What is a young Frenchman to do upon realising his sporting dreams are just that? He forms a high-octane electro-rock band with another synthesizer-wielding Frenchman and channels his love of sport into music, of course! Or at least this is what the story of French duo Housse De Racket would have us believe. Fast forward ten years from their initial meeting, instigated courtesy of a ‘Pearl Jam’ t-shirt according to legend, and Pierre Leroux and Victor le Manse are ready to serve something very different to that furry, somewhat luminous tennis ball they are so fond of, but something that will leave their opponents equally startled – a rock opera dealing with the subject of love… on a tennis court. Quelle effin’ surprise… as the French would say…

The duo’s self-confessed love of “epic chord progressions” and their ambition to be considered “stadium rock” becomes apparent from the very outset via the title track; which sees lush, sweeping synthesizer pads gradually joined by a dreamy, delicate synth line creating a sense of anticipation, all of which is backed by powerful, unrelenting snare hits and hissing hit-hats before finally a galloping guitar harmony carries the listener until the peak is reached and the pace is slowed – acting as an end to the opening ceremony and a signal that the games are about to begin.

Much like most notable sporting events, after the opening ceremony this sense of grandeur is lost, as second number ‘Oh yeah!’ features a far less elaborate and flamboyant soundscape, with the track being led by a scratchy, raw and somewhat under-produced electric guitar riff that will have indie-kids squealing for a reason other than their skin-tight trousers, irrespective of nationality and linguistic barriers. Vocal melodies on this number are simply inescapably infectious, prompting listener to instinctively sing along, regardless of possible lyrical connotations.

Stand out track ‘Gwendoline’ is ridden with teenage angst and juvenile energy from the outset, with the angry, punk guitar riff that drives the track snarling and growling at listeners much like you’d expect of a typical adolescent male, or, at least, one that was starring in a Kevin and Perry movie. This anarchistic anguish expressed in the verses through the powerful vocal delivery soon takes a turn more drastic than a teenage mood-swing however, as the chorus features a gentler, more dream-like atmosphere – with ragged guitars swapped for airy synth pads and mildly tuneful singing replacing the spitting of the verses.

‘Gwendoline’ features again as the subject in ‘Le rendez-vous’; a tale of torment and isolation that is appropriately backed by what can only be described as an accordion being similarly tortured and a lonely, weak drum pattern that seems to share the desire of the narrator to give up. The warped accordion heard throughout initially sounds bizarre – as if the stereotypical sound of France has been given the Salvador Dali treatment and turned entirely abstract –but it actually re-enforces the emotional sentiment of the song, with the dark, twisted chords weeping unapologetically into listeners’ eardrums – serving as a real highlight of the album.

The duo’s love and mastery of the synthesizer is apparent throughout the record, and the instrument even receives its very own dedicated song in the form of ‘Synthetiseur’ with the irony being that this number serves as the least inspiring use of a synth on the record. The track essentially acts as a bad daft punk impression, and will have listeners looking up the French for ‘put your hands in the air and step away from the vocoder’ if, indeed, such a phrase can be found in a translation book. This is not the only occasion where their use of synths can be brought into question either – with synth sounds chosen in such songs as ‘Sur-le-papier’ and ‘Champions’ sounding noticeably dated, in a way that even retro revivalists may struggle to stomach. These two Frenchman are fortunate, however, in that the majority of their audience will be too busy dancing to notice that the musical content of these two numbers was essentially swiped from 1980’s cult classic game ‘Sonic The Hedgehog’.

So then, were you ever any good at languages in school? Yes? No? Well, the good news is that, when it comes to Forty Love, your answer is irrelevant. The sheer power of the infectious melodies penned by this duo and the musical arrangements alone ensures that even those who are similarly language challenged to myself will enjoy the entirety of this record, despite not understanding a word. I think you’ll find that alone makes it game, set and match to Housse de Racket.