Pierre Bensusan

My previous experience of Bensusan's work begins and ends with his 1978 album Musiques, a gentle and impressively dextrous, if slightly long-haired amalgam of peculiar Gallic/Celtic folk/jazz fusion. Thankfully in nearly 30 years few things have changed other than the hair. Pierre Bensusan is still an remarkable guitarist, a captivating and incredible talent that has mellowed with age, but remarkably left this side of the 1980s almost having shed the sonic cheddar that many of his better known peers are still wading through.

In just short of 60 minutes Bensusan weaves together his trademark fusion of acoustic jazz and hushed vocal interludes almost as seamlessly as he did in 1978. In fact, my only criticism of Altiplanos is the irritatingly well produced nature of it. The Bensusan of 1978 seemed to stay well clear of a crystal clear, reverb-laden production ethic, preferring to rely on nature taking its course. This and the frankly awful elevator-jazz noodling of ‘Tacita', ‘Sur Un Fil' and ‘Sylva' on occasions allow the record to veer dangerously close to being dismissed as aural wallpaper (they are really ‘that' bad), but with the tenderness, dexterity and sheer virtuosity of Bensusan's performance these unfortunate blips on an otherwise charming canvas can be forgiven… but only just.

Skip the cobblers, listen to ‘Chant de Nuit' and ‘Hymn 11' to hear what Bensusan's music is really all about, or better still go out and buy Pres de Paris (1976) or Musiques (1978).