Confession, fiction, and observation. This is how the trajectory drawn by Julien Gasc seems to evolve from one album to the next.

While Cerf, Biche et Faon took the form of a diary and Kiss Me, You Fool! that of a collection of stories, L'Appel de la Forêt concludes this trilogy in a tender and spontaneous dialogue, broaching the present with clairvoyance through melodies with bright glimmers.

More adventurous than its predecessors, which respectively took root in the south of France and in London, this third chapter offers a kaleidoscopic vision, multiplying geographies and temporalities to ingrain itself in the moment all the better.

Through a collection of dances of diverse origins, Julien places himself at the heart of the everyday - embracing it, sublimating it, and calling for a transfiguration to escape its imminent disaster.

His voice circulate through this fragmented horizon; it is raw and immediate, sometimes so stark that it disappears, making way for its interlocutor, like an invitation to occupy the space shaped by his ritornello.

Emancipated from his dandy's costume, the rare moments where he puts it on again are to more effectively elude it.

The address is deliberately frank and above all benevolent. Beyond an amorous chant d'amour, it is an ode to freedom and to the full awareness of our human condition that unfolds before us.

An invitation, devoid of cynicism, to take off of our `social animal' mask and decolonise the world around us - to stop wanting to possess at all costs and let those we love be free.

This album is a roadside companion, with no dogma or precepts, and a simple motto: Stay joyful.