Ordinarily, I would say that an album is either ambient or it isn’t. And yet that there are lengthy passages on Nicolas Bernier’s usure.paysage, a detailed and adventurous exploration of musique concrete, that are without doubt the most ambient stretches of ‘sound’ I have ever heard recorded.

It’s entirely fitting that Bernier should describe himself — and be described by others — as a ‘sound artist’: he doesn’t play instruments or compose musical pieces in the conventional sense: he forges sculptures from the air — sometimes quite literally, collating and collaging found sounds and field recordings in combination with his own electronic creations.

It’s all executed with incredible sensitivity, and despite being a ‘quiet’ record, Bernier exploits a remarkable dynamic range to remarkable effect. Clattering, creaking, crunching, echoing footsteps and objects colliding forcefully break the near-silence. For example, Les chambres de l’atelier is for the most part quiet, so quiet in fact as to be barely there, leaving the listener picking out sounds from the room or the faint mains hum. It’s strangely engaging, but then when sounds suddenly burst from nowhere, the effect is startling.

If good photography is all about contrast and depth of field rather than obeying the age-old rules of composition, then usure.paysage is the audio equivalent: it’s a truly striking record, and one that demands real focus to obtain the maximum effect.

Wenig Sonnenlicht fällt in die Welt, die Nicolas Bernier hier vor a uns ausbreitet: Ein riesiges imaginäres Hafengelände, in dem annähernd vollautomatisch die letzten Reste zivilisatorischen Handelsguts durch die Hallen spuken. Große Massen werden mit sattem Bassrumpeln in Bewegung versetzt, Mechanik klappert, rasselt, brummt und piept, Verpackung knistert und bröselt, verhallt in der Ferne, bis der nächste elektronische Luftzug hinter einem die Tür zufallen lässt und man sich im nächsten kalten Maschinenraum wiederfindet, den es auszuloten gilt. Nur selten verirren sich Schritte, Stimmen oder gar Kirchenglocken, Streicher, Gesang in die akusmatische Landschaft, die sich mit dunkler Kraft an den Ohren festsaugt. Eine fesselnde, dynamisch und scharf gezeichnete halbe Stunde Vinyl, mit der Hrönir sich um einen erneuten Blick auf die elektroakustische Szene Kanadas verdient macht und in ihrer dunklen Intensität wieder als eine Synthese vorangegangener Releases in den Katalog einfügt.

The antiquarian aesthetic of a fastidious watchmaker mingles with that of modern-day cinematic sound designer on this utterly compelling musique concrète album. The numerous detours, razor cuts, slamming doors, wooden squeaks and articulated arrangement of sonic debris are on display with considerable panache, recalling concrète compositions dating back to the late 1950s and early ’60s. The toxic hiss that arises within the mechanical clatter on Paysages articulés n^o zéro is particularly effective. Elsewhere, on Les chambres de l’atelier, Bernier deftly moves from oblique passages of ratcheted turmoil and springloaded jolts into pools of half-melodic tones and nightmarish foreshadowing. Here, these almost musical passages are situated between David Lynch’s horror-laden sound design and the Schimpfluch-Gruppe’s more sublime moments.

The Ars Musica festival presents a Night of Electronic Music with acousmatic, mixed and videomusic works at Espace Senghor in Brussels (Belgium) on March 23, 2011. On the programme are premieres by Annette Vande Gorne and Ingrid Drese, and videomusics by Inés Wickmann / Francis Dhomont and Marcelle Deschênes / Alain Pelletier.