Savy’s pieces strike an interstellar chord, evoking distant static interference, coldness, rotation, darkness, and sudden but brief illumination.
The first sounds of Pascal Savy‘s Adrift reached me just as the first moving image of the Rosetta spacecraft landing its probe on a comet 511 million kilometers from Earth appeared on screen. That unshapely, unwieldy rock—weirdly paralleled by the imaginary geographic blotch gracing the covers and discs of each Eilean release—and the pristine, symmetrical spaceship—one of the few times man outdoes nature in a design competition. Quite a contrast, a remarkable meeting. And the synchronicity went far beyond shapes and the on-the-nose title.
On Adrift, mechanical symmetry and efficiency meets grainy, pockmarked organic material. Savy’s pieces strike an interstellar chord, evoking distant static interference, coldness, rotation, darkness, and sudden but brief illumination. Long after the visual faded, Savy keeps me suspended weightless in space. Sonar pulses transmit tremblingly but clearly on “Memory Fragment.” The wavers and sput-sputniks of “Maelstrom” are shredded on “Aurora.” Plummy tones oblong between the respective gravitational pulls of the performer and the listener and shudder and shrink in vast, freezing emptiness. Though miniatures, there is concept and episode, narrative and highly charged but subtly conveyed emotion.
In a kind a cosmic symmetry, Savy was thinking about water and its elemental pull when composing Adrift.
Adrift is available on Eilean Rec.. [Bandcamp]
