Préludes à la vie
Michel Chion
C’est une musique qui n’émeut pas; elle passionne et va gratter loin dans l’âme. — Le Devoir, Québec
DJ avant l’heure! — Revue & Corrigée, France
- Composer(s): Michel Chion
- Writer(s): Christiane Sacco Zagaroli
- Author(s): Pierre Schaeffer
- Cover image: Michel Chion
- Ina-GRM
CD (IMED 9523)
Out of print
This item is not available through our website. We have catalogued it for information purposes only.
- 1concrète melodramafixed medium
- 1Première partie, 16:01
- 1Générique [Opening Credits] + Ouverture [Overture] + Monologue + Appel [Call] + Danse [Dance] + Réveil [Waking up] + Travail [Work] + Apparitions + L’usine à sons [The Sound Factory], 16:01
- 2Deuxième partie, 18:49
- 2Nocturne + Larsen [Feedback] + Apparition + Danse du n’importe quoi [The Dance of Anything] + Rencontre [Meeting] + Révolte [Revolt] + Cataclysme + Le Mur du Son [The Wall of Sound], 18:49
- 3fixed medium
- 3Linceul [Shroud] (Michel Chion), 0:59
- 4Libera me (Michel Chion), 1:39
- 5Aux morts [To the Dead] (Michel Chion), 0:37
- 6La Piazza (Michel Chion), 0:35
- 7Éveil [Awakening] (Michel Chion), 0:54
- 8Dans la nurserie [In the Nursery] (Michel Chion), 1:16
- 9Chant simple [Simple Song] (Michel Chion), 0:40
- 10La source [The Spring] (Michel Chion), 1:20
- 11Oubli [Forgotten] (Michel Chion), 0:22
- 12Matines [Matins] (Michel Chion), 1:29
- 13Danse de l’Ombre [Dance of the Shadow] (Michel Chion), 2:57
- 14
- 15Ronde de nuit [Song in the Night] (Michel Chion), 2:51
- 16En songe [In a Dream] (Michel Chion), 1:16
- 17Sursauts [Startled] (Michel Chion), 2:13
- 18Les pleurs [Tears] (Michel Chion), 0:50
- 19Des hauts et des bas [Highs and Lows] (Michel Chion), 0:53
- 20Terre et ciel [Earth and Heaven] (Michel Chion), 0:53
- 21À Pierre Schaeffer [To Pierre Schaeffer] (Michel Chion), 1:29
- 22Tumulte [Uproar] (Michel Chion), 1:56
- 23Le couple [The Couple] (Michel Chion), 1:19
- 24Rêve de valse [Waltz Dream] (Michel Chion), 3:24
- 25Annonce [Declaration] (Michel Chion), 1:03
- 26Nous sommes vivants [We are Alive], 9:12
- Label: empreintes DIGITALes
- IMED 9523
- 1995
- UCC 771028952328
- Total duration: 77:07
- Jewel case
- 125 mm × 142 mm × 10 mm
On the web
Notices
A Concrète Musician
To begin with, Michel Chion is a concrète musician. The signs of a concrète art for me are now very clear. Such a musician mistrusts machines, especially electronic instruments, even if he uses them. He first of all has an ear before he has buttons to turn. He listens to the depths of natural sounds and learns from them. Finally, he has a taste for the Word.
The trait of the poet is infrequent among musicians and, beyond words and ideas, a preference for images and myths. Hear words are at work in this music, the very resource of language. Not simply words cut up into pieces according to the idiotic fashion of creating ‘sound material.’ But signifying words.
In opposition to the needy musician who searches madly for a worn-out text, Michel Chion demands that the word from time to time be the deliverer of sound. After all, sound, proposed as a parable, usually recounts a genesis, the causal engendering of phenomena. What good does it do to gape before it in frivolous compliance or resignation? How can one not break the mechanical discourse and, if needed, force it to take on a human meaning?
Pierre Schaeffer, Paris (France), October 10, 1984 [x-84]
Preludes to Life, the Disc
This second album on empreintes DIGITALes, as with the first one, consists of very different works which are quite separated in time: Le prisonnier du son (The Prisoner of Sound, 1972), my first “melodrama” and my first long musical work, and the Vingt-quatre préludes à la vie (Twenty-four Preludes to Life, 1989-90), a more formal and technical work which, I hope, is also poetic. Despite everything, these two musique concrète pieces are connected, like the two sides of a vinyl album, and their final moments form an echo.
The final words of Vingt-quatre préludes à la vie sound in effect like a response to the question posed by Le prisonnier du son: “The Wall of Sound, when will we overcome it?,” the prisoner asks of the future to which the voice of Cécile Sacco responds at the end of the Vingt-quatre préludes à la vie, by an affirmation of the present: “We are alive.”
Michel Chion, Paris (France) [i-95]
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In the press
Review
Also new on the label from Chion is Préludes à la vie (Preludes to Life). This combines pieces from 1972 to 1991 in two electronic operas. In Le prisonnier du son (The Prisoner of Sound) a single human voice tells the story of a lone character trapped in a world of manipulated sounds. The title piece is a series of technical exercises in the possibilities of musique concrète. (3/5)
Review
Préludes à la vie is a fascinating disc containing two collections of works from the French composer Michel Chion. Both pieces are made up of many small sections.
Le prisonnier du son, composed from 1972 to 1991, is narrative, a type of radio play starting with a spoken introduction. Many parts of this long work are decidedly lo-fi and even distorted, showing the technological age of the work. This is not a bad thing. Some of the thrashier bits effectively evoke a trapped sensation. Even though divided into small chunks, the whole composition feels unified.
