Wist. Rec - Observing atmospheric conditions and descending light with Fescal and a consortium of noctilecent, iridecent, nimbostratic and foggy contributors. 7 image cards printed on rough Martello 200g paper (at least 50% post consumer waste, de-inked) and housed in recycled, hand stamped kraft boxes. Includes vintage slide and viewing window. Sleeve design by Manfred Naescher. Photography by Pierre-Emmanuel Tendero 2 x 3″ CDR, Edition of 100. Inside each box is three kinds of tea and jelly, Korean Nokcha (Green Tea), Korean chamomille tea and some Korean gal-geun tea. After purchasing we'll send you a .pdf file that explains a few simple steps on how you can brew your own tea .
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Reduced price £13.35
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How do you describe visual inspiration with music? Particularly when that inspiration is something so relentlessly clichéd and re-clichéd by instrumental artists of every country and style down the years as clouds and the light that shines through them. It’s brave that any artist would consider such skygazing an appropriate and individual subject matter anymore. There are a few approaches that could be taken. There is the use of field recordings (problematic in this case since clouds make no sound), whose sense of momentary, unrepeatable capture is consistently able to capture audiences’ imaginations. Or an artist might take a purely emotional response, making music that bears little resemblance to its inspiration in form, but that conveys the artist’s personal response to it. On the other hand, they might take a more scientific angle, using the lines and contours of sound, its tones, its textures to draw the lines, contours, tones and textures of a visual phenomenon. Packaging also helps. The Descending Light is a good example of how physical art – here a selection of photo cards and a slide that allows you to see the light descending through a cloud – can let the listener make the same visual-sonic connection as the artist at the same time as hearing their music.
Fescal’s approach is a mixture of specific and emotional. The South Korea-based musician’s style is pretty well suited to the theme. His ambience is thin, wispy and fleeting. A noctilucent flicker trembles across the speakers in “Awake Before I’m Down”, ragged yet serene. Crackles and pops bring to mind outdated photographs like the slides provided with the album. It is easy to see the gaps between the piece’s foreground sounds as those between fragile clouds. A distant, two-note melody shines down through them, diluted by the air but refreshing all the same.
Over the course of the EP, the ambience thickens gradually. Much like the opener, “Breaking Point” swirls a delicate blanket effect and pierces it with a simple, iridescent theme. It is on “The Lark Ascending” that the clouds really start to gather. Apparently oddly, given its strong, hopeful title, the piece is grainy and distorted. Little or no light pierces the ambience and a direct, mobile melody propels the track like a stiff wind. This is where Fescal’s emotional response comes into play. What might seem threatening or grim (or just mundane to us British) on the visual/scientific representation level – a sky of scudding, grey clouds – is seen to be exciting. The motion, the thickening of effects injects some life into soothed ears, quickens the heartbeat a little, gathering pace to take flight. Like a lark, perhaps.
The EP comes with a second disk of remixes that vary the theme of “Breaking Point”, and all of which provide a slightly different take on the question of how to represent the clouds – with varying degrees of success. Bram van den Oever’s “Irididecent” does a good job of mimicking the varying colours of iridescence, crossing mallet-instruments melodies, vocals, synthesised ambience and other things in wobbling themes that shift slightly with every change of perspective. However, it seems to miss the simplicity and delicacy of many iridescent things, like bubbles or shells, and tends to overload the senses. Philippe Lamy’s “Noctiliecent” goes the other way, stripping back an already minimal track into a fuzzy drone, surrounded by unidentified drips, bubbles and crinkles. A sound like hundreds of crickets sped up rises over the top: it would be shrill if it weren’t so tantalisingly quiet. Like the cloud structure from which it roughly takes its name it is all ragged edges and missing substance; it captures its subject well and, like much good minimal music, it leaves gaps for the listener to fill in.
