Intrigante proposition que celle-là. Du spoken-word, très proche de la poésie du quotidien, petites vignettes supportées par une orchestration simple de musique électronique et acoustique. La voix est juste, posée, pénétrante, la musique post-industrielle, rêche… très bon!

Spurred by the world-wide conduction projects of Butch Morris and their results, improvising ensembles in Europe and North America have been organized to advance the concept of playing free music on a larger scale.

Although there are notable orchestras in expected places such as London, New York and Berlin, often the most remarkable, and certainly the most original, large group interpretations come from bands in smaller centres. Working with a group of like-minded musicians in his hometown, for instance, British pianist/electronics manipulator Pat Thomas has composed dissimilar pieces for the Oxford Improvisers Orchestra (OIO) on this CD. Involving voices, non-Western instruments, a tribute to a Jazz master and a literal violin concerto, each moves in a different fashion. Toronto’s AIM Toronto Orchestra (AIMTO) on the other hand plays pieces by four different composers on its seven-track CD. However under the direction of artistic director/soprano saxophonist Kyle Brenders, who penned the two lengthiest pieces, a harmonic uniformity exists.

Odd for someone who studied with Anthony Braxton, Brenders AIM Toronto Orchestra compositions, unlike his Jazz-inflected small group work, appear to avoid Jazz influences in favor of tropes from notated music and elsewhere. For example, a piece such as Thru and Through, shoehorns wordless vocalizing from Christine Duncan, Scruggs-style banjo-picking from Rob Clutton into an exposition initially stated by quivering strings, harmonized woodwinds and stacked brass extrusions. Meanwhile tenor saxophonist Christopher Willis advances the theme as three percussions clank and clip alongside. With brief sequences parceled out among many orchestra members, it’s Simeon Abbott’s piano passages which mark important transitions, making room at different intervals for Steve Ward’s trombone guffaws, Rob Pilonen’s flute harmonies and Nicole Rampersaud’s trumpeting grace notes. As the often polyphonic work advances, it’s the restated solo variants which reference the initial narrative rather than showier tutti passages that impress.

Similarly Follow Line Flow Line Follow is built up from concentric orchestral timbres that foreshadow the contrapuntal divisions among the vocalist’s nonsense syllables plus swelling and vibrating slurs and pumps from the horns. Single variations involve bass clarinet lines, cymbal cracks, bell ringing and tough guitar scrubs, with a later combination finally modulating into a languid climax that trades previously inchoate hocketing and expanding runs for popped vibrations and near silences.

Meanwhile the opening Year of the Boar brings a Jazz sensibility to the proceedings. Yet ironically or not, its composer, guitarist Justin Haynes, isn’t featured on the disc. Operating off a steady vamp with heavy syncopation from dual drummers Nick Fraser and Joe Sorbara, the tune encompasses a swing section, and a lyrical alto solo from Evan Shaw. […]

Both the OIO and AIMTO attempt particular sound variations to re-define — or perhaps it’s to define — the parameters of large improvising ensembles. Although not everything tried is successful, the spirit of experimentation expressed by both will go far to make similar-sized groups viable as the shape of 21st Century music unfolds.

Les fléchettes que décochent Jean Derome (flûte, saxophone alto, appeaux et petits instruments) et Lê Quan Ninh (grosse caisse environnée) délivrent un poison qui saisit en un rien de temps.

Derome avait pourtant prévenu du danger: maugréant d’abord avant de se ranger à l’opinion vindicative de son partenaire: Lê Quan Ninh qui vitupère, frappant fort ou faisant rugir sa grosse caisse à force de caresses multipliées. Ce sont ainsi des râles tenaces et des drones insistants que le percussionniste dépose au second plan.

Contraste: maintenant Derome siffle. À l’alto, il défend une intensité bruitiste qui annule et remplace la gentillesse de son usage des petits instruments, que les graves profonds de Ninh avalent de toute manière. À la flûte, Derome évoque alors Prokofiev avant que sonne l’instant d’une autre saillie: sifflements, grognements que domptera un lot de baguettes sèches. Le bois dont on fait les fléchettes cédera sous les effets de derniers tremblements. Le souvenir, ravissant, est d’engourdissement.

