lack of conversation |cs066

Heddy Boubaker, saxofonista de Toulouse, responsável por La Maison Peinte (local vocacionado para a prática da música improvisada, em Labarthe sur Lèze, a 20 Kms daquela cidade francesa) prossegue a sua actividade de experimentador e investigador das possibilidades sonoras do saxofone, aplicadas ao que designa por “technico/poetic sound work” – um mergulho nas águas profundas da música improvisada. Fazendo uso de microfones de contacto (desde há muito que o estúdio assume um papel fundamental no trabalho da última geração de improvisadores), Boubaker, nas nove composições/improvisações contidas em “Lack of Conversation” (Creative Sources Recordings 066), extrai vibrações acústicas do interior e da superfície exterior do saxofone alto. Sopro metalizado, pulsações irregulares, ruidismo discreto, técnicas de respiração (circular, triangular, rectangular…), utilização hábil do espaço e da panorâmica – um mundo de descobertas tímbricas e de novas tonalidades ondulantes que forma uma cadeia de sons em mutação e compõem uma linguagem não-codificada em que se pode ouvir coisas como o vento que vem do mar carregado de sal e humidade. Poesia, emoção e energia refrescante. Eduardo Chagas (Jazz e Arredores)

Also Heddy Boubaker is a new name for me, and from the liner notes I understand that the saxophone is the instrument here. But rather than playing it like 'normal' people would do, Heddy produces all sorts of sounds with the saxophone, in fact every possible sound, as long as it's not sounding like saxophone. Breathing plays an important role here, not the continuous succession of melodies or notes. Boubaker plays the instrument like Axel Dörner plays his trumpet: the instrument is regarded as an object, an electro-acoustic one that can be played by the mouth. Highly abstract and perhaps a bit long, this is however a fine example of the 'new' improvisation methods that are now applied. Frans de Waard (Vital Weekly)

"A print of spacial breath into organic wet cavities" is one of the author's definitions of this work, and it's a good one; but there is much more to savor here, as "Lack of conversation" is an excellent solo saxophone excursion in which the relationships between fluid and pneumatic emissions of the human body interacting with a reed instrument yield results that go further than usual in this kind of art. In Boubaker's playing - which, it must be said, was magnificently recorded for the occasion - the metal parts of his "machine" are more resonating devices than sheer components of an instrument (he also uses cans for that scope). Most tracks contain an abundance of euphonious intelligibility; we're talking more or less of what Arnold Schönberg had predicted in his "Harmonielehre", namely variations of the consistence of the harmonics contained by the "object", which in this case includes human apparata. In easier terms, Boubaker sounds like a host of seals, like water bouncing in a pan left in the sink, like the consequences of ashtma - listen to his fat multiphonics and then tell me - or even like the heavy breath of a woman about to deliver. And then again, many more resemblances. He's a one-of-a-kind virtuoso, one of the best sax dissectors I've had the luck to meet recently. This album represents a ticket to several enticing moments of naked instrumental truth and comes absolutely recommended, like all of Creative Sources' best releases - that means the large part of the catalog. Massimo Ricci (Touching Extremes)

*Extremely* odd release of sound from the inside and out of a saxophone from French saxophonist Boubaker, recorded with great sonic properties. So strange that you can't help but listen with attention - here's what Heddy has to say about the release in the booklet to the CD: "This is far from music, this is technico-poetic sound work, kind of ; this is far far from telling stuff or stories, no pictures, no landscape, no visions, this is a travel to anyone's imagination ; this is improvised but this is not; this is a deep exploration of the nonsense, this is not a catalog of any, so called, advanced technique with the instrument - at least this should not be ; this is unformatted, this is indeed not formatted ; this is not a saxophone record, this is a record of inside - or maybe around too - the saxophone ; this is me, my body, the saxophone, cans of beer and a pair of pretty good mics ; this is my gift to your ears and I hope they will enjoy it, this is it whatever it is! A print of spacial breath into organic wet cavities..." Squidco

Heddy Boubaker est un saxophoniste qui se consacre à l'improvisation libre. Une fois par mois, dans sa Maison Peinte, près de Toulouse, il organise des concerts pour faire vivre cette discipline et faire se rencontrer musiciens de passage et musiciens locaux. La musique qu'Heddy nous offre dans ce disque est, selon ses propres termes, une « profonde exploration du nonsense ». Pas de motivation narrative, ni de paysage sonore. Pourtant, les titres des diverses plages - "Solitude", "Déglutitions", "Radio Saturn", "Lack of Conversation" - constituent tout de même une petite porte d'entrée dans le champ d'abstraction généré par le musicien. Ce dernier utilise son saxophone comme un objet sonore mais aussi comme un médiateur, pour faire entendre et esthétiser son propre souffle. Bruits et textures sont riches et organiques ; on les écoute sans se poser la question de la technique mais plutôt en les confrontant à son imaginaire. L'enregistrement est parfaitement clair et précis, au plus près de la matière et de la résonance du saxophone. Il reste que, pour ceux qui voudraient découvrir cet art sonore et qui trouvent les enregistrements un peu abrupts, le meilleur moyen est de se rendre au concert. Un petit détour par la Maison Peinte sera alors de rigueur... Sébastien Llinares (Octopus)

