Freedom: Why I Had To Walk AloneFlorian LeFevre explains his decision to leave Sonnets and Novellas following "Illusions" and go solo, as well as talking love, art and the future: Special by Daniel J. Grace
Freedom is the main buzzword of the new project from former Sonnets & Novellas frontman Florian LeFevre. The eccentric multi-instrumentalist shot to something resembling fame with his band late last year when they brought their weird mix of prog rock to the USA for the first time, releasing a drug induced fusion of rock, post hardcore, jazz and "fashion" to something of a widespread critical acclaim. On the face of it, the band were as hot as it was possible to be for the most alternative of collectives. However, behind the guitars, underneath the songs and the striking debut album (Illusions), was a tension that was terminal, even if only one member of the band was aware of it. The problem was that he was aware of it all along.
"Illusions was like that one moment where the drugs start to fail...ironically," LeFevre tells me over an impossibly small cup of tea in this small urban Parisian cafe. In a way, this little eatery is as important as the words he says, as it seems to mirror everything that is Florian LeFevre. The cafe is quiet, away from the lavish and somewhat overblown persona that many of us have come to relate to Paris. But at the same time it is weird and wonderful. The scribbles on the walls are the works in progress of hundreds of resident poets, the waiting staff themselves are as arty as you could hope to see in this cultural mecca, and the customers are as far removed from the joys and romance of Paris as I've ever seen, yet at the same time beautifully artistic in every way. In any other situation, I would find this surrounding to be somewhat eerie and creepy, but from what I've learned of Florian in our few minutes since meeting, there is scarcely a place on earth that reflects who he is better than here.
"I joined the band [Sonnets and Novellas] out of a perverse desire to be more than just an "artist"," he explains with aloof air quotes as he tosses his fringe to the side with a flick of his head, exposing his hypnotic and owl-like eyes, looking oddly awake and aware among this rather dream-like setting. "I think that no matter how pure you are as an artist, it will always come to you, that desire to have your work seen. Is art ever art without an audience?" He poses his questions in such a manner, professorial in ways but also innocently open, that I'm never even quite sure if I'm supposed to answer. "I sought an audience and in a way I lost my credibility. Some might say sell out." It's funny that he should say that. I can't think of a single person that would have ever described Florian or his former band mates as sell outs, so underground and out there was their dramatic debut, but among this sort of scenario, in this lair we now inhabit, I can see exactly what he means, and I nod along almost in awe of a man who in this dark setting can be so insightful and enlightening.
"Sadly it was not until I had shafted my own credibility that I realised how harmful it was. Art cannot be art without having the same feeling that it does in its rawest moments. A band is the hardest thing to conduct, because no matter who has the baton, there are always others who believe their job is more important. Without everyone pulling in the same direction, the end result is nothing more than a mish-mash of bastardisations and compromises." And this is perhaps the most telling reason for LeFevre having walked on the band that gave him his first sniff of what some might describe as fame. Despite his slight build, his unassuming demeanour and his generally quiet aura, you get the feeling that this man sat in front of me is the most uncompromising of artists, ready to fight to the bitter end for what he believes to be the right thing to do. He smirks when I put that theory to him, trying to hide the wry curl of his thin lips behind the small tea cup as he takes a drink of Paris' finest green tea.
Speaking of the success his band enjoyed in their fleeting yet bright moment in the spotlight, Florian frowns as he remembers the moment he 'made it'. "We were contacted by some television show in America. They wanted to use two of our songs in the soundtrack. I said yes. I am not one to get precious over something I resent so fucking much, anyway. In a way it felt like if they took those songs, they would be taken away from me. If people heard them on the TV, maybe they would forever associate them with that show. I would like that." He smiles wryly again. I'm used to this open and thoughtful smile of his by now. "But the moment when I was asked if I wanted my songs on TV...that was the moment I had to step back for a moment and think "holy shit! You know, people are actually listening to this. They are paying attention to something I've done. It was empowering as much as it was depressing. I suddenly became much more than this little soldier ant. I hated that thought. Give me a chance to hide in the masses and I'll take it any day of the week."
I get the feeling that Florian is not the sort of man to be guarded in his opinions. Many music stars are hard to interview, because they have this in-built desire to only reveal as much as they need to, to only give away as much as they want to in order to get across their agenda. This Frenchman, though, this artist with a glint in his eye that one can only assume came from his new-found freedom, is as true and open as they come, so much so that I feel an inclination to believe every single word that comes out of his mouth. "It was the fact that I was never able to be myself," he tells me finally of his specific reason for breaking up a band that was most definitely in the ascension at the end of 2013. I hadn't yet asked - this was simply the point at which Florian decided it was ripe for him to reveal the truth behind his blossoming new chapter. "The music was pretty decent, and I think we managed to create something quite unique, but the thing that got to me when I was hearing it for the first time is that I felt like a listener and not the artist. These were not
my songs. I was not putting out these songs for me, and I became everything that I hated in that one album."
Florian thinks for a few moment as he muses over his next point. "I am hyper-critical of myself, and I always have been that way, but I feel like I subconsciously held back during that album. It should be the case that songwriting comes from the heart. Every song I had ever previously written has come from a place deep inside me that would give anyone hearing them the sort of deep look into my psyche and my feelings that they should be hearing. That is art. This was just music, and it felt weird for me. I would just get high and sit and write shit that popped into my head. For Sweet Relief, I woke up one morning, and here was this song. I had written it. It's hard to mistake your own handwriting, but it was not me that had written it." Confusing. Or so it may seem. But within a few minutes of being around Florian, one develops a sort of understanding of his mindset that means it is not has hard to grasp what he means.
