| << |
electroradio
to add to your cart, click the price (price always includes handling + shipping)
top
Electroacoustics, the Quebecois Wayby François Couture in electrocd.com (Québec), March 22, 2004 |6138| The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, right? Wrong — at least when it comes to electroacoustics, the beautiful province of Quebec compares very well to any other region of the world. Call me chauvinistic, I don’t care: Quebec is home to several composers of tremendous talent and influential professors. My goal is not to turn this article in an analytical essay, but, as a music reviewer and unstoppable listener, I am convinced that there is such a thing as Quebecois electroacoustics. Despite the stylistic variety among our composers, I detect a Quebecois “sound,” something that sounds to me neither British nor French or German; something that calls to me and speaks to me in a language more immediate and easier to understand. This “unity in diversity” is probably, at least in part, due to the lasting influence of a small number of key composers whose academic teachings have shaped our younger generations. I am thinking first and foremost of Francis Dhomont and Yves Daoust. So let’s begin this sound path with a Frenchman so Quebecois at heart that he was awarded a prestigious Career Grant from the Conseil des arts et lettres du Québec. I can sincerely recommend all of Dhomont’s albums: his graceful writing, his narrative flair and his intelligence turn any of his works into fascinating gems. I have often publicly expressed my admiration for Forêt profonde (including in my first Sound Path, so I will skip it this time), but Sous le regard d’un soleil noir, his first large-scale work, remains an international classic of electroacoustic music, and his more recent Cycle du son shows how close to perfection his art has grown — the piece AvatArsSon in particular, my first pick for this Sound Path. If Dhomont’s music is often constructed following large theoretical, literary and sociological themes, Yves Daoust’s works lean more toward poetry and the anecdote. Most of his pieces betray his respect for the abstractionist ideals of the French school, but his seemingly naive themes (water, crowds, a Chopin Fantasia or a childhood memory) empower his music with an unusual force of evocation. His latest album, Bruits, also displays a willingness to grow and learn. One is tempted to hear the influence of his more electronica-savvy students in the startling title triptych. To those two pillars of Quebec electroacoustics, I must add the names of Robert Normandeau and Gilles Gobeil. Normandeau is a very good example of what I consider to be the “typical” Quebecois sound: a certain conservatism in the plasticity of sounds (the result of the combined influence of the British and French schools); great originality in their use; and an uncanny intelligence in the discourse which, even though it soars into academic thought, doesn’t rob the listener of his or her pleasure. My favorite album remains Figures, in part because of the beautiful piece Le Renard et la Rose, inspired by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s novel Le Petit Prince - and also because of Venture, a tribute to the Golden Age of progressive rock (a pet peeve I share with the composer, might I add). As for Gobeil’s music, it is the wildness of wilderness, the turmoil of human passions, the sudden gestures, the copious splashes of sonic matter thrown all around. If La mécanique des ruptures remains an essential listen, his most recent album Le contrat, a collaboration with guitarist René Lussier, stands as his most accomplished (and thrilling!) work to date. These four composers may represent the crème de la crème of academic circles, but empreintes DIGITALes’ catalog counts numerous young composers and artists whose work deeply renew the vocabulary of their older colleagues. I would like to mention Fractures, the just released debut album by Christian Bouchard. His fragmented approach seems to draw as much from academic electroacoustics as from experimental electronica. Thanks to some feverish editing and dizzying fragmentation, Parcelles 1 and Parcelles 2 evoke avant-garde digital video art. I also heartily recommend Louis Dufort’s album Connexions, which blends academic and noise approaches. His stunning piece Zénith features treatments of samples of Luc Lemay’s voice (singer with the death-metal group Gorguts). I am also quite fond of Marc Tremblay’s rather coarse sense of humor. On his CD Bruit-graffiti he often relies on pop culture (from The Beatles to children’s TV shows). His piece Cowboy Fiction, a “western for the ear” attempting to reshape the American dream, brings this Sound Path to a quirky end. Serious or facetious, abstract or evocative, Quebecois electroacoustic music has earned a place in the hearts of avant-garde music lovers everywhere. Now it is your turn to explore its many paths.
top
Critiqueby Sabine Moig in JazzoSphère (France), May 1, 2002 |494|
“Yves Daoust s’en donne à
cœur joie avec les sons et les bruits qu’il triture sans relâche.”
