Pitch-black night, ghostly glimmers of an old car melting into the asphalt: the cover of Never Ending Rodeo sets the tone. This isn’t just a nighttime ride — it’s a controlled skid across the borders of post-rock, noise, and psychedelia. The engine’s hot, the ground shakes, and the white lines start to blur.
Six years after the release of Ain’t That Mayhem, the Lyon-based band returns with a dense, fog-laden album. Never Ending Rodeo: a deceptively playful, almost cartoonish title for such an intense record. As if, after circling around dust, bucking broncos and stampedes, Zëro had finally carved its own orbit. Unstable, inevitably. But magnetic.
Éric Aldéa (guitar, vocals), Franck Laurino (drums), Ivan Chiossone (Persephone, synths), and now Varou Jan (guitar, bass) — known for his work with Le Peuple de l’Herbe and Condense — haven’t lost their edge. Quite the opposite: this new album marks a shift in production quality, thanks in part to the mixing work of Niko Matagrin. The sound is wider, more inhabited. Every snare hit, every synth layer fits perfectly into a meticulously carved-out sonic space.
From Boogaloo Swamp — the first single, released last January as part of the retrospective compilation Datapanik, in the years zëro — it’s clear this isn’t a comeback record, but a flight forward. Incantatory riffs, a bass looping like a bull in a cage… it feels familiar, yet something has shifted. Zëro plays with the energy of a debut band, haunted by the ghost of a former self.
Back On The Hillside is a labyrinth: voices appear, disappear, overlap in a spectral dialogue lost somewhere in a Jim Jarmusch western. You can hear the echoes of a dream shattering, or a storm approaching (“as you’re heading for nothing and you’re waiting for something to grow”). One Track Mind, a post-punk track steeped in anxiety, seems to spiral inward, trapped in its own mental loop where obsessions replay endlessly. As for Troubles #2, regularly performed live in the collaborative project “Troubles” (Zëro, Casey, Virginie Despentes, and Béatrice Dalle), it unfolds as a nearly six-minute instrumental. But everything is murkier here: thicker textures, sharper edges. The closing track, Custer, is a long streak of white electricity, a hallucinatory loop, like a coded message strewn across the highway — “clues on the road,” as the opening track Niagara Falls had already hinted.
The years spent performing onstage with Virginie Despentes and Béatrice Dalle — in sound readings of Calaferte and Pasolini — left their mark. Zëro now approaches sound as a stage language: the tracks become sequences, shots, gestures. Hellvin is a prime example: narrative short-circuits, adrenaline spikes that descend into nightmare. Threads seems born from an overdose of lucidity, or sheer exhaustion — the oppressive clarity of a character conscious yet blinded, drifting through an endless night.
Zëro has never been a “genre band.” Noise? Post-rock? Post-punk? It doesn’t really matter. Their music progresses in jolts, in tensions. What matters is the movement, the gradual slide into a state where sound and silence blur, where dream and reality merge. Every track seems on the verge of exploding. None of them quite do. That’s what makes the listening experience so physical, so hypnotic. And there’s this lingering sense that the album could go on forever, that you could stay there, all night, on the side of that road. The amps gently saturate, the cymbals still hiss faintly. Everything’s been said, but nothing’s been closed.
A never-ending rodeo, then. But not a loop — a spiral. A slow descent into something unknown, eerily familiar. Something you might call… Zëro.
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