In this tastefully packaged DVD-Audio recording, electroacoustic composer (and former Francis Dhomont protégé) Monique Jean (re)asserts her redoubtable talent in a field scarcely short of it. Her second release on the empreintes DIGITALes label – in 9 years to be precise – demonstrates a depth of realisation most likely achieved as a result of a patient, methodical work ethic. Unlikely is it that she’s been sat around thinking about lunch all these years: her list of works for live performance, radio, video and installations, since 1997, is Babylonian in stature. Regarding the work itself: in the words of a biographer, Jean ‘is interested in the tensions, ruptures and clashes of sonic matter that produce a transmutation of the real into the poetic.’ Which is as valid a summary of the contents of this DVD-Audio as one could possibly muster.

The slightly sycophantic sleeve notes twice designate the composer a ‘siren’ (though not ‘a goddess’, phew); moving on to conceptually clarify the kinesthetics of solo instrumental performance qua source material for Jean, relating a methodology whereby ‘each performer’s gesture… is magnified and broken down to its energetic principles, which then become the theme of the piece.’ And where for some this might entail sampling and looping telling fragments of a recording for the sake of a tasty beat, for Jean it is an intuitive reckoning with the musician’s very élan vital, as she disembowels a series of intrepid improvisations and exposes the pulsating innards. While Iancu Dumitrescu isn’t likely to find himself on the dole any time soon, he would have every cause to approve of this assiduously assembled set of acousmatic meditations.

While the album’s title Greffes (‘Grafts’, 2012) alludes to realms botanical, I concur with (sleeve note writer) Sharon Kanach’s ‘amniotic’ designation, for there is palpable depth to her world. Subtle aquatic allusions / illusions emerge from the get-go: alien technology stealthily scanning the primordial sea floor in Givre (2011), begetting an unearthly counterpart to Parmegiani’s La création du monde; while simultaneously inhabiting a measureless void – space both inner and outer – a blackness sliced by shafts of light, devoid of emotion or intellect; over 17 minutes accreting electromagnetic mass in the face of the inexorable final moment. Something of a centrepiece to the album, this piece might benefit frequenters of flotation tanks more than the usual phalanx of reverbed panpipes and didgeridoos.

In Ricochets (2006), a soaring saxophone shrieks, wails, wavers and vomits its guts into the alchemist’s laboratory, where it is both dissected and disintegrated on a bed of silence which becomes a funeral pyre: the incandescence of the performance immolating the improviser, who issues upwards in a pungent plume of smoke. Within this, identity remains intact if intangible; conveyed in millions of glistening particles that flow freely from the expanding flames, rattling and retreating from the speakers in intervals.

Similar phenomena beset subsequent performances; differences determined by participants’ personalities. These are also electronically processed, abstracted and distilled. Misfit (2007) sees a tightly tuned guitar given the Catholic heat treatment: the rising and abating conflagration discharging the essence of the once-electric instrument into the heavens. Its strings become livid tendrils that lash through the dense smoke, leaving bloody trails. In low memory #3 (2005) and #1 (2000) there is a distinct alternation / altercation between extended bouts of atmospheric compression and decompression, ‘attempts at re-establishing some kind of balance… the act of rebuilding being constantly thwarted and repeated’; clarinets of different pitches are manipulated and molested with religious fervour and scientific rigour, as though concealing a cosmic secret from the inquisition.

There is violence apparent in these audio autopsies, though it is as implied in the recorded performance as it is, applied by the curious composer. The result is an agonising catharsis, whereby the transpersonal essence is alchemically separated from the ‘corpse’ of the recording and given freedom of speech, within the full emancipatory remit of the recorded medium. It’s a real room-rumbler to boot. Jean’s concerts have won her acclaim in Canada (she took home the 2005 Opus Award for Concert of the Year), which suggests her performances must be something approaching transcendental, if this sublime, surround-sound extravaganza serves as an indication of her prowess. In rare instances such as this recording, a voice speaks to me from an alien dimension, whereupon I experience a gut-level glimmering of fear and wonder. For those who regard the recorded medium as a tomb for ‘dead’ performances, this album might revive a few spirits. Seek it out forthwith!

