kdi dctb 151

kdi dctb 151 [i] – well, wind, wood, night, planekdi dctb 151 [i]

Studio audio piece [21’11″] composed in march/april 2005, released on a split CD with Dale Lloydon bremsstrahlung recordings (USA).

This studio piece was composed using only field recordings made in Pommier, France, in june, august and september 2004. All the sounds here are typical in my mind of my parents village & home.

The “core sounds” are derived from a sound recording of a well (Please see “kdi dctb 166”). One could hear too the sounds of wind, wood, night (insects and birds) & plane.

This piece was designed to be played only on headphones (There is also a 4 channels version).

Reviews :

It’s been a while since Bremsstrahlung released the first two issues in a series of ten mini CDRs, in which they feature the work of two artists (Vital Weekly 393), but here is number three, with music by Toy Bizarre and Dale Lloyd. The first two were pressed as separate mini CDs, but here they are pressed on one CD, probably out of economic reasons. Cedric Peyronet is one of the few people in the world of microsound who still uses his old moniker Toy Bizarre, whereas everybody who thinks he is more serious uses their christian name. Bravo Cedric. There is also something else that sets him apart from the microsound posse, and that his relative loudness. ’Well, Wind, Wood, Night, Plane’ starts out like it’s been cut out of a bigger composition and the title sums up what we hear. All of these recordings were made in Pommier, France and processed in the studio. It’s a piece of music that is of a rather ambient nature, that throughout gets softer and softer, until it’s gone. Then it returns for a few minutes in an almost noise mode. None of the original sources are there to be spotted, but it’s a marvelous piece of music. Nothing like true microsound, but very evocative. Dale Lloyd is known for releases on his own And/Oar label, and running the Phonography site, and his work is strongly inside the world of field recordings. His ’From Dayspring To Eventide: Within The Green Half-Light’ (one small part and one quite long) is based on recordings made in Alabama and Washington and processed at home. In the short piece a faint seagull is singing and in the long piece the sounds are even more difficult to recognize, and has lengthy transformations into the world of sine waves (high and low) with static crackles. Nice, but perhaps a bit too regular and not too different from a lot of things happening the area of microsound and field recordings.

Frans De Waard in Vital Weekly 553, november 2006

There are undersung albums that just need to be hyped around, and rightly so. This is one of them: two splendid compositions, masterfully assembled by a pair of lead players in the game of electronically treated field recordings, demonstrate how an evolved sound artist can transform simple sources into mayflowers and nightglows. Toy.Bizarre’s “Well, wind, wood, night, plane” has a self-explanatory title and, according to its author, should be enjoyed only on headphones. Being this reviewer a little disobedient, I tried both settings and actually preferred the speakers, even if the suggested method is more useful for revealing the undercurrent activities characterizing the piece. Everything you hear was recorded in Pommier, France and is told to be highly evocative for the composer; indeed, the particular resonance of the well redeems “normal” sounds, modifying their essence until everything spirals into constant implausibility, eliciting aural shades of the finest blend. Metallic gurgles, disguised birds and a fabulous aeroplane are meshed in an undescribable memento of something that we have surely experienced but can’t recollect in any way. One feels trapped in a giant drainpipe but at the same time perfectly willing to remain there and accept any consequence. Dale Lloyd’s “From dayspring to eventide: within the green half-light” is a finely delicate mixture of environmental sounds and electronics, whose efficiency and exquisite coherence is typical of this composer. Contrarily to Toy.Bizarre’s track, we’re in presence of something that affects our momentary existence more subliminally, tiny harmonics, insects and gradual crepuscular views inching forward to find the right framework in our mind to be fixed in and remain as a permanent, indelible memory, even if those circumstances will never be replicated. A silent intensity unfolds slowly, then disappears only to be replaced by murmuring waters and a general sense of rarefaction. Both sides of this precious coin shine of their respective radiance, and expressing a preference would be foolishly useless. An absolute must.

in Touching Extremes


[well, wind, wood, night, plane]

Pièce sonore studio [21’11″] composée en mars – avril 2005 conçue autour d’enregistrements audio effectués à Pommier, Bellac (87), France. Les sons enregistrés et utilisés sont “typiques” dans mon esprit du village dans lequel j’ai grandi et où mes parents vivent encore. La séquence principale est dérivée du tournage sonore effectué autour d’un puits pour le projet « kdi dctb 166 ».

Pièce publiée en 2006 sur un split CD avec Dale Lloyd par bremsstrahlung recordings (USA).

Cette pièce existe en version stéréo ou 4 canaux.


« “Pommier” : ce genre d’endroits. Puissance cosmique des petites sensations. Une violence – vraie.

Voilà ce que j’ai “entendu” (inventé ?) l’autre soir : d’abord la nuit, le silence, l’intensité minérale du son. Un Cézanne : pas d’humanité, les choses dans la brutalité de leur naissance, la nuit – l’espace des origines. Puis : apaisement avec les premiers chants d’oiseaux, au matin absolument tranquille ; sérénité d’un crapaud. Et, au lieu du jour, l’HOMME – l’avion un trou qui engouffre, avale, engloutit tout le grouillement de la vie à naître. Une projection. Un voyage.

Difficile de ne pas retrouver une enfance de chants d’oiseaux et bruissements de feuilles, ombres de pas – le rapport au cosmos emporte tout avec lui – d’ailleurs autant (autrement) dans les turbines de l’avion que dans les craquements d’arbres. L’humain plus inhumain que la pierre le vent et le fond des puits.

Le langage n’est pas de ce monde. C’est ce que je me disais l’autre soir : là où le mot est impossible. »

J. Gilbert, 10/2006