Despite the quality of some of the remixes, it is Fescal’s material that is clearly the main attraction of The Descending Light. He adeptly balances a specific, descriptive approach and an emotional response to his inspiration. He captures it well enough that even without the visual stimuli that Wist Records have provided the EP would still sound like descending light and its atmospheric obstacles. The personal interpretations of the subject matter make the music individual enough that it is a worthwhile entry into the ever-growing catalogue of instrumental music looking to the heavens, rather than merely another technical exercise in something we’ve already had described to us before - Matt Gilley for Fluid Radio
http://www.fluid-radio.co.uk/2013/03/fescal-the-descending-light/
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Shipping: Our aim is to despatch all orders placed within 48 hours of receiving the order, subject to stock availability (If we are unable to validate your order, you will receive an email to inform you of this). We will take great care to ensure that you receive your goods in perfect condition and that they are in good working order. However, if your goods are damaged or faulty, please email us. In addition, please feel free to give us any feedback, recommendations or comments about our service and website. We take this very seriously and aim to deal with any problems or difficulties in a timely, fair and effective manner. Please email us at info[at]fescal[dot]com for further questions.
Returns: You may return any item in original condition that has not been opened (taken out of the original manufacturer's plastic wrap) for a refund if it is returned to us within 30 days of delivery. Upon receiving it back, we'll provide you with a refund for the item price through the payment method you selected when placing your order. Please note that we are not able accept returns of any opened items. No refund or replacement can be provided for any item that has been opened (taken out of the original wrap). You will be responsible for the cost of postage for returning the product if you have decided to cancel the order. If the box returned to us is lost in the post, you must agree to our reasonable requirements for tracking the delivery (such as showing us the proof of posting) before we can give you a refund. Where you have cancelled the order for a product and it has not has not been returned to us in fully resalable condition, or the packing is damaged, we reserve the right to refuse a refund on the product. Please note that we are unable to accept any returns of CDs bought through a distributors website.
Fescal’s approach is a mixture of specific and emotional. The South Korea-based musician’s style is pretty well suited to the theme. His ambience is thin, wispy and fleeting. A noctilucent flicker trembles across the speakers in “Awake Before I’m Down”, ragged yet serene. Crackles and pops bring to mind outdated photographs like the slides provided with the album. It is easy to see the gaps between the piece’s foreground sounds as those between fragile clouds. A distant, two-note melody shines down through them, diluted by the air but refreshing all the same.
Over the course of the EP, the ambience thickens gradually. Much like the opener, “Breaking Point” swirls a delicate blanket effect and pierces it with a simple, iridescent theme. It is on “The Lark Ascending” that the clouds really start to gather. Apparently oddly, given its strong, hopeful title, the piece is grainy and distorted. Little or no light pierces the ambience and a direct, mobile melody propels the track like a stiff wind. This is where Fescal’s emotional response comes into play. What might seem threatening or grim (or just mundane to us British) on the visual/scientific representation level – a sky of scudding, grey clouds – is seen to be exciting. The motion, the thickening of effects injects some life into soothed ears, quickens the heartbeat a little, gathering pace to take flight. Like a lark, perhaps.
The EP comes with a second disk of remixes that vary the theme of “Breaking Point”, and all of which provide a slightly different take on the question of how to represent the clouds – with varying degrees of success. Bram van den Oever’s “Irididecent” does a good job of mimicking the varying colours of iridescence, crossing mallet-instruments melodies, vocals, synthesised ambience and other things in wobbling themes that shift slightly with every change of perspective. However, it seems to miss the simplicity and delicacy of many iridescent things, like bubbles or shells, and tends to overload the senses. Philippe Lamy’s “Noctiliecent” goes the other way, stripping back an already minimal track into a fuzzy drone, surrounded by unidentified drips, bubbles and crinkles. A sound like hundreds of crickets sped up rises over the top: it would be shrill if it weren’t so tantalisingly quiet. Like the cloud structure from which it roughly takes its name it is all ragged edges and missing substance; it captures its subject well and, like much good minimal music, it leaves gaps for the listener to fill in.
