At the beginning of the 80s, guitarist Jean-Francois Pauvros and trumpeter Jac Berrocal invented the trio Catalogue, responsible for a rather provocative crazy rock with its saturated voices and decadent lyrics... We remember "Khomeini Twist" from the 1982 album "Penetration". After Jean-Pierre Arnoux's brief appearance, Gilbert Artman sat behind the drums for three explosive vinyls which were to mark their era to the point of still resonating today. Sound recordist Jean-Marc Foussat, a long-time friend of the guitarist, was never far away with his control machines. This is how these twenty new minutes have just been published, on his label Fou, completely in line with the deconstructivism of the Fluxus tribe.

Indeed, the guitar tears the silence with a disconcerting frankness, shearing the atmosphere with one of those categorical riffs of which Jean-Francois holds the secret. We therefore quickly understand why this recording, about which we were given little information, is called "Assassins"! The intervention of Gilbert Artman, who hammers his drums with the conviction of an Apache sorcerer, contributes to the earthly anchoring of this unstoppable rock despite rebounds flexible enough to evoke the jungle style of swing orchestras. The obstinacy of the two friends, however, leaves no doubt about the compulsive binary of this rhythm when a breath occurs which matches it exactly. Jac Berrocal has just joined the ceremony, his trumpet left in the cloakroom, and whistles between his teeth before his voice escapes his lips to immediately slip into the side of a new wave perverted by filters and the echo of systems pernicious. From then on, nothing is going right! The choruses skid alongthe rhythm, the strikes dislocate and disrupt time, a hesitant silence summons gravity and the voice itself drifts between the divergent themes of the children's nursery rhyme and the military march.

We will have understood: if the objective was to move the focal lengths and prevent us from sleeping in circles, the trio achieved it perfectly. This will continue like this for more than twenty minutes, alternating without apparent logic the rhythmic pounding, the dazzling guitars, the indefinite screams and the terror of the void as it sometimes appears beyond a mess dense enough to obscure the future immediate. Like a ghost train, we will ride the anguish with loud cries of fear and joy, transforming our worst fears into pure adrenaline, and rarely, undoubtedly, will we have felt so alive.- Joel Pagier, in Review ans Correction 140