A keyboardist who turned to the sampler in the early 1990s, Diane Labrosse offered with Face cachée des choses her first solo album. She crafted 13 pieces out of found sounds, mostly domestic or environmental. On a few tracks she added her felt voice or a simple keyboard part. Although this is a sampler album, it has very little to do with the deconstructionist approach of one Bob Ostertag, the roughness of Ikue Mori or even musique concrete. Labrosse’s music remains close to the song format, it feels like instrumental music made with anything but musical instruments. From tenderness (Nénuphar) to downright sillyness (Île de Pâques), Face cachée des choses unfolds like a collection of 13 poems. Each one of them conjures emotions, memories, reactions, but its meaning often lingers out of reach. Later Labrosse will release more substantial and experimental albums, such as the free improvisation trio Île Bizarre and the large-scale project Petit traité de sagesse pratique, but this one feels more intimate and surely is her most accessible CD. Think of it as a guilty pleasure between her work in the avant-rock groups Wondeur Brass and Justine, and her later efforts.