This is Jean’s elegant and haunting soundtrack for a film by John Walker which is a portrait of the fascinating American photographer & filmmaker — Paul Strand. Derome utilizes a 12 piece ensemble, which includes his usual collaborators René Lussier, Pierre Cartier and Pierre Tanguay. Strand led a long & interesting life (1890 — 1976), traveling, taking photographs and making films, from New York to Gaspé to New Mexico to Mexico itself, before moving to Europe, from France to Italy to Scotland to Egypt to Ghana and back to France. The film and soundtrack capture Strand’s lifelong trek. The music here is rich, varied, like the life it portrays. There are four themes explored throughout, each one weaves strands which are often stark, pure, often minimal, graceful, delicate, provocative, contemporary classical moments, exquisite folk melodies, breathtaking, occasionally sad, yet always filled with the strength of an ever — changing journey of captivating images. Jean Derome has done an incredible job here, the music stands on its own as pure poetry in sound, an enriching experience is in store for all of us who listen closely. Bravo!

Mets ta langue is a perfect bridge between the above records. Derome, Pierre Tanguay and Diane Labrosse offer their flexible vocal and instrumental prowess to Hétu’s deliciously erotic lyrics (which also come with English translations). But there is nothing gratuitous here to these slightly whimsical takes on sex. In fact, if anything there is a rigorous muscularity to this pan-stylistic record. And there are Hétu’s earthy vocal acrobatics and the rest of the ensemble’s spirited vocal support, which gives the album a carnival-like atmosphere.

Equally as playful and no less challenging and complex are these series of improvised vocal and alto sax duets from this couple. Though, that doesn’t by half begin to explain what happens here. Alternating between alto sax and voice, Hétu and Derome indulge in some highly dextrous and hilarious sonic explorations. Hétu slides masterfully between primal grunts, groans, ahs, ehs and other gutteral throat twisters and brilliantly constructed word rhythms, while Derome accompanies her on sax and other wind instruments. There is a raw spontaneity but also slapstick quality to these vocal and instrumental gestures that seem to celebrate the sheer power and poetry of the human voice.

Cracking open a new Jean Derome CD is equivalent of savouring a new box of truffles. The sensation is a joyous reminder to your taste buds of how much you have missed indulging your passion for these sweets. This is not to suggest that the music of this Montréal actuell-ite is in any way saccharin or simply meant for short-term pleasure. Far from it. It is just any record from this reed and wind player and his quintet is a delightfully special occasion. As usual, these adventurous genre-busting players adeptly hop, skip and zigzag all over the musical map. Avant rock, improv jazz, cool jazz, modern classical and funk are merely jumping points for these playful, imaginative excursions. The follow-up to 1995’s Navré, this live recording from Feb. 8 and 9, 1996 at Montréal’s Theatre La Chapelle finds this ensemble in fine form. Jean Derome’s heated alto sax playing and circular breathing and René Lussier’s cutting guitar solos are equally matched by the sonorous blasts of trombonist Tom Walsh and the precise chops of drummer, Pierre Tanguay, bassist Pierre Cartier and keyboardist, Guillaume Dostaler. This is serious fun from some musicians who are serious about their fun.

Literally translated to mean Orchestra With Nothing to Lose, L’Orkestre des pas perdus is the most straightforward of the three artists. That is not to slight this six-piece brass ensemble. Indeed, on Maison douce maison, they move effortlessly from funk to New Orleans marching band style to Arabic-like melodies and even throwing in some ska. The album works fine on the feet, though perhaps, next time they could concentrate more on the head.

Percussionist Tanguay, and trombonist Walsh are no less ambitious on Midi tapant, blurring the lines between spontaneous music and formal composition. But while Callas was a dazzling technical feat, Midi tapant is far lower key affair. Beginning with minimalist drone patterns, the two then drop in manipulated world music samples like gamelan and chanting voices, as well as big band sounds, against which Tanguay and Walsh play and create a new sonic world that is soothing yet exhilarating, searching yet knowing, exotic yet familiar. What is real and what isn’t, Midi tapant doesn’t answer that question because it doesn’t have to. In the end, the answer begins where it ends in the listener’s imagination.