noite |cs142

Apesar do título português e da participação de dois músicos nacionais, óbvio se torna que o protagonismo do quarteto de “Noite” é do francês Jean-Luc Guionnet, músico que como saxofonista alto está a fazer um notável percurso no free jazz e nas novas tendências da improvisação, tendo igualmente actividade enquanto compositor electroacústico. São-lhe muito próprios os sons prolongados que estão no cerne desta música, levando Ernesto e Guilherme Rodrigues a afastarem-se das suas habituais abordagens fragmentárias e pontilhísticas das cordas de arco, bem como fazendo com que Seijiro Murayama aplique estratégias percussivas bem diferentes daquelas que lhe conhecemos das suas colaborações com K. K. Null e com os Fushitsusha de Keiji Haino. De salientar, ainda, a referenciação deste curioso disco no espectralismo e a inclusão dos sons urbanos de uma cidade meio adormecida em “Drama-like”, sendo o uso de “field recordings” outra característica de Guionnet. Rui Eduardo Paes

Alto, viola, cello, percussion. Now this I can get behind. Two pieces that make strong use of exterior urban sounds--the musicians are clearly listening to their surroundings, emerging from it, reacting to it. Guionnet, happily, reins things in more than is often his wont (well, there are a couple of eructations...) and the others are finely tuned in. Really good work, highly recommended. Brian Olewnick (Just Outside)

Noite (cs 142) führt zurück in diese Welt, auch wenn sie menschenleer und unheimlich wirkt. JEAN-LUC GUIONNET am Altosaxophon, ERNESTO & GUILHERME RODRIGUES an Viola bzw. Cello und der von Hatali Atsalei (l‘echange des yeux) als Partner von L. Marchetti BA-einschlägige Perkussionist SEIJIRO MURAYAMA lautmalen ein nächtliches Drama aus bloßen Geräuschen. Meeresbrandung und ferner Verkehrslärm schaffen eine ‚naturalistische‘ Kulisse, aber was sich darin als gedämpfte ‚Dunkelkammermusik‘ entfaltet, ist traumhaft, unterschwellig, überwirklich. Rigobert Dittmann (Bad Alchemy)

Sur un bout de trottoir portugais, de Noite, le saxophoniste Jean-Luc Guionnet et le percussionniste Seijiro Murayama forçaient Ernesto Rodrigues (violon) et son fils Guilherme (violoncelle) à emboîter le pas de leur entente.
A l’écoute des rumeurs de la périphérie de la ville, les musiciens passent de gestes de circonstances (grondements de l’alto et archets longs) en élaborations de contrastes (caisse claire effleurée près de toutes propositions improvisées), évoluant en satellites en déroute avant de céder ensemble à l’ivresse d’une chute partagée : Murayama décidant forcément de l’allure de celle-ci.
Le vent, sur l’ouverture de la seconde pièce, avant qu’une sorte de sonar rappelle chacun des intervenants : accord de bourdons, celui de l’alto grave subissant le tangage, longs parallèles d’essences différentes, et l’invective d’une autre ponctuation : Guionnet fomentant des projectiles, saillies des violon et violoncelle, avant que s’impose à nouveau l’abstraction minimaliste et posée. Un archet périclitant annoncera la fin de l’expérience rare, musique de rue évanouie aux portes de la ville. (Le Son du Grisli)

Bizarrely, it seems that improvising in presence of metropolitan-tinged sonic circumstances can cause factors such as mental strain and edginess to be taken out of the equation, perhaps due to a strange counter-reaction: the noise of a neighbouring street, which ideally should not correspond to a practical background for playing, regularly inspires introspective examinations of space and shapes to certain breeds of musicians. This quartet, whose instrumentation comprises alto sax, viola, cello and percussion, seizes the shadows of a nocturnal view in a neighbourhood by superimposing a collective being to that particular scenario, the outcome captured in an album where active listening is required more than ever.
Both tracks start with the above mentioned inner-city reverberations, as to set the definite context from the beginning. Evidently, the distant air currents generated by the passing vehicles - and the silences between - represent a major inspiration for the players, all of them tending to circumspection and limited motion with just a slight raspy edge in the infrequent percussive implications of the improvisations. The instruments appear in near-spirit, singularly or in different combinations, seldom emerging as a true ensemble. In that sense, a magnificent if too short droning section materializes in the first few minutes of the initial track “Story Board” in one of the record’s most emotionally charged moments, and another – dissonant, yet utterly breathtaking - towards the very end of the disc. Only rarely their voice needs to cry to be heard and, when that occurs, it’s via a series of rapid signals, without a real necessity of “affirmation of personality”. Essentially, the artists succeed in camouflaging themselves in darkness, as marvellously demonstrated by the whispered motionlessness characterizing a long part of “Drama-Like” which starts around the 12th minute.
Throughout Noite we become aware of close relationships and compatibilities springing from the attraction between opposites: instrumental and human, sound and silence, full notes and frail overtones. It takes special ears to individuate the peripheral connections and the invisible-yet-efficient mechanism that allows these artist to relinquish individuality in favour of a hazy picture of rigorousness. Once the mood is established and everything but the nutritious quintessence of this music has been erased from the mind, the first lights of a new day – typically a symbol of recovery after sleeplessness and apprehension - suddenly look undesirable. Massimo Ricci (Touching Extremes)

