Jean, Monique / L'adieu Au S.O.S
Album: | L'adieu Au S.O.S | Collection: | General | |
Artist: | Jean, Monique | Added: | Jun 2003 | |
Label: | Empreintes Digitales |
A-File Activity
Add Date: | 2003-08-04 | Pull Date: | 2003-10-06 | Charts: | Classical/Experimental |
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Week Ending: | Sep 14 | Aug 17 |
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Airplays: | 1 | 3 |
Recent Airplay
1. | May 25, 2013: | Music Casserole
Low Memory #2 |
4. | Aug 16, 2003: | Between The 9 Worlds
Low Memory #2 |
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2. | Oct 07, 2003: | The Digital/Analog War
Pour Voix Defigurees |
5. | Aug 15, 2003: | Memory Select
Pour Voix Defigurees [excerpt] |
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3. | Sep 12, 2003: | Memory Select
Pour Voix Defigurees [excerpt] |
6. | Aug 11, 2003: | Radio Red Well
a farewell to s.o.s. (excerpt) |
Album Review
Mandy Khoshnevisan
Reviewed 2003-08-04
Reviewed 2003-08-04
Monique Jean, L’adieu au s.o.s.
More like ambient noise collage art than like music. The liner notes say that this was all created as part of various art exhibitions, and the notes have translations of the super artsy rhetoric that explains what all this is about. The soundtrack for a slow disaster. Or the soundtrack to something like Resident Evil or Eternal Darkness. Scary feedbacky electronic sounds mixed with the manipulated grindings, creakings, and bangings of industrial machinery, and sometimes with voices. Cool to listen to, not really music, but really narrative; good as creepy soundbeds, or backgrounds for something else.
1. Pour voix défigurées (for disfigured voices)—About the response to destruction; it sounds like surfing the radio frequencies during a very slow national emergency. Ghostly voices disappear and resurface; speaking (in French) about fear, destruction, hiding; electronic feedback sound, simulated explosions and sirens, strange chitterings and quiverings. Long; goes through many stages.
2. Danse de l’enfant esseulée (dance of the forsaken child)—Super super quiet; starts with wind, groanings—like the wind through abandoned machinery; gets more urgent (but no louder) towards end, with gusts of wind, siren-esque wailings in the distance
3. Figures du temps; un haut-parleur dans le desert (figures of time; a loudspeaker in the desert)—really really quiet spacy wind sounds, desolate grindings, chitterings, empty-gate-swingings; I guess the loudspeaker is broadcasting—silence. Towards end, some barely audible voices.
4. Figures du temps; et les déchets qu’on brûle (figures of time; and the refuse we burn)—tension tension tension—grating high-pitched sounds and dissonant chords, ghostly voices talking in cacophony about despair (in French), electronic buzzings Has huge silent bit in middle, around 4:30
5. Figures du temps; a farewell to s.o.s.—morse-code-like beepings within empty metallic universe, then windy and buzzing and whispery, then lost traveler within crazy dripping place.
6. low memory #2—ambient soundscape made with a bass flute, some piccolos, and sound manipulation. A vast empty wasteland where something’s probably going to happen really soon . . .
More like ambient noise collage art than like music. The liner notes say that this was all created as part of various art exhibitions, and the notes have translations of the super artsy rhetoric that explains what all this is about. The soundtrack for a slow disaster. Or the soundtrack to something like Resident Evil or Eternal Darkness. Scary feedbacky electronic sounds mixed with the manipulated grindings, creakings, and bangings of industrial machinery, and sometimes with voices. Cool to listen to, not really music, but really narrative; good as creepy soundbeds, or backgrounds for something else.
1. Pour voix défigurées (for disfigured voices)—About the response to destruction; it sounds like surfing the radio frequencies during a very slow national emergency. Ghostly voices disappear and resurface; speaking (in French) about fear, destruction, hiding; electronic feedback sound, simulated explosions and sirens, strange chitterings and quiverings. Long; goes through many stages.
2. Danse de l’enfant esseulée (dance of the forsaken child)—Super super quiet; starts with wind, groanings—like the wind through abandoned machinery; gets more urgent (but no louder) towards end, with gusts of wind, siren-esque wailings in the distance
3. Figures du temps; un haut-parleur dans le desert (figures of time; a loudspeaker in the desert)—really really quiet spacy wind sounds, desolate grindings, chitterings, empty-gate-swingings; I guess the loudspeaker is broadcasting—silence. Towards end, some barely audible voices.
4. Figures du temps; et les déchets qu’on brûle (figures of time; and the refuse we burn)—tension tension tension—grating high-pitched sounds and dissonant chords, ghostly voices talking in cacophony about despair (in French), electronic buzzings Has huge silent bit in middle, around 4:30
5. Figures du temps; a farewell to s.o.s.—morse-code-like beepings within empty metallic universe, then windy and buzzing and whispery, then lost traveler within crazy dripping place.
6. low memory #2—ambient soundscape made with a bass flute, some piccolos, and sound manipulation. A vast empty wasteland where something’s probably going to happen really soon . . .
Track Listing
1. | Pour Voix Defigurees | 3. | Figures Du Temps | |||
2. | Danse De L'enfant | 4. | Low Memory #2 |