New release: @c’s “Installations: CX LUX (2017)”

In their collaboration as @c, Pedro Tudela and Miguel Carvalhais developed several installations, often site-specific and ephemeral works. This series of releases in Crónica is dedicated to revisiting these installation works, occasionally with situ recordings, but also further exploring the computational systems developed for the works, archival materials, and other assets, presenting new compositions that unfold from each installation. This series is accompanied by the book Installations / Instalações also published by Crónica.

The sixth release in this series is CX LUX, after an open-air installation created for the summer 2017 Alumia program, organised by the city of Porto. We chose to work at the Lada lift, in Porto’s Ribeira district, a towering structure inspired by the nearby 19th-century bridges, housing an elevator that connects the riverside with the higher city. One of the oldest parts of town, traditionally a business and residential area, Ribeira is now one of Porto’s tourist centres, which puts significant pressure on its inhabitants, forced to deal with noise and gentrification.

While working on this piece, we spent time in a neighbourhood that had long been familiar to us but in which neither of us had lived. We met people, explored the meandering streets and researched the radical transformations experienced during the lifetimes of its inhabitants. What we learned led us to create a piece that, much as Ribeira, was continuously transforming, with a daytime sound installation at the upper-level passageway of the lift and a nighttime light installation at the tower’s façade. Two halves that never intersected and were only related in viewers’ memories.

The sound installation evoked the lost soundscapes of Ribeira, bringing back keynote sounds that vanished due to the relocation of businesses and demographic changes. Some of the sounds evoked by residents included the bells of many churches that are no longer active or the sounds of livestock (and their bells) from a market that has long been relocated from what now is the foot of the lift. In their many forms, bells became the central conceptual starting point for a composition created to blend with Ribeira’s soundscape.

Installations: CX LUX (2017) is now available to stream or download.

Bruno Duplant’s “Écouter les Fantômes” reviewed by SilenceAndSound

La musique créée par Bruno Duplant parle directement avec une part profonde de ma quête artistique personnelle, celle de chercher à nous éloigner de la réalité pour pénétrer dans quelque chose d’impermanent et de mystérieux.

Ecouter les fantômes déforme une part de notre dimension familière, pour en extraire un matériau se dissolvant dans un espace poli par des temps bousculés, où les les minutes, les heures et les secondes n’ont plus aucune importance.

A travers cette oeuvre l’artiste ouvre la porte à nos fantasmes et nos peurs, nos désirs enfouis et nos attentes suspendues, laissant les spectres surgir de derrière nos croyances, pour nous observer à leur tour dans toute notre matérialité éphémère, bref instant d’existence avant de retourner à la poussière. Hanté. Roland Torres

via SilenceAndSound

Bruno Duplant’s “Écouter les Fantômes” reviewed by Radiohoerer

Bruno Duplant als Multimediakünstler zu bezeichnen, ist wohl die einzige Möglichkeit, seinem Werk in seiner Gesamtheit gerecht zu werden. Er komponiert, fotografiert, schreibt und so weiter. Vielleicht ist er einer der interessantesten Künstler der Gegenwart und Michael Pisaro-Liu beschreibt das sehr treffend (siehe sein Zitat). Mit seiner neuesten Veröffentlichung versucht er, das Unsichtbare, das Geisterhafte, das Verborgene hörbar zu machen. Es ist ein faszinierender akustischer Essay.

Meine Musik soll erzählerisch und fiktional sein. Das Gleiche gilt für meine fotografischen und schriftstellerischen Arbeiten. Ich versuche nie, die Realität zu transkribieren. Das interessiert mich in keiner Weise. Was mich hingegen interessiert, fasziniert mich, ist, wie in Écouter les fantômes, eine Klangfiktion zu schaffen, mit dem Ziel, ein phantasmagorisches, uraltes und geheimes Universum zu transkribieren, das uns schon immer fasziniert und/oder erschreckt hat. Außerdem hoffe ich, dass die Fiktion auf diese Weise über die Realität hinausgeht und uns dazu bringt, uns für das zu öffnen und zu interessieren, was wir nicht sehen, was wir vergessen haben, was wir nicht durch Wissenschaft, Technologie und Vernunft erklären können. – Bruno Duplant

Bruno Duplant ist ein produktiver Komponist und Musiker (Orgel, Kontrabass, Schlagzeug, Elektronik, Feldaufnahmen), der im Norden Frankreichs lebt. Er hat mit vielen Musikern auf der ganzen Welt zusammengearbeitet und auch Solowerke geschaffen. Für Duplant ist das Komponieren und Musizieren vergleichbar mit dem Vorstellen, Erschaffen und manchmal auch dem Zerlegen neuer Räume/Realitäten und neuer Entitäten, die er Fiktionen nennt. Es ist aber auch eine Reflexion über die Erinnerung (Erinnerung an Dinge, Räume und Momente) und auch über alles, was unsichtbar und nicht greifbar ist.

