Semaine du Neuf | A Spiritual Journey Through Matter and Sound

by Alexandre Villemaire

Jean-François Laporte, a Quebec artist who has been active on the contemporary art scene since the mid-1990s, creates works that integrate performance, sound art, musical composition, performance, interpretation, installation and digital art. As part of the Semaine du Neuf, on the premises of Groupe Le Vivier, he presents Spirituel, a sound installation in which the public is invited to immerse and circulate in order to “explore the meanders of one’s being, to contemplate those unique moments when the visual and the sonic meet in an unprecedented harmony.” We had the opportunity to attend the performance, as well as to discuss it with the composer, at the end of this short journey into this ethereal sound environment.

As we enter the hall of St Hildas church, where Le Vivier is now housed, we are greeted by a structure arranged in a circular fashion in the center of the room: 12 metal bowls of various sizes, turned upside down on themselves, and a 13th raised, the hollow part facing the sky. On these bowls, backlit by lights that change colour as the performance progresses, a wire hangs from a tripod. At the end of this wire is a small, rotating propeller that he will spin around the bowl, powered by a motor, to produce sound. This is the basis of what is revealed to our eyes and ears in this wooden room plunged into semi-darkness. Instinctively, we’re drawn to turn around this installation, intrigued by its shape, slightly dubious as to what we’re going to hear.

Gradually, some bowls begin to sing softly, illuminated by red lighting. Increasingly, the sounds generated by the regular and irregular rubbing of the propellers become more numerous and faster while the sonic and visual textures change. The rubbing that evokes the sound of Tibetan bowls gives way to the rapid striking of a few propellers, which, placed on the base of these bowls, imitate the percussive attacks of Indian tabla players with their unique sound; a few moments later, the sonic mass of a gamelan is evoked, ending with sounds reminiscent of our church bells.

Being alone in this sound environment, free to move around the space, to stop and contemplate the sound, we are immersed for the entire 15-minute installation in a space where time seems to stand still or become elastic. The organic way in which the different musical strata flow together keeps our attention and curiosity on the alert. We’re left wondering which element will activate, where, how, and how intense it will be, both sonically and visually. Reflections also arise in this space, as we try to decipher how the theme of spirituality, in addition to being presented within the confines of a church, is musically articulated.

Could the twelve bowls represent the twelve sounds of the chromatic scale or the 12 apostles of the New Testament? Or do the musical references evoke, in their own way, the great religions of Hinduism and Buddhism? The answers are many and personal, making each visit and iteration of the work unique for each individual.

As we emerge from this visual and aural cocoon, into which we could easily have been swept and lulled, we begin our discussion with Jean-François Laporte, asking about his background and musical training.

Jean-François Laporte: I didn’t know anything at first. I came into the music business at the age of 25 and knew nothing about art. Except that I’d loved music ever since I was a kid. I went to Central Africa when I was 18-19 in 1988 with Canada World Youth, to Zaire [now the Democratic Republic of Congo]. It was there that I discovered what music was all about. What I knew about music was being a songwriter. Initially, I studied civil engineering and worked in construction, which I didn’t like at all. Even though I was making money and everyone was telling me: “You’ve got a good job and a good salary”, that wasn’t what I was passionate about. At one point, I had the flash that it had already been four years since I’d returned from Africa, and I said to myself: do you like music? Maybe you should take some lessons. So I dropped everything. I gave myself five years and told myself that by the time I’m 30, if it works out, I’ll keep going. I went to Cégep Marie-Victorin, which was the only college at the time where you could get in without a background in music. I went there because I wanted to be a songwriter, and I discovered a lot of things right away. There were four of us students, and we had paid a composition teacher in four sessions.

I never finished my DEC because I was accepted to study music at the Université de Montréal. At the time, people like me were obliged to take a four-year course rather than a three-year one, with the first year devoted to electro and instrumental. It was there that I discovered many worlds and many things: Varèse’s Poème symphonique, composed for the 1958 World’s Fair, Parmegiani’s music, electroacoustics, and so on.

PAN M 360. What elements inspire you personally in your compositions?

Jean-François Laporte: Timbre is at the heart of everything I do. What interested me for a long time was to be in a mass, and to be able to sculpt with my ears, to hear things and really get to grips with elements that are present, but that we don’t normally listen to. What interests me in oriental music, the shakuhachi, for example, I like the wind, I like the impurity, the bits of saliva that you hear, whereas with the transverse flute, even if it’s very close, there’s no breath, you just get beautiful notes. Whereas with other instruments, breath is part of it.

PAN M 360: Where did you get the idea for the kinetic, sound and visual installation Spirituel? Why did you choose to make it an installation rather than a performance piece intended for the stage?

Jean-François Laporte: You can trace all that back to my composition professor at the Université de Montréal, Marcelle Deschênes, who was an extraordinary woman and opened doors for a lot of people and a lot of composers. We really listened to each individual. With her, we never really talked about music as such, except after concerts. For her, music wasn’t the score. As for the choice of format, I really like challenges. When you come to an installation, you’re not in the same listening mode as when you come to a concert. I think installations are great in that they give you a malleable notion of time. Sometimes you don’t go to a concert because something has happened and you can’t go. The installation, on the other hand, doesn’t matter. It’s from 12pm to 6pm, so you can come whenever you like. You’re a bit more relaxed, you’re free. Nobody takes you by the hand. So you can experience it in your own way.

Spirituel is presented until March 15, at Espace Ste-Hilda between 12pm and 6pm. MORE INFO HERE.

