There’s something unsettling about staring into the eyes of an animal in the dark – the flash of light catching its gaze just right, forcing you to stare back. The cover of Songs of Wishes and Bones by O’o gives us that moment, as if the duo of Victoria Suter and Mathieu Daubigné are challenging the listener to look a little deeper. And there it is – beneath the album’s bright, experimental pop exterior lies an unsettling tension, a push-pull between life and death, light and shadow, joy and sorrow.
O’o’s second full-length release sees them drawing on their surroundings, recording in the remote French village of Mézin. The stillness of that quiet place has perhaps shifted their sound a little, as unlike their debut Touche, which danced wildly along the edges of avant-pop, Songs of Wishes and Bones ventures into a more accessible space. Elements of dance music and bright, synth-driven pop come more to the fore, but even in their shiniest moments – that sense of tension gives the feeling of something else lurking in the margins.
Opening track ‘Scorpion’ sets the tone, inspired by the same creatures that infested their rural home. There’s a dark humour at play—Suter’s fascination with eerie, unsettling tales comes through as the scorpion slinks into the light, embodying the hidden threats waiting to reveal themselves. The song has a predatory energy, but it ultimately comes and goes without leaving much of a sting. It’s the same story on the techno-driven ‘Arena‘. Its insistent rhythm gives it an experimental, danceable quality, but Suter’s distorted voice feels buried in the mix, not leaving its usual mark before the track abruptly ends.
The tracks sung in French, on the other hand, like recent single ‘Les os du Lac’ feel more anchored in the duo’s emotional and sonic world. L’Orage, for example, is one of the album’s finest moments, switching between pulsing electronic rhythms and melancholia. Built on a slow, steady climb, it eventually breaks into a stunning blend of glitchy piano and chanson française, with Suter’s vocals transforming as the song swells. It’s theatrical and raw, reflecting the instability that Suter admits is woven into the track. This feels like it’s the true heart of the album—where the darker elements bubble to the surface and refuse to be stifled.
A key theme in Songs of Wishes and Bones is transformation, and nowhere is that clearer than on Tako-Tsubo. Taking its name from the Japanese term for “octopus trap”—which also refers to ‘broken-heart syndrome’ — the track spins a cruel fairy tale about an octopus condemned to a tragic fate. Musically, it recalls the pioneering experimental synth-pop of The Art of Noise, but even more fragmented, eccentric and noodly. The story behind it is fascinating —the octopus, in the end, becomes the very embodiment of its own broken heart, a twist that feels emotionally rich but perhaps musically overplayed here.
Other tracks, like L’E dans l’O, are more successful at balancing narrative intrigue with musical texture. Here, the duo’s blend of organic and electronic elements works in harmony, with beautifully undulating vocal phrasing, and an unexpected piano break that offers one of the album’s most tender moments. It’s also one of the few tracks where the introduction of a guitar adds a fresh texture.
Elsewhere, songs like Delay, with its gnomic vocal effects and strange, disjointed rhythms, veer a little too far left field at the wrong moment, sacrificing emotional impact in favour of sonic playfulness. Yet when they get it right— as on How Do You? — the results are captivating. This track’s sense of space and movement offers a break from the album’s denser production, allowing Suter’s voice to rise and fall gracefully with a natural, intimate ease. It’s one of the more engaging tracks, reminding us of the duo’s ability to craft something deeply personal and immediate.
The album’s finest moment, though, is closing track Barcelona. After nearly a decade of living in the city, this song is Suter and Daubigné’s mournful farewell to a place that holds deep personal significance. It’s a lament for a life left behind, steeped in nostalgia. The sparse arrangement again gives Suter’s voice room to shine, her emotions palpable as she reflects on a time and place now distant. In many ways, it’s a strange way to end what is othewise a buoyant album, but this rawness and vulnerability actually give the album its heart. It’s in these final moments that Songs of Wishes and Bones truly comes alive, revealing the darkness that has been hiding in plain sight all along.
In the end, Songs of Wishes and Bones feels like an album caught between two worlds—one reaching for the light, the other hiding in shadow. Its magical realism and animalistic tales feel like a bit of a distraction, and while it perhaps isn’t as immediately gripping, there are enough moments of brilliance to remind us of what O’o are about. As the eyes on the cover suggest, if you look a little deeper, there’s still something beautiful to be found in the haunting darkness.
Songs of Wishes and Bones is released on 18 October via InFiné Music.