El título del nuevo disco de Martin Bédard habla por sí mismo: Topographies (Topografías). Se trata de una música llena de tranquilidad pero al mismo tiempo muy dinámica. En el disco no encontraremos ni un segundo de inactividad, todo él desprende una energía pocas veces vista que atrae a quien lo escucha a espacios densos y opacos que cortan la respiración y que dejan una sensación de vacío cuando deja de escuchar el disco. Topographies propone cinco obras electroacústicas compuestas entre 2004 y 2012 con el típico sonido compacto de Bédard.

Elainie Lillios is a new music / deep listening composer whose full length Entre espaces collects a number of her previously completed works ranging from 5 to 15 minutes length. The tracks could be described as close-mic texture studies that interweave electronic elements and digital manipulation with high fidelity recordings of nature and every day elements of civilization.

Aside from the occasional decisive thunderclap or slamming steel door, Lillios’ music is a blanket of white quietude huddled around a single wriggling / writhing element, a texture of remarkable crispness, sybillance and spacial precision, presented with origins obscured. As with many field recording artists, through the sparsitude of her compositions Lillios encourages us to pay attention to the microcosmic details. We are intended to read meanings into the rustling, scratching, and scraping, and indeed, with the infinitely complex timbres of nature, there is always more information to process upon repeated listening.

The album opens with Dreams in the Desert, one of the greatest tracks on the album with beautiful ambient transparency. It begins with a strengthening trickle of water, fed through some kind of divine vocoder that enriches the sound with translucent murmers of synthesizer chords. I could listen to this one sound for hours. The middle third of the 11 minute track is occupied by brittle crackling leaves, and sharp ‘whoosh’ sounds like tiny blow darts being shot. In the final third there is a welcome and cleansingly human wash of deep synth drone which rapidly draws us back into the industrialized world. In the warping and windblown sound of the synthesizer I see clouds rapidly passing in fast forward.

Arturo, another epic, changes tone considerably with the addition of male spoken vocals, presumably by “Arturo” on account of his accent. It’s an extended existential monologue containing such repeated phrases as “There is no such thing as a self-fulfilling prophecy.” The lyrics seem to be discussing the tarot and prophesies of death, an obscure subject with little emotional connotation for me. Arturo’s voice continues to dart between and behind cold quivering echo chamber effects for the 14 minute duration. There is some deliciously chaotic abrasive manipulation in the middle of the track, but this track still feels very long, and without the overt beauty of the previous one.

Hastening Toward the Half Moon is full of whispers and rapid, ragged breathing, and when a darkly glimmering string tone enters, pitched drastically down into a primordial undercurrent, I’m reminded of the weathered, isolationist mysticism of Lustmord and Lull. The breathing later fragments into a swarm of abrasive slices, and shadows of remote howls cascade through the soupy fog across the hilltops.

With the 3 concise parts of Backroads, the album becomes more easily listenable and engaging again. Torrential rain sounds recurr in each movement, as well as the screeching and skidding of cars lucky to have nearly missed a wreck. Undoubtedly, this is the most curious 10 minutes of the album, from the strangely ominous sounds of children playing in Tree Tunnel (as if a group of children had discovered something dangerous), to the sudden and welcome break into beat-driven electronica in the second half of Elevator.

The final Listening Beyond… is organic and wet in texture. There are drips and streams of pristine and pure mallet percussion, electronically arpeggiated in neon bright clarity. Lillios’ whispers cluster first into a nebula, then later are separated, chopped, and granulated. “If you listen deeply, can you hear infinity?,” she speaks. Simple words, but the point is felt in the quietude.

Many tracks are quite long (10+ minutes) and sparse, and the album is over 70 minutes, just near the maximum capacity for a CD. To listen and focus to the entire album is certainly challenging, and I’m sure if I saw these pieces live I would leave the auditorium with a similar feeling of uneasiness. However, I think this is absolutely intentional, as ‘new music’ is not made for simple entertainment or to conform to anyone’s expectations, but to attempt to express something that has thus far eluded all previous expression, as well as examine the human attention span and listening apparatus. It is a context that allows every gestural sound and its placement to be taken with utmost symbolic seriousness.