Yves Daoust nous présente plusieurs créations sonores réalisées entre 1981 et 2001. Le concept utilisé dans la première - Bruits - est de concept assez simple. Il s’agit d’enregistrer les sons des scènes de la vie quotidienne des gens. Ici, des enfants qui jouent, là, une cité endormie, ou encore les clameurs d’une fête. Le tout étant retravaillé, fragmenté, créant ainsi l’impression d’un chaos qui laisse parfois la place à des sons distincts comme pour montrer que la vie suit malgré tout son cours. Les créations suivantes sont aussi musicalement très intéressantes. Comme Impromptu qui s’inspire de la Fantaisie impromptu en do dièse mineur pour piano (opus 66) de Chopin. Cette œuvre est décortiquée pour n’en garder que sa quintessence, c’est-à-dire cet extrait suprême et subtil de la force, de l’énergie et des émotions de la pièce du grand maître. Yves Daoust s’en donne à cœur joie avec les sons et les bruits qu’il triture sans relâche. Le résultat peut paraître désopilant, il n’en est que plus superbe.
top
Critiqueby L C in Octopus #14 (France), May 1, 2002 |493_2|
“Avec de tels compositeurs, le Québec n’a sans doute jamais été aussi
libre…”
C’est du Québec que nous proviennent ces quelques œuvres inspirées, grâce au label de Montréal empreintes DIGITALes… Si leur point commun réside dans l’utilisation d’un support musical électroacoustique, il est intéressant de constater les influences des musiques ambiant et ethno-ambient dans le travail rendu et dans l’évolution progressive qui régit les morceaux… Au Clair de terre de Robert Normandeau, correspondent des mouvements cinématiques faisant évoluer les thèmes au gré de mouvements spatiaux et spacieux comme le laisse entendre le titre… Souvent amené à travailler pour le théâtre, Robert Normandeau cultive dans sa musique le sens de la densité et un aspect très direct que nous susurrent les voix entremêlées de Erinyes… Voilà une téléportation sonore en bonne et due forme que n’interrompra pas le silence nocturne étayé par la musique de Gilles Gobeil… Un silence pesant et torturé par des ambiances crépusculaires, combinaison de torpeur et de violences soudaines, qui ralliera jusqu’aux amateurs de dark-ambiant par ses déclinaisons à la fois brutales et microtonales. Un rêve semi-éveillé qui s’emballe au fil des lectures émaillant le voyage… Marcel Proust, HG Wells, Jules Verne, les passagers de ce train fantôme se portent bien, merci pour eux… Au terminus, Yves Daoust vous attend… Ses Bruits reflêtent sa ville, Montréal, perpétuellement traversés par des bribes de mots, les cris des enfants, des mouvements crissants furtifs, des mécanismes grinçants… les nuits, les jours, les lieux, calmes ou agités, sont revisités avec un appétit glouton… Daoust s’empare des sons plus qu’il ne les saisit afin de retranscrire l’environnement urbain qui l’entoure, dans toute sa luxuriante diversité. Avec de tels compositeurs, le Québec n’a sans doute jamais été aussi libre…
top
Critiquein Monotrains & Satellites (France), April 1, 2002 |490_4|
“… la puissance cinétique et la richesse de sens émerveillent, étonnent ou
intriguent…”
En choisissant de consacrer ce nouvel enregistrement à la ville de Montréal, Yves Daoust chemine un peu plus profondément dans sa logique, bâtissant plus qu’auparavant un lien visible entre ses deux passions: le son et l’image. Si ses 2 précédentes productions par empreintes DIGITALes (Anecdotes ’91, Musiques naïves ’98) étaient déjà empreintes de cinétiques… Bruits soulève des les premières mesures l’idée de carte postale sonore. 4 vues choisies, cadrées, dont la puissance cinétique et la richesse de sens émerveillent, étonnent ou intriguent… Sur Children’s corner, on pensera aux travaux de Sibylle Pomorin voire Robert Iolini sur Soundscape ou encore à certains travaux de déambulations sonores d’O’Rourke sur Cinéma pour l’oreille… L’album prend également une trajectoire environmentaliste (un environment urbain) comme si Daoust se faisait le caméraman d’une virée dans Montréal un jour d’éclipse solaire. Une relation avec l’image qui jalonne d’ailleurs sa vie, puisqu’il fut désigner sonore pour le National Film Board of Canada (ça ne s’invente pas), sans trop évoquer ses multiples collaborations sonores à des documentaires et films. Une approche multidisciplinaire, comme Michael Snow et Derek Jarman savent les apprécier.