Despite the quality of some of the remixes, it is Fescal’s material that is clearly the main attraction of The Descending Light. He adeptly balances a specific, descriptive approach and an emotional response to his inspiration. He captures it well enough that even without the visual stimuli that Wist Records have provided the EP would still sound like descending light and its atmospheric obstacles. The personal interpretations of the subject matter make the music individual enough that it is a worthwhile entry into the ever-growing catalogue of instrumental music looking to the heavens, rather than merely another technical exercise in something we’ve already had described to us before - Matt Gilley for Fluid Radio
http://www.fluid-radio.co.uk/2013/03/fescal-the-descending-light/
-----------
Shipping: Our aim is to despatch all orders placed within 48 hours of receiving the order, subject to stock availability (If we are unable to validate your order, you will receive an email to inform you of this). We will take great care to ensure that you receive your goods in perfect condition and that they are in good working order. However, if your goods are damaged or faulty, please email us. In addition, please feel free to give us any feedback, recommendations or comments about our service and website. We take this very seriously and aim to deal with any problems or difficulties in a timely, fair and effective manner. Please email us at info[at]fescal[dot]com for further questions.
Returns: You may return any item in original condition that has not been opened (taken out of the original manufacturer's plastic wrap) for a refund if it is returned to us within 30 days of delivery. Upon receiving it back, we'll provide you with a refund for the item price through the payment method you selected when placing your order. Please note that we are not able accept returns of any opened items. No refund or replacement can be provided for any item that has been opened (taken out of the original wrap). You will be responsible for the cost of postage for returning the product if you have decided to cancel the order. If the box returned to us is lost in the post, you must agree to our reasonable requirements for tracking the delivery (such as showing us the proof of posting) before we can give you a refund. Where you have cancelled the order for a product and it has not has not been returned to us in fully resalable condition, or the packing is damaged, we reserve the right to refuse a refund on the product. Please note that we are unable to accept any returns of CDs bought through a distributors website.
Its' title notwithstanding, Fescal's The Descending Light EP occupies a midway position between EP and full-length. Were the release to include its three-inch disc of Fescal originals only, it would qualify as an EP. The release comes, however, with a second EP featuring five pieces by guest artists, which brings its total time to thirty-eight minutes. One shouldn't make too much of the detail, however: regardless of how it's classified, it's another stellar outing from Fescal (David. S., an English-born composer-musician currently living north of Seoul, South Korea), whose Dronarivm release Two Winter Poems left its own strong impression on this listener only a month or so ago.
The two releases are in certain ways companion volumes. They're both presented in splendid jewelry box-like packages that make well-fitting houses for their three-inch contents. But while the Dronarivm release finds its inspiration in the writings of Alexander Pushkin, The Descending Lightpresents itself as a study of various atmospheric conditions courtesy of Fescal and guests 1&7, Philippe Lamy, Hummingbear, Yuco, and Gluid. Within the Wist Rec box are two CDs, of course, but also seven cards displaying text (titles, credits, quotations) and photos; there's even a colour slide, which is fixed to the box's die-cut base to allow for easy viewing.
The ambient-drone soundscaping field is a well-populated one, but Fescal carves out his own distinct spot within the genre in the grainy, texturally deep material he painstakingly crafts. The first disc's three tracks, assembled from elements unidentified, drift placidly, like dust-speckled clouds inching across an immense sky through which soft, hazy patches of sunlight occasionally filter. The pulsating middle piece, “Breaking Point,” asserts itself more aggressively than the others, though never so much that the material loses its ambient-drone character, while the extreme processing of musical and textural elements imbues “The Lark Ascending” with an hallucinatory, almost psychedelic quality.
1&7 (The Boats' Craig Tattersall and Steve Oliver) inaugurates disc two's Breaking Point Variationswith “Mock Sun,” a tranquil three minutes of muffled piano tinklings smothered in hiss, after which “Shepard's Delight” by Hummingbear (Thomas Johansson) and “Cirostratus” by Yuco (Masayoshi Miyazaki) add a more pronounced melodic dimension to the release's material (even if their crystalline melodies struggle to be heard amidst thick coatings of ambient textures and faint bird sounds). The uplifting closer “Iridecent” by Gluid (Bram van den Oever) is the most conventional piece of the five, given its embrace of melody (vocals even!) and rhythm, but it's no less satisfying for being so. No fool he, Fescal knows that one way to combat the lure of illegal downloading is to make the physical release as attractive a proposition for the consumer as possible. There's little doubt that the hundred available copies of the Wist Rec box will be grabbed up soon, if they're not already gone - Textura
English sound innovator Fescal, now residing just north of Seoul, has been out cloudwatching and produced three pieces capturing their effect on The Descending Light. To house them, Wistrec has crafted a small, coffee-coloured box and cleverly secreted the 3″ disc under the lid. Beneath a pile of chunky cards featuring cloud photography by Pierre-Emmanuel Tendero, another disc is found, slipped into its own pocket, a remix disc. Upon emptying the box entirely, one final surprise—a rectangular hole has been cut into the bottom, turning it into a nifty slide viewer through which one can see the light shine through yet another buttermilky image.