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Contemporary

Semaine du Neuf | Paramirabo/Musikfabrik: old school avant-garde meets cool post-modernism

by Frédéric Cardin

Two ensembles devoted to contemporary music and separated by an ocean, but also by two schools of thought, met on Tuesday evening 11 March at the Wilder building in the Quartier des spectacles in Montreal. On one side, the Ensemble Musikfabrik from Cologne in Germany, represented by three of its musicians, oboe/English horn (Peter Veale), horn (Christine Chapman) and double bass (Florentin Ginot). On the other, the Montreal sextet Paramirabo, comprising piano, percussion, violin, cello, clarinet/bass clarinet and flutes. Beyond the difference in timbre imposed by the instrumentation of each ensemble, it was the marked dissimilarity between the two ‘languages’ spoken that was striking. Disparities that were obvious even to the most layman and accentuated by the chosen programme, in terms of syntax, discourse, the importance of narrative in the musical framework, references to the vernacular and many other aspects besides.

Gracieuseté Semaine du Neuf – Le Vivier crédit photo : Philippe latour par Frederic Cardin

In the first half, the three guests from Musikfabrik demonstrated their breathtaking technical expertise in ultra-pointillist/pointraitist scores in which every possible and impossible sound came out of the instruments present, except perhaps those for which they were initially intended. The quality of the sounds, timbres and textures was pushed to a very high level of perfection. The discourse, stratospherically intellectual, was enough to delight the most discerning of thoughtful music lovers. In my humble opinion, it was Juliet Palmer’s Blur of Lichens that stood out the most, offering, through a hyper-calculated construction, the most beautiful impression of freedom, even lyricism and grace. Canadian Gordon Williamson offered his humorous take on strict abstraction in Odd Throuple (a pun on Odd Couple, but with three people), a work in which he explored the sonic contrasts of this unusual trio (an oboe/English horn, a horn and a double bass, let us not forget). I found Dylan Lardelli’s The Giving Sea, a ‘spiritual evocation’ of the ocean, much more academic. Unfortunately, I didn’t feel that uplift. Maybe this is just me.

READ THE INTERVIEW WITH PARAMIRABO’S PAMELA REIMER ABOUT THIS CONCERT

This strictly atonal and abstract discourse is rooted in a very Boulézian or post-Boulézian vision of the avant-garde (even if it’s not strict serialism/dodecaphonism), which is already a good fifty years old. We can therefore speak of an ‘old school’ avant-garde, an astonishing oxymoron that would have been unimaginable not so long ago.

For the uninitiated, it’s an impression of cerebrality that will echo in the mind, a characteristic typically (let’s say stereotypically) associated with ‘contemporary’ music. Is it good music? Absolutely! But the second half, led by Paramirabo, was about to show us that today’s music is made elsewhere, and that it’s important not to forget that.

This part began with a short piece by Vancouver’s Rodney Sharman, a lovely, poetic tribute to John Cage for English horn (Peter Veale of Musikfrabrik) and piano doubled as toy piano (Pamela Reimer of Paramirabo), draped in neo-impressionist finery. The message had been sent: this second part was going to offer us a completely different experience, less cerebral, more organic, even sensitive, inclusive and eclectic in its amalgams. Post-modernist, and very cool.

And that’s exactly what happened with Paul Frehner’s Un pont sanguin (A Blood Bridge), a narrative, rhythmic work imbued with a very broad post-minimalism and amusing sounds such as a Plan 9 From Outer Space-style synthesiser. A creation that deserves to be repeated as often as possible. Canadian Chris Paul Harman’s Francisez-moi! (Frenchify me) is a nod to the French language, inspired by early French composers, writers and poets. The result is full of humour, with narrations on tape of extracts from various texts, including one on the various qualities of ‘’tétins‘’ (breasts). There is a polytonal Turkish march from Lully in there, post-folk like tunes, and many more friendly things, albeit embedded in a modernist set of harmonies. It’s all fun and games.

Finally, Quebec composer Frédéric Lebel presented his creation Si le Temps, l’Espace (If Time, Space), a beautiful score tinged with neo-spectralism, sparkling with a thousand lights and pleasantly open, even solar.

The members of Paramirabo were impeccable, on par with their illustrious guests. The programme will travel to Germany in the coming months. We can be sure that our German cousins will be impressed not only by the quality of our instrumentalists, but also by the kind of contemporary music they champion, informed by Europe but steeped in North America.

Paramirabo :

Jeffrey Stonehouse, flutes and artistic direction

Viviane Gosselin, cello and general direction

Gwénaëlle Ratouit, clarinets

Hubert Brizard, violin

Pamela Reimer, piano

Krystina Marcoux, percussion

Paramirabo :

Musikfabrik :

Semaine du Neuf | Martin Bédard’s “archaeosonic” excavations

by Alain Brunet

The electroacousticians present at the Maison de la culture Marcel-Robidas in Longueuil agreed on Monday that this was the first acousmatic concert presented in this municipality: composer Martin Bédard, a Longueuil resident for 8 years, was the curator and main artist, supported by his colleagues Pauline Patie, Louis Dufort and Antoine Lussier. Acousmatics is a practice consisting of presenting electronic works without any complements or other stage reinforcements but rather using an acousmonium, an orchestra of 22 top-level loudspeakers arranged around the audience.

Excellent program! Martin Bédard’s talent deserves a broad spotlight here. On Monday, he presented three pieces from his repertoire, composed at different periods in his career. Champ de fosses (Field of Excavations), 2008, his first work, is based primarily on a drone around which a frequency chord is constructed. This work was constructed from a collection of anecdotal sounds from the sounds that surrounded him at the time, composed in the context of the 400th anniversary of Quebec City. These are not just superpositions of notes, but also of textures and sporadic interventions of more abrupt effects, the creaking of trains on the rails, hammering, beating of wings, and other hissing sounds, in short a work that is part of the long furrow of this concrete music initiated by Pierre Schaeffer (1910-1995) during the 1940s, nevertheless updated in the manner of Martin Bédard.