top
Critiqueby Sarah Choukah in La Scena Musicale #7:7 (Québec), April 1, 2002 |490|
“… une floraison électroacoustique digne d’être écoutée avec
attention…”
Il est intéressant de constater le progrès effectué à partir des quelques tourne-disques et consoles dont disposait Schaeffer pour les premiers «concerts de bruits» diffusés en 1948 sur une chaîne de la ORTF, en France. Les courbes d’intensité manipulées d’échantillons sonores naturels ainsi que les séquences de vibrations fragmentées étaient les premières substances utilisées dans ce genre de concerts, au début des années 1920. Fruits d’une technologie de plus en plus présente, ces substances ont joint le rang des avancées traduites par l’ouverture à de nouveaux matériaux sonores chez les plus curieux, qui fondèrent l’Institut international de musique électroacoustique de Bourges (IMEB) en 1970. Ce style d’expression, amplifié par le temps, fut grandement apprécié par Yves Daoust, qui fait entendre ici des œuvres où le Québec estival et festif est exposé dans un contraste étonnant: limbes parasitaires et truchements sonores environnent les éclats du Montréal urbain dans un effet de scène alterné avec Bruits. D’une réalisation telle que de La gamme émane une fascination pour le corps de l’autre traité sous ses multiples facettes. L’Impromptu est une réalisation où plane la hantise romantique de Chopin. Ces tableaux aux sujets minutieusement développés saisissent par des couleurs et des sensations qui perdurent et forment une nouvelle imagerie à elles seules. Yves Daoust signe une floraison électroacoustique digne d’être écoutée avec attention et fait naître la réflexion. 5/5
top
Soundcheck Reviewin The Wire #219 (UK), April 1, 2002 |488|
“The wit and character of… Daoust are all too rare qualities in
electroacoustic comosition.”
The wit and character of Canadian composer Yves Daoust are all too rare qualities in electroacoustic comosition. Composed between 1997-2001, Bruits is a 30 minutes exploration, in three movements, of sounds from the great outdoors. The first movement is a giggly snapshot of a children’s playground. It’s followed by a fastidiously detailed nocturnal landscape close in atmosphere to Bartók’s many night pieces. The final slab is a joyous depiction of Montréal in summer, with passing jazz groups enhancing its party atmosphere. A similar sense of exuberance inhabits the much earlier La Gamme, which transforms every music student’s dreaded scales and arpeggios into a cartoon landscape hovering between Varèse and A Rainbow In Curved Air. The bizarre Ouverture explores the history of French speaking Canada. The Chopin inspired impromptu for piano and electronics completes the set.
top
Reviewby Luke Martin in Splendid E-Zine (USA), February 6, 2002 |481|
“Phenomenal… a winner that lives and breathes. Hear this now.”
