muzycy:
Frantz Loriot: viola
Christian Wolfarth: percussion

Editor's info:
Welcome to the timbral world of violist Frantz Loriot and percussionist Christian Wolfarth. «An epiphany of sound», writes Jason Kahn in the inside cover, comparing the music pressed on the two sides of this LP with the myriads of noises he heard in a night of tempest when walking through it: «Cans and bottles skittering down the street; a street sign rattling violently; vague droning sounds appearing and vanishing suddenly as the wind seeped through cracks and crevices between buildings.» It’s his interpretation of what happens during the eight tracks – other pairs of ears can sense it differently, and that’s the best characteristic of the duo’s musical approach. Each individual perception changes it, as if it’s a living organism and you’re part of its existence. The harmonics and the blips and blops seem of electro-acoustic, even acousmatic, conception, but the only electronic devices used were the microphones and the recording machine. Everything is improvised and the configuration of these spontaneous pieces would seem derived from the reductionist school if there was less sounds in the flux of events and if those sounds were mere dots or brushstrokes emanating from silence. They aren’t, but you’re not going to listen to any thunder neither. This is a busy timbral world, indeed, but in a pleasant way. Afterall, Loriot is also a practitioner of soundmassages and for Wolfarth there’s no better measure than detail.

Editor's info:
Welcome to the timbral world of violist Frantz Loriot and percussionist Christian Wolfarth. «An epiphany of sound», writes Jason Kahn in the inside cover, comparing the music pressed on the two sides of this LP with the myriads of noises he heard in a night of tempest when walking through it: «Cans and bottles skittering down the street; a street sign rattling violently; vague droning sounds appearing and vanishing suddenly as the wind seeped through cracks and crevices between buildings.» It’s his interpretation of what happens during the eight tracks – other pairs of ears can sense it differently, and that’s the best characteristic of the duo’s musical approach. Each individual perception changes it, as if it’s a living organism and you’re part of its existence. The harmonics and the blips and blops seem of electro-acoustic, even acousmatic, conception, but the only electronic devices used were the microphones and the recording machine. Everything is improvised and the configuration of these spontaneous pieces would seem derived from the reductionist school if there was less sounds in the flux of events and if those sounds were mere dots or brushstrokes emanating from silence. They aren’t, but you’re not going to listen to any thunder neither. This is a busy timbral world, indeed, but in a pleasant way. Afterall, Loriot is also a practitioner of soundmassages and for Wolfarth there’s no better measure than detail.