Witches is -- by far -- the most creative tribute project devoted to the Police you are likely to stumble upon. The Guillaume Séguron Quartet is an avant-garde jazz group with ties to free improvisation, avant rock, and art song, and they bring all these tendencies together for a riveting album. Laure Donnat sings in a seductive cabaret style, her fragile whisper being responsible for most of the project's uncanny atmosphere. Séguron extends Sting's simple basslines to phenomenal jazz solos, especially in "Contact" (now that's an unusual choice of song), carried solely by the bass and Donnat's voice. Rémi Charmasson (guitar) and Éric Échampard (drums) are gifted improvisers, highly capable of moving in and out of the song with ease, bringing a taste of rock to Séguron's loosely jazzy arrangements. Then again, terms like "jazz" and "rock" cannot begin to describe what happens to the Police's songs. They have been ripped out of the mainstream and reinvented as experimental objets d'art. The album begins with "King of Pain," at first extremely quiet, relying on the repetitive bassline and Donnat's broken delivery to gain momentum. It remains quiet, textural, and strangely alluring. Three original pieces follow, including the title track featuring Charmasson breaking loose in a scorching solo before the group catches up for an avant rock tune reminiscent of the golden age of the Art Bears. The first half of the medley "Wrapped Around Your Finger/Don't Stand So Close to Me" adopts the same attitude, replacing the choreographed grace of the original by genuine anger. A bluesy rendition of "Peanuts" concludes this highly surprising set. If you don't pay too close attention, and given the presence of a few original pieces, you can waltz through Witches without recognizing the Police's songs. And it remains a beautiful album. But if you do pay attention, you will be spellbound for 42 minutes. Both Police fans and jazz fans will need to open their minds for this one, but the rewards are aplenty.
© François Couture /TiVo