„Ich sage lieber, dass ich kein professioneller Künstler bin; ich mache nur Musik, um ich selbst zu sein. Es sind die anderen, die dich zu einem Künstler machen.“ – Bruno Duplant

Seine Musik, die stark vom Schreiben – z. B. von Francis Ponge, Gaston Bachelard, Georges Perec, Stéphane Mallarmé – und von Künstlern/Musikern/Theoretikern – wie John Cage, Luc Ferrari, Eliane Radigue, Rolf Julius, R. Murray Schafer – inspiriert ist, ist von einer sanften Melancholie durchdrungen. Seine fotografische Praxis und sein Schreiben (Poesie) verbinden sich seit einiger Zeit mit seiner musikalischen Praxis, in vielen Überschneidungen, in vielen Austauschprozessen. © Texte: Label

Für Duplant ist das Komponieren und Spielen von Musik gleichbedeutend mit dem Vorstellen, Erschaffen und manchmal auch Zerlegen neuer Räume/Realitäten und neuer Entitäten, Fiktionen. Aber es ist auch eine Reflexion über das Gedächtnis, über Erinnerungen an Dinge, Räume und Momente. Seine Musik, die stark von Schriftstellern (Mallarmé, Francis Ponge, Gaston Bachelard, Georges Perec u.a.) und Klangkünstlern/Musikern/Theoretikern (John Cage, Luc Ferrari, Rolf Julius, Raymond Murray Schafer) inspiriert ist, ist durchdrungen von einem Hauch süßer Melancholie und vielfältigen fruchtbaren Versuchen, den Zufall, l’infini des possibles. — Michael Pisaro-Liu (2021)

via Radiohoerer

Bruno Duplant’s “Écouter les Fantômes” reviewed by Anxious

Działająca już od 2003 roku portugalska wytwórnia Crónica może pochwalić się wieloma wspaniałymi wydawnictwami. W jej katalogu znajdujemy płyty takich artystów, jak: Philippe Petit, Gintas K, Matilde Meireles, Francisco López czy Piotr Kurek.

Wrzesień przynosi kolejną premierę, tym razem chodzi o album Bruno Duplanta, który w tej wytwórni już wcześniej wydawał. Sam twórca może pochwalić się bardzo dużą dyskografią. Publikował solo, ale też współpracował z innymi artystami. Jego albumy możemy znaleźć w różnych labelach, między innymi we wrocławskim Sublime Retreat. O swojej twórczości mówi: „Moja muzyka ma być narracyjna i fikcyjna. Działam tak samo podczas fotografowania czy pisania. Nigdy nie próbuję przepisywać rzeczywistości. To mnie w żaden sposób nie interesuje. Z drugiej strony, to co mnie fascynuje, to, tak jak w Écouter les fantômes, tworzenie dźwiękowej fikcji w celu próby przepisania fantazmatycznego, ancestralnego i tajemnego wszechświata, który zawsze nas zachwycał i/lub przerażał. Mam również nadzieję, że w ten sposób fikcja wyjdzie poza rzeczywistość i doprowadzi nas do otwarcia się i zainteresowania tym, czego nie widzimy, o czym zapomnieliśmy, czego nie możemy wyjaśnić za pomocą nauki, technologii i rozumu”.

Znając wcześniejszy dorobek artysty, mam wrażenie, że sednem jego twórczości jest pewna tajemnica ukrytych dźwięków złapanych gdzieś z innego świata i przekazanie nam tego w swojej, dźwiękowej formie. Ich hauntologiczny obraz, jak zawsze poraża niezgłębioną przestrzenią. Tak samo jest z jego ostatnią płytą Ècouter les fantômes. Duplant używając minimalnych strzępków dźwięków roztacza wspaniały i sekretny pejzaż odrealnionego odbicia światów. To wszystko powoli odżywa i zaprasza nas do nich. Genialne użyte spreparowane głosy jeszcze bardziej potęgują tajemnicę brzmień. W tych dwóch kompozycjach wszystko ma wymiar nierzeczywisty i ukryty. Szmery, zmodyfikowane odgłosy, rezonujące szelesty wydobyte gdzieś spod kurzu nakręcają tę jakby maszynę do przekazania snu.