Another from the Creative Sources pile tonight. Tonight’s selection though was one of the discs I actually wrote to Ernesto about purchasing in the first place, before he sent me the additional mini avalanche. Noite is a disc by the quartet of Jean-Luc Guionnet, (alto sax) Ernesto Rodrigues, (viola) Guilherme Rodrigues, (cello) and Seijiro Murayama (percussion). Noite is Portuguese for night, and is a very fitting title for this recording. I have admired the recent work of Jean-Luc Guionnet as much as any musician over the past year or two. CDs he is involved with often have a certain feel to them, a kind of expansive resonance, as if all of a space is being used to the full, but also with a certain murkiness to the recording, not a poor recording in any way, but certain quality to the air as it drifts from my speakers. This of course makes no sense whatsoever, but then I can’t think of any way to describe what I mean.
After listening to Noite through a couple of times via my iPod and without access to the sleeve notes I just assumed that Guionnet was responsible for recording and mastering this release. Much to my surprise though he undertook neither task. It just goes to show that assuming something is never a good idea in this area of music. I came to this assumption though because of how Noite sounds. The first of the two long tracks opens with a trickling of water, probably rain falling from a gutter, and the sound of passing cars on wet roads and those single, wordless calling voices that can be heard across any city late at night. As the recording was made at Tcha 3 studios, the same venue for several other Creative Sources recordings that don’t feature traffic and weather sounds I am comfortable in my assumption that someone put a microphone outside to capture these beautiful incidental sounds. Also an air conditioning unit purrs away right through the disc. These just struck me as very Guionnet things to do! Throughout the recording these sounds can be heard, rising to the top when the musicians’ input falls away, dissolving into the mix when they pick up steam.
I feel a little safer in making the assumption that this recording was made at night. Certainly there is a stillness to everything, a sense of empty streets punctuated only by the rush of cars full of people not so stupid as to be left outside walking. There is an edginess, a fear of what may be around the corner, even though the likelihood remains just more empty rainswept streets. I can relate to these sounds so well. I spend a lot of time walking through cities late at night, invariably heading home from work or from a concert. Often as I walk I will be listening to music and these sounds permeate the music I am hearing. Listening today to Noite I felt similar feelings. It captures the mood I have tried to describe above brilliantly. So three paragraphs into writing about this album and I have yet to try and describe the music. Or at least, the music made directly by the musicians, the sound of the street outside being just as much a part of the music. The quartet play a kind of gloomy, murky acoustic music that feels like it is lurking in the darkened corners. All four musicians play (for the vast majority of the time) in a low register, murmuring manner. Guionnet’s sax generally emits long very slow notes, the two string musicians add muted, colourless notes, usually bowed, not always on the strings. Murayama’s percussion is typically understated, little rubs and scrapes, sometimes for extended periods, but usually very quiet and seemingly oblivious to the volume that the other musicians may be playing at. Throughout the first track, called Story Board there are no real dramatic gestures by any of the quartet, and the music is largely formless, shifting and drifting along, sometimes coalescing into arcs of deeper, richer density, cloaking the external sounds for a while until as the sound slips back down they re-emerge. There is no silence between the tracks, but for several minutes after the musicians’ input dies away at the end of Story Board just the road remains until the playing reappears. For much of the time, the second track, called Drama-like is similar in form and tone. Every now and again though, maybe three or four times throughout the track there are sudden busts of violent activity from one of the musicians. These odd little moments do not seem to spark further activity, and are not really responded to audibly by the rest of the musicians, they just happen, perhaps like turning the corner to find a potentially dangerous man facing you rather than an empty street, only for him to pass on by without incident. there are more and longer “silences” on this track as well, so we get to meditate on the rainy streets and buzzing AC for longer. Some CDs are all about showy musicianship, or energetic musical narratives that we follow through every twist and turn. Noite is about something more than this. I find myself listening with my eyes closed trying to picture the room, understanding what is happening, where people are sat, where the open door and the outward facing microphone may be. Noite creates a time and space as much as it creates a series of musical happenings. It transports the listener, via a series of possibly wild assumptions to a place that reflects what we know ourselves, streets we might walk down, empty rooms overlooking them we might know, all cast in shadows formed in our imaginations but based on our memories. Powerful stuff indeed. Richard Pinnell (The Watchful Ear)