Heddy Boubaker’s Lack of Conversation (CS 066) is part of the label’s ongoing interest in solo saxophone records. Boubaker, a new name to me, refers to these improvisations as “technico/poetic sound work . . . a travel to anyone’s imagination.” He works at the intersection of approaches defined by, say, Butcher, Gustafsson, Wright, and others, fluttering and exploring the metallic resonances of the saxophone as object itself. He generally favors the low and guttural, with the expected range of wet sucking sounds and static crackle very much in abundance. Though there is much to enjoy here (the rough breaths of “Solitude #2” or the manic clacking of “Solitude #3”), it’s not quite distinctive enough from other, similar recordings for my taste. Jason Bivins (Bagatellen)

Heddy Boubaker fait partie de ces musiciens qu'on voudrait bien étiqueter comme on met une laisse (ou une alliance) aux êtres que l'on dit aimer. Un musicien qui échappe pourtant facilement aux classifications dès qu'on prête une oreille un peu attentive à son travail. Ecoutons bien ! Une fois passée la première impression tendant à assimiler sa pratique à une forme de sub-réductionnisme, façon "New Toulouse Silence"… Force nous est d'admettre que le saxophoniste est un artiste singulier possédant un langage propre et un univers poétique tout à fait original, ce que ses deux précédents opus, "Vortex", avec Sébastien Cirotteau à la trompette et "Glotosifres" avec Nush Werchowska au piano et Mathias Pontevia à la batterie, nous avaient déjà laissé présager en leur temps.
"Il faut peut-être essayer de lire un peu derrière le texte !". nous disait, en substance, Michel Doneda à propos de son confrère et voisin… Et de fait, au-delà de l'organicité du souffle, de la blancheur du timbre et du refus du tempo, c'est précisément la profusion de micro évènements confinant à la volubilité du discours qui nous intrigue le plus. "Lack of conversation"… Dans ce soliloque à l'intitulé étrangement modeste** et qui semble exprimer, comme en creux, la soif de rencontres de l'artiste, se profilent distinctement les mille et une métamorphoses des éléments et de la matière.
Ici, les textures sonores se maintiennent à l'état liquide, quelques bulles éclatant à la surface bourbeuse d'une quelconque lagune. Ailleurs, c'est un vent chaud qui se fraie un chemin entre les accidents multiples d'une tubulure compliquée. Là-bas, encore, un navire fantôme longe la ligne d'horizon, pris dans un brouillard épais et translucide. Les sifflements, gémissements et autres grincements chuintés du saxophone se mêlent au souffle et à la voix de l'instrumentiste et se font cordage filant, femme pleurant, cri muet, parfois, dont on devine l'urgence, corne de brume, encore, ou murmure plaintif.
Le monde d'Heddy Boubaker n'est pas de tout repos. Il s'appuie sur l'instabilité même du son le plus changeant et ne se laisse deviner qu'en filigrane, au travers de notes déjouées et de silences assumés.
C'est grâce à ces moments que j'aime la musique… Lorsqu'elle s'efface d'elle-même dans le miroitement constant de sa mobilité pour n'être plus que poésie pure et parfaite abstraction. Joël Pagier (Improjazz)

Despite what suggested by the title, this cd features what conversationwise could be a spoken word performance and I would add that’s a really passionate one. Heddy Boubaker fits perfectly in the mold of Creative Sources releases that should be considered under a performative perspective much more than “music” canonically speaking. The audio work he did on for the recording of saxophone, cans and of his body (he listed them as his main instruments on this one) is good, therefore beside having a good use of pan-potting you can ear the sound definition is strong and clear. As many other performers he exploited his mouth and his saliva to create that typical “white-noise” ambience you have with brass, but he tapped his fingers on the body of the instrument obtaining that typical sound you hear in many performances nowadays. In the process of selection that bought to this release, he probably tried to differentiate the timbre of every sound, so that you have high and low registers mainly divided in different tracks. Boubaker in his working on acoustic research applied to his instrument has an outspoken physical approach that brought me to think he could be an unsounding Mats Gustafsson, I write it cause in some way the majority of the tracks in some way are muscular and he’s not playing that much with silence like many others on the portuguese label. I still find one of the most interesting thing of this work is who he’s chosen to pan pot and to move this or that sound in aural space, by some means this a peculiarity of this “Lack Of Conversation” since it bring near to some electronic work instead of an acoustic or impro performance. Everything keeps moving from one ear to the other, slowly and fast according to the necessity of every sound event, that’s also what make you think in first place to performative music and like it happens quite often you sit down with your headphones on and every sound moves around you as if it was a some ritual fight act. This’ one of those kind of releases with that characteristical sound “a la Creative Sources”: love it or leave it. Andrea Ferraris (Chain DLK)

