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You better strap in for this one: it's a relentlessly post-modern excursion into the possibilities of noise, of static, of crossed expectations. Tenor saxophonist Bertrand Denzler is on hand, and he is a fine musician with a raw intensity and a fiery attack. He is surrounded here by wild and unusual sounds, courtesy Bertrand Perrin (sampler), Frédérick Galiay (electric bass and electronic thingies) and Jean-Sébastien Mariage (more electronics, plus guitar).
Denzler himself contributes some of the effects, which the sound of a howling, chuffing animal to a keening and chaos that could serve as the soundtrack to an earthquake movie, complete with rumbles and groans from the deep, static as if from a poor radio signal, far away vacant random noises, howls from hell, thrashing chaos, and simple hiss.
In and out of this stalk the instrumentalists. Galiay has a fine bowed string solo on "miniature I." Denzler burns through the middle portion of "Sermo Generalis." Mariage has a good moment on "Les Lèvres." And they shine here and there all through.
This is a formidable chunk of sound from the outer edges.
As a kid, my mom told me I'd like jazz. I thought she was nuts. Then I went to hear Cannonball Adderley (with Nat Adderley, George Duke, Walter Booker, Roy McCurdy and Airto) and everything changed. Yeah, mom knows best.