Swiat wykreowany przez kwartet Jean-Luc Guionnet/Ernesto Rodrigues/Guilherme Rodrigues/Seijiro Murayama równiez wydaje sie byc opustoszaly, jednak w przypadku "Noite" odnosze wrazenie, ze muzyka "dzieje sie" w mocno industrialnym otoczeniu. Byc moze za to skojarzenie odpowiedzialna jest szczególna aura brzmieniowa, oszczedna i zimna, a moze po trosze wynika to z ograniczonej interakcji pomiedzy czlonkami calego kwartetu. Muzycy czestokroc graja pojedynczo, badz tylko w obrebie tworzonych ad hoc podgrup, na rózne sposoby zestawiajac saksofon, altówke, wiolonczele oraz perkusje. W niektórych momentach bez oporów pozwalaja by dominowala cisza; zreszta byc moze jest to nie tyle "czysta cisza", lecz dzwieki podprogowe, gdyz kwartet operuje tez niskimi tonami i tworzy pozornie statyczne sciany dronów.
Znakomita plyta, chyba najciekawsza z tutaj omawianych, bedaca pozornie beznamietna relacja z somnambulicznej podrózy po zdegradowanym swiecie uchwyconym w stanie bezruchu. Doskonale dopelnienie ubieglorocznego albumu "Le Bruit Du Toit" duetu Guionnet/Murayama. Tadeusz Kosiek (Diapazon)

Une rencontre inédite entre quatre grandes figures des musiques nouvelles et e l'improvisation. Deux français et deux portugais: Jean-Luc Guionnet (saxophone alto) et son acolyte de longue date maintenant, Seijiro Murayama (percussions), aux côtés d'Ernesto Rodrigues (violon alto) et de son fils Guilherme Rodrigues (violoncelle) - acolyte également de très longue date s'il en est... Sur un fonds sonore urbain composé principalement de voitures, le quartet franco-ibérique tisse une longue musique qui semble inspirée par l'environnement sonore. Une musique qui ne paraît plus si improvisée que ça, mais qui paraît plutôt dictée et dirigée par les sons environnants. Durant plus d'une heure, le quartet Guionnet/Rodrigues/Rodrigues/Murayama file de longues notes, des souffles interminables, des archets continus, des bourdons de peaux frottées minimalistes. C'est souvent très calme, les sons se confondent et ne se détachent qu'avec peine, les notes se mélangent aux sons et aux bruits, tout est incertain et entremêlé. Parfois, une irruption violente brise la continuité, une irruption qui devient évènement inoubliable par rapport à la majorité de micro-évènements qui composent ces deux pièces. Une musique qui vire souvent à l'abstraction du côté purement sonore, qui joue sur des timbres et des couleurs froides, ternes, grises, et abrasives. Mais il y a également un côté très concret dans la mesure où l'environnement sonore semble servir de partition aux musiciens, un aspect concret dû à l'interaction sensible entre le réel présent et la performance musicale. Les deux pièces qui composent ce long disque (plus de 70 minutes) sont plutôt tendues - une tension qui provient en grande partie de la volonté de réunir deux espaces et deux temporalités différentes en un tout cohérent: ceux du réel autonome et apparemment aléatoire avec ceux de la réponse musicale. Tout en tension, et tout en interaction sensible, un album d'une grande finesse et d'une grande sensibilité, riche et intense. Julien Héraud (ImprovSphere)