Fescal first assays the luxurious, nine-minute “Awake Before I’m Down,” thick with the texture of early-morning sluggishness gently hectored by a repeating trio of optimistic notes. “Breaking Point” flutters the same air but can’t disperse it, only chop it into a grid. The last track, “The Lark Ascending” is a dark, heavenly consecration, densely roiling guitars raging but not let loose, like the storm never unleashed by the black cloud.
The remixes are all variations on “Breaking Point” by an impressively international cast and all shine right through the haze. 1 & 7— Craig Tattersall and Steve Oliver—make the light pulsate, whereafter Phillipe Lamy recalls the quietening of the city just as the rain starts to fall, dripping off the eaves at close range. Stockholm’s Hummingbear, making his first on-record appearance, ekes out fragile guitar over a shuddering “Shepherd´s Delight.” Yuco evokes a big, empty country house echoing with the repeating theme on a hybrid harpsichord. Finally, Holland’s Gluid rescores Fescal’s ambient into a meticulously composed but airy and celebratory pop song. Each opens a new window onto Fescal’s huge skyful and sees something very different, but very complementary to the original - So much world in such a tiny little box - Igloomagazine.
L’esthétique japonaise est toujours aussi troublante et fascinante par cette poésie si touchante et si simple à la fois. Le minimalisme aurait sans doute pu être inventé par eux. Mais quel est donc le rapport avec cette chronique nous direz-vous ? Car Fescal aka David S. (oui, son nom n’est connu que de ses plus proches amis) reste un anglais de pure souche. Mais, bien entendu, on ne choisit pas son pays d’origine. Son déménagement vers l’autre bout du monde, en Corée du Sud nous a alors fait tilter, car le Japon et la Corée ont une histoire entremêlée que nulle ne saurait nier. Un peu comme des relations tumultueuses entre deux frères en quelque sorte. Ce Séoulite est encore assez jeune mais produit déjà pour des labels infiniment respectés dans le milieu de l’ambiant comme Dronarivm, Twice Removed, ou encore Time Release Sound (dont on reparlera d’ici les jours à venir).
Il faudra toutefois vous avouer que nous n’avons remarqué le producteur uniquement après la première sortie en physique de l’artiste, le splendide Moods and Views paru l’année dernière, même si le reste de la discographie semble tout aussi alléchante. Winter Poems avait par ailleurs cet hiver agréablement réchauffé nos conduits auditifs mais surtout nos petites cellules grises, la musique composée par Fescal ayant sollicité intensément notre partie du cerveau faisant ainsi j’aillir l’imagination devant nos yeux. Comme si cette glace était présente devant nous et nous renvoyait ces quelques reflets ouatés.
On voit enfin la ressemblance avec d’autres producteurs japonais comme Yoshito Murakami, Masayoshi Fujita, voire Ryūichi Sakamoto dont les œuvres ont eux aussi un fort effet pictural. Fescal a, quant à lui, sorti au début du mois de mars un autre EP sur Wist Records (autre label à surveiller de très près) intitulé The Descending Light : un double mini-cd, le premier constitué de trois pièces de Fescal, le second rassemblant 5 variations (ou remixes).
Tout d’abord il faut saluer l’effort mis par le label sur le packaging. Un petit boîtier de la taille d’une paume de main mais dont la richesse graphique et sonore ne pourra que faire des heureux. Avec une édition limitée à 100 exemplaires et sans édition digitale, il va très certainement falloir vous rabattre vers des méthodes douteuses pour écouter cet oeuvre. Tant pis pour vous. Le concept de cet album, bien qu’il joue un rôle crucial dans ce court format, reste cependant relativement simple : un coucher de soleil avec quelques nuages.