"This is why I had to leave," he tells me with a very matter of fact little shrug. His face is emotionless as he talks about leaving behind bandmates he had worked with for a good few years. One would expect the face of a man who has just done such a thing to be filled with regret, relief, fear of the unknown and trepidation about his own next steps. But this is not what I get from Florian. His face says that this is just a fact of life and that he had to do it - a natural progression in the same way as he grew up, changed and morphed into the man he is today. "If there is one group of people I feel for in all of this it is the fans of that band," he says of Sonnets & Novellas, and I get the feeling he is almost trying to distance himself from that project entirely now, as if he was never a part of it in the first place. "People bought into that and now it is gone forever. I mean, I'm not about to sit here and apologise for leaving it all behind, but I would completely understand why they would feel somewhat aggrieved.
It's not until we move on from his past career and turn to his new venture that I see the light in Florian's eyes. He sits up and leans forward a little as he pours more tea into both of our cups. I haven't the heart to tell him it's, quite literally, not my cup of tea. "This is just going to be Florian," he explains. "I wanted to explore the most fucked up place I know - the innards of my own thoughts. It's a scary place if you take the time to stop and just listen to yourself think. The sheer randomness with which things come to you. It's almost terrifying." He smiles again. I get the feeling that he is happy with his new plans, which consist of writing a series of three-song EPs over the course of the year. "I think sometimes an album can be too forced. I don't want to feel pressured to write ten songs before I can put my music out to people. That's when I get this intrinsic sense of fakeness in music. I want to hear something fresh and full of life. So I think putting together smaller collections of music will help me keep my finger on the pulse and show people what I can do at my peak, when I'm writing out of a desire rather than a need to get something out there."
I ask him if writing alone rather than with a band has allowed him a new experience, and Florian beams. "Freedom," he tells me matter of factly. "This is the first time I have ever written songs sober. I just sit back in my chair, listen to my own thoughts and write down all of the things I hear. It is so liberating to be able to do this for myself. I no longer care what someone else in the room is going to make of something I've said." It was one of the main problems that plagued Sonnets and Novellas in their time together. Other band members frequently spoke to the media of their inability to work with Florian. He was abrasive, challenging and obtuse to work with, they said. I can't help but think this is just Florian though - unable to adapt to something that he doesn't want to understand. For the duration of our meeting, he has been as gentle and polite as I would expect anyone to be, however. And when one expects someone to be difficult, this is an even more difficult mantle to afford them.
When we move on from his music towards the end of our interview, and I try to find a way to wind up the sort of chat that I feel could have gone a million different directions at the same time, I try to get Florian to speak of something all the more personal. And I'm surprised by how open he becomes, visibly relaxing as he falls back into the chair, smiling at my question and brushing his fringe back from his eyes. "Love." It's a simple word, but clearly one that means so much more. The look in his eye is one of someone who has just made the most incredible discovery of his life. And it turns out it is. "I've always taken an attitude that love is there, and that we all need it at some point. But the idea of rejection, pain and realisation was never something I was keen on. I always heard you learn too much about yourself when you open up to someone else. Until I met Adele." Adele Gilet, of Destinee and Adele fame is the woman to whom Florian refers, a fellow French musician who he met on tour a little under a year ago. The pair have been quietly dating ever since.
"I always treated that sort of literary love as being something of a fictional concept. Much as I like to read Gothic novels about vampires, I am not going to sit here and say I believe in them," he says with a little rub of his chin. "What scared me at first is just how I have changed. I used to be able to keep myself locked up, to keep my emotions in check, and then I was faced with someone so expressive and honest that I cannot and I just open up to her." It's not hard to believe that Florian is someone who would have found love hard to contemplate. He seems the type to be found dead in an apartment filled with paintings and lyrics at the age of 27 rather than someone to have moved in with his long-term girlfriend and enjoying a life with her. "I find myself admitting that the fairytales in novels may have some basis in reality. I don't think anyone knows how hard it is for someone like me to admit he was wrong. I wake up and look to Adele and I smile. She speaks and I tell her anything, I hide nothing from her, and I feel this is love. She never fails to make me smile. To make me feel absolutely fulfilled and perfect. Adele is....she is an angel." Florian's smile says it all. This is a guy who has not only found a partner, but a man who has discovered something magical. Dare I say a feeling most of us would be lucky to ever experience?
I find it ironic that a man so singularly focussed on being as pure an artist as he can turns out to make his most poignant opinions when we talk about love. But there's something distinctly Florian about that. This is a man who I came to meet with preconceived notions of what I would find, and yet when I arrived I found someone who could not be more different. It's not until later that I find myself thinking back over the points made by this quite enticingly magical man that I really get the measure of him. Florian is a dreamer, but not in the sense the modern world has had us adapt. He dreams the purest dream of all. He wants nothing more than to be happy, to love, and to be able to express himself through his own chosen medium.
Florian LeFevre's debut solo EP - "The Florian LeFevre EP Series: Volume 1.0" is earmarked for release on February 23rd. The first single "The 5am Conundrum" will be released on February 9th.