Philippe Petit’s “A Divine Comedy” reviewed by Musique Machine

Cover of the album "A Divine Comedy"

A Divine Comedy is a two-disc journey into jarring, shifting, moody, at points decidedly hellish electro-symphonic-come-electro-acoustic sound scaping from French musician, journalists and radio DJ Philippe Petit. The release is themed around/roughly based on the 18th-century poem of the same name by Dante Alighieri.

The release comes presented in a mini card gatefold- on its front cover it features a blood and fire red collage taking in overlaid images from what looks like old religious prints of hell, demons, and a headless gowned figure. Inside we find an eight-page booklet- this details the themes of the work, sonically what each track consists of, and a rundown of each track’s plot.

Disc number one takes in six tracks- these move from “Halas Jacta Est” with its raising ‘n’ falling baying elector tones, inside piano fumbling/ twang, and jarring cut-up male & female vocal samples with a decidedly theatrical leaning. Onto bubbling-to-beaded analogue synth tones, rushing ambience, and unease mumbles ‘n’ screams of “The Descent”. Though to the tolling keys, synth bay, electro billow/ stretch, subtle gong strike, and plodding horn trumpeting of “Lucifer, Fallen Angel”.

The second CD features five tracks. We go from textural fumble ‘n’ creak, slow-mo string bay, and sudden jarring percussive rattle of “Purgatorio, Canto I”. There’s plodding & pitch warping “Purgatorio, Canto III” which blends sombre string glide, electro stretches, and searing pitch climbs. The disc plays out with “Paradiso, Canto II” with its shrill & warbling tones, harmonic piano key strikes, bass-bound electro purrs, and turntable sound grain.

A Divine Comedy certainly takes you on a jarring & often seared sonic journey- I can see this appeal to those who enjoy their symphonic sounds unpredictable, noise-bound, and dangerous. Roger Batty

via Musique Machine