Released via the Quatuor Bozzini run and headed Collection QB label on March 7th, 2k25 is String Quartets, a collaborational release which sees the ensemble take on pieces by Swiss composer Jürg Frey. Originally put out on the circuit via Edition Wandelweiser in 2006 the recent re-issue was driven by the ensembles 25th anniversary the hour long album features a total of four compositions written in the period from 1988 to the year 2000, opening with Streichquartett — an eleven minutes spanning exploration of repetitive yet ever so slightly shifting Minimal Music with all four instruments playing in perfect unison whilst continuously meandering around a seemingly set set of parameters when it comes to pitch and sustain. With (Unbetitelt) VI we’re taken into a stripped down, yet emotionally touching world of Contemporary Classical composition whereas the two micro-pieces in Zwei allerletzte Sächelchen — Mailied and Vorbei weigh in a brief excursion into unscathed rural beauty before the albums main piece Streichquartett 2 rounds things off in a surprisingly Dark Ambient-leaning manner, serving stripped down, yet highly fascinating, hypnotic and time-dissolving micro-movements at the very brink of the audible spectrum which therefore turn out to be quite an essential piece of contemporary Deep Listening Music for all genre aficionados. Go check!

Put out on the circuit via the Ambiances Magnetiques imprint as their cat.no. 281 on March 7th, 2k25 is Je suis calme et enragé·e, the second full length album conceived for the label by composer Nour Symon who delivers a total of six pieces over the course of 57 minutes, performed by an entire ensemble of artists on both classical and electronic instruments of which some are operating under the name of Ensemble SuperMusique, with lyrics written and provided by poet Roxane Desjardins which, given our admitted lack of knowledge of the French language, to us provide just another sonic layer without being able to dive deep into their meaning. This being said, the opening piece that is Nous étions masques, miracles, empêtrées dans l’enthousiasme opens on a pretty intense, brooding and dissonant tip with its rumbling, low end-heavy Dark Ambient movements, sharp and somewhat angry poetry citations and nerve-wrecking dynamic bursts setting the vibe for the subsequent cut J’espère être absoute following — as well as the rest of the album — on a similar path leading ever deeper into deepest depths and hidden subsurface vaults of what could be described as unsettling, explorative, nightmare inducing and unsoothing Avantgarde music, probably even crossing the fringes of sanity at times as far as proper ’ensemble music’ might go for the untrained listeners ear, bringing forth spine-tingling scrapings, warped sirens blown over from afar, crossing barren lands whilst regular instruments — or better: regularly used instruments — only occasionally emerge out of hyper-dense sonic swamps before disappearing into the dark once again where joined by skittish creatures and ominous entities never seen by anyone, yet still being anchored as tell tale factualities in stories our elders have been told about many many centuries ago. This album is a werkschau of contemporary Avantgarde of the highest order and sonic intensity, for a niche audience only and not to be consumed by fractured and broken souls for many a reason. Keep away from minors.

Nour Symon’s orchestrated and instigated reification of angst, rage and activism speaks just as much about the present decade’s movement against authoritarianism, the State commodification of education and health, and the erosion of civil rights as it does about this work’s main inspiration, the “Printemps érable” protests of 2012.

You could say that the expressions, the sonic and orchestral devices, the use of voices and poetry, of manifesto and barricade rattling are all just as prescient in the aftermath of the pandemic as they were thirteen years ago when a groundswell of support grew up around demonstrations against the proposed doubling of tuition fees in the province: increasingly expanding the remit, widening the disgruntlement, everyone from labour unions to environmentalists, leftists and marginalised groups ended up supporting a growing resentment, the ranks of which numbered around 250,000 at its peak.

Despite various setbacks — the lockdowns had a knock-on effect for this project, forcing an abandonment of the original plan to work with the Montérégie Youth Symphony Orchestra — the Egyptian-Quebec composer transforms the energy and directs an abstract despair into an avant-garde electroacoustic and experimental voiced theatre of the absurd, dramatic, expressionist and pained. In many ways a cross-generational grief and pull of despair, political activism and action, this album’s notable contemporary poet collaborator Roxanne Desjardin draws upon the 1980s and 1990s countercultural writings of the iconic Quebec poets Denis Vanier and Josée Yvon.

