Mon Rayon – ‘Image Repertoire’
Photo by Aksel Örn Ekblom
Dear music lover,
In this world, we are granted very few things in which we can safely escape from the mundane. Music is one of them, but there’s also the risk of artists who sound like artists who sound like others and so on… Then you get lucky and catch an earful of Brigitte Calls Me Baby or Lord Huron, and it rights the proverbial applecart. Among the acts who sound like nothing we’ve heard before, we would like to offer you Sweden’s Mon Rayon, who have just released the genre-blurring LP Image Repertoire.
Not to make you jealous or anything, but we’ve had the pleasure of spinning this self-produced beast for the past few weeks, getting to know its nooks and crannies, finding our faves, and filling the sonic space of our commute to work and back. So, let’s dig in.
Mon Rayon opens this collection with a brief, thirty-second intro entitled “Shadow Of You.” And not to draw any needless comparisons so soon, but the aforementioned Lord Huron comes to mind here, with a soundscape filled with atmospheric waves of orchestral elements. Finger-plucked acoustic guitar rounds out the sound, but this musical hors d'oeuvre only sticks around long enough to draw you in for the main course.
From there, we hit “One of a Kind (Feat. Vira Milton),” which we first heard as a single back in May. You’re more than welcome to read our review of it here, but, in short, we found it to be an exuberant, meticulously polished throwback to late-‘60s sunshine pop, with The 5th Dimension and The Mamas & the Papas serving as touchstones. Its warm harmonies, orchestral layering, and Bacharach-esque sophistication made for an immaculate introduction to Mon Rayon, but Image Repertoire quickly proves there’s considerably more to this collection than one particularly sunny slice of pop.
Next up, “Time To Set You Free” keeps that mystical, 1960s vibe intact, with a sound that would be right at home on The Birds, the Bees & the Monkees. Amid the track’s bouncy rhythm, there appears to be some sort of harpsichord-adjacent instrument filling in the cracks, which we cannot recall ever hearing in a song that has appeared on the blog. Between the twangy guitar and the band’s knack for copping a vocal melody, “Time To Set You Free” deserves to be in your earholes.
“Pale Memory” steers the album in a different direction, with prominent keys and a bombastic beat that is slightly reminiscent of The Heavy’s “Short Change Hero.” The organ in this track wails in a way that we haven’t heard since we caught our older brother smoking dope while listening to Deep Purple. Our instinct screams Hammond B-3, but without the liner notes, you’ll just have to take our word for it. Coupled with the restrained vocal performance, the result is a compelling meld of early-1970s psychedelia and contemporary production.
By the time we reach “Alaró,” it becomes blatantly obvious that this is one of those LPs that begs to be enjoyed in its entirety. The subdued focus on the toms and atmospheric keys is able to resolve the energy of “Pale Memory,” and this one feels like a soft place to land. Beneath the superb vocal performance, a wooly mammoth of a bass pours a consistent foundation. Even with time set aside for a guitar solo, “Alaró” leaves us lost in a gentle sway of its groove, with every note intentional and a keen attention to detail. This record is a work of genius.
“Lilac” feels as though it’s been pulled directly from a James Bond film. It’s got that larger-than-life string section and mysteriously toned guitar notes planted so perfectly that you can almost see the credits rolling on the backs of your eyelids. And, man, it probably sounds like we’re just fans blowing smoke at this point, but this is unlike anything we’ve heard in, well, forever. The shift from verse to refrain is so chef’s kiss that it begs for multiple listens; unfortunately, once you’ve begun listening to Image Repertoire, you have to finish it before you start skipping around. Them’s the rules.
“All the Living” sounds the way The Shins would sound if they were an indie rock outfit with more of a fleshed-out full-band sound. There’s also a certain Beatles-ness in the vocal delivery here, primarily in the moments where the harmonies appear. But the real highlight, for us, is the spaghetti western-inspired guitar solo, which, again, tips its dusty hat to our fondness of Ben Schneider and co.
It should go without saying that this is usually the point in an album where we start sensing the filler, but eight songs deep and “Sleeping Armageddon” is just as strong as the rest. Beneath the bones of each track, there seems to be this sort of magical, nameless element brewing, like a storm of creative ambition and ingenuity. For instance, we would not be surprised to see “Sleeping Armageddon” performed in some unmade musical. It croons like yesteryear, built atop a big band ballad, complete with the orchestra, all without the telltale sheen of digital production. If you told us this was a recording recovered from a late-‘60s time capsule, we would simply nod and continue listening.
“5AM” is one of the slower tunes on the record and also one of the first times we catch some pedal steel. This song is not country music, but it alludes to it by way of its honky tonk structure. The vocal harmonies truly shine in this one, but it’s the lead guitar alongside the steel that puts the cherry on top. Then, of course, you’ve got that B-3 again, pumping atmosphere into the remaining space of the arrangement.
The next cut, “Champagne Socialistic Intuition,” starts as a reasonably straightforward pop song, assuming you associate pop music with early Tame Impala. From the reverb and delay on the vocals at the end of each line, to the playful harmony that rides along into each chorus, this one quickly became one of our favorites. Throw in the dynamic break before the song’s final third and you’ve got yourself one heck of a lil indie psych banger.
Returning a bit to the previously mentioned Bond theme, “Skuggan av dig” delivers more of that massive, towering production. And the more we listen to this record, the more it starts to feel like the soundtrack to a movie we’ve yet to see, yet fully understand through its music. We’re totally eating our words by reviewing an entire LP, but there is truly no other way to discuss what Mon Rayon has accomplished here. “Skuggan av dig” is the only song on the record not in English, but it’s got a sweet, palm-muted bass line, so we have no choice but to love it with the rest of them. Plus, the guitar solo is more than worth the price of admission.
We close Image Repertoire with “Like Rain,” and although we would be inclined to believe that most artists have been influenced by The Beatles in one way or another, it’s here where we get that Macca-like bass work that seals the deal. “Like Rain” is on the slower side, not necessarily a ballad, but bound to inspire some deep bouts of introspection, which is precisely why we listen to music in the first place. Nearing a five-minute runtime, it’s also the longest track on the LP, so although it’s the end, we get to say goodbye a little longer before ultimately returning to the beginning. And honestly, the best compliment we can give an album is wanting to hear it all over again.
Image Repertoire is out now via Flak Records. Connect with Mon Rayon: Spotify | Instagram | YouTube | Facebook