Ècouter les fantômes jawi się jako intrygująca wizja dźwiękowa, która może i przerażać, ale też odkrywa przed nami wiele wyobrażeń. Jej imaginacje zaplątane w fantasmagoriach brzmią niczym dotykanie niezbadanych głębin innych światów. Mnie totalnie zauroczyły. Michał Majcher

via Anxious

New release: Bruno Duplant’s “Écouter les Fantômes”

My music is intended to be narrative and fictional. I do the same in my practice of photography and writing. I never try to transcribe reality. This doesn’t interest me in any way. What, on the other hand, interests me, fascinates me, is, as in Écouter les fantômes, to create a sound fiction with the aim of trying to transcribe a phantasmagorical, ancestral and secret universe which has always fascinated and/or frightened us. 

Also, in this way, I hope, fiction will go beyond reality and lead us to be opened and interested in what we do not see, what we have forgotten, what we cannot explain through science, technology and reason.

Écouter les Fantômes is now available as a limited-release CD, download or stream.

Marc Behrens’s “Clould” reviewed by Chain DLK

Marc Behrens’ “Clould” is an album that seems to hover somewhere between the clouds and the imagination — a liminal space where the ancient myths of the sky meet the cold reality of modern air travel. The title itself is a clever fusion of “cloud” and “could”, hinting at both the ethereal and the potential, a collision of the mystical past and the mechanized present. The album is an electroacoustic exploration that draws from the mundane yet bizarre experience of air travel, transforming the sounds of airports and airplanes into something akin to a sonic hallucination.

Behrens’ “Clould” is a meticulously crafted cycle of five movements, complemented by a prelude, “Aiear”, released earlier this year. Together, these works form a sprawling 95-minute sonic journey, one that is as much a meditation on the disembodied experience of air travel as it is a reflection on the myths that once populated the skies. The album is composed from a vast array of recordings — sounds captured from within airplanes and airports using everything from standard microphones to electromagnetic sensors, even sounds sourced from check-in luggage and in-flight entertainment systems. Behrens’ sound palette is as varied as it is innovative, capturing the eerie, liminal atmosphere of air travel in a way that feels both alien and familiar.

The process behind “Clould” is as fascinating as the end result. Behrens manipulates these recordings to the point of abstraction, particularly the voices—those ever-present, yet strangely impersonal in-flight announcements. Through a method he calls “pilgrim’s stride mode”, these voices are repeatedly stretched, compressed, and reassembled until they become something altogether different: machinic chimeras, disembodied and haunting. The ultimate goal seems to be the creation of a new language, one built from the fragmented syllables of airline safety demonstrations and announcements, and recombined into unintelligible but eerily resonant phrases. It’s as if the album is speaking in tongues — an enigmatic, non-human language that might be deciphered, but only if you listen closely enough.

The five movements of “Clould” each bring a unique perspective to this thematic exploration. The first movement, with its choir recorded back in 1990, juxtaposes the sacred with the mechanical, setting the tone for the entire album. This track, along with the third and fourth movements, premiered in Lisbon back in 2011, where it must have left listeners both intrigued and unsettled. The second movement, which made its debut in 2013, is a more concise, but no less impactful, piece that serves as a sonic bridge between the album’s more expansive sections.

But it’s the final movement that truly cements “Clould” as a monumental work. Clocking in at nearly 37 minutes, this movement is a sprawling, immersive experience that feels like the culmination of everything that came before. Here, Behrens goes all-in on his concept, crafting a soundscape that’s dense with meaning, yet elusive in its interpretation. The voices, now fully transformed into something otherworldly, echo through the piece like the remnants of a forgotten language, a bjamantra for the modern world. The track premiered at an outdoor collective listening event in Germany in 2023, a fitting venue for a work that is as much about space — both physical and metaphorical — as it is about sound.

The album’s use of language, both real and imagined, invites listeners to extract their own meanings from its sonic fragments, much like one might from an oracle. There’s a mystical quality to “Clould”, one that’s rooted in the ancient while being unmistakably modern. It’s an album that exists in the space between, where the mundane becomes magical, and the familiar turns strange. In “Clould”, Marc Behrens has created a work that is both deeply intellectual and profoundly emotional. It’s an album that challenges the listener to reconsider the very nature of sound, language, and meaning. Like the mythological beings that once populated the clouds, “Clould” is elusive, mysterious, and ultimately unforgettable. Vito Camarretta

via Chain DLK

Philippe Petit’s “A Divine Comedy” reviewed by Chain DLK

Cover of the album "A Divine Comedy"

Ah, “A Divine Comedy”! A title as grandiose as the task at hand, and yet Philippe Petit, the ever-ambitious sonic alchemist, dives headlong into the inferno with a flair for the dramatic that would make even Dante blush. This double album is not merely a nod to Alighieri’s epic poem; it’s a full-on, spiraling descent into a hellscape of sound where the rules of classical narrative are gleefully cast aside in favor of something far more abstract—and far more unsettling.

