Slift Delivers a Cosmic Blockbuster of Psychedelic Stoner

Our record of the month is Ilion, the third album from the Toulouse-based trio, at the confluence of rock and metal.

Our record of the month is the third album from Slift! It’s the first time I dedicate a whole column to an heavy album but what an album this is. It snowed last night in Brussels and Ilion was the ideal soundtrack for my nighttime walk in the icy snow. The first time I listened to it I couldn’t do anything else, I was captured by the narration of the album.

In France, we are pretty good at metal music and we have been for a while. I’ve barely scratched the surface of the scene but my favorites include Gojira (with whom they share a certain sense of epicness and environmental concerns), Alcest, Year of No Light and Birds in Row (that I could have talked about when I did the list of the best albums of 2022 but imply forgot). It’s important to note that the scene also welcomes a shit-ton of cancelled bands and celebrate itself every year during Hellfest, a festival as big as it is problematic.

Slift is not exactly metal however. Here’s how I tried to describe Slift’s music in the review I wrote for Goûte Mes Disques, a French-speaking publication I’ve been worked with for a couple of weeks. If you’re curious about it, you can read the review over there.

The ship, damaged, adrift not far from Orion's belt, seems unoccupied. Our crew, after voting by a narrow majority to explore the wreck, sent a small rescue team there. Of course, the doctor is with us, just in case, but our mission is mainly to recover all the unused equipment following the unexpected disappearance of the occupants of this supply ship. As the shuttle's airlock connects to it, we wait for the fateful “click” that will assure us that the cabin is pressurized. The door opens. No light, not a sound but the smell of death, even through the suit's helmet. And bam, an eight-minute solo!

Frenchsplaining Slift

Created in 2016, Slift is the reunion of the two brothers Jean and Rémi Fossat with Canek Flores (which everyone will agree is a badass drummer name). They met in classical music school in Ariège (a rural area south of Toulouse) and quickly decided to make psychedelic rock music together, partly inspired by the American garage band Thee Oh Sees, among other stuff. 

Their first EP and their first album were cool, going in every directions they wanted to explore from music genres that would only solidify in the future. During COVID, Slift released a surprisingly awesome second album named Ummon. Their sound was finally evolving into something heavier and more cinematographic. At the center of Ummon there’s an amazing 10-minute cosmic odyssey called Citadel on a Satellite. Now, imagine if the new one would be only made of this type of songs? Multiplying the awesomeness by thousands.

Atmosphère, est-ce que j’ai une gueule d’atmosphère ?

According to the Toulouse-based trio Ilion is a direct sequel to their previous opus. Once again, the qualitative leap is gigantic and the ambition is multiplied. The record, in addition to being a psychedelic stoner monster, is also a space opera inspired by the Iliad And the Odyssey, with the budget of a Hollywood blockbuster. Approaching the length of a feature film, Ilion also embraces its structure with a cold open, scenes of bravery and introspection intersecting through a final confrontation and end credits. 

We were pretty happy to learn last year that Slift signed with Sub Pop. The historic Seattle-based label welcomed its first French group in 30 years (after the Thugs, an iconic punk band from Angers) by giving them the means to produce the album they had in mind.

The record begins with the inaugural and eponymous track, Ilion, a 11-minute single summing up their formula: dungeon master rock/metal bottle-fed with Led Zeppelin and Metallica. Carried by the nervous drums of Canek Flores and the unison chant of the Fossat Brothers screaming tales of apocalypse and exploration, Jean's guitar and Rémi's bass ignite until the wall of sounds dies down in ethereal choirs over layers and layers of cosmic synths. After the first track, the album never really stops until Weaver’s Weft inaugurating a more melancholic second act.

No need to address the complexity of each track (10 minutes on average) as the album is a coherent piece of art. You will not be surprised to hear the reverbed saxophone of Etienne Jaumet (from Zombie Zombie) at the beginning of Confluence, an awesome instrumental track that reminds me of Oiseaux-Tempête (another French band playing long cinematic songs). Because Slift, without making it the main sound, easily fits into the pantheon of French krautrock. I know, it seems irreconcilable but there is a small but strong scene in France inspired by 70’s German “sauerkraut” rock.  

At the confluence of metal and rock, Slift's music does not shy away from maximalism. It's hard to believe only three people in the studio can make that much noise.

Slift’s concert at Atelier 210 in Brussels was my first real concert after COVID where the crowd was allowed to stand up without any form of social distancing. It was awesome. We went nuts. I cannot wait to see them again supporting their grandiose and cosmic album.