The unlikely trio, which hails from Paris, is rocking the festival and concert stages across both sides of the Atlantic. They’ve returned twice since our first encounter with them at GlobalFEST in January. With their debut album Mo Jodi, Delgres proves that they can be just as captivating live as on the record. Although Pascal Danae, the bandleader, traces his roots back to Guadaloupe in Haiti, his inspiration for this group comes from Louisiana. Danae’s Creole roots are most evident in his French Creole language and his yearning vocal. His guitar playing is steeped deep in bayou, swampy rock aesthetics. The album opens with “Respecte Nou” (Respect Ourselves), a wakeup call for Danae’s people. It unfolds over a bracing and gutbucket rockabilly beat. Danae’s voice is wild and raspy, recorded with a metallic vintage aura. He sings “Respect Nou (Respect Ourselves),” a song that connects his American and Caribbean points of reference. The sequel, “Mo Jodi” (Die Today), is equally as rocking and focuses on Guadaloupean culture. This is the story about Delgres, a mixed-race officer in Napoleon Bonaparte’s Guadaloupe restitution team. Delgres said he would rather “die today”, which he did. The band is big and powerful, with only Danae and Baptiste Brondy on drums and percussion and Rafgee on sousaphone bass. There are also occasional flugelhorn and trumpet passages. Danae’s guitar playing can be described as forceful and delicious, with a variety of styles, including stinging electric blues (“Pardone Mwen)”), folky acoustic strumming (“Pardone Mwen”), or soaring pedalsteel (“Vivre Sur la Route”), a love song about the hardships of living on the road. As the album progresses, it becomes more personal and reflective. As Danae’s screams on “Mr. President”. The song begins with a clip of Lyndon Johnson’s 1968 withdrawal. However, the Creole lyrics serve more as a generalized complaint about any poor person living under an uncaring president. The album is full of strong songs, and it flows beautifully through moods that range from defiance to unsentimental melancholy. “Chak Jou Bon Die Fe” (Each and Every Day), a song that sounds almost like a prayer, is an acoustic number with a harmonic progression that’s reminiscent of “Kulanjan,” a Malian griot song.

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