Parlons maintenant de la musique en elle-même puisque c’est, semble-t-il, ce qui vous a amené ici. Réveillez-vous, avant que je me couche. Voici la traduction littérale du premier titre et qui annonce la couleur tant on a l’impression de voir l’astre rougissant descendre lentement, centimètre par centimètre, vers la ligne d’horizon. Le drone est comme à l’habitude du producteur merveilleusement exécuté pour susciter l’engouement de l’auditeur. C’est aérien, vaporeux et merveilleusement cinématique. Des maigres sons de synthé parviennent à notre oreilles, des semblants de mélodies qui pourraient rendre jaloux un certain Tim Hecker. Tout est calme durant ces neufs minutes éthérées, le temps s’allonge tandis que nous, auditeur-spectateur, profitons de ce superbe coucher de soleil. La lumière semble peu à peu diminuer, tandis que quelques cirrocumulus entrent dans ce tableau conçu par nous-même.
The Breacking Point est bien comme un point de rupture, là où l’astre du jour touche la ligne d’horizon : la frontière entre ciel et mer s’estompe pendant que les nuages s’amoncellent. Nimbostratus et stratocumulus s’imbriquent et dessinent des formes insolites, on se prend alors à donner un corps charnel à ces masses immaculées. Tantôt il nous semble voir émerger un fier gladiateur avec sa lance à ses côtés, tantôt on voit un cupidon allongé soufflant de la fumée… C’est cela le point fort de Fescal, parvenir à autant d’interprétations avec si peu, ces micro-craquements donnant le relief nécessaire à cette projection multi-sensorielle. Il en sera de même pour The Lark Ascending où l’on n’aura aucun mal à discerner cette alouette volant contre le vent et, s’éloignant avec elle, les derniers fragments de lumière.
Les variations ne sont pas en reste non plus, mais il n’en pouvait être autrement vu les noms affichés : Philippe Lamy, Yuco (auteur récemment d’un très bel album sur Flaming Pines) ou encore Gluid pour les plus connus (autant que faire se peu). Et le travail n’a pas été bâclé ; ils offrent des parenthèses reposantes, chacun dans leur style mais toujours avec ce qu’il faut de calme et sérénité. Les textures sonores sont toujours aussi poussées bien que l’on ait abandonné le drone pour le néo-classique expérimental. On se croirait en pleine nuit à déambuler d’un pas feutré sur cette plage en train de chercher quelque chose. Peut-être est-ce le retour du soleil irisant?
Une chose est certaine après l’écoute de cet album : vous en saurez définitivement beaucoup plus sur les comportements des nuages. Chaque titre offre une certaine vision de ces monstres cotonneux voyageant parmi l’immensité du ciel. Troposphérique puis stratosphérique et inversement, ce court format enchantera les plus inventifs d’entre nous mais fera sans doute royalement chier les autres. Aucun compromis n’est ici offert à l’auditeur et ce n’est pas plus mal : être créateur et premier participant d’un tel crépuscule reste pour le moins chose assez rare - seeksicksound
The two releases are in certain ways companion volumes. They're both presented in splendid jewelry box-like packages that make well-fitting houses for their three-inch contents. But while the Dronarivm release finds its inspiration in the writings of Alexander Pushkin, The Descending Lightpresents itself as a study of various atmospheric conditions courtesy of Fescal and guests 1&7, Philippe Lamy, Hummingbear, Yuco, and Gluid. Within the Wist Rec box are two CDs, of course, but also seven cards displaying text (titles, credits, quotations) and photos; there's even a colour slide, which is fixed to the box's die-cut base to allow for easy viewing.
The ambient-drone soundscaping field is a well-populated one, but Fescal carves out his own distinct spot within the genre in the grainy, texturally deep material he painstakingly crafts. The first disc's three tracks, assembled from elements unidentified, drift placidly, like dust-speckled clouds inching across an immense sky through which soft, hazy patches of sunlight occasionally filter. The pulsating middle piece, “Breaking Point,” asserts itself more aggressively than the others, though never so much that the material loses its ambient-drone character, while the extreme processing of musical and textural elements imbues “The Lark Ascending” with an hallucinatory, almost psychedelic quality.