Shades of Mimeo, the Creative Sources label presents an electroacoustic improv "supergroup" of sorts, assembled from around the world, centered in Berkeley (where this recording was committed to tape, or disc, as it were). Formed by trumpet deconstructionist Tom Djll, the group corrals European players Serge Baghdassarians and Boris Baltschun together with their American counterparts Chris Brown, Tim Perkis, Gino Robair, and others in a renegade soundclash, an emergent systems music whereby actual systems are abandoned, structure negated, technology used then disassembled and anarchy harnessed/reinforced. All of this is accomplished with little sonic fanfare and squeakily wrestled to the ground in the finest onkyo tradition, where less is more, the stereofield requiring sophisticated electron-magnification to unveil all the nuance contained deep within the aural spectrum.
In fact, with all the insectile scurrying going on amidst the opening piece's first tentative seconds, you'd be forgiven in thinking that you've stumbled upon some mutant environmental recording by accident. While faint, bass-like rumbles establish tremors along an amelodic fault line, the players scatter a vast multitude of sounds (suffocating shortwave signals, scratchy guitar, growing hums, electronic raindrops) across the penumbra like so much sonic debris. With the template established, Grosse Abfahrt proceed to virtually tear apart pat analogs and instrument clarity in the service of yielding spectacularly unnerving (and previously unheard) results. The eighteen minute "Interkontinentale Luftschiffahrt" reads like the autopsying of some vast bank of alien computing equipment: Matt Ingalls' clarinet probes dark depths throughout the tableaux etched by the diminutive noises of his colleagues, mental states altering pitches shuffled along by nagging frequencies, rubbed feedback, squalls of unknown electronics building on event horizons. These acts of febrile sound-scaping seem to truck more with the likes of Subotnick or Buchla than most any dozen modern-day electroacousticians. True, improvisation is the glue holding these pieces together — the artists are, no doubt, organizing these tactile environments on the fly — but the results court extremely experimental ideals more so than anything faintly tickling dusty corners of "jazz."
Overall, this is a protean work of electrical magic, outsourced from machines, bent into shape at the hands of their circuit manipulators, sounding like little else around. The octet's name translates as "great departure" — can't think of a better moniker with which to outfit any other explorers of sound this year. Darren Bergstein (The Squid's Ear)

C’est un solo de saxophone et ce n’en est pas un. Il y a quatre Solitudes, trois Déglutitions et quelques autres petites choses. Tout sauf anodines.
Il y a le cri des souffles, un intérieur rageur et solitaire. Des lignes de fuite sans rebondissements. Des déchirures, des schizes, des ruptures gisantes après le passage salivaire. Il y a une machine-organe déglutissant ses déchets. Heddy Boubaker ne produit pas de son : il les invite et envisage leurs disparitions. On ne voit rien mais on entend tout de ce corps sans image, ce saxophone démembré, tranché. Questionné.
Ici, à nouveau, le chroniqueur peine à dire ce qui se joue. Il peut dire à la rigueur comment ça s’installe, comment ça s’incruste. Il échoue devant la création puisqu’il n’est pas créateur. Ici, humblement, il demande pardon.Luc Bouquet (Le Son du Grisli)

Some time ago, saxophonist Heddy Boubaker sent me a few records, namely the first release on his Un Rêve Nu imprint and his duo with Soizic Lebrat. In the same package was this solo CD released in 2006 on which I had missed out. In the booklet, Boubaker states that this is not music but “”technico/poetic sound work.” I agree. Think of the sonic experiments of John Butcher or Bhob Rainey. This music is intense, focused on the saxophone’s microsonics, it’s music the artist has to drag from deep inside the instrument. Sighs, gurgles, whispers, all perfectly controled and arranged into abstract sound paintings in shades of grey and connected to an atavistic power. It’s also a very clear manifesto. François Couture (Monsieur Délire)