E’ ciò che emerge dalla poetica evidentemente disturbata e “dadaista” (per non dire parafisica) di Mankind (Ice Machine), vale a dire un incredibile duo femminile che sa muoversi con estrema disinvoltura tra “sospiri ritmici post-wyattiani” (Mile End Throat Singers), elettronica schizzata (Todo que tengo) e psyco-minimalismo à la Comelade (The Anti-Rules).

Ignaz Schick e Martin Tétreault (Live • 33 • 45 • 78) si presenta in un contesto ancora più radicale: quattordici tracce di radicalismo estremo dove i due musicisti si dividono non solo i canali (quello di sinistra Ignaz, a destra Martin) ma anche i marchingegni elettronici.

Nous Perçons Les Oreilles (cioè Jean Derome e Joane Hétu) con Shaman ne rappresentano — invece — il contraltare acustico attraverso dodici tracce inesorabilmente segnate dal trionfo del fiatismo improvvisativo (sax, flauti e oggetti vari e la voce stessa).

Dal canto loro Marilyn Lerner, Matt Brubeck e Nick Fraser con Ugly Beauties, pur continuando a muoversi nel campo della free-improvvisation, ci propongono patterns più delineati soprattutto con il “lirismo slabbrato” di Oubliette che, grazie all’ottimo violoncello di Matt si spinge nei pressi di certo camerismo contemporane, così come nell’intensa Figure lisse dove l’interplay “piano/violoncello” sostenuto dalla soffusa batteria di Fraser è davvero notevole.

Nous perçons les oreilles is Jean Derome and Joane Hetu. They present their next step under this name after a silence of about eight years. Shaman is their third work. We hear Hetu on sax and voice. Derome also on sax and voice plus flute and objects. Emotional and intense improvisations. With the title Shaman they want to hint at their conviction that their work is “closer to the world of healing, supernatural communication, and ancestral memory than the world of entertainment.”

C’était l’été de 2009. Malgré ma réticence à collaborer à la grande arnaque que constitue le Festival International de Jazz de Montréal, je me suis laissé tenté par une paire de billets gratuite pour le show du grand maître qu’est Ornette Coleman. Mais aussitôt installé dans l’étrange lieu que constitue la salle Wilfrid-Pelletier de la Place-des-Arts, un sentiment de type claustrophilique s’empara de ma personne. Une salle trop grande, une salle trop peuplée, un Ornette trop loin. Ruiné. Avais-je perdu la raison? Non. Et voici pourquoi. À mes côtés, assistant parallèlement à la prestation Colemanienne, se trouvaient respectivement Joane Hétu et Jean Derome. Deux piliers. Deux géants. À mes côtés. Et soudainement, je compris. Car je ressentie en moi cette gêne, cet émoi plus grand que nature. À Ô combien de reprises avais-je entendu et vécu la musique de ces artistes dans l’environnement propice à la compréhension de leur art. Oui, ces gens savaient comment et surtout où véhiculer le message (sans rien enlever au grand Ornette) et l’avait fait tout au long de leur carrière. Sur Shaman, Derome et Hétu démontrent une fois de plus que l’intimité n’a pas de prix. Monsieur Simard, prenez note.

2nd listen: A splendid free improvisation record, not at all the wacky thing some might be fearing. Short inspired duos, with lots of mouth sounds and small objects and toys, all approached in a very serious manner. This is not the record I was expecting from Joane Hétu and Jean Derome, it’s even better. La vie, c’est simple, their previous album, will still hold a special place in my heard, but this Shaman is bewitching. Bravo.

Speaking of experimental vocalists, here is Joane Hétu and her inseparable partner (in music and life) Jean Derome, with a new CD by their duo Nous perçons les oreilles – the last one goes back to… wait a minute… [seeps through his music library]… 2002!?! Well, it was about time! On the surfce, Shaman is closer to their first (eponymous) album than to La vie, c’est simple – in other words, no songs this time around, only short improvisations (twelve of them, between one and six minutes in duration). Listening deeper though, Shaman is JUST AS different from the first two records as La vie, c’est simple was different from the first record, which goes to show how the duo keeps on evolving with time. The music is serious, intense (which doesn’t mean “noisy”), noisy (I know, I know, but “noisy” as in noise-based, not as in “a loud racket”), emotional, and atavistic since it arches back to a ritualistic yet a-rhythmic and a-melodic form of expression. Very impressive on first listen, and I’m looking forward to listen to it more attentively soon.