1&7 (The Boats' Craig Tattersall and Steve Oliver) inaugurates disc two's Breaking Point Variationswith “Mock Sun,” a tranquil three minutes of muffled piano tinklings smothered in hiss, after which “Shepard's Delight” by Hummingbear (Thomas Johansson) and “Cirostratus” by Yuco (Masayoshi Miyazaki) add a more pronounced melodic dimension to the release's material (even if their crystalline melodies struggle to be heard amidst thick coatings of ambient textures and faint bird sounds). The uplifting closer “Iridecent” by Gluid (Bram van den Oever) is the most conventional piece of the five, given its embrace of melody (vocals even!) and rhythm, but it's no less satisfying for being so. No fool he, Fescal knows that one way to combat the lure of illegal downloading is to make the physical release as attractive a proposition for the consumer as possible. There's little doubt that the hundred available copies of the Wist Rec box will be grabbed up soon, if they're not already gone - Textura
English sound innovator Fescal, now residing just north of Seoul, has been out cloudwatching and produced three pieces capturing their effect on The Descending Light. To house them, Wistrec has crafted a small, coffee-coloured box and cleverly secreted the 3″ disc under the lid. Beneath a pile of chunky cards featuring cloud photography by Pierre-Emmanuel Tendero, another disc is found, slipped into its own pocket, a remix disc. Upon emptying the box entirely, one final surprise—a rectangular hole has been cut into the bottom, turning it into a nifty slide viewer through which one can see the light shine through yet another buttermilky image.
Fescal first assays the luxurious, nine-minute “Awake Before I’m Down,” thick with the texture of early-morning sluggishness gently hectored by a repeating trio of optimistic notes. “Breaking Point” flutters the same air but can’t disperse it, only chop it into a grid. The last track, “The Lark Ascending” is a dark, heavenly consecration, densely roiling guitars raging but not let loose, like the storm never unleashed by the black cloud.
The remixes are all variations on “Breaking Point” by an impressively international cast and all shine right through the haze. 1 & 7— Craig Tattersall and Steve Oliver—make the light pulsate, whereafter Phillipe Lamy recalls the quietening of the city just as the rain starts to fall, dripping off the eaves at close range. Stockholm’s Hummingbear, making his first on-record appearance, ekes out fragile guitar over a shuddering “Shepherd´s Delight.” Yuco evokes a big, empty country house echoing with the repeating theme on a hybrid harpsichord. Finally, Holland’s Gluid rescores Fescal’s ambient into a meticulously composed but airy and celebratory pop song. Each opens a new window onto Fescal’s huge skyful and sees something very different, but very complementary to the original - So much world in such a tiny little box - Igloomagazine.
L’esthétique japonaise est toujours aussi troublante et fascinante par cette poésie si touchante et si simple à la fois. Le minimalisme aurait sans doute pu être inventé par eux. Mais quel est donc le rapport avec cette chronique nous direz-vous ? Car Fescal aka David S. (oui, son nom n’est connu que de ses plus proches amis) reste un anglais de pure souche. Mais, bien entendu, on ne choisit pas son pays d’origine. Son déménagement vers l’autre bout du monde, en Corée du Sud nous a alors fait tilter, car le Japon et la Corée ont une histoire entremêlée que nulle ne saurait nier. Un peu comme des relations tumultueuses entre deux frères en quelque sorte. Ce Séoulite est encore assez jeune mais produit déjà pour des labels infiniment respectés dans le milieu de l’ambiant comme Dronarivm, Twice Removed, ou encore Time Release Sound (dont on reparlera d’ici les jours à venir).
Il faudra toutefois vous avouer que nous n’avons remarqué le producteur uniquement après la première sortie en physique de l’artiste, le splendide Moods and Views paru l’année dernière, même si le reste de la discographie semble tout aussi alléchante. Winter Poems avait par ailleurs cet hiver agréablement réchauffé nos conduits auditifs mais surtout nos petites cellules grises, la musique composée par Fescal ayant sollicité intensément notre partie du cerveau faisant ainsi j’aillir l’imagination devant nos yeux. Comme si cette glace était présente devant nous et nous renvoyait ces quelques reflets ouatés.
