BERNARD PAGANOTTI - PAGA - 1985

In Magma terms, Bernard Paganotti is the quintessential Gorgo: "air" bassist. This, the debut album of what would become his band Paga, is full of Paganotti's smooth, upper-register bass playing. While the ideas contained in this album stem fundamentally from the jazzier side of zeuhl (a la Weidorje, and not surprisingly, given that both Paganotti and keyboardist Gauthier were members on that band's only album), Paganotti's bass playing is clearly the focus of everything, and his style ranges from funk to jazz to the ominous ostinatos distinctive to zeuhl. Indeed, his high tone and melodic playing remind more of Jaco Pastorius than, say, Jannik Top.

Combine Paganotti's accessible playing with a wide-open, jazzy piano style and accented English vocals (Paganotti himself sings, from what I can tell, rather horrific lyrics; for successive Paga albums Klaus Blasquiz would take over the vocal duties), and you might be afraid that this album could lean way too far towards lite-fusion or something. But this is no fuzak album: there's still enough fury in the rhythm section, enough of that oppressive repetition, and just enough of a touch of distorted guitar mixed in to always keep any listener on his toes. While "Talk Back" and "Show Town" sometimes veer uncomfortably close to cheesy smoothness, "Mitchinoku" (which has vocals, mercifully, not in English) is a killer, with electric guitar and trumpets accenting the insistent beat to great effect, and with Paganotti's bass taking on a dirtier, earthier tone.

The real epic is "Une Parcelle D'Urantia", though, which is one of the most engaging jazzy-zeuhl pieces I've yet heard. It starts with a relatively quiet bass ostinato overlaid by wordless female vocals, before the drums kick in and Paganotti starts wringing those earthy yet distinctively high notes out of his bass. A threatening piano motive eggs on the piece, and vocals and trumpet offer welcome embellishments, but throughout it's Paganotti's bass that pushes everything along, hammering out short melodies over and over before switching over to a new theme. Two-thirds of the way through, the drums become suddenly martial, and the piece gets all Present-like, somewhat more minimalistic, before marching to a dramatic conclusion returning to themes touched on earlier.

This album has obvious appeal to zeuhl-heads and fans of virtuosic, show-offy bassists. Paganotti's performance here is commanding, diverse, and fun, and the rest of his band are no slackers either. The album has its rough spots, its brushes with lite-fusion and its forgettable lyrics, but it's so much fun that none of its faults are fatal.
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