Easymess's One Night Stand EP is organic, uninhibited, and a fine representation of a young developing talent

You are no doubt aware of the sayings 'Rome wasn’t built in a day', 'patience is a virtue' and, perhaps the less laconic, 'any artistic creation of any worth must be painstakingly dwelled on over a period of months before it is ready to face the world'. Yes, that’s right… In the age of over-analysis, popular wisdom states that your art needs the type of obsessive consideration that can only be fuelled by prolonged bouts of worry and wine drinking.

If your art is music, and you relate this sentiment to the world of independent singer-songwriters, one might conjure images of bearded, brooding Bon Iver wannabes (or Bon-Edith if you’re picturing a lady). They’ll risk spinal injury hunched over iMacs in their bedroom demoing ideas, editing audio samples or trying to type the magical missing lyric that will make all the pain go away. It’s not a bad approach, but in the hopeful words of Yoda, “No… there is another”: an approach free of endless soul-searching and tail-chasing that might leave one less likely to headbutt a loved one.

A striking example of this is the story behind One Night Stand, the latest EP from London-based Lyon native Adrien Easymess Latgé. Recorded with Michael Griggs at his Waratah Records studio in Islington on 8–9th July 2017, the project followed a strict remit: write and record an entire EP within a 12-hour period (6pm ‘til 6am no less!).

Latgé enlisted the help and expertise of various friends and creative collaborators, including Griggs (producer/engineer/co-write), Ben Murphie and Brian Grogan (both guitar/co-write). With the restricted time limit leaving little room for artistic crises or painstaking technical deliberations, the ‘One Night Stand’ session followed the let’s-see-if-we-can-pull-this-off approach. Not only did they pull it off, they managed to create an organic and vividly dreamy record.

The first track, Chasing colours, is a breezy, shuffling drinking song. “Lost the comfort, lost the hope, lost the pen that I used to write you every note” – Latgé’s simple opening rhyme is comfortingly familiar, as if it were sneakily tweezered from the brain of Burt Bacharach. Crossing Fingers evokes some of the darker moments of Iron & Wine, or even The Barr Brothers, with its off-kilter, jarring chord changes and trash-folk swing. Most impressive, however, is the final track penned with Brian Grogan. If You Could Hear, like early Damien Rice, strikes you directly in the heart as its narrative plays out the ache of a missing beloved family member. The picked acoustic guitar is a perfect accompaniment for the smooth vocals of Latgé as he delicately croons “If you were here, would you play along?”.

Sonically, Griggs’ production is unfussed and transparent, allowing the record to demonstrate its unique lack of inhibition. Undoubtedly there are jagged edges, so while it may not be resoundingly perfect by Spotify’s ‘Super New Folk for Young Dudes’ playlist standard, there is one thing for sure: it feels free of worry.