The title of the disc Islands metaphorically refers to islands of place, event, and community. Many places drift in and out of consciousness over the sixty-three minutes of the CD, with European commuter trains, the Vancouver skytrain, and the Canadian Pacific Railway connecting visitations to idyllic settings of quiet, natural repose. The idea of visiting places in dream-like succession is common to many soundscape compositions, due to the inherent referential qualities of real world sounds — and this CD is no exception.

Chief among the distinguishing characteristics of Truax’s work is a romantic sensibility. Sounds of industry and society are limited to transportation sounds and time signals. Also, there are absent from these soundscapes the perhaps less-desirable sounds of society, such as traffic, factory machinery, and shopping malls. And there is an implied narrative in the sequence of sound environments visited. Train rides lead to restful escapades away from the stress of the workday, an afternoon nap invites a sonic meditation with cicadas and Italian water fountains, and cicadas (again), along with other natural soundscape elements, provide the makings of a magical place of wonder and rest. Truax indeed hears the world through a different aural filter, judging by the makeup of these sound worlds.

The CD also includes Truax’s trademark granular synthesis, through which sounds from the environment are stretched out to over a hundred times their length, while their pitch is preserved. However, unlike its use in his computer music of the late ’80s and early ’90s it occurs here in conjunction with other processing techniques, such as comb filtering (in the composition Islands) and is used with careful discretion. In this case, the lines between artifice and reality blur in the same way that distortions in colour and image in photography create an ambiguity about fact and fiction. However, one can never dismiss the predilections of the artist in rendering reality in an artificial form — which makes me wonder how much our own perception of our everyday acoustic environment strays from objective truth. Although Truax is not presenting everything in the acoustic environment, his choices say something about the role sound plays in our sense of well-being in the world. I think the implicit statement of this CD is that our society is in need of islands of rest and contemplation. Certain sounds from nature present that opportunity, which is missing from a culture with an appetite for information excess and light diversionary entertainment.

accademico facendo attenzione alle suggestioni di contesti ad esso estranei. Malina fa dello shakuhachi lo strumento attomo a cui ruota una suggestiva composizione di silenzi e dolci frasi melodiche. Erinyes è un lavoro sulle voce ispirato a “Elettra” di Sofocle. Nella mitologia greca le Erinni punivano i delitti tormentando i colpevoli con un rumore assordante: il brano crea una dimensione claustrofobica congelando e reiterando singoli frammenti vocali ordinati su diversi toni e altezze. Clair de terre presenta tredici movimenti nei quali si succede una varietà ben amalgamata di soluzioni sonore con inaspettati e graditi risvolti ritmici e noise. (7/10)

The four works on this CD are each strongly compelling and immaculately produced. The production standards of recording and mixing are very high and put to effective compositional use, which is essential in any electroacoustic work. There is also a carefully conceived unity of materials and gestures that give the works a strong structural foundation.

Over that solid technical basis, Gobeil sets out to create a drama of suspended tension and release using long building climaxes, quick jump cut edits, and eerie drones and lingering silences. However, these benchmarks of his dramatic language are used so frequently from piece to piece that their desired impact is unjustly compromised by predictability. Gobeil’s unity of style and materials is so complete and unvaried that even the three diverse literary points of inspiration used for the works (Marcel Proust, HG Wells, and Jules Verne) fail to yield the potential variants in style, materials and form.

On a concert program including works by other composers, Gobeil’s music can stand beyond the rest and lead the listener on a hair-raising journey. But heard one after another in succession the impact is marginal. Therefore, I recommend listening to this CD in small concentrated doses separated by time and experience.

On a souvent perçu en certains astrophysiciens des poètes qui s’ignoraient. Robert Normandeau crée ici des structures cinématiques fortes, acousmatiques par essence dont la puissance narrative matérialise des images fortes dans notre esprit.