[The CD] Bruits is a much more personal affair than the usual sound-collage. The titular, tripartite composition, Bruits, is a portrait of Montréal that’s endearing, though without losing a sense of urban malice. Children’s Corner is a fast-forward examination of daytime sounds, while Nuit is less frenetic; more time is spent on peaceful image-building, though it’s with more of an ear towards the unsettling — strange noises interrupt the feeling of sleep that’s created, producing the sensation that you’re hiding under the bedclothes. The piece’s closer, Fête, is a return to the dynamic daylight — troops of musicians pound the ears, bringing a sense of energy and jubilant humanity that’s hard to match. The three components of the title composition are all experiments in sound compression — it feels like Daoust is trying to make the listener hear every sound that occurs in a city at the same time — that seem to actually work, and not just fall in a heap; it’s no wonder Bruits took more than four years to compose. The rest of the album is taken up by individual compositions, each clocking in at around fifteen minutes — though it’s the first of these, Impromptu, that really shows Daoust’s brilliance. This composition melds a Chopin piece with the sound of detuning pianos, reversing trucks and squeaking uneasiness. Rushes of sound interrupt the already tense atmosphere, amping up the tension level to near-unbearable. Finally, the piece ends with the sounds of a thunderstorm, and a reduction of added sound — though behind the Chopin, in the distance, buzzsaws and sirens slowly circle. There are waves of sound, quietly menacing, and the sound of tapping, behind your head. It’s a brilliant conclusion to one of the best pieces of music of this type that I’ve ever heard. Phenomenal. La gamme sounds like an alien race observing children, sending out scanner beams to probe their bodies. The sounds of the playground drift, and give way to what ultimately sounds like a deep-bass game of Pong — in a good way. Chunky analog sounds jostle for space with synthesized siren-songs, until they ultimately sound like they’re emanating from an old radio in a rehearsing music student’s room. From alien technology to practiced scales in fifteen minutes: that’s quite an achievement. The only piece on the disc that was a little lost on me was the closing composition, Ouverture. Composed to celebrate the French Revolution, it’s a largely-French-language lesson in the history of Québec, realized through snippets of riots, speeches, and vox-pops. While my lack of understanding — due to the language barrier — is my own fault, this piece still exhibits a powerful grip on even the most uncomprehending listener — though admittedly it’s the vocal manipulations, rather than their meaning, that will pull attention in those cases. In short, Daoust has delivered a winner that lives and breathes. Hear this now.
top
Chroniqueby Julien Jaffré in Jade (France), January 2, 2002 |469|
“… la richesse de sens émerveillent, étonnent ou intriguent…”
En choisissant de consacrer ce nouvel enregistrement à la ville de Montréal, Yves Daoust chemine un peu plus profondément dans sa logique, bâtissant plus qu’auparavant un lien visible entre ses deux passions: le son et l’image. Si ses deux précédentes productions pour empreintes DIGITALes (Anecdotes, 91 et Musiques naïves, 98) étaient déjà empreintes de cinétiques… Bruits soulève dès les premières mesures l’idée de carte postale sonore. Quatre vues choisies, cadrées, dont la puissance eidétique et la richesse de sens émerveillent, étonnent ou intriguent… Sur Children’s Corner, on pensera aux travaux de Sibylle Pomorin voire Robert Iolini sur Soundscape (Scnd rec.) ou encore à certains travaux de déambulations sonores d’O’Rourke sur Cinéma pour l’oreille. L’album prend également une trajectoire environnementaliste (un environnement urbain) comme si Daoust se faisait le caméraman d’une virée dans Montréal un jour d’éclipse solaire. Une relation avec l’image qui jalonne d’ailleurs sa vie, puisqu’il fut designer sonore pour l’Office national du fim du Canada (ça ne s’invente pas), sans trop évoquer ses multiples collaborations sonores à des documentaires et films. Une approche multidisciplinaire, comme Michael Snow et Derek Jarman savent les apprécier.
top
Critiqueby G P in Nightlife #31 (Québec), January 1, 2002 |467_2|
“… un maelström de silence et de violence…”
Troisième disque pour Yves Daoust sur empreintes DIGITALes, Bruits explore effectivement les bruits, ceux de la rue, ceux qui nous entourent, mais à la manière électroacoustique, c’est-à-dire, sans être nécessairement pris dans une boucle. Plus près de la ville que la campagne dans ses thèmes, Daoust livre six pièces dans un maelström de silence et de violence où des voix et des bruits affluent, puis se perdent dans le brouillard. À écouter dans un immense système de sons ou encore avec une excellente paire d’écouteurs pour apprécier les subtilité de ce travail.
top
Reviewby Bart Plantenga in wReck thiS MeSS (The Netherlands), December 9, 2001 |465_2|
“The pieces are ripe and bursting with exuberance.”
