It is a concept album based on a psychodrama, that consists of various episodes corresponding to some periods of life of a young woman (identified with some fictitious female characters, each one representing a different period of her life), unable to find the love that she needed to live, and dying in the end because of this lack. This death is quite a death of the soul, of self-expression and of living communication with the world; but the spirit of this young woman will live forever (“[…] Her eyes are still burning” – Slow Rain).
“Up there, in the mind, a girl cries under the blue dress…“
Virginia, the bitter suffering of incompleteness. A strange, maybe too old-fashioned name for a child, it sounds like something pure and uncontaminated, but even unsuitable and illusory, forced to change unnaturally for a “strange” plan of life. Her death is a soul death, something uncommonly sad and agonizing, just like the sound of a harpsichord.
A padded symphony accompanies the still sweet and fragile Autunna‘s slow walking. It’s a soft dance, modulated within the surrounding nature, as unquiet as she is, looking for such a big warmth that can dissolve any fear. In the end, Autunna will melt into the Sun, and the freshness of a rose will surround her forever…
Love is a basic need even in Selene‘s life, but she won’t even get the warmth of the Sun – and one life won’t be enough for her to catch Him up – because “… she’s not golden, but silver“: her drama lies in being born but falling short of her father’s expectations. This new legend about the birth of the moon and the sun is a purpose to tell a very human story.
Our homage is paid to all those by means of their art let us live.
Dans le cercle intérieur du royaume calcaire des Images,
à ce point subtil où l’œil de la conscience, sans se perdre, darde un extrême feu,
là où le nerf abandonne enfin la pensée, qui repose Dieu sait dans quelles stratifications astrales,
la MORT gît
comme le dernier sursaut
pleine de transes
(Antonin Artaud, from L’Art et la Mort , 1929)
(In the inner circle of the calcareous realm of Images, / at that fine moment the eye of conscience, taking care not to get lost, shoots an extreme fire, / where nerves finally abandon the mind, that rests God knows in which astral stratifications, / DEATH lies / as the final sudden assault / of a consciousness / full of anxieties / but – definitively and irreversibly – STOPPED.)
Sous la robe bleue is maybe just a gallery of mirrors where many lives have been printing fleetingly their tales, trying to voice a “violent” inner life, “extreme” emotions that you can live deep inside… All shown under “the blue dress“, that tiny naive sky lying as a background in fairytales…