Ambitious and covering a multitude of disciplines from visual and text art (a graphic score was conceived to communicate the concept) to performance, orchestral transmogrification, opera and video, I am calm and angry uses a host of renowned, prize nominated poets, soloist musicians and ensembles; far too many to mention in detail here, but all integral to conveying the very real emotional maelstrom and rage of protest. Across six tracks, divided liberally into the Ensemble SuperMusique and Collective Ad Lib groupings, mewling, contorting, accented, untethered, enunciated and experimental theatre-like voices circle and ride the contours, rises and quirks of a fusion between the classical avant-garde, experimental arts, Musique concrète, and, of all things, a removed version of freeform jazz.

Recognisable instruments from the wind, strings and brass sections join together with artistic impressionistic symbolism, percussion and electronic elements to evoke forebode, the unearthly, dramatic, mooning, unbalanced and abstract. Reference points within that overlapping sphere of influences and musical threads/connections includes (to these ears anyway) Charlie Morrow, Stockhausen, Cage, György Ligeti, Xenakis, the Art Ensemble of Chicago, Don Cherry and on the heralded, whip-cracked and concertinaed collective agonised ‘I will die in a closed room’, a strange fusion of Alex North and The Drift era Scott Walker.

Unbalanced with the ground constantly shifting below, the tumultuous and agitated are invoked and revoked in a musical experiment of plummets, falls and rises. A mix of French, amorphous and descriptive languages is adopted in a successful attempt to merge the poetic arts with protest, manifesto and performance, whilst physically stimulating the emotions and trauma of such protest.

Quatuor Bozzini’s reissue of Jürg Frey: String Quartets commemorates the quartet’s 25th anniversary and features five works documenting Frey’s compositional development from 1988 to 2000. The album’s centerpiece, the 29-minute Streichquartett 2, uses a fingering technique called half-tone harmonics that blurs pitch and timbre, creating an ethereal sound that hovers at the threshold of audibility. The hypnotic nature of this music has stopped me in my tracks, pulling me in closer with each listen.

Swiss composer Frey’s approach draws from visual artist Agnes Martin, whose work Frey encountered while composing his first quartet in 1988. As he explains in the liner notes, “There was a kind of visibility to her art, which I felt corresponded to the audibility in my music.” This connection between sensory experience and minimal expression runs throughout the album, from the restrained chromaticism of Streichquartett to the almost monophonic unfolding of (Unbetitelt) VI and the brief, delicate sketches of Zwei allerletzte Sächelchen (which should not be listened to while operating heavy equipment).

The Bozzini’s precise execution amplifies the music’s mesmerizing qualities, highlighting why they’ve become one of contemporary music’s most significant ensembles, having premiered approximately 500 works across diverse compositional approaches.

Martin Tétreault is a renowned turntable improviser and audio creator whose latest collection thrives on juxtaposition. The album begins with twenty-four short fragments and then closes with a final holistic composition that is 27 minutes in length, titled From Raymond à Micheline.

It is a live recording from 1994 has been described as “nothing short of virtuosic, deftly juggling conventional DJ techniques alongside his wildly imaginative personal abstraction techniques… nimble, witty, but also exacting.”

This record needs to be experienced in one sitting to be fully appreciated. I confess to not understanding the spoken word segments in French, but that somehow adds to the unfamiliar nature of the work. (I do regret that I may be missing out on key information, though.)

Vraiment Plus de Snipettes!!! is like an auditory photo album, or a journey through one man’s mind. The resulting trip is both curious and intriguing. It is not casual listening, but a commitment.

Le premier opus du joueur de tourne-disques Martin Tétreault, Des pas et des mois (1991), était dans le même esprit, qui ne craint vraiment pas d’avoir recours à l’humour, que ce que l’on trouve sur ses collections de «snippettes» dont ce volume est le troisième. Après ses premières expériences, alors qu’il utilisait beaucoup la «citation», c’est-à-dire des extraits de disques dont on peut encore reconnaître le contenu (instruments, bruits divers ou bribes de monologues absurdes), Tétreault a exploré toutes les manières de jouer du tourne-disques sans disque, comme d’autres font du «no input». À travers ses nombreuses collaborations, il est devenu un maître dans l’art de faire chanter les platines, mais on ne se lasse pas du Tétreault première manière, qui glisse les suggestions d’un hypnotiseur amateur entre un tango déjanté et un «trois dans un» épileptique (le «trois dans un» étant fait à partir de trois disques qui sont découpés en tiers, l’artiste prenant ensuite un tiers de chacun pour reconstituer un disque entier — ça swing sur un moyen temps).

Ce troisième volume de snipettes nous donne aussi l’occasion d’entendre Tétreault live, dans une performance enregistrée en 1994.