C’est aussi le travail de recomposition d’un fait (les pas d’Homme sur la lune) partiel, une interprétation possible reconstruite par déduction, à la manière des historiens ou des astrophysiciens (notamment ce jeune Français qui cherchait à signifier par calcul les émissions sonores d’un trou noir.) Une démarche où le tâtonnement et la remise en question sont indissociables. Du cinéma pour l’oreille cher à Jérôme Noetinger, de l’acousmatie proche de ce qu’en entend François Bayle, pour un travail sérieux et amusé qui tient davantage de l’archivage sonore (la musique de Normandeau évoquant tantôt des musiques rituelles indiennes, tantôt des ambiances sombres à la Hermann) que d’un album classique, au bon sens du terme. Un assemblage sonore limpide qui oscille avec vivacité entre séquences stridentes et plages d’accalmie qui nous plongent avec plus ou moins de facilité dans un état second. Robert Normandeau a reçu de nombreux prix.

Gilles Gobeil, né il y a 47 ans à Sorel, est de cette génération qui a suivi les premiers tâtonnements de la musique concrète en France, avec Ferrari, Schaeffer ou Henry, les premières expériences à grande échelle de sleeping et de musique répétitive (Riley, La Monte Young, Conrad) et d’acousmatie (Bayle). Ses expériences ont accompagné sa scolarité et ses études universitaires (tout autant que les Beach Boys, d’ailleurs…). Sa réussite auprès de ses pairs (prix Ars Electronica, diverses récompenses), ses participations à de nombreux collectifs (GRM, groupe de musique électroacoustique de Bourges) ont construit la personnalité de sa musique et son style. Un voyage onirique en quatre étapes qui puise ici son inspiration largement dans la littérature contemporaine (de Proust à Jules Verne, de Thomas Moore à HG Wells). Des visions dépressives ou nostalgiques, oniriques ou anticipatives de voyages, qu’ils soient intérieurs ou géographiques. L’atmosphère générale de l’album ne prête pas à rire, climat de tension permanente où l’on pense par moment à l’album de Faust et sa B.O. du Nosferatu de Murnau où aux ambiances de Morcook ou Lovecraft… l’utilisation d’ondes Martenot et de rupture violente comme sur un de ces précédents albums La mécanique des ruptures n’y étant pas étrangère. Une belle invitation au pays des rêves sombres.

Normandeau’s album is less punctuated, somewhat academic in origin, and yet more lyrical: the first two tracks use mono-sources (voice, flute) while the third is an “exercise”. The opening Malina is based solely on shakuhachi as played by Claire Marchand, and presents the sound largely uncompromised — some stretched to drones, some editing — but presented in is captivating simplicity.

With Erinyes Normandeau uses the voice as his instrument: taking recitation from a production of Sophocles’ Electra for which he composed the music, he uses a treatment known as “freezing” to extract voice sounds. He has then orchestrated and structured them into a dramatic piece. Shifting between tonal stretched voices and short looped fragments, chants and ululations, rapid, slow and fragmentary passages, he has created a percussive musical piece that draws you in and holds you — changing pace and tone subtly, without unnecessary underlining, ending with an extended strangled cry. It reminded me somewhat of parts of Roger Doyle’s Babel.

Clair de terre combines electroacoustic and cinema — each of its 12 parts represents a cinematographic technique (“Narrow frame” “Rhythmic editing”) and relates it to a musical technique. After a spacey Overture (Ouverture) — the piece was stimulated by the famous photo of the earth from space — with a launch, swirling tones and beats, computer squiggles and blips; each part is structured as a “soundspace, an object’s sound, the sound of a musical instrument, and vocal onomatopoeias“ (Erinyes is part of the onomatopoeia series). The parts are not presented sequentially, however, but combined in short and subtle pieces, for example, the shakuhachi plays its tones over chattering base in Primary and secondary colours (Couleurs primaires et secondaires), a train runs through Camera mobility (Mobilité des plans), a squeaking door, electric guitar chords and so on, concluding with Wide frame (open space) (Cadre large (espace ouvert)) where pipes lead a melody before some percussive punctuating finales. Each of these movements is a marvellous miniature of about 3 minutes duration, based on excellent choice of sound sources, that combine to create a dense and complex work. At times the links are obvious (the cutting in Rhythmic editing (Montage rythmique), the sound palette in Primary colours (Couleurs ternaires), Dazzling’s (Clarté (éblouissement)) fireworks) others take more consideration — but it develops into something well beyond an academic exercise. A fascinating conclusion to a very approachable album.