Our first instincts as listeners might lead us to associate this work with the soundtrack of a film noir or a science fiction film, since most of us have identified it that way, due to not listening to it under the optimal conditions of an acousmonium. This would be a mistake, even a sinking into cinematic cliché, because this Excavation Field is rich in twists and turns, clearly autonomous when you pay close attention. Which inspires my in-house neologism: archaeosonic… excuse me. The next work, Replica, involves Martin Bédard and flautist/composer Marie-Hélène Breault, drawn from Bédard’s “utopian instrumental” period, a work made essentially of flute recordings taken from Breault’s recordings and improvisations, then filtered, processed, reconstructed, reorganized, reproduced differently, mise en abyme… “a piece that folds back on itself in a world of utopian, essentially flutistic instruments.”

An authentic labour of conjugal love (since it is likely about a couple in real life), Replica is another convincing version of this imaginary. It was clear that the second work was a genuine formal continuity of what we had heard before. Martin Bédard’s dramaturgy effectively involves comparable contrasts with different materials and this with an even greater fluidity, proof of formal maturity.

Artistic director of the Akousma festival and a staunch nature lover (having often discussed the subject with him), the piece Monts Valin evokes this mountain range located in the northern part of the Saguenay region. Ambient in style, this linear framework is an augmented diffraction of sounds gathered from nature, forest and aquatic sounds carried by a thick harmonic framework that achieves a certain power and eventually thins out with slight modulations. Very Zen, as Martin Bédard announced at the outset. Pauline Patie, a French composer living in Montreal, follows with the spatialization of Surtitré, a work clearly linked to musique concrète and its recent updates. A series of oversized effects, rather harshly exposed, noise organized like a succession of meticulously constructed tensions and releases. The hamster that then roams the brain suggests the sublimation of a visit to the engine room. A very rigorous, integrated collage of sounds, perhaps a tad generic for those who superficially absorb such an approach to avoidance, circumvention, and parenthesis, to quote the host’s comment. Further listening will certainly reveal more about the style of Pauline Patie, a name to remember.

Antoine Lussier, for his part, chose to transform, even reconstruct, in real time the materials of Choose Wisely, a more ethereal piece despite its sometimes violent jolts. It’s difficult for ordinary people to separate the virtues of real-time intervention from the studio composition work, but hey, there was definitely substance there. Honey, the longest piece on the program (17:26), intended as a conclusion, “starts from something volatile… the pollen densifies, transforms to reach a liquid state with a powerful taste, a principle of model density and also a loving metaphor dedicated to my girlfriend and my daughter.” Here again, we observe an evolution in Martin Bédard’s approach. The noisy and post-industrial dimensions are brilliantly exposed. We find ourselves in a high-tech workshop, a robotic assembly line, a construction site, the sounds evoke frenetic activities of human production to which we give elements of composition, all involving various immaterial sound architectures and other resonant invisibilities, to borrow the title of this busy and conclusive program.

PROGRAMME

Martin Bédard: Champs de fouilles (Acousmatique) – 10’40
Marie-Hélène Breault & Martin Bédard: Replica (Acousmatique) – 14’42
Louis Dufort: Monts Valin (Acousmatique) – 11’37

Pauline Patie: Surtitré (Acousmatique) – 10’17

Antoine Lussier: Choose Wwisely (Performance) – 11’21
Martin Bédard: Honey (Architectures from silence no.1) (Acousmatique) – 17’26

Publicité panam

Semaine du Neuf | Decidedly Acousmatic !

by Alain Brunet

At the Music Multimedia Room (MMR) of McGill University’s Schulich School, Belgian composers Julien Guillamat and Annette Vande Gorne presented an ambitious program of electroacoustic music on Sunday, no less than three hours long, created in the multiphonic studios of Musiques & Recherches. The acousmatic program was rather classic from the outset: a formula that, let’s not forget, excludes the use of visual complements in favor of the intrinsic virtues of this cinema for the ear.

The central figure of this program, composer Annette Vande Gorne, presented, Vox Alia, a cycle of five pieces constructed with the human voice as the primary material, conceived by the electroacoustic composer and longtime choir director, for whom “the voice is the best of instruments, the best communicator of musical sensibilities.” Her series of 5 pieces under the Vox Alia banner, the first of which, Affetti, expresses all the affects (affetti) accepted in baroque music, including the treated voice of a pioneer of electroacoustics, Pierre Schaeffer, whom Annette Vande Gorne once knew and learned from invaluable lessons.

The second, Cathedrals, unfolds with Balinese-inspired sacred dance, a Catholic requiem, the trance typical of ancient cultures, and vocal excerpts from the pioneers of electroacoustic practices, namely Pierre Schaeffer and François Bayle, who were among his mentors. The third, Vox Intima, is based on work done with the late poet Werner Lambersy, a text about intimate creation and the doubts that cross all creative minds. The fourth, Vox Populi, evokes popular spaces for vocal expression and also sacred places where the voice expresses itself through prayer. The fifth focuses on animal voices, featuring monkeys singing for real and nature returning in force. Heard Sunday in the best venue in Canada for this type of exercise, the Vox Alia cycle reveals some very high qualities. First, because it is based on the oldest instrument in human history: the voice. The composer and choirmaster’s sensitivity to the voice is wonderfully manifest in the sensual, circumspect, and downright brilliant treatment of her subject. Anyone looking for the human voice in its proper form risks being disappointed, as this vocal framework has been considerably transformed, deconstructed, filtered, reconstituted, and recreated in the service of a creative environment.

