Mistpouffers, appena uscita per Empreintes Digitales, è la raccolta di tre composizioni realizzate tra il 2014 e il 2016 dall’artista e improvvisatore francese eRikm. I tre pezzi durano quasi venti minuti ciascuno e sono, in qualche modo, collegati da una sorta di filo narrativo che crea un ideale legame al netto della tripartizione. Draugalimur si apre fra suoni rarefatti e tuoni sempre più forti, che segnalano l’approssimarsi di una tempesta, mentre l’elettronica di base scorre lieve e rarefatta. Suoni di passi e voci sussurrate, in un sottofondo temporalesco, suggeriscono un immaginario quasi cinematografico e un senso di pathos che permea tutto il brano, chiuso poi da una chitarra scordata e da qualche morbida nota di piano che pare stemperare la tensione. Poudre torna nella tempesta e poi vira verso fuochi artificiali, con annessi urla e applausi di approvazione da parte della folla, cambiando anche nettamente l’umore del disco. L’Aire de la moure 2 sembra riportare la calma, in quasi venti minuti di suoni più piatti, scheletriche conversazioni fra una voce maschile e una femminile e qualche sporadico suono naturale, soprattutto animalesco, che contribuisce a tenere viva l’idea di una narrazione cinematografica più che di un album musicale in sé. La forza di Mistpouffers sta proprio nella sua capacità di raccontare qualcosa che, evidentemente, non è neanche scritto e definito, alimentando l’immaginazione e permettendo interpretazioni soggettive.

Die Mistpouffers (empreintes DIGITALes) des Franzosen eRikm stammen aus der gleichen Gegend, spezifisch aus Island. Der englische Begriff „Mistpouffer“ bezeichnet physikalisch nicht vollständig erklärbare Klangereignisse, die an manchen Meeresküsten beobachtet werden, etwa Donnergrollen bei Sonnenschein. Die drei Soundscapes des gleichnamigen Albums geben sich ähnlich wettergegerbt, geheimnisvoll und verschlossen, obwohl ihre Quellen komplett offengelegt werden.

Musicien et plasticien originaire de Marseille, eRikm propose trois titres qui nous entrainent dans des espaces où la plasticité de l’espace, puise ses ressources dans le field recording et l’imaginaire, dans l’enfance et la géographie, la pensée et la sensibilité, l’urbanisme et la science-fiction.

Mistpouffers circule entre nos oreilles avec une fluidité qui nous fait presque oublié que nous sommes les auditeurs de cette œuvre, captivé que l’on est par ces enchainements de sons enregistrés et assemblés, qui prennent le temps de nous transporter sur des sillons bousculés par le vent et secoués par les feux d’artifices, réchauffés par les voix et oubliés dans l’immensité du monde.

eRikm alterne les ambiances tout en respectant une certaine ligne directrice, qui voit les objets prendre des allures poétiques, enfantant d’instants de suspension troublés par les mots et les bruissements d’existences multiples, aux formes mutantes. Voyageur.

[…] Of course eRikm, as he loves to spell his name, is someone who is no stranger to these pages, ever since he first surfaced as a turntablist in the mid 90s. He works as an improviser, expanded to using vinyl, CD, mini discs and finds his own narrative, which is not unlike that of say Luc Ferrari. A particular highlight was his LP L’Art de la fuite (Vital Weekly 1000), even when that was an earlier work. The three pieces here deal with the past, his own past, in Switzerland, which he calls ‘his other homeland’, but also using a traditional Icelandic text in the first piece Draugalimur, meaning ‘phantom limb’. In that piece eRikm combines field recordings with text and with some instrumental sounds, while in Poudre he uses many recordings of new year’s fireworks in Berlin, with it’s many reflections of the buildings and perhaps also from history. In the third piece, L’aire de la Moure 2 there is also a text, by Paul Eluard and I must admit reading the description didn’t make things clearer for me. Here there are quite a few field recordings, mainly birds I believe, along with insects and wind, with what seems to me a minimum of processing here and there, but not a lot, or at least: not throughout the entirety of the piece. eRikm doesn’t follow Ferrari’s more linear approach to the use of field recordings but it seems to me it is all bit more of an anarchist approach; see where sounds fit and then use them accordingly, which I would think is the best approach. This too is not really the sort of things one expected from Empreintes Digitales, and for instance more at home on Gruenrekorder, but here too I thought the label does a smart move and venture into something new. In the past I may have been a bit (too) sceptical, but with these two the label is back on track. For eRikm I would say this is another highlight.

Mistpouffers is a selection of three compositions completed between 2014-16, composed by French artist and improviser eRikm. Each piece runs approximately 17-18 minutes in length with two based on 8-channel fixed medium and one in stereo. Opening with Draugalimur where, poof like smoke, the setting is a quiet distant storm, some electronic squiggles and free-floating static. This is eRikm working in an atmosphere where a pin could be heard dropping, that is until a narrator like a public radio host, in French, reads from a text. The wind howls and electro-waves are emitted. While listening I gaze upon the cover image of a cliffside that starts to resemble a human skull. No you are not seeing things, like a mirage — it’s an in-situ illusion, only emphasized by a military jet flying past, from ear to ear as someone gasps for air. This dichotomy between air space and breathlessness is likely key to the narrative. The eerie unexpectedness here is quite palpable.

Sonic boom? By occupying the space with layered field recordings, simple thing like chewing, and rummaging — with a silky drone and changing percussive parameters eRikm has developed a psycho-social space that is as inventive as it is cinematic. The whispers, the hive drone, the bouncing punctuation, all make his acoustic theatrics rife for live presentation, and perfect for visual listeners. Moving on to Poudre, which opens in darkness to creaking of chairs, or perhaps thunderclap or is it fireworks, or gunfire? The question mark here is the tension. With even the slight laughter heard int he mostly engaged crowd scene it would be menacing one way, and exhilarating another. But it seems to walk that fine line. The title translates to powder (and in gun powder) and this work does seem to float on air with the spirit of a nighttime curfew. It’s singular shots are disarming so to speak — “the bombs bursting in air” and so on. In wartime these echoes have a cerebral resonance that is unmistakable.

Just after midpoint this layered field recording sounds like either a grande finale or a full-on battle. It’s actually quite disturbing, it’s chaotic imprint, relentless. At one point it’s literally just a wash of savage white noise. But the reverie switches up its candor on L’aire de la Moure 2. There are shadows of a dark kingdom interrupted by a happily chirping winged beast. The intermittent grey drone casts and draws as these treated bird samples are deployed like abstract illusions. eRikm has concocted a blend of granular electronics, a female narrator and low flying planes that zoom from air shot. The tingling microsound invades as though it’s evaporating over the spoken word.

It’s an atonal radio play that seems to be collecting data in a laboratory. Small actions like pulling a topper from a cask, as well as elongated high tones create a focused format for deep listening — all ears on the speaker, and though I do not speak much français my ears can translate this as a scanner of the mind. Static like fire, and a series of slingshot thwapping are a peculiar combination alongside a deep bird caw. With so many constant variables you’d think this recording would be a schizo delusion but it’s not at all, it keeps your minds ear constantly pricked within this composer’s cosmic adventure.