Bruits on empreintes DIGITALes Yves Daoust exemplifies that empreintes DIGITALes spirit where the entire sonic history of mankind can find residence in the incredibly evocative sound pockets of human-manipulated soundscape documents. The pieces are ripe and bursting with exuberance. Yves Daoust is head of the electroacoustic program at the Conservatoire de Musique de Montréal. This is his 3rd empreintes DIGITALes release. The title piece which is bursting with the schizoidal din of urban mindscapes is “a postcard, a sonic portrait of a landscape dear to Daoust - Montréal.”
top
Reviewin Metamorphic Journeyman (UK), November 21, 2001 |463_6|
“… a most interesting release…”
Since Daoust’s official entry into the professional world of music in 1978, he has composed an average of one work per year, in various genres, for diverse occasions, and ensembles including film and stage soundtracks, multi-disciplinary performances and concert works. He was awarded the Euphonie d’Or prize (Bourges 1993) for his work Quatuor (Anecdotes IMED 9106) consecrated as a “classic” in electroacoustic music. Bruits is a third recording by Yves Daoust on empreintes DIGITALes (Anecdotes 1991; Musiques naïves 1998). 4 works, 4 commissions; from Québec organizations as well as French and British organizations. The title work is a postcard, a sonic portrait of a landscape dear to Daoust: Montréal. You will be introduced to the children of the city, its nights and festivities. Daoust chose to be a witness of an environment in La gamme as well. Bruits is a most interesting release, an opportunity to dig deeper into the creative realms of one of Québec’s most important electroacoustic composer.
top
Nouvelle vagueby Réjean Beaucage in Voir (Québec), November 8, 2001 |460|
“… chaudement recommandé…”
Yves Daoust contribuait en 1978 à la fondation de l’Association pour la création et la recherche électroacoustiques du Québec (ACREQ). Il dirigera par la suite durant une dizaine d’années les destinées du premier organisme canadien voué exclusivement à ce genre. Aujourd’hui, il y revient à l’invitation du directeur artistique actuel, Alain Thibault, pour participer ce samedi 10 novembre à la troisième édition de l’événement Elektra. Daoust y présentera en création sa pièce Bruits, triptyque environnemental qui donne également son titre au troisième disque que le compositeur fait paraître chez empreintes DIGITALes et qui sera lancé juste avant le concert. La pièce, commande du Sonic Arts Network (Royaume-Uni), est une sorte de carte postale sonore des rues et ruelles de Montréal: cris d’enfants, bruits de la circulation et rumeurs citadines y sont littéralement passés au hachoir pour produire ce que le compositeur appelle un «smog sonore». C’est sans aucun doute l’œuvre la plus ‘bruitiste’ de Daoust jusqu’à maintenant. L’œuvre sera présentée à l’ACREQ dans une version pour huit canaux avec un support vidéographique de Jean-Sébastien Durocher. Le disque que Daoust s’apprête à lancer mérite certainement d’être chaudement recommandé à toute personne qui serait curieuse et chercherait à se renseigner sur la musique électroacoustique. Que le titre Bruits ne vous effraie pas. Les quatre pièces présentées ici représentent autant de sous-genres et Yves Daoust y démontre magistralement son grand talent de manipulateur sonore. On y retrouve une magnifique version de la pièce Impromptu, déjà entendue en format «pour bande seule» sur son précédent disque Musiques naïves, mais retravaillée ici en version «musique mixte» avec des interprètes de choix: Jacques Drouin au piano et Lorraine Vaillancourt… au synthétiseur! La pièce La Gamme est une musique électronique réalisée en 1981 sur les «machines à triturer les électrons» du Groupe de musique expérimentale de Bourges. Enfin, Ouverture, commande du GMEB pour le Bicentenaire de la Révolution française, mêle narration et illustration sonore, et rappelle par son thème Le Trésor de la langue de René Lussier. empreintes DIGITALes fera également paraître simultanément des disques de Robert Normandeau et Gilles Gobeil, deux autres piliers de la musique électroacoustique d’ici, disques sur lesquels nous reviendrons. Yves Daoust enseigne depuis 1981 au Conservatoire de musique et d’art dramatique du Québec, où il a développé un programme de composition électroacoustique. Preuve qu’il exerce dans ce domaine-là aussi un grand talent, c’est l’un de ses étudiants qui clôturera la soirée avec une pièce qu’il ramène d’Autriche où elle a obtenu une mention lors de la dernière édition des prestigieux Prix Ars Electronica. Louis Dufort nous présentera en effet Décap, une «réflexion sur la décadence de l’homme» en partie tirée de la musique composée pour la chorégraphie Le Cri du monde, de Marie Chouinard, et dont nous avons pu entendre une première version lors de la série de concerts Rien à voir (7) en mars 2000. Également au programme: Tom Sherman et Bernhard Loibner avec leur projet vidéo/musique Nerve Theory et le très attendu Markus Popp, alias Oval, détenteur d’une seconde place aux Prix Ars Electronica 2001.