24 préludes à la vie however is a mixed bag of music. These are preludes leading to the next prelude to the next to the life at the end of the disc. Most of these 24 preludes are delicious and sometimes mysterious. The textures and arrangements are gorgeous. But a few pass with little notice, like moments of staring into space: all except the last are under three minutes long. I particularly like Éveil, the sneaking-in-the-dark mood of Le couple, and the scary monsters of Danse de l’Ombre.
Short works have an inherent charm, if for nothing else than if you don’t like a piece, at least it will be over soon. But rarely do short works become ambient and flow. When strung together, as they are on this disc, the overall effect of these works is abrupt and shapeless. The individual compositions become part of an incoherent mass, a succession of outbursts. Sequencing music like this is like writing a poem by using only one-syllable words or like listening to an athlete speak. It is the wrong medium, the wrong milieu for these pieces. These compositions would be much more compelling, either a respite for the ears or a sudden wake-up call, if they were tucked between longer, more fluid compositions. Or as the title suggests, these works would be better applied as preludes rather than as a succession of discrete and often poorly-related units. It is difficult to pick out pieces that are appealing and avoid ones that aren’t successful.
Nonetheless, I do love this disc. Michel Chion is a master of texture, and I delight in immersing myself in his subtle, unpredictable patterns. I appreciate the absurd touches he plants throughout his works, the crazed voices, the sudden distorted crashes. His music is wild, jumpy, and then achingly lyrical.
Although this disc is less than ideally arranged, Michel Chion’s music is always rich with gems and a twisted hint of alien humour.
Review
The first piece, a 35-minute assemblage of sound material created over a 20-year period (1972 to 1991), has a lot of the sinister electronic flavor of his Requiem LP [now on CD]. There is a lot of French speech here, most often heard in moments otherwise silent, but always following and preceding bursts of all-too-short sound compositions. To the non-French-speaking, the first piece may be monotonously wordy. The sounds however are quite potent and remind me of the material by Pierre Henry reissued under the title Apocalypse de Jean. The remaining 42 minutes of this CD are all but wordless montage of quirky sound snippets, incorporating many moments of silence. This piece probably best suits the tastes that enjoy compilations like Électro clips and Ding Dong Deluxe.
Critique
Pour apprécier cet enregistrement, il faut être de l’une ou l’autre de deux natures; la première: les fervents de l’électroacoustique, la seconde, les amoureux de sensations fortes et nouvelles. Néanmoins, toute oreille curieuse y trouvera son compte.
Pas de complaisance dans le «beau son». Un message urgent à livrer. Cela décrit bien Le prisonnier du son. Les adolescents en raffoleront pour les effets violents, les plus âgés, pour sa construction sans compromis qui véhicule toute la tension de notre vie urbaine. C’est une musique qui n’émeut pas; elle passionne et va gratter loin dans l’âme. Pas facile.
Les 24 préludes à la vie qu’ suivent sont à écouter avec attention. Une obligation pour tous les réfractaires au genre «musique sur bande». Michel Chion renoue avec une tradition qui remonte aux recueils de Bach, Chopin et Debussy.
Du premier, l’étude quasi systématique du vocabulaire. Du deuxième, l’instantanéité de l’expression de l’émotion («Faites attention: Il ne faut jamais réveiller le son! … de crainte que le son ne se retourne contre moi»). Du troisième, l’attention à rendre dans un environnement sonore à toute la poésie du mot qui ici se veut non pas suggestive mais révélatrice d’une angoisse psychologique créatrice profonde.
On va de l’étonnement au rêve, en passant par la nausée et le repos. Une expérience foncièrement étonnante et nouvelle. Comme quoi des cendres d’un ancien ordre peut sortir une expression vivifiante et stimulante.
Critique
Michel Chion est un habitué de la maison, c’est son deuxième CD et pas le dernier, puisque l’étiquette québécoise aurait, parait-il, lancer une OPA sur l’intégrale de ce compositeur, théoricien, cinéaste, vidéaste… indépendant. En tout cas si le patrimoine fout le camps, ça nous permet tout de même de (re)découvrir Le prisonnier du son (1972[, 85]) composé un an avant le Requiem, on y retrouve d’ailleurs quelques petits trucs. Une sorte de pièce fantastique où l’on suit la vie d’un prisonnier du son, ce n’est pas derriere le miroir, mais derrière le HP que nous allons. On assiste à une sorte de folie liée au son comparable a celle de Karl Boehm face à l’image dans Le Voyeur de Michael Powell. Fort heureusement pour nous, il n’y a pas de crime, car nous pourrions en être la victime, et cela reste au niveau de la discussion. En tout cas, il y a déjà ici beaucoup du Chion que l’on retrouvera dans Requiem ou La Tentation de saint Antoine. Cette pièce a été retouchée en 1991 pour des questions de droits, car dans la version originale, Chion y utilisait un extrait de Visage de Berio. DJ avant l’heure!
L’autre pièce sur ce disque, Vingt-quatre préludes à la vie est un véritable manifeste de, pour, la musique concrète, en s’appuyant sur la caractéristique que Chion a toujours mise en avant, la fixation du son. On a réellement la sensation d’un rapport entre le son et son support qui devient quasiment vivant. C’est aussi différentes techniques, differentes matieres sonores, différentes sources sonores… c’est la musique concrète en 1991 avec tout l’héritage des pièces et des expériences passées. Ces 24 préludes sont aussi un hommage à Schaeffer par leur côté étude (sans jamais tomber dans le démonstratif) que ce dernier avait toujours exigé.
Alors oui, c’est vrai, Pierre Schaeffer est mort… mais Michel Chion vient de sortir un nouveau disque et c’est ça l’important.
”Nous sommes vivants et la musique nous l’a dit”.