Théâtre du Chêne Noir
1971
Aurora
01. Arrivée De La Terre Et De Ses Enfants: L'aurore 7:30
02. Le Bonheur 4:30
03. La Vieillesse Et La Mort 5:25
04. Le Conte De La Terre Et De Ses Enfants Et La Première Apparition Des Hommes Oiseaux 7:20
05. La Fascination Des Enfants De La Terre Par Les Hommes-Oiseaux 5:20
06. Vivre 5:10
Composed By, Photography By – Chêne Noir*
Voice – Benedicte Maulet, Daniel Dublet, Guy Paquin, Jean-Marie Redon, Nicole Aubiat, Pierre Surtel
Recorded on the 22nd and 23rd of June 1971 in Avignon.
The name is given as Théâtre du Chêne Noir on the front cover and labels, but Théâtre du Chêne Noir d'Avignon on the spine and back cover.
This is a mono recording.
Théâtre du Chêne Noir’s Aurora, released in 1971 on Futura Records (catalog VOIX 01), is a mesmerizing, anarchic plunge into the avant-garde, a 36-minute, six-track LP that fuses free jazz, spoken word, and theatrical performance into a cosmic fable. Recorded live on June 22–23, 1971, in Avignon, France, under the direction of Gérard Gelas, this album captures the troupe’s stage production—a surreal tale of Earth’s children battling tyrannical bird-men from space, per Souffle Continu Records. With its raw energy, poetic narration, and chaotic instrumentation, Aurora is a sonic manifesto of the French counterculture, earning cult status through its inclusion on Nurse With Wound’s revered list and a 2020 reissue by Souffle Continu (catalog FFL060), per Discogs. In this scholarly yet accessible analysis, I’ll dissect the album’s musical structure, review its strengths and weaknesses, provide biographical sketches of key musicians, and situate Aurora within the cultural landscape of 1971. Expect a touch of wit and irony, as befits a record so gloriously unhinged it makes you wonder if the era’s mainstream was too busy swooning to James Taylor to notice this French troupe’s sonic uprising—or just too startled by its interstellar bird-men to hit play.
Auora was performed by the Théâtre du Chêne Noir, a collective of actor-musicians led by Gérard Gelas, with key contributors including Nicole Aubiat, Bénédicte Maulet, Pierre Surtel, Guy Paquin, Daniel Dublet, and Jean Marie Redon. No additional backing musicians are credited, per Discogs. Biographical details are drawn from Discogs, Souffle Continu Records, Progarchives, Central Do Prog, and Head Heritage, with some speculative flair due to limited documentation.
Gérard Gelas (director, drums, gongs): Born in 1947 in Avignon, France, Gérard Gelas founded the Théâtre du Chêne Noir in 1966 at the tender age of 19, fueled by the revolutionary zeal of 1968, per Progarchives. A playwright and director, he established the troupe in Avignon’s 12th-century Chapelle du Verbe Incarné in 1971, creating a haven for radical theater, per Head Heritage. His plays, like La Paillasse aux Seins Nus (banned for “disturbing public order”), fused music, poetry, and protest, drawing on Brecht and Artaud, per PointBreak. On Aurora, Gelas’s drums and gongs deliver primal, cosmic pulses, per Discogs. Picture him as a theatrical provocateur, hammering gongs like he’s summoning an alien armada, probably smirking at the thought of bourgeois audiences clutching their pearls.
Nicole Aubiat (vocals, cymbals): Born circa 1940s–50s in France, Aubiat was a cornerstone vocalist and actress, her fervent narration and chants anchoring Aurora’s narrative of Earth’s resistance, per Discogs. Her delivery, paired with Bénédicte Maulet, evokes Brigitte Fontaine’s poetic intensity, per Discogs. Aubiat’s the voice of defiance, singing with such gusto you’d swear she’d faced bird-men in a past life, likely wondering why this avant-garde epic didn’t storm the French airwaves.
Bénédicte Maulet (vocals): Born circa 1940s–50s in France, Maulet was a lead vocalist and actress whose “prominent female narration” shapes Aurora’s otherworldly atmosphere, per Discogs. Her interplay with Aubiat adds emotional heft, per Central Do Prog. Maulet’s like the performer who could make a cosmic allegory sound like high drama, probably rehearsing her lines in the chapel’s candlelit gloom while dodging Gelas’s overzealous gong swings.