top
Reviewby Paul Steenhuisen in The WholeNote #7:3 (Canada), November 1, 2001 |458|
“… contributing a disc of infrequently ramshackle and noisily intimate source
materials sculpted with finesse.”
Over the past 11 years, Montréal’s empreintes DIGITALes label has established itself as an important source for electroacoustic music from around the world. The recent release of Yves Daoust’s Bruits adds to their excellent catalogue, contributing a disc of infrequently ramshackle and noisily intimate source materials sculpted with finesse. Daoust sets the tone with Children’s Corner, using the sonic landscapes of street festivals, markets, outdoor sports, and backup beeps from delivery trucks as his starting point. Amidst varied metamorphoses, the sound materials remain vestigially recognizable, yet sufficiently developed so as not to lapse into a documentarian aesthetic. While Nuits lacks the personality of its predecessor, Fête stage-dives straight back into its crowds and celebratory nature, re-establishing the light-hearted quality that defines and separates Daoust’s work. Fête reminds of the Parisian summer solstice celebration “fête de la musique,” where musicians from any background play on the street, with all of the recorded fiddles, accordions and djembe heard in a two-block venture through Place de la Republique, yet none of the pickpockets or thieves. With the help of mutated material from Chopin’s Fantasie-Impromptu in C# minor, Daoust’s Impromptu engages and expounds upon its inspiration without clutching the Chopin too tightly. The final piece, Ouverture, develops the swaying crowds of previous works for more directly political purposes, exploring the subject of Quebecois history. Overall, despite being somewhat uneven, Daoust’s Bruits succeeds with a boisterous playfulness and the warm impressions of community heard in the playgrounds and watering holes of old Montréal.
top
Reviewby Ingvar Loco Nordin in Sonoloco Record Reviews (Sweden), October 29, 2001 |455|
“…the poetic touch, careful in the detail, deeply in love with the
over-arching gesture - and the musicality of this electroacoustic piece lands me in pure
auditory pleasure!”
Yves Daoust has been dealing in sounds since very young years. He began taking piano lessons at the age of seven, and prepared the family piano at age sixteen, in 1962. He composed his first electronic work at 19, in 1965, for a gestural theatre work of an hour’s duration. He indicates that he found his electroacoustic style at IMEB, Bourges during an apprenticeship. He officially entered the life of a composer in 1978, and has since produced about one work a year, in different disciplines. He names his major influences as Cage, Xenakis, Stockhausen, Kagel, Ferrari and Savouret, as well as some of the classical composers. The first part of the triptych Bruits; Children’s Corner (1997) is a series of pictures centered, as Daoust says “around a relatively homogenous, diurnal sonic world”, like for instance street festivals, markets, machines and so on. He points out that the fragmentation procedure he utilizes creates a kind of “sonic smog”, which sometimes clears to reveal the clarity of certain sounds. After initial nursery rhymes of school children a total carnage of sounds, rolling at you in dense clusters, a prolonged high pitch ripple takes you into events suddenly lighting up like matches in the dark, showing, for a second, the faces of the people around you and the white walls of the houses, until the surroundings instantly fall back in silence/darkness again, just leaving memory marks in your brain tissue. It is impossible to make any sense at all of this, except that the whole piece could constitute a crude sample of Earth life picked up by some unknown recipient in a distant galaxy, pointing his devices of perception in our direction, receiving the influx from Earth civilization in chopped up and stellarly disturbed portions. At some very beautiful passages a distant jumble of bells constitute the backdrop for short, sharp, flaky short wave disturbances, mixing the tonal with the truly bruit. A continuous murmur bubbling below carries all kinds of minuscule sounds on its rough terrain. On high an airliner struggles across the canopy of the day, and here below chirping birds and playing children color time in happy garlands until it all is reduced to its constituents again, in a mincer of the light of day. Nuit (1998) is the second