Powerful features, voices that sing the sacred, cry out in trance, speak, allege, babble, grumble, rumble, whistle, purr, sometimes intone ancient melodies, sometimes produce meaning. The aesthetics put forward here correspond to the updated baggage of the pioneers of electroacoustics from which she has imbibed, but let’s also say that the composer uses several direct and identifiable references for the average person, which demonstrates her evolution over time.
We are here in an abstract universe that reveals little direct meaning, few markers to cling to, and therefore a rich universe of sounds whose coherence rests primarily on the feelings of its creator and her way of inviting the past of music into its present and future. In the second part of this very long program, we were able to absorb the work of Julien Guillamat, artist and professor of electroacoustics at the Mons Conservatory where Annette Vande Gorne taught for a long time. In the context of the Quebec-Belgium exchange, Montrealers David Piazza and Ana Dall’Ara-Majek worked at the Musiques et Recherches studio, as did Robert Normandeau, who had visited it long before, since a youthful work created in 1987 was broadcast there, in perfect harmony with the aesthetics of the time.

It is understandable that this program is the result of these exchanges led by Belgian artists and researchers. This also explains the presentation, at the beginning of the program, of a work by the late Francis Dhomont, a French composer who lived in Montreal for a long time and accomplished much for the development of acousmatics in Quebec. Thus, Julien Guillamat first spatialized his recent composition Altitudes, based on sounds collected in a ski resort in the Pyrenees, with all the contradictions inherent in this leisure activity reserved overwhelmingly for the privileged. The narrative framework of the work does not systematically refer to skis hurtling down the slopes, but rather plays on this tension/contradiction between mountain nature and the human inventions that could pervert it. Here again, one must be familiar with the work’s project to recognize its materials and connect them to what this project suggests, constructed according to the rules of electroacoustic art. We will also be treated to the second movement of the Pond Symphony, an immersive sound work by the Belgian composer, a soundscape inspired by the Thau lagoon – southern France.

Finally, the works of David Piazza and Ana Dall’Ara-Majek can be said to have rigorously followed in the footsteps of their hosts, in their way of collecting, electronically generating, processing, and rearranging sounds. Two highly abstract works, full of ebullience, heavily exposed frequencies, maximalist noises, drones, bestiary sounds, and other minute details. In short, a truly acousmatic program!

Programme
Francis Dhomont : Vol d’arondes (1999)
Annette Vande Gorne : Vox Alia I — Affetti (1992-2000)
Annette Vande Gorne : Vox Alia II — Cathédrales (2021)*
Annette Vande Gorne : Vox Alia III — Vox intima (2022-23)*
Annette Vande Gorne : Vox Alia IV — Vox populi (2023)*
Annette Vande Gorne : Vox Alia V — Vox naturæ (2024)*
Entracte
Julien Guillamat : Altitudes (2024)*
Julien Guillamat: Symphonie de l’étang, 2nd Mvt (2023)*
David Piazza : Clameurs et agrégats place de Ransbeck (2022)*
Ana Dall’Ara-Majek: Xylocopa Ransbecka (2017)
Robert Normandeau: Rumeurs place de Ransbeck (1987)

Classical / classique

A Celestial Journey: Holst’s The Planets with the OPCM

by Varun Swarup

More than a century after its premiere, Holst’s The Planets continues to hold a central place in the orchestral repertoire, and under the direction of François Choinière with L’Orchestre Philharmonique et Chœur des Mélomanes (OPCM), the work’s intricate textures and emotional breadth were rendered with clarity and purpose. The Maison Symphonique’s near-capacity audience reflected this monumental suite’s enduring appeal.

The performance unfolded with a keen attention to detail, capturing the distinct character of each movement. From the relentless, percussive energy of Mars to the ethereal, fading strains of Neptune, the orchestra demonstrated both technical precision and a deep understanding of Holst’s expansive vision. The audience’s enthusiastic applause after each movement underscored their connection to the music. Particularly notable was the rendition of Venus, which unfolded with a serene, lyrical quality that contrasted effectively with the surrounding movements. However, it was Neptune that left the most lasting impression. With the women’s chorus positioned strategically far above the audience, their disembodied voices gradually receded into silence, creating an otherworldly effect that lingered in the hall long after the final note. The collective stillness of the audience before the eruption of applause spoke volumes about the performance’s impact.

The second half of the program shifted gears with Karl Jenkins’ Gloria, a large-scale choral work that, while undeniably vibrant and rhythmically engaging, felt somewhat incongruous alongside the introspective and cosmic qualities of The Planets. Despite this programming contrast, the OPCM choir delivered a committed and polished performance, navigating the work’s dramatic shifts with precision and energy.

Choinière’s leadership remained a unifying force throughout the evening. His conducting was both expressive and controlled, balancing the score’s dynamic extremes with a clear sense of direction. His ability to draw out the orchestra’s full range of colors and textures was evident, particularly in the more delicate passages, where his nuanced approach allowed the music to breathe.

While the pairing of Holst and Jenkins may have highlighted differing musical sensibilities, the evening ultimately showcased the OPCM’s versatility and Choinière’s skill as a conductor capable of navigating both the monumental and the intimate with equal assurance.

Semaine du Neuf | Horror-themed kick-off event

by Alain Brunet

“Tout ce qui m’épouvante” is a program inspired by a poem by Guillaume Apollinaire and, as you can well imagine, by the dark conjuncture that needs no explanation here. The theme of horror was the keynote of this top-quality performance, courtesy of the Quasar saxophone quartet, celebrating 30 years of exploratory practice.