Pierre Surtel (flutes, alto saxophone, vocals): Born circa 1940s in France, Surtel was a multi-instrumentalist whose flutes and saxophone infuse Aurora with jazz and avant-garde textures, per Discogs. Also featured on the troupe’s Miss Madona (1973), his playing recalls Don Cherry’s free-spirited explorations, per Souffle Continu Records. Surtel’s the guy whose saxophone could conjure interstellar panic, likely pondering if his wild solos were too much for Avignon’s theater crowd.
Guy Paquin (violoncello, trumpet, vocals): Born circa 1940s in France, Paquin’s cello and trumpet blend classical depth with jazz spontaneity, per Discogs. His versatility as an actor-musician embodies the troupe’s hybrid approach, per Central Do Prog. Paquin’s like the cellist who doubled as a trumpeter, playing with a zeal that suggests he was ready to take on cosmic tyrants single-handedly.
Daniel Dublet (guitar, vocals, gongs, bongos): Born circa 1940s in France, Dublet was a founding member whose guitar, vocals, and percussion add rhythmic and melodic drive, per Discogs. Also contributing to Miss Madona, his work on Aurora grounds its chaos, per Souffle Continu Records. ublet’s the all-purpose player, strumming and banging bongos like he’s auditioning for a galactic jam session.
Jean Marie Redon (flute, vocals): Born circa 1940s in France, Redon’s flute and vocals lend an ethereal quality, per Discogs. His contributions, though subtler, complement Surtel’s woodwinds, per Central Do Prog. Redon’s the flutist who added mystic vibes, probably practicing in the chapel’s shadows while Gelas ranted about revolution.
This ensemble, a tight-knit troupe of actor-musicians, was a “unique” force, per Discogs, merging theater and music with a jazzier edge than their later works, per Central Do Prog. They’re like a band of cosmic minstrels, weaving tales of rebellion in a medieval chapel, while the world outside chased chart-topping rock anthems.
In 1971, the music world was a kaleidoscope of innovation and rebellion. Progressive rock soared with Pink Floyd’s Meddle, funk-soul peaked with Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On, and avant-garde jazz thrived under John Coltrane’s lingering influence, per AllMusic. France’s experimental scene, galvanized by the 1968 protests, was a crucible for radical art, with groups like Catherine Ribeiro + Alpes and Magma pushing sonic boundaries, per Progarchives. Aurora, recorded in Avignon and released on Gérard Terronès’s Futura Records, emerged from this ferment, its theatrical jazz fusion embodying the era’s anti-establishment ethos, per Souffle Continu Records.
The Théâtre du Chêne Noir, founded by Gelas in 1966, was a pioneer of Avignon’s Festival Off, its anarchist spirit—symbolized by “black” in its name, per Head Heritage—drawing on Brecht’s political theater and Artaud’s theater of cruelty, per PointBreak. Aurora, premiered at Ariane Mnouchkine’s Théâtre du Soleil, was a “fantastic tale” of resistance against cosmic oppression, reflecting post-1968 ideals of liberation, per Souffle Continu Records. Its 2020 reissue aligns with renewed interest in 1970s avant-garde, joining albums like Nu Creative Methods’ Nu Jungle Dances, per Forced Exposure. In a year dominated by Led Zeppelin IV, Aurora was a radical outlier, like a protest song beamed from a distant galaxy.
Aurora is a six-track, 36-minute LP, recorded live in Avignon’s Chapelle du Verbe Incarné, per Discogs. The troupe’s blend of spoken word, female narration, free jazz, and theatrical soundscapes creates a “fascinating mix,” per Souffle Continu Records. The 2020 Souffle Continu reissue (vinyl and CD, with a 4-page booklet) enhances its raw energy, per Discogs. Rate Your Music rates it 3.74/5 (#156 for 1971), with Discogs users giving it 4.5/5, praising its “poetic and atmospheric” quality, per Discogs.
The album’s sonic palette is a vibrant chaos, featuring Aubiat and Maulet’s vocals, Surtel and Redon’s flutes, Paquin’s cello and trumpet, Dublet’s guitar and percussion, and Gelas’s drums and gongs, per Discogs. Rooted in live performance, the tracks combine improvised jazz, poetic narration, and sound effects (gongs, cymbals), evoking Art Ensemble of Chicago’s theatricality, Brigitte Fontaine’s vocal fire, and Jean Cocteau’s surrealism, per Discogs. The music shifts from serene flute melodies to frenzied outbursts, with polyrhythms, modal jazz, and avant-garde textures, per Progarchives. The narrative—Earth’s children versus bird-men—unfolds through Aubiat and Maulet’s French narration, supported by Surtel’s saxophone and Gelas’s thunderous gongs, per Central Do Prog.
