Bon Voyage

A strange, rich and global journey in sound--lasting just 37 minutes, Bon Voyage begs to be put on again, each listen revealing more of the myriad ideas that make up its weird majesty. [Jul 2018, p.22]

Lyrically, Bon Voyage searches for healing and “some kind of light to come,” and the chemistry Prochet found with Swahn and Fiske seems to deliver it; this album is as freeing to listen to as it must’ve been to create.

It is an album that demands repeat listens, but this is fine, as with each listen we learn a little more of its secrets, but once they have been cracked Bon Voyage becomes something greater than its parts.

Bon Voyage is a foray into the world of spiritual healing and rediscovery through a various musical textures and emotions.

Bon Voyage really highlights the musical vocabulary of Prochet, and as such, the record achieves a great deal in very little time. Satiating in a rather unique way, this album cements singer/songwriter Prochet in the archives of psych rock heavyweights.

Melody’s weird medley may not be as accessible as her debut, but it’s a work of art that deserves to be beheld for its impressive and unique innovation.

The whole experience is charmingly woah-dude in a way that never feels caricatured or insincere. Great pleasure is taken in employing the familiar apparatus and codes of psychedelia and, well, making them psychedelic again.

The album has its own voice. [Jul 2018, p.95]

If anything, Bon Voyage is even stranger than its predecessor, seven songs splashed in psychedelic colors.

Bon Voyage celebrates the catharsis of clearing away old wreckage, but it also revels in replacing that mess with new toys.

Beautiful things take time to properly come to life, and this is no exception; although this reading obviously comes in the aftermath of her accident, Bon Voyage sounds like a rebirth of sorts for Prochet.

Yes, there’s joy to be found in hearing a musician so unshackled from expectation and finding catharsis in the experience. But Boy Voyage lacks a running thread, centrepiece or concept to build itself around. It’s a wild, space-age trip that could do with a return ticket back to Earth.

There are recurring themes--Prochet’s sweet, breathy voice, extended psychedelic wigouts, Middle Eastern instrumentation--but no trope as pervasive as the record’s proclivity for impromptu left turns. On the one hand, this means dull moments are few and far between. Yet an album that flits wantonly back and forth between languages and decades needs a strong personality to anchor it--and that’s one thing Bon Voyage’s restless experimentalism never quite gets round to establishing.

With Bon Voyage, it genuinely feels as if Prochet got lost in her sounds and let it lead her. In her own musical liberation, Prochet makes something bizarre and stunning.

It's hard to keep up, but it's an enjoyably bonkers journey. [Summer 2018, p.113]