The first disc, aptly titled “Inferno”, opens with “Halas Jacta Est”, a track that sets the stage for the chaos to come. Petit’s use of modular synthesis and acousmatic spatialization creates an atmosphere thick with tension, as though you’ve just stumbled into the ninth circle of Hell and are beginning to question all your life choices. There’s a sense of foreboding, a sonic warning that what follows will not be a leisurely stroll through the underworld, but rather a plunge into its most nightmarish depths.

Tracks like “Within the Corridors of Hell…” and “Lucifer, Fallen Angel” do not disappoint. The former is a claustrophobic journey through echoing, dissonant corridors where each sound feels like a spectral whisper in your ear, while the latter plays out like a symphony conducted by the devil himself—chaotic, malevolent, and disturbingly beautiful. Petit’s manipulation of sound is masterful here; it’s as though he’s using his modular synths to paint a picture in shades of black, each note a brushstroke in the murky abyss.

Yet, as with Dante’s journey, there is a light at the end of the tunnel—if you can survive long enough to reach it. The second disc, beginning with “Purgatorio, Canto I”, offers a semblance of relief. The music here is less oppressive, though no less complex. Petit shifts his palette, introducing lighter tones that suggest a tentative ascent toward redemption. The mood is reflective, almost meditative, but always with that underlying sense of unease, as if reminding us that Purgatory is not a vacation—it’s a state of transition, fraught with its own trials and tribulations.

“Paradiso, Canto I” and “Paradiso, Canto II” close out the album on a somewhat hopeful note, but don’t expect a Hollywood ending. Petit’s interpretation of Paradise is less about celestial choirs and more about the fragile, fleeting beauty of transcendence. The final notes of “Paradiso, Canto II” hang in the air like a question mark, unresolved, leaving the listener to ponder the journey they’ve just experienced.
For those familiar with Petit’s vast body of work, “A Divine Comedy” is both a continuation and a departure. His love for modular synthesis and electroacoustic manipulation is on full display, yet there’s a conceptual weight here that sets this album apart. It’s clear that Petit isn’t just playing with sound — he’s wrestling with the very fabric of narrative and emotion, distorting them until they barely resemble their original forms. It’s Expressionism in its purest sense, where reality is twisted to provoke a visceral response.

But be warned: this is not an album for the faint of heart. Petit’s “A Divine Comedy” demands patience, attention, and perhaps a touch of masochism. It’s a dense, challenging work that offers no easy answers, no comforting melodies to hum along to. Yet, for those willing to descend into its depths, the rewards are immense. It’s a journey that mirrors Dante’s own—harrowing, transformative, and ultimately, unforgettable.

So, if you’re ready to trade your earthly comforts for a trip through the sonic underworld, “A Divine Comedy” awaits. Just remember, as you press play: “Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate”. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. And enjoy the ride. Vito Camarretta

via Chain DLK

David Lee Myers’s “Strange Attractors” reviewed by Neural

Multiple feedback, layers of noise and found sounds undergo several treatments being modified by a series of stereo digital delay units whose parameters (delay time, reverse, freeze, etc.) are manipulated in real time through a low-frequency oscillator or from other analog sampling devices. Many regulations are manual and are made live, with the purpose of making the creation process even more dynamic and engaging. David Lee Myers, also known under the moniker Arcane Device, is a sound and visual artist living in New York City, a sort of artisan of technology, who produces music based on the actions of automatized systems and techniques since 1987. Strange Attractors is somehow a compendium of his extremely varied sound practices, always evolving, also applied to modular devices, synthesizers and other mysterious machines producing auditory emissions. This is already his second release with Crónica, which completes an already huge and full of collaborations (Tod Dockstader, Asmus Tietchens, Thomas Dimuzio and Gen Ken Montgomery, among the others) discography. The work begins with the resounding “Equability of Powers”, a composition not far from the tradition of the American repetitive music, in an eternal return of the identical, that here is surrounded by a conspicuous series of vibrational events, as hisses, trills, ringing, blows and clamors. In “Iniquities”, another extended track, the tremors are less accentuated, and instead there is a dense noise, together with some almost melodic hints and vortices, which give the idea of the diversity of tones and polyrhythmic variants brought into play. Also in “With Perfect Clarity”, the sequences deal with some refrained time, folded on itself and modulated according to other forms, while in “Yet Another Shore”, the final track, everything assumes also a sacral hint, in an apology of the “here and there”, or, if you prefer, the eternally existing, an approach derived from a meditative and spiritual sensitivity. Lee Myers call all of this Time Displacement Music., and in addition underlines that all the music is based on the time, clearly a philosophical paradox, if then it’s contextually claimed that then time does not exist and actually it’s a convention, a propriety of the reality to change from a status to another, according to the principles of entropy and cause-effect. Aurelio Cianciotta

via Neural