“To all those who ramble/we don’t do country music/come for a ride in the trailer/we’re open to talking about it,” says Alex Burger, both mocking and merciful, to the orthodox who, in 2021, are are outraged that the ADISQ Gala awarded him the Félix for Country Album of the Year for Sweet Montérégie, a predictable storm in a glass of beer.
There is, after all, nothing more typically country than a dispute over the authenticity of an artist. Willie Nelson, Waylon Jennings and Kris Kristofferson all, at another time, suffered the wrath of the Nashville establishment because they dared to have their way.
Is the second album from the friendly Montérégie outlaw truly country? If country is a genre that elevates counter philosophy to an art form in its own right and where each sip of booze nourishes the compassion we feel for the misfortunes of others, It’s an album purely country.
“The horizon is my happiness,” sings the person who fishes from the bottom of his glass of whiskey several of these formulas whose simplicity should not elude the beauty. He thus reminds us that the unrepentant are also, often, wise.
Less rock than its predecessor, except on The Downward Slope (as if the Rolling Stones had replaced Mick with Cassonade), this record recorded in six days (what could be more country?) and once again produced by the ubiquitous Alexandre Martel grabs firstly thanks to his more mischievous songs (Du country dans le ravin or the very Byrdesque It always ends).
It’s Not Invented, however, finds its depth in its dazzlingly insightful portraits (the pastoral Allers and Retours, It’s a good fit) of men and women who wake up one fine morning to realize that they have mired in darkness and bad habits.
Once we arrive at Merzi môman, in which Burger tips his hat to his mother (what could be more country?), we too can only thank her for not telling him to stay away from guitars.