part of Bruit. Daoust has a very clear view of what he is doing and achieving with his sounds. He says: “It is as though all the noises accumulated during the day continued, flattened, in the mind of the sleeper, reduced to a tinnitus that becomes confused with the sonic activity of nocturnal insects and with the very real, though distant, hum of the sleeping city.” Those phrases convince me that Yves Daoust thinks about electroacoustics in much the same way I experience this music; i.e. in a very poetical kind of way - and I suppose almost every composer of electroacoustics has to be a poet too, the way he bends shapes and sounds and auditory morphemes in and out of wack! Indeed the nocturnal layer constitutes a dreamy, very poetical sensation. The chirping of locusts and the squeaking high-pitch timbres of electronic devices join forces to produce this nocturnal machine-nature hybrid, taking you into secret, enchanted dominions of hearing, stemming from encounters with gleaming eyes and rustling unknowns in dark areas of the forest of night. The sounds roll and curl, spiral and ooze, meander and rush, in a spellbinding display of artistic bliss. Nothing is still; everything is on the move in this crazy world of dreams, where passing features remind you of people you’ve known or places you’ve been, and not least feeling you’ve felt - while other parts are nothing but alien and disturbing to your sense of security. The final section of Bruit is Fête (“Party”) (2001). Daoust’s introductions are on the money as usual: Fête is a sort of allegro barbaro, a frenetic dance where music of the streets, clamoring voices, cries and whistles combine”. Yes, by now it would be obvious that Daoust likes to indulge in shattering, overpowering carnages of sound, which you just have to listen to again and again to be able to catch all the glimpse there are to catch of the sonic and associative developments. Jubilant crowds are taken on a tour-de-force into a layer just behind or below or maybe above the real world of events, like seeing the world through crystal and having your head stuck down into a bucket of water while being injected with some hallucinatory drug. Soon you’re astray, though “glimpses” really are what you catch of the real world, in such a chopped up and deviated way that you almost puke - so this is really good! You name it; we like it! Tickling grains of bell-like audio fall like dense precipitation all around, as heavily altered accordion tunes spin a thread of insanity around your last resources of clear thought… No way out of this - except maybe a brutal awakening from a runaway dream… (“Woke up, fell out of bed, dragged a comb across my head…”) Rhythmic cardiovascular beats bump and vibrate, and it all vanishes out on a thin, dissipating line of high pitch treble. Impromptu (1995) is the only piece with an explicit instrumental idea, engaging Jacques Drouin [piano] and Lorraine Vaillancourt [keyboard]. The whole title is “Impromptu for piano, synthesizer, sampler and tape”. It cannot be helped; I have to quote this immensely eloquent Mr. Daoust on this piece too: “I completed this piece thanks to the help of Chopin, who for the occasion loaned me his Fantaisie-Impromptu in C-sharp minor for piano (op. 66). I have taken all material for this work from it, but also the agitation of the writing, the overly abundant energy, the tension.” It is a very seasick piano that opens the work. With gusting winds all around it, as the tones sort of reach us through watery waves of salty expanses. Unaltered speed freak pianism mingles with bent-out-of-shape tones, and a drone is heard - but sometimes not directly - as dump trucks of the soul are gearing up and gearing down somewhere in the vicinity. The blending of clean, clear and sparklingly present piano tones and all kinds of disturbed and wrenched, wretched sounds out of the poor instrument is splendidly arrived at, and here I can feel the influence of the Maestro, Mr. Stockhausen, in actual sound as well as in spirit and idea. Being a suspicious critic of the mixed-form bag, I nonetheless approve very much of Daoust’s adventure here, since, it seems, he uses the actual, acoustic instruments like would he any source of sound, thereby simply having them take on the apparition of “concrete sounds”; not primarily instrumental sounds. There is less of the frantic amassment of dense sounds here, and more of the poetic touch, careful in the