voice, so quickly identifiable, remains extremely fragile, and even approximate ... But it is even more touching. For this record, he should listen several times to appreciate the contours and depth is like an open hand and stretched, a trait of humanity at peace and resolutely optimistic - without lapsing into sentimentality that can be heard elsewhere. The story goes that Aubert has written just after the death of his father. We do not yet perceive the weight of grief or pain, on the contrary: it is a profound serenity that is flush throughout. Even in the final song, the only one where he is clearly referring to the father disappeared. A guitar-voice in farewell, devoid of pomp (sounds "parasites" are even carefully preserved). What
annoy some who still consider other unclassifiable and move it to tell me and others:
one who gave me this album, then that gives me the title: Loving What flees.
I was able to verify, once again, a phrase heard from Jean-Louis Aubert, with little wind it takes casual to serious things: "Often in my songs, I address me. I noticed that those songs are ones that people remember most. "Because they affect us as we, that is because it also affects me, because this poem is sufficiently open so that everyone recognizes them in the circumstances and the vicissitudes of his own life. Loving What
fled
Loving What
fled And the love even if
End of the night
love him up here
Without turning
No wonder
If we understood
Without regret
Without asking
What we learned what love
fled
As you love life
Even in the heart of the night
love him to infinity
Without turning
Without asking
If you have understood
Without regret
Without asking
What learned my love
Flee To other loves
Flee always
Fly away Take you ... ... .... There
Loving What Love
fled to infinity
End of The night
love up here
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