Thus, the Semaine du Neuf has been in full swing since Saturday. Presented at the Wilder Building, the first program featured the North American premiere of three Lithuanian works: Calligrammes (Kristupas Bubnelis), Trauma (Mykolas Natalevičius), Azaya (Egidija Medekšaitė), and Saxopho(e)nix für Saxophontrio by Vykintas Baltakas. These Lithuanian works were joined by The Saxophone Quartet/While Flying Up by Ukrainian composer Alla Zagaykevych, who was in residence at Le Vivier during the 2022-23 season. Performed first, Asaya by Egidija Medekšaitė, is a work based on an electronically generated drone (a direct evocation of the Predator military drone) and supported by drones produced in real time by the saxophonists as an introduction and conclusion. These drones constitute the bed of a river of linear frequencies harmonized by four saxes (soprano, alto, tenor, baritone) alternating between consonance and dissonance, peaceful and harmonious sounds broken by chaos and tragedy. A video by Lukas Miceika supported the message.

Mykolas Natalevičius’s Trauma is an almost direct evocation of post-traumatic stress disorder, musically embodied by a succession of relaxations and tensions, consonances and dissonances, emphasized by the performers. Needless to say, the extended techniques allow for the production of low and high harmonics executed as long, continuous exhalations, relayed by the performers. The work’s linear calm embodies the hope for healing; its dissonant shifts obviously express the trauma.

Vykintas Baltakas’s Saxopho(e)nix für Saxophontrio is inspired by the phoenix rising from the ashes, a sort of optimistic metaphor for the context that occupies and preoccupies us. The tenor sax is excluded from the trio work. This work for saxophone trio is expressed first as a series of waves that sometimes form a unity and construct short harmonic motifs according to a discourse not unlike circular breathing. Other moments in the work contrast continuous sounds with other shaggy sounds emitted by the saxophones, atonal melodic fragments that illustrate its rough edges. Interesting, certainly, despite this impression of déjà vu in the territory of contemporary music.

Alla Zagaykevych’s The Saxophone Quartet/While Flying Up is a richly ornamented work, whose melodic discourse perfectly matches the generally atonal constructions of the sounds gathered together. Without producing any aesthetic shock because it falls within the vocabulary and lexicon of contemporary sounds, this work proves to be very subtle; we observe its frank, soft, or corrosive sonorities, its simple lines or its multiphonic passages. In fact, all these sounds find their place where they should be and demand great rigor from its performers. Very successful. Finally, Calligramme by Kristupas Bubnelis, a Lithuanian composer living in New York, is the result of a concept where the notes climb and tumble onto an obviously imaginary battlefield. This jerky, almost wild discourse focuses on contrasts and extremes. The percussive effects of the pads on the metal, the direct exhalations, the corrosive sounds and other frequencies resulting from “normal” playing or extended techniques follow one another. The work concludes with melodic twists towards the high and low registers, virtuoso and spectacular.

Semaine du Neuf began on Saturday with the screening of an art film, a performance by Toronto cellist Amahl Arulanandam of The Holy Presence of Joan D’Arc, a work composed by the late African-American composer Julius Eastman (1940-1990). The interest of this screening lies in the split screen, the superposition of strings from the same cello. It is indicated that this method results from 4 hours of synchronized video sequences and arranged on the multiple squares of the split screen. The composer Clarice Jensen thus proceeded to the transcription of an archival recording since the score had disappeared. Based on a melodic-harmonic discourse all in staccato, dominant from beginning to end, interspersed with melodic lines both silky and dissonant. This is an excellent idea to pay tribute to this artist who was forgotten for ages, who died in anonymity and whose talent has been resurrected by several players in the world of creative music, three decades after his death.

Publicité panam

Dômesicle | Kap Bambino and Alix Fernz transform the Dome into sensory chaos

by Félicité Couëlle-Brunet

You’ve got to see it to believe it: after a career spanning over twenty years, Kap Bambino continue to unleash their raw, chaotic energy on stage, just as visceral as in their early days. Singer Caroline Martial literally embodies this fury. An inescapable ball of fire, she runs, jumps, screams and twists in all directions, absorbed body and soul in the violence of the music. This sound, a saturated and nervous synth-punk, leaves no respite. Each track is a raw adrenaline rush, constantly pushing the limits of physical endurance, both for the band and the audience.

The SAT Dome, usually a space for immersive contemplation, was transformed into a frenetic arena. It was the first time I’d seen mosh pits there. The crowd, galvanized by Kap Bambino’s visceral energy, literally seemed to want to explode. TIND’s visuals accompanied this madness with glitchy aesthetics and heavy, fragmented textures, as if the image exploded under the pressure of sound. Stroboscopes dazzled to the rhythm of saturated kicks, melting reality into total sensory chaos.

Alix Fernz’s opening act had already plunged the room into a sticky, almost suffocating tension. Her stage presence is magnetic, tinged with an abrasive noise punk darkness. Unlike the physical explosion of Kap Bambino, Alix Fernz exerts a more insidious hold. The sonic textures are heavy, distorted, built like a slow, seeping poisoning. Every beat, every scream seems to dissolve the barrier between performer and audience, until the whole room becomes one pulsating organic mass.

The transition between the two performances was brutal. Alix Fernz had left the crowd in a state of sickly hypnosis, then Kap Bambino arrived like a detonation. Where one saturated the space with tension, the other exploded with raw energy. The result: total immersion, a feeling of being physically sucked into each artist’s universe.

And that’s precisely what made this evening so unique. Kaminska’s visuals, more fluid and organic, tried as best they could to maintain a form of visual coherence in the face of sonic chaos. But Kap Bambino’s brute force systematically prevailed. It was like being run over by a train after slowly sinking into a sonic swamp. A head-on collision between two diametrically opposed but equally striking intensities.

