ne Veut does that with his voice. He jams.