detail, deeply in love with the over-arching gesture - and the musicality of this electroacoustic piece lands me in pure auditory pleasure! Prime time contemporary music! Hats off to Yves Daoust! La gamme (“The Scale”) (1981, revised 2000) is a kind of exercise on the part of Daoust, as he, as a dilettante to the electronic sound media stumbled through the venues of electronic possibility in 1981. Daoust calls this “techno music before its time”. The beginning is glassy, like long walls of shelves filled with bottles and wine glasses, screeching to each other about the blessings of fluid. A rubbery wind-down of events follows, like ropes of events closely knit together in a spiral grip of time… reminiscent of some Jean Schwarz adventures from the same time - but a lot of music sounded like this back then… and it still sounds fresh, electronically fresh. There’s nothing concrete about this beginning; it’s pure electronic music, electronically generated - but further into the work children’s voices in a school yard or a playground provide enough concretisms to secure even this piece in the secure grip of a musique concrète definition - and somebody practicing scales on the piano, overheard through a window facing the school yard, renders the piece a calm Paris suburb afternoon feeling, with no ill intents anywhere. Highly rhythmical progressions out of the 1981 electronic machinery talk directly to my memories of For Jon III by Lars-Gunnar Bodin of Norrtuna, Gnesta, Sweden; a veteran och veterans of electronic music. Sparkling clusters of edgy sounds spin down your auditory meatus like tumble weeds of Texas and Oklahoma down a gravel farm road during the Dust Bowl climate disaster… The last entry is Ouverture (1989), which turns out to be a recount of the history of Canada in the making; a story that keeps its topicality through the struggle for independence in Quebec. The intrigue passes from 1760 and the end of New France, which falls into the hands of the British. It continues past 1793 with the decapitation of Louis XVI in France, and so it continues, in a narrated and sound-theatrical tour up the annals of history, though heavily blended with the sounds of modern Canada and an array of electroacoustic sound-bendings and sonic processes in the digital domain. Most of all this goes on in French, though English language is introduced inside the piece. This is just as much a radio play as a piece of electroacoustics. It’s very interesting and ear-catching, and like everything on this CD very well done, by an Yves Daoust who is a poet as well as a musician, and who manages to fascinate even an old hard case like myself…
top
Reviewby François Couture in All-Music Guide (USA), September 1, 2001 |441| The center of attention on Bruits, electroacoustic composer Yves Daoust’s third CD, is undeniably the 30 minute title suite. In three movements, he manages to remain true to his anecdotal writing style while completely renewing his palette. Unsuspecting listeners could mistake the first moments of Children’s Corner for a piece of experimental noise. The charge is surprisingly ferocious but quickly defused by the use of children laughs, shouts, and games. Still the piece follows a noise esthetic the likes of which had never appeared in Daoust’s work before. The round of surprises continues in Nuit where material from the first movement is recycled into a more abstract form. Here the music follows a tangent that brings it close to experimental electronica artists working outside the academic electroacoustic sphere, such as Fennesz and Carsten Nicolai. The third movement, Fête, uses field recordings of the various summer festivals in Montréal, bringing back a human factor and Daoust’s love for the anecdote. The three other pieces comprising this set are not necessarily more typical, but they clearly pale in comparison. An earlier version of Impromptu is available on Musiques naïves. This time, the tape part computer-derived from a Chopin piece is augmented by a piano part, a keyboard part, and more children sounds. La Gamme is a rare attempt at sound synthesis. Written for the bicentennial of the French Revolution, Ouverture is an electroacoustic hörspiel putting in correlation various moments in the history of Québec. Both poetic and political in nature, it will be lost on non-French speaking listeners. other texts in
electrocd.com Yves Daoust: Bruits: reviews |
>> | ||||
| << | >> |







