Thibault or How do you
take the pulse of a cathode ray tube?
by Jean
Boivin |imed_9003-0001|
If we recognize that each composer tends to privilege one dimension of
musical discourse or another (for example: timbre, harmony, or instrumental
virtuosity) in his work and thus conjure up a ‘style,’ listening
to the music of Alain Thibault is
like listening to a game of rhythms but mostly a game of attacks. The
constant and abrupt contrast between silence (or an harmonic background
serving a similar function) and the sound itself—cutting and incisive,
percussive, vigorous and energetic, and resolutely urban—is here the
central core from which the dynamic of the work develops. If there are musics
to be listened to with your head between your hands, we should ideally listen
to this one at full volume, in a sports car, under a radiating sun, in the
middle of intertwining expressways. The resultant energy comes
from—without apology—the resources of ‘studio pop,’
rock and jazz. Actually, Alain Thibault
consciously rejects many positions of the so-called
‘contemporary’ music as early as Varèse
or Messiaen. And this is
precisely what bothers those who like to clearly divide genres. Some may have
been scandalized by that central place that is suddenly occupied by the most
distinctive element of ‘pop’ music: the drum solo… But it
is in vain that one would look on stage for the amazing rhythm section in
OUT, ELVIS
(Électro-lux, vertige illimité synthétique) or Volt: the
computer, has replaced it, guided however by a hand whose control is
impressive.
This duel of will and pure technique seems to have displaced itself from
the creative stage to the performance itself. Now the soloists have to
juxtapose themselves almost with inhuman precision to an implacable,
insensitive and independent tape. The process is similar to those
breathtaking ensemble passages, in perfect synchronization, previously found
in the music of musician like Frank Zappa who, in
turn, probably was influenced by the best American Big Bands. In this
respect, the Concerto
pour piano MIDI (Concerto for MIDI Piano) is
of formidable performance difficulty (imagine a Cybernetic Prokofiev), whereas
Le soleil et
l’acier (Sun and Steel) might have been subtitled “The Lung
and the Machine” or “Breath against Dynamo.” The winner of
the event is not necessarily the one we think. At the outset, essentially
rhythmic with a frenetic quality, recently the music of Alain Thibault seems
to give an evergrowing place to melody. As if emotion had opened a path, a
voice…
Jean Boivin
[iii-90]
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