On voit enfin la ressemblance avec d’autres producteurs japonais comme Yoshito Murakami, Masayoshi Fujita, voire Ryūichi Sakamoto dont les œuvres ont eux aussi un fort effet pictural. Fescal a, quant à lui, sorti au début du mois de mars un autre EP sur Wist Records (autre label à surveiller de très près) intitulé The Descending Light : un double mini-cd, le premier constitué de trois pièces de Fescal, le second rassemblant 5 variations (ou remixes).
Tout d’abord il faut saluer l’effort mis par le label sur le packaging. Un petit boîtier de la taille d’une paume de main mais dont la richesse graphique et sonore ne pourra que faire des heureux. Avec une édition limitée à 100 exemplaires et sans édition digitale, il va très certainement falloir vous rabattre vers des méthodes douteuses pour écouter cet oeuvre. Tant pis pour vous. Le concept de cet album, bien qu’il joue un rôle crucial dans ce court format, reste cependant relativement simple : un coucher de soleil avec quelques nuages.
Parlons maintenant de la musique en elle-même puisque c’est, semble-t-il, ce qui vous a amené ici. Réveillez-vous, avant que je me couche. Voici la traduction littérale du premier titre et qui annonce la couleur tant on a l’impression de voir l’astre rougissant descendre lentement, centimètre par centimètre, vers la ligne d’horizon. Le drone est comme à l’habitude du producteur merveilleusement exécuté pour susciter l’engouement de l’auditeur. C’est aérien, vaporeux et merveilleusement cinématique. Des maigres sons de synthé parviennent à notre oreilles, des semblants de mélodies qui pourraient rendre jaloux un certain Tim Hecker. Tout est calme durant ces neufs minutes éthérées, le temps s’allonge tandis que nous, auditeur-spectateur, profitons de ce superbe coucher de soleil. La lumière semble peu à peu diminuer, tandis que quelques cirrocumulus entrent dans ce tableau conçu par nous-même.
The Breacking Point est bien comme un point de rupture, là où l’astre du jour touche la ligne d’horizon : la frontière entre ciel et mer s’estompe pendant que les nuages s’amoncellent. Nimbostratus et stratocumulus s’imbriquent et dessinent des formes insolites, on se prend alors à donner un corps charnel à ces masses immaculées. Tantôt il nous semble voir émerger un fier gladiateur avec sa lance à ses côtés, tantôt on voit un cupidon allongé soufflant de la fumée… C’est cela le point fort de Fescal, parvenir à autant d’interprétations avec si peu, ces micro-craquements donnant le relief nécessaire à cette projection multi-sensorielle. Il en sera de même pour The Lark Ascending où l’on n’aura aucun mal à discerner cette alouette volant contre le vent et, s’éloignant avec elle, les derniers fragments de lumière.
Les variations ne sont pas en reste non plus, mais il n’en pouvait être autrement vu les noms affichés : Philippe Lamy, Yuco (auteur récemment d’un très bel album sur Flaming Pines) ou encore Gluid pour les plus connus (autant que faire se peu). Et le travail n’a pas été bâclé ; ils offrent des parenthèses reposantes, chacun dans leur style mais toujours avec ce qu’il faut de calme et sérénité. Les textures sonores sont toujours aussi poussées bien que l’on ait abandonné le drone pour le néo-classique expérimental. On se croirait en pleine nuit à déambuler d’un pas feutré sur cette plage en train de chercher quelque chose. Peut-être est-ce le retour du soleil irisant?
Une chose est certaine après l’écoute de cet album : vous en saurez définitivement beaucoup plus sur les comportements des nuages. Chaque titre offre une certaine vision de ces monstres cotonneux voyageant parmi l’immensité du ciel. Troposphérique puis stratosphérique et inversement, ce court format enchantera les plus inventifs d’entre nous mais fera sans doute royalement chier les autres. Aucun compromis n’est ici offert à l’auditeur et ce n’est pas plus mal : être créateur et premier participant d’un tel crépuscule reste pour le moins chose assez rare - seeksicksound
