Richard BodinI recently came back to my hometown, Angers, in France for a couple of days. As I had some spare time, I decided to visit my favourite record store in the capital of Anjou: HomeWax. There I had a wonderful chat with the owner, as I asked him to provide me with some pointers. His first recommendation was this obscure local band called Gondhawa, blending psychedelic rock with some oriental flavours, and microtonal guitars. As he was talking, he put on their latest album TÄKOMĀ on the turntable and pressed Play. Fifteen seconds later, I knew that record was coming back to Ireland with me.
The Record Shop Revelation
A loud distorted and psychedelic riff with some eastern vibes resonated through the store as “Takameyo” was opening the album. The vocals, half-spoken at first, were incomprehensible and quite difficult to place: Hispanic, Arabic, Asian? Impossible to say, though the harmonies hinted at something unfamiliar and exotic. Then the rhythm section started kicking in, irregular, hard to pin down, but definitely taking me in for a trip. The track would shift rhythms multiple times, while the vocals moved from a choppy, chant-like delivery to something more flowing and harmonious. Bold, psychedelic, unpredictable and deeply singular, it was impossible not to be pulled in.
The owner didn’t need to let the record play any longer. Back in Ireland, repeated listens only deepened the fascination. The rest of the album does not disappoint. Although I would love to, the music is hard to describe with words. Gondhawa’s sound is definitely psychedelic, with complex time signatures, and wonderful microtonal guitars. Adding to the atmosphere are the textures of a Mongolian sanxian and those enigmatic, shape-shifting vocals.
A Planet Called Gondhawa
Gondhawa is not from this planet, or so they claim. And it kinda tracks: their music sounds like it comes from somewhere else. It transports you far from the comfort of your living room — or wherever you like to listen to your music. So to reflect this powerful music, they borrowed their name from a mysterious country in René Barjavel‘s science-fiction novel “La Nuit Des Temps” (The Ice People).
To complete the picture, they came up with their own language, the Gondhawii. The language was initially developed to meet singer Idriss’ need for something more instinctive and visceral in his lyrics. They carefully curated sounds from different origins —Hebrew, Chinese, Arabic…— to create their dialect. Gondhawii adds another layer to the experience as the listener can loosen their natural focus on the lyrics and get immersed in the music. In a way, Gondhawii mirrors the band’s music itself: a meeting point of sounds and influences from different worlds, assembled into something strangely coherent and entirely their own.
Building the World of Gondhawa
Behind this strange and immersive universe are three musicians hailing from planet Earth: Idriss Besselièvre (guitars and vocals), Clément Pineau (drums), and Paul Adamczuk (bass, guitar). How long the trio have been building this unique world is hard to say. But the chemistry between them — not to mention the creation of an entirely new language — suggests an artistic process patiently developed over time.
What is certain is that their music eventually reached Bristol-based label Stolen Body Records during the pandemic. Despite the label advertising they were not signing any new artists at the time, the trio boldly submitted their music. Label owner Alex Studer eventually called them after listening to the album on repeat. The result was a deal and, in 2021, the release of Käampâla, the band’s striking debut album.
Ultimately, Gondhawa’s singular world has not gone entirely unnoticed. In 2022, the trio performed at the Trans Musicales festival in Rennes, with the set broadcast overseas by Seattle’s revered KEXP radio station. Festival appearances followed, proof that their strange and immersive vision resonates well beyond Angers.
A Familiar French Story
And yet, as a Frenchman, I cannot help but notice an all-too-familiar pattern: that of singular bands whose original voice or style often meets much more enthusiasm abroad before being fully embraced at home. One can only hope TÄKOMĀ reaches the audience it deserves, whether in France or far beyond its borders. Fifteen seconds in a record shop in Angers were enough to convince me.