The evening ended with DJ Raven, whose new wave and funk sounds brought us back down to earth with classics like Prince’s Kiss.

As we left the Dôme, there was a strange feeling of floating. As if what had just happened was a euphoric nightmare, a moment of total derealization. This evening was a brutal reminder of what live music can still provoke: a derangement of the senses, a loss of control, and that sweet violence that remains imprinted on the body long after the last note.

Baroque / Choral Music / Classical / Classical Singing

Violons du Roy and La Chapelle de Québec | An Evening of Discovery in The Footsteps of Bach’s Early Cantatas

by Mona Boulay

Les Violons du Roy, accompanied by the chamber choir La Chapelle de Québec and conducted by Bernard Labadie, presented an interesting repertoire on March 6: Bach’s early cantatas, the first works of the man who was to become the absolute benchmark of Baroque music.

The concert opens with a brief, but very light-hearted, introduction by Bernard Labadie. We have no record of his compositions before his apprenticeship, with the exception of one piece written around the age of sixteen. What did he write during his student years, before publishing his first cantatas? A great mystery, which makes us all the more curious to hear these famous early works broadcast.

The first notes of “Cantata BWV 150 Nach dir, Herr, verlanget mich” echo through the Palais Montcalm. As throughout the rest of the concert, the ensembles are split up: this time, there are no violas, just a cello, double bass and bassoon. Immediately, we hear colors that, without knowing Bach perfectly, we would not have imagined coming from the composer’s mind: daring harmonies, lively tempo changes, and, thanks to the particular formation, a singular sound balance. Les Violons du Roy render the beauty of this cantata with excellence. The choral passages are perfectly successful, but we felt that the first passages by the soloists (from La Chapelle) were a little more timid.

“Cantata BWV 131 Aus der Tiefe rufe ich, Herr, zu dir” continues the evening, and this time it’s the violin section that becomes rarer. The violas return to the balance, and above all, an oboe makes its appearance, almost to the rank of soloist as it knits in counterpoint with the solo singers, and responds to their interventions. It seems that this work is at times taxing, and although the majority of the cantata is very well mastered by the musician, one can detect certain tensions in places (it should also be pointed out that the score requires quite impressive respiratory endurance). During the Arioso sung by the bass, Stephen Hegedus, the tempo seems to be disputed between the singer, the oboe and the organ, giving a feeling of imprecision without it being clear who is to blame. Nevertheless, the overall impression of the piece is good, with a perfectly mastered finale that leaves us with a taste of splendor before the intermission.

An even more atypical formation opens the second half of the concert, with two violas da gamba and two recorders replacing the violin section in Cantata BWV 106 Gottes Zeit ist die allerbeste Zeit. A well-assumed early-music color, evocative of Renaissance instrumentations, which nonetheless gives rise to a few inaccuracy challenges. The soloists seem to have come into their own, and their interventions are more striking, notably the “Ja, komm, Herr Jesu, komm!” performed by soprano Myriam Leblanc with brio. The cantata unfolds, with a fine mezzo solo by Marie-Andrée Mathieu, previously unheard, pleasantly supported by tenor Hugo Hymas.

To close the concert, the Cantata BWV 4 Christ lag in Todes Banden was chosen. This time, the Baroque line-up is a little more standard. The cantata is more austere, in keeping with the text, with the exception of the Alleluias that punctuate the end of each verse. There’s a fine duet between Myriam Leblanc and countertenor Daniel Moody, although the latter loses some of the beauty of his timbre on the higher notes. Later, we hear Stephen Hegedus’s voice, highlighted more prominently than in his previous performances, in his Aria for verse 5. The concert ends with a final, grandiose “Alleluia”.

The concert BACH, LES PREMIÈRES CANTATES AND BERNARD LABADIE, will be presented again in Quebec City on March 7, 2025 and in Montreal on March 8 2025.

TICKETS AND INFO HERE

expérimental / contemporain / musique acousmatique / musique actuelle

Closing night of M/NM: an acousmatic haven in the frantic Nuit Blanche

by Judith Hamel

Last Saturday evening, the city was swarming with bundled-up crowds, drawn by the bustling of the Nuit Blanche. Like a colony on the move, we threaded our way through the frenzied sounds of the DJ set on the Place des Festivals before branching off to the Agora Hydro-Québec, on the other side of Maisonneuve. There, in the semi-darkness, the public spiral into the heart of the dome of 32 loudspeakers to listen to the sounds and vibrations of the works in the great musical marathon that closes the two intense weeks of the 12th edition of Montreal/New Music.

Produced by the Groupe de Recherche-création sur la Médiatisation du Son (GRMS) in collaboration with Hexagram, this event promises to be a great immersive night.

In fact, this musical marathon must have given rise to a number of new acousmatic passions, as many first-timers, curious about the Nuit Blanche program, temporarily joined the initiates, letting themselves be carried away by the experience, before resuming their race through the Montreal night.

The program featured no fewer than 25 works, many of them premieres. The first sounds resounded around 7.30pm with Exercices in Estrangement (Vietnam Radio) by Sandeep Bhagwati, a work that explores the strangeness of the world through a series of poetic exercises. In this one, she questions how to live as an uprooted person.

A second block opens an hour later, featuring seven pieces by Austrian composers, most of whom were with us this evening.