Il aura fallu cinq ans à Filature pour passer de la scène au disque. Entretemps, le théâtre sonore de Joane Hétu a poursuivi son évolution vers des formes nettement plus dépouillées. Dans le cheminement qui, à ce jour, l’a mené de Musique d’hiver à La Femme territoire, Filature fait office de point tournant, de carrefour entre plusieurs approches passées, présentes et futures. Elle intègre texte, danse et projection vidéo (ces deux derniers aspects étant absents du disque) — voie que la dame poursuivra ensuite beaucoup plus loin — mais se fonde sur la vie antérieure de l’artiste qui a été tisserande. Le texte raconte cette expérience, expérience qui nourrit la structure même de l’œuvre: un premier mouvement de Chaîne interprété uniquement par les hommes (Del Fabbro, Derome, Guilbeault, Tanguay, Venba); un deuxième mouvement de Trame interprété par les femmes (Auclair, Gignac, Hétu, Labrosse, Roger); enfin, un mouvement de Motif auquel tous participent. Le pendant masculin est métrique, répétitif, “groundé”; le pendant féminin est aérien, créatif, fantasque; le dernier mouvement combine le tout — et semble combiner tout le bagage de Hétu, de Wondeur Brass et Justine à Nous perçons les oreilles, en passant par Musique d’hiver. Une œuvre dense, synthétique, mais accessible et qui porte encore ses racines rock-in-opposition.

Après avoir fait paraître deux disques avec des invités, les membres de ce trio à cordes reviennent à l’essence de leurs compositions: une musique livrée avec contrebasse, violon, violoncelle, grande sensibilité et lyrisme, à la croisée du jazz, du classique et des musiques du monde, mais qui n’est ni l’un ni l’autre. Dans plusieurs pièces, le leader Jean-François Mailloux transmet son impression de villes qu’il n’a pas visitées. Vancouver révèle sa douceur avant son intensité. Madrid dévoile le déchirement rythmique au bout des doigts. Madagascar est plus sautillante; Kisarazu, plus orientale; Buenos Aires, passionnée mais adoucie; Santiago, doucement nostalgique; Veracruz, calme et non frénétique; Riga, en respiration lente. Ainsi va la vie imaginée. Preuve que les tableaux sonores n’ont pas besoin d’être des portraits réalistes. Et les rêveries de Cordâme sont très enveloppantes.

Musicians who let drones do most of the talking for them might learn a thing a two from Martel, Tetrault, and Lauzier. Complex drone washes can be beautiful in themselves, to be sure. But developments in the shape of the sound — the “composition,” for lack of a better term — in drone musics can be glacial at best. The listener can ironically feel almost coerced to enter that hypnotic state that best lends itself to enjoying steady drones.

The pieces on La formule XYZ perhaps highlight a strategic element that may seem missing when you are in the mood for something more engaging: the use of figure/ground contrasts. What do I mean by this? Listen to track one x= (R) z, for example. A sound complex is established at the beginning of the piece and it is held pretty much static throughout, making it function as a drone. At the beginning, this drone is the “figure,” the main voice of the piece. However, as the piece advances, other sound events and sound complexes occur “on top of” this drone. As they happen, they momentarily become figure, and the static elements serve as ground. Later, though, the original drone also returns as figure occasionally, as the other sound events stop or otherwise lose our attention. Through this use of figural interplay, the drones tend to retain their effectiveness and attraction as musical events. Their ability to capture our interest is continually recycled and renewed.

Mind you, this is noisy stuff. Consider the instrumentation: Pierre-Yves Martel: feedback, static; Martin Tetrault: pick-up, equalizer; Philippe Lauzier: soprano saxophone, bass clarinet, prepared amplifier.

This should give readers some indication of the sense of the term “drones” used above. The tones and timbres here can be quite saw-toothed. This is post-industrial music, to be sure. Yet, on the harshness continuum, the aesthetic is much closer to your Nakamuras than your Merzbows.

Aside from this group’s effectiveness as an ensemble, it really should be noted how well they work as an electroacoustic ensemble specifically. Track four (sparing you its Braxtonian title) is a great example. While Lauzier uses a purely acoustic instrument, soprano saxophone, the piece retains the machine-like aesthetic of the more electronically voiced tracks. Part of this is surely due to Lauzier’s playing (and his magnificent amplified bass clarinet on track six is a stand-out aspect of this recording). But it is also testament to the solid studio skills of those involved in making this disk: the balance of the three musicians is perfect throughout. The mix is upfront with minimal processing, providing a level of detail that suits this trio best.