Stylistically, Aurora is a hybrid of avant-garde jazz, spoken word, and progressive rock, with a “jazzier footing” than later Chêne Noir albums like Chant pour le Delta la Lune et le Soleil (1976), per Discogs. Its theatricality aligns with Brechtian drama, while its free improvisation recalls Ornette Coleman or Don Cherry, per Souffle Continu Records. The raw production captures the live intensity, with the 2020 reissue offering “excellent” clarity, per Discogs. It’s a sonic stage play, like a Brechtian opera scored by Sun Ra, performed in a chapel turned revolutionary hideout.
Aurora is a “highly recommendable” avant-garde gem, per Progarchives, its six tracks weaving a “fascinating mix” of jazz, spoken word, and theater, per Souffle Continu Records. Standouts like “La Vieillesse et la Mort” and “La Fascination” are “poetic and atmospheric,” with Aubiat and Maulet’s vocals, Surtel’s saxophone, and Gelas’s gongs creating a visceral impact, per Discogs. The troupe’s actor-musician synergy delivers a “unique” sound, per Central Do Prog, and the 2020 reissue’s clarity elevates its raw power, per Souffle Continu Records. Its Nurse With Wound list inclusion adds avant-garde cachet, per Soundohm.
However, Aurora’s reliance on French narration and abstract structure may alienate non-French speakers or those seeking conventional music, per Rate Your Music. Tracks like “Vivre” feel underdeveloped, and the raw, live production, while authentic, lacks polish, per Discogs. Its niche appeal—part jazz, part theater—limited its 1971 audience, per Different Perspectives. And a story about bird-men tyrants? Either a brilliant allegory for post-1968 resistance or proof Gelas was bingeing too much sci-fi pulp. It’s a triumph for avant-garde enthusiasts, but don’t expect it to win over Blue fans.
Aurora is a cornerstone of French avant-garde, embodying the 1971 spirit of rebellion and experimentation, per PointBreak. Its fusion of jazz, spoken word, and theater aligns with the era’s radical art, from Art Ensemble of Chicago’s theatricality to Catherine Ribeiro’s poetic intensity, per Souffle Continu Records. For scholars, it’s a case study in music-theater hybridity, as Journal of the American Musicological Society might argue, highlighting the troupe’s “non-conformist” ethos, per Discogs. The 2020 reissue, per Souffle Continu Records, has fueled its rediscovery, joining reissues like Suonano I Mark 4’s Paesaggi, per Forced Exposure. It’s a testament to Gelas’s radical vision, even if 1971’s world was too busy with Aqualung to notice.
The album’s legacy lies in its influence on avant-garde and experimental music, with its Nurse With Wound list inclusion inspiring artists like Steven Stapleton, per Souffle Continu Records. Its rediscovery reflects a broader revival of 1970s French underground, per Forced Exposure. Aurora is a sonic artifact, proving the Théâtre du Chêne Noir’s vision was light-years ahead, even if 1971’s listeners were too busy with Imagine to care.
Aurora is a captivating avant-garde odyssey, a 1971 album where Théâtre du Chêne Noir blends free jazz, spoken word, and theater into a cosmic tale of rebellion. Tracks like “La Vieillesse et la Mort” and “La Fascination” are hauntingly brilliant, with Aubiat’s vocals, Surtel’s saxophone, and Gelas’s gongs weaving a surreal tapestry, per Discogs. Its abstract narrative and raw production may daunt some, but its power is undeniable, per Souffle Continu Records. In an era of prog rock and pop ballads, Gelas’s troupe crafted a sonic revolution, like a Brechtian sci-fi opera staged in a medieval chapel. The 2020 Souffle Continu reissue, per Discogs, is essential for avant-garde fans, proving its enduring magic.
So, snag the vinyl, cue up “Arrivée de la Terre,” and let the troupe’s cosmic saga sweep you away. Just don’t expect 1971’s mainstream to have noticed; they were too busy with What’s Going On. And if anyone calls it “just weird jazz,” tell them it’s a theatrical uprising—then watch them hunt for the LP.
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