Le livre de Katharine Norman, [ash_0754604268] (242 pages + 1 CD), est maintenant disponible sur electrocd.com. Le livre aborde plusieurs aspects de l’art sonore et présente des musiques d’artistes aussi variés que Magali Babin, Luc Ferrari, Barry Truax, Francisco López, Hildegard Westerkamp, Francis Dhomont, Merzbow, John Oswald et Martin Tétreault.

Since the late 1980’s, Japan’s Otomo Yoshihide has been busy crafting his art, both as an instrumental guitarist, but also as a unique turntable exploiter and all-around noise experimentalist. His thirst for ear damaging improvisation is tailor made for the borderless directions his compositions often travel. (To those vaguely familiar with his work, he may be best known for his recent releases on John Zorn’s Tzadik label.) Personally, I like the fact Otomo named one of his past projects Les Sculpteurs de Vinyl (Memory & Money), because this so-called genius probably wasn’t referring to spinning the discs, but rather tragically transforming them (nope, this isn’t for the faint of heart).

This live duo project with Montréal’s Martin Tétreault was recorded over several dates in France, the Netherlands and Switzerland in 2003- and I’m fairly certain no vinyl was damaged or destroyed. That’s because Tétreault and Yoshihide’s turntable time on 4. Hmmm is spent inside the machines, or at least messing about with its speed motor and its physical components. This is about finding sonic textures and frequencies by tearing the turntable apart- something Martin Tétreault has been experimenting with for some time, ultimately making this a perfect artistic match. To be perfectly honest, this is left-over material from prior Actuelle CD releases featuring the duo, namely 1. Grrr, 2. Tok, and 3. Ahhh. (This release now completes the boxed set and is available only in limited numbers).

Several moments within 4. Hmmm bring to mind complete noise chaos, or damaged aeroplanes, like the metallic brutality which unravels in the 14-minute Grenoble n^o 4 / Le 102 29.04.03. Naturally, it goes without saying that this is hand wired with its share of feedback and distortion. But the results can be quite pleasant, or “relaxing” as a visiting friend pointed out, especially if you get cozy when hearing the light crackle of audio circuitry, or the occasional soothing rotations of a spinning wheel. These are turntable art masters that beautifully transform noise into percussive elements and where fresh ears are best served focusing on the subtle nuances.

A new recording of Different Trains (1988), one of the most significant pieces in composer Steve Reich’s canon, as well as in the œuvre of works dealing with the undealable, the Nazi’s Final Solution.

Reich explores the Holocaust in a highly personal manner, by juxtaposing his relatively comfortable childhood in the US, being shuttled between his divorced parents across the American continent, with the tape recorded recollections of survivors who had been forced to travel across the European continent on entirely different sorts of trains. A groundbreaking aspect of the piece is the manner in which Reich takes the vocal snippets and has the string quartet imitate the rhythms and cadences of the voices, thereby rendering them in themselves musical. The piece has deservedly received innumerable awards and the World Premiere recording by The Kronos Quartet is simply superb. A devastating acheivement.

Quatuor Bozzini from Montréal (Clemens Merkel and Nadia Francavilla, violin; Stéphanie Bozzini, viola and Isabelle Bozzini, cello) were encouraged by Reich to attempt their own interpretation. The quartet reinvigorate the piece with its intense playing and attention to detail, and appear even to have inserted some samples of the recorded testimonies which do not appear on the original.

Different Trains is one of the strongest works of the postwar era. So which to buy? Why not Quatuor Bozzini’s? Aside from the fact that it is every bit as good as Kronos’ version, you will be supporting a new group at the beginning of what promises to be a brilliant career (Kronos hardly need an introduction), own a very nifty little package, all folds and flaps, and spare yourself the tedious second piece on the Nonesuch release, Electric Counterpoint with Pat Metheny on guitar.

Collection QB is the quartet’s personal imprint under the DAME label umbrella in Quebec, which has already released a previous CD, Portrait Montréal, interpretations of works by their most immediate contemporaries.

Another cd from this notorious duo. If I’m not mistaken, their first collaboration dates from 1999 — the cd 21 situations. In 2003 they toured together through Europe. At the end of this tour they recorded in Montréal Studio — Analogique — Numérique, released as three mini-cds. The tour itself is documented in a series of 4 cds (!) of which now the fourth cd is released. This collaboration must have been a very important experience for both gentlemen, as it is so extensively made available. If you know this duo from one of these earlier releases they do not need further introduction. Once again we find them behind their turntables from which they extract the most extreme noises. This ‘music’ is far beyond all categories and standards that normally define music: its noise concrète. Very physical. It fascinates because of the radical approach and offers the opportunity of experiencing the beauty of noises and sounds. Well, if you are in the right disposition of course.

Ne pas parler pour ne rien dire. Il aura fallu presque une vie à André Duchesne, l’as guitariste, le champion compositeur de musique actuelle, le vétéran de Conventum et Locomotive, le cofondateur du label Ambiances Magnétiques, pour qu’il juge nécessaire d’élever de nouveau la voix. Vingt-deux ans séparent ses deux seuls albums de chansons, mais Le Temps des bombes et Arrêtez les machines sont néanmoins frères de colère. Rien n’a changé en mieux, comprend-on: le nouvel album enfile les constats implacables comme on mène des veaux à l’abattoir. Qu’il s’agisse de l’état désespérant du monde (Bruits de guerre, Les petits souliers) ou d’observations plus locales (La machine à sous, Ville ouverte), c’est le même bourbier, décrit sans fard sur fond de musiques inquiètes et intenses. À travers ce paysage ravagé, Dieu merci, subsiste un peu d’espoir (Un bon matin), un peu d’humour (On est dans la merde) et un peu d’amour (Danser contre les ombres, manière Leonard Cohen). Oui, ce disque est d’un abord difficile, comme ceux de Desjardins, mais pareillement réconfortant. On y est moins seuls à désespérer.