Among the works presented, Brandung IV by Katharina Klement deploys continuous sound articulations, weaving together dense, sometimes granular sound materials, evoking the clashing and movement of liquids. In Martina Claussen’s Mosaic, we witness a sound construction in which realistic timbres are progressively sculpted into the material, and sound is continually constructed. With Inner outer self-variance and my deranged disembodied voices by Enrique Mendoza, the experience becomes more unsettling, with an immersion in the experience of auditory hallucinations, where we sometimes no longer know whether the sounds are coming from the work or from our seatmate, creating a certain sensory vertigo.

After a short break, the evening continues with a block of three works incorporating a visual dimension.

The first, Point Line Piano by Jarosław Kapusciński, projects onto a large screen the real-time vision of the virtual reality headset worn by the performer. In this digital space, he draws shapes that interact with sound. The repetitiveness of the performance and the constant return to empty tableaux make for a somewhat static experience. Moreover, the impact of the gestures on the music seemed to me rather unclear.

Next up is Fluyen by Valentina Plata, a contemplative work that contrasts man-made tunnels with Mexico’s natural underground water caves.

Finally, Third State by Mike Cassidy and Kristian North is the most compelling work. Like an oscilloscope, this piece for three lasers visualizes sounds. Timbres emerge through the complexity of luminous figures and the superimposition of colors, generating new sonorities.

Then, back to the acousmatic formation with a long block of nine works. The spatialization provided by Kasey Pocius was spot-on and impressive, complementing the dynamics and narrativities of the works. Among the works presented, Rodrigo Sigal’s Friction of Things in Other Places and Francisco Colasanto’s Mambo were particularly well suited to the listening context, with their borrowings from popular, folkloric sounds and Latin rhythms.

Around half-past midnight, I finally bid farewell. After more than four hours of acousmatic immersion, Montreal and its Nuit Blanche ants called me back.

The evening continued, with two more blocks to come. Five creations were programmed, but they will remain, for me, shrouded in mystery…

Contemporary / période romantique

Ensemble Obiora: Sisterhood in music

by Frédéric Cardin

An all-female, feminist concert and an example of cultural diversity in contemporary music, Ensemble Obiora’s Sororité (Sisterhood) drew a large audience to Salle Pierre-Mercure yesterday afternoon. Led by Janna Sailor, the programme featured the music of Reena Ismaïl, one of the most exciting voices in contemporary music, for a too rare time in Montreal. After a rather academic opening composition (Rachel McFarlane’s When Enchantment Comes, inspired by Oscar Peterson but rather unrepresentative of the pianist’s music), it was the Indo-Western fusion universe of Ismaïl, a composer of Indian origin living in the United States, that provided the most colourful moment of the afternoon. Meri Sakhi ki Avaaz (My Sister’s Voice), for chamber orchestra, soprano and Hindustani singer (the classical vocal style of North India), offered a spellbinding encounter between two very different vocal styles, set against a romantico-impressionist orchestral backdrop (Debussian to be precise, but with evident indian colourings) with no contemporary harmonic asperities, but expertly detailed. The work opens with a tape extract of the famous flower duet from Léo Delibes’s opera Lakmé (set in India), followed by a more ‘authentic’ version of this melody, sung by soloist Anuja Panditrao (excellent).

Lyric soprano Suzanne Taffot joins in later and the two women talk about friendship and sisterhood in an echo of the more than famous opera aria (so often used in advertisements). The meeting of the two types of singing is very well balanced and skilfully constructed by Ismaïl. The finale even demands a great deal of virtuosity from Taffot, who imitates the virtuosic flights typical of Hindustani singing with great precision. Well done!

The concert’s finale was Amy Beach’s Gaelic Symphony, a work long neglected but almost on the way to becoming a staple of the repertoire. Sailor’s reading called for great precision, generally offered by Obiora, apart from occasional rhythmic inaccuracies. Above all, the orchestra offered a beautiful, full ensemble sound, transcending its character as a ‘large chamber orchestra’ rather than a true symphony orchestra.

The Obiora ensemble is proving to be an important addition to the musical landscape of Montreal and Quebec, because if the large, diverse, family-friendly and above all attentive audience is anything to go by, it has succeeded in winning the loyalty of a new audience to whom it introduces a little-known and inspiring repertoire. An EDI success that must be celebrated!

expérimental / contemporain

M/NM | La Grande Accélération, Ambitious and Maximalist

by Vitta Morales

The M/NM came to a close with an ambitious and maximalist piece by composer and guitarist Tim Brady at the Saint-Joseph Oratory. Indeed, the performance of La grande accélération: Symphonie no. 12 demanded one-hundred electric guitars, a percussion ensemble, and two orchestras to be separated in sections and placed carefully along the perimeter of the space.

Theoretically, a listener situated anywhere in the middle, (surrounded by the massive ensemble), should have been able to experience the full effect of the piece with little perceptual variation thanks to microphones and speakers being placed strategically to compensate for temporal delays. Also worth mentioning is that the piece required several conductors to direct different portions of the ensemble to ensure that everyone remained in time. The musicians too wore in-ear monitors with click tracks with this in mind.

So how did all this preparation translate in practice and what was it like to experience such an immersive piece? Well, it was very captivating to say the least. To start with, in keeping with the theme of this year’s festival, (the marriage between music and images), visuals and lights were projected on the ceiling and walls that matched vaguely the intensity of the music as the immersive piece unfolded. Readers of a certain age will know what I mean when I say that it resembled the visuals of Windows Media Player. Kind of trippy and pretty cool, (but really more of an afterthought compared to the music itself it seemed to me). On the subject of the music, it contained gentle string pads; tremolo from one-hundred clean electric guitars; hefty percussion solis; crunchy tutti chords; various swells that dovetailed from one section to another; and some electric guitar solos involving pick slides. Although efforts were made to have the listening experience be as uniform as possible, in reality the experience changed depending on if one was seated, where they were seated, and if at any point they chose to wander around the room. But this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. In fact, I found that exploring temporal and perceptual variations was more fun than sitting in a pew for an hour. At various times I got closer to the percussion section, the guitars, the horns, et cetera, when something called my attention over to them.

