Métamorphose. Il aura fallu quatre albums à Brieg Guerveno pour se libérer de la fureur rock de son passé. Avec Vel Ma Vin, il offre un nouveau visage plus folk que jamais, plus dépouillé et surtout plus profond. Les ballades sombres aux subtils arrangements de cordes forment un ensemble attachant, entre introspection et apaisement, rappelant la beauté spontanée des paysages folk d’un Sigur Rós crépusculaire.
(BZG)
Gant ur folk brumennek, kerdin heoliek hag ur vouezh nesaelour e wiad Brieg Guerveno ur c’huntellad e brezhoneg gant un nerzh didrouz ha troidellek. Krouidigezhioù prizius ar breton-mañ, awenet gant mistri ar mod (Ulver, Sigur Ros) zo etre balladennoù livet gant un harozegezh gwazhwelus ha ribourtadennoù teñval. Tapet e vez an nen e-kreiz e galon ganto, selaouet e vezont evel pa vezer tamolodet c’hwek en e soñjoù e-pad ar goañv.
(EN)
Metamorphosis. It took Brieg Guerveno four records to get rid of the angry rock turmoil of his past. Four records that were necessary, a kind of chrysalis enabling him to reveal himself at last. This is Vel Ma Vin, showing us a new Brieg, more into folk music than ever, without frills, and last but not least, more profound than before.
The somber ballads and their subtle string arrangements make a whole, worthy of the winding introspective paths of a pacified Ulver, a twilight Sigur Rós, bringing to life the vocal harmonies of Anathema's first records in the nineties. Like all of Brieg's records, all the tunes are sung in Breton, and Vel Ma Vin is like a promise of close dusky concerts, touching the ray of light breaking through the misty compositions of this modern record, full of emotion and sensibility.
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