Melusina, who has been cursed with a spell since her childhood, transforms into a fantastic being every Saturday. Or in a monster. Half woman, half snake. Saturday comes and Melusina hides so that no one can see her. Nor her husband. This is your secret. But the man beaten with jealousy breaks his word and spies on him one Saturday. Discovering her secret, Melusina betrays her trust and escapes by transforming into a flying dragon.
The legend of Melusina swept across Europe in the 12th century and is now burning the imagination of one of the most daring artists of the 21st century, Cécile McLorin Salvant. When the Florida singer made her debut in 2010, her vocal performances, authoritative singing standards, and storytelling talent looked like she would become jazz’s new diva. For one thing, they gave him three Grammys in that category almost in a row. But McLorin Salvant is something else. She sings like a few people and thinks like almost no one, she. He drew attention to this last year with Ghost Song, an extraordinary futuristic sound album that looked inside fearlessly and turned that discovery into songs. What are you discovering with Mélusine this time?
Identity, desire and power
McLorin Salvant’s sixth album transcends centuries, continents and cultures as if they were parts of the same whole. Reshuffle data and make hitherto invisible connections. “I transform myself” like Rosalía, but without the hyperpop aesthetic and with a concept closer to that of El mal querer: an old story that serves as a metaphor for human nature. It opens up more or less cryptic questions about identity, desire, and power in Mélusine.
For the first time in her career, McLorin Salvant sings almost entirely in French, her mother’s language. Although English suddenly appeared among these chansons. Also on her mother’s side is Occitan, the language of her family, and Haitian Creole, spoken by her father. A mix of covers and his own songs, Mélusine consists of songs from long ago and who knows when. Live Est-ce ainsi que les hommes vivent?, a melancholy poem by Louis Aragon? An Antillean rhythm gives way to the exciting and naive Petite musique terrienne, taken from a ’70s futuristic themed rock opera. And the most extraordinary thing is in this hodgepodge where it is difficult to know what belongs to whom and when, and everything flows. .
Mélusine begins in a well-known musical language. McLorin Salvant sings sweet, enigmatic, accompanied by piano, double bass, drums, percussion. Safe ground. But towards the middle of the journey, the music gets weird, the name and genre are gone. Ghost keyboards, sounds that thicken and then dissipate to look human again, normal again. As if it never happened. As if Mélusine were Melusina. A legend. It’s a story we tell ourselves to understand who we are.