I will admit that the description of the piece by itself made me recall the scene from Jake Kasdan’s Walk Hard in which the character Dewey Cox demands “an army of fifty-thousand didgeridoos!” to complete his masterpiece. However, unlike Dewey Cox, Tim Brady seems to be the furthest thing from a looney country singer; he seemed to me a very intentional composer and guitarist that created a fascinating listening experience. At times raucous, at times trance-like, perhaps a touch too long for my own liking, but an extremely interesting piece more than deserving of being this year’s festival closer.

Contemporary / Musique de création / période moderne / post-romantique

M/NM | University Climax at the Maison symphonique

by Alain Brunet

The idea of a co-production between the Société de musique contemporaine du Québec and McGill University’s Schulich School of Music is an excellent one. And it’s not a new idea: the two institutions have collaborated in the past.

L’idée d’une coproduction entre la Société de musique contemporaine du Québec et l’École de musique Schulich de l’Université McGill est en soi excellente. Et cette idée n’est pas neuve, les deux institutions ont collaboré par le passé.

What does this relationship look like in 2025? Friday’s evening at the Maison symphonique, in the context of Montréal / Nouvelles Musiques, was an opportunity to think about this.
Over the years, Maestro Alexis Hauser has continued to lead Montreal’s finest student symphony orchestra. At the Maison symphonique, this was certainly the case. Very well behaved. Rigor. Clarity. Cohesive, solid performances, particularly in the more classical works on the program – we’re talking here about Richard Strauss’s symphonic poem Thus Spoke Zarathustra, and Prokofiev’s 2nd Piano Concerto played by Alexey Shafirov, twice winner of the McGill Concerto Competition – precise throughout, lively and tonic in the attack, fluid in general, and at the encore a generous Prelude Op. 3 No. 2 by Rachmaninov.

Au fil du temps, maestro Alexis Hauser dirige encore et toujours le meilleur orchestre symphonique estudiantin à Montréal. À la Maison symphonique, c’était certes le cas. Fort belle tenue. Rigueur. Clarté. Exécutions cohésives, solides, particulièrement dans les œuvres les plus classiques au programme – on parle ici du poème symphonique Ainsi parlait Zarathoustra de Richard Strauss, ainsi que du 2^e Concerto pour piano de Prokofiev joué par Alexey Shafirov, lauréat à deux reprises du concours de concertos de McGill – précis sur toute la ligne, vif et tonique dans l’attaque, fluide de manière générale, et au rappel un généreux Prélude op. 3 n° 2 de Rachmaninov.

The final piece on the program, by Richard Strauss, whose main theme was widely popularized as the theme for the film 2001: A Space Odyssey, was also exemplary in the context of a university performance and a floor filled with an audience of mostly students, friends, family and many other open-minded music lovers, all happy to be there.

However, it seems to me that the performance of György Ligeti’s Lontano, played in the first part of the program, demanded more timbral depth, texture and power to carry through the work’s obsessive discourse, based on plays of tension deployed slowly over an unusual (for the time of its creation) linear flow. We had the impression that this very important part of the program, at the heart of its theme, had been less well chiselled, and it was the same for Continental Divide, an SMCQ commission to young composer Liam Gibson, presented as a premiere. Did we really grasp all its nuances?

In the first half, Ligeti’s Musica ricercata, transposed for organ and played by the excellent Jean-Willy Kunz, was impeccable in the context of a transposition.

For the cinematic side of things, there was no question of showing film extracts on the big screen during the orchestral performances. Instead, we opted for scenic evocations of Stanley Kubrick’s great classics: the spectral binoculars from The Shining, the ceremonial mask from Eyes Wide Shut, the famous monolith from 2001, around which primates begin to think like sapiens, and so on. We also tried mapping projections on a rear façade of the amphitheatre – too bright for the projected forms to be intelligible? Good flashes, a certain taste, interesting premises, a certain discretion… How can this evocation of brilliant cinema be maximized in a symphonic performance context? There’s no doubt that the highly gifted Sylvain Marotte will be able to answer this question for the future.For the cinematic side of things, there was no question of showing film extracts on the big screen during the orchestral performances. Instead, we opted for scenic evocations of Stanley Kubrick’s great classics: the spectral binoculars from The Shining, the ceremonial mask from Eyes Wide Shut, the famous monolith from 2001, around which primates begin to think like sapiens, and so on. We also tried mapping projections on a rear façade of the amphitheatre – too bright for the projected forms to be intelligible? Good flashes, a certain taste, interesting premises, a certain discretion… How can this evocation of brilliant cinema be maximized in a symphonic performance context? There’s no doubt that the highly gifted Sylvain Marotte will be able to answer this question for the future.

And then there was a full house that evening, mostly populated by delighted people. That was already a lot for the SMCQ and the McGill Symphony Orchestra. Who, by the way, complained about some of the program’s inconsistencies (Prokofiev for piano and orchestra after Ligeti… why?) and the thinness of some of the performances on the contemporary side. Nevertheless, most of us enjoyed a fine Friday at M/NM.And then there was a full house that evening, mostly populated by delighted people. That was already a lot for the SMCQ and the McGill Symphony Orchestra. Who, by the way, complained about some of the program’s inconsistencies (Prokofiev for piano and orchestra after Ligeti… why?) and the thinness of some of the performances on the contemporary side. Nevertheless, most of us enjoyed a fine Friday at M/NM.