I highly recommend Entre espaces to anyone with patience, a quiet listening environment, and an ear for detail. As far as deep listening recordings go, you can’t do much better than this. There is a world of textural oddness to explore.

Martin Bédard est un type normal. Enfin, il ressemble à monsieur tout le monde. Rien ne le différencie des autres à cette nuance près qu’il fait de la musique. Mais pas n’importe quelle musique, celle que n’importe qui peut faire. Martin Bédard est électro-acousmaticien, terme un peu barbare, j’en conviens, qui désigne ces créateurs de musique acousmatique et/ou électroacoustique. Une musique qui, en générale, ne s’adresse pas au plus grand monde mais pour des gens qui possèdent déjà des éléments de compréhension. Ces compositeurs s’apparentent souvent comme des chercheurs ou, du moins, ils ont une démarche qui s’y rapproche. Tout cela n’a rien de rock ’n’ roll mais les personnes comme Martin Bédard n’ont jamais prétendu l’être. Enfin, comme tout «scientifique» ce n’est que tardivement qu’il sort son premier album. Certes, il a déjà composé et publié auparavant mais Topographies constitue, alors qu’il a la quarantaine passée, sa première réalisation solo. Nous venant tout droit de Montréal, Martin Bédard a été un élève de Robert Normandeau et le moins que l’on puisse dire c’est que cela se ressent. Topographies est un recueil de compositions réalisées entre 2005 et 2012. Malgré des contextes biens différents il existe une réelle cohérence entre les morceaux qui sont des exemples frappant de la variété de ce que peut offrir la musique électroacoustique dans sa nature abstraite mais hautement libre. Pour autant, Topographies reste dans une certaine norme, ne dépasse pas un certain académisme même si ce disque possède de réelles qualités créatrices, de rythmes ou de mouvements. C’est sans doute le mal récurent à beaucoup de genres musicaux qui existent depuis trop longtemps. La capacité de renouvellement n’est pas en rapport avec ce qui est produit et c’est ce qui est fort dommage parfois. On en est conscient lorsque l’on écoute Topographies même si on admet aisément que Martin Bédard est manifestement parmi les plus doués du genre. Le Canadien construit ce qu’il appelle des «lieux transfigurés», des endroits où le réel s’évapore pour laisser la place à une autre réalité, forcément abstraite, faisant fonctionner notre imaginaire à plein régime. En cela Topographies ne peut pas être un disque décevant parce qu’il remplit pleinement son office sans qu’on y trouve à y redire.

Jópár hete — írtam is erről a topikban — összeismerkedtem a Budapest Jazz Klub “hangmesterével” ennek köszönhetően két tápkábelem szolgál azóta is a keverőpultban, még nem jártak 500 órát, de szólnak így is rendesen. Balázs egy fiatal, baromi rendes tag, csak egy baj van vele imádja a elektronikus imrovizációs zenéket. Ez önmagában még nem lenne nagy probléma, de engem is megfertőzött kicsit, vagy inkább úgy mondanám, kinyitott előttem egy ajtót erre a zenei műfajra. Legutóbb, mikor találkoztam vele lelkesen beszélt egy empreintes DIGITALes.com nevű kanadai kiadóról és főleg a kiadó új lemezéről, Manuella Blackburn Formes audibles című CDjéről.

Ma megkaptam és belehallgattam… szóval erős idegek és nagyon nyitott izlés kell hozzá, ezért is írtam a címben, hogy nem merem mindenkinek ajánlani. Viszont nagyon szól a lemez, mondhatnám azt is, döbbenetes a hangja.

A fiatal, Manchesterben élő zeneszerző nőnek ez az első lemeze, pedig komoly neve van az elektro-akusztikus zene világában, nemzetközi fesztiválok nagydíjainak egész sorát nyerte meg. A lemezről csak annyit mondanék, hogy minden szám egy önálló témát jár körbe, a második szám (Switched on) például készülékek kapcsolóinak hangjából komponált zeneszám. Érdekes, sajátos világot tár elénk ez a lemez, számítógépektől és mobiltelefonoktól hangos világunkban mintha tükröt tartana elénk a művész, így éltek, ezt hallgatjátok!