Sophie Agnel, Lionel Marchetti, Jérôme Noetinger - Rouge Gris Brut
(Potlatch)
As far as I, and my trusty French-English dictionary can tell, the title of this album translates as "Red-Grey Noise," a name that does little to convey the colorful assemblage of noises that are contained within the music of this French trio.
Though it seems to be their first release together, Rouge Gris Bruit features the three musicians finding common ground and a similar quality of sound, despite the substantial difference in instrumentation. Sophie Agnel's piano, though traditional in basic technique (it sounds as though she spends a good deal of time striking the keys from outside the piano), blends itself quite well with the electroacoustic cacophony of musique concrète composers Marchetti and Noetinger. Agnel's stabs of chords and note-clusters alternate with tinkling at the keyboard's upper end and loud, fast runs from one end of the instrument's range to the other punch through the whines and squibbles of the electronic sound. A sense of restraint creates a somewhat sparse and patient output from Agnel, which, when combined with the more unpredictable and jarring sounds created by Marchetti and Noetringer, provides a balance and tension that proves to be the album's biggest strength. Marchetti and Noetringer make use of microphones, speakers, and Revox audio components to spew forth a symphony of gurgling, whooping, clicking and bleeping that spans the distance between obviously synthesized sound and clunks that sound so organic it's like they're in the room with the listener. Rouge Gris Bruit begins with the three-part suite of "Matin" (morning), an extended interplay of silence and sound, as all three musicians rarely play concurrently, and sounds tend to be short and fleeting. The piece ebbs and swells in intensity, but never reaches a fever pitch, adding to the tension previously alluded to. Five minutes into the following track, "Après-Midi" (afternoon) the clatter finally reaches tumultuous levels, even if only for a minute, before receding into more ambient territory for the rest of the track's fifteen minutes. The third selection, "Epilogue," is a static haze of electronics, with Agnel often left underneath the more turbulent work of Marchetti and Noetringer. This happens from time to time, usually when the music becomes more intense, but during its quieter moments, Agnel's stark statements serve as the anchor of the music. The interplay between the three musicians is quite impressive, and Rouge Gris Bruit is one if those group improvisations in which it's hard to find one player who outshines the others, and it's equally impossible to imagine the proceedings working as well less any contributor. This is teamwork done well, but it's never complacent or without the tension that makes it such an enjoyable listen.
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