Dans Les Arbors is a collective who clearly knows their New Music history, updating its radical modes of concretism with electronics and the like. L'album vert is the fruit of such endeavors, and divided into three long compositions, the album is really one, very-long piece. It feels awkward to categorize the work as compositional, since it feels at every turn as though the very structural nature of cohesion is at risk, pierced at one point or another by a bleat or a rumble. As it should be, I guess. Charles Ives feels like a reliable point of reference, in which perambulation was once re-performed in the real-time of clangs and droning instruments. It is for a dance, I am told, though whether that dance has yet to take place, I am uncertain.

 

It is hard to remember any significant passages or moments on the album, sucked down as they are into the miasma of electroacoustic disarray. It must have been quite a feat to force oneself to never repeat or cause anticipation to creep into the unfolding of the performance. It must be said that this is not particularly easy on the listener, at least this one, but I began to really marvel at Dans les arbres' ability to move through acoustic space without ever sounding completely arbitrary. There is nothing accidental on L'album vert, which never ceases to amaze. Done once or twice, maybe there is a kind of accidental mode of creation, but after a few gos, it is a formal language whose organization is like any other – spatial and inherently relational.

 

Fans of minimalist electroacoustic music will likely find much to appreciate on L'album vert, as well as New Music aficionados who might be curious what all the theory heads are up to today. A nice, open, wintery space is perfect for the season. For more info