A thoughtful sonic map of moments in the city, each just two, three, four minutes long.
Over many decades, Montréal has gone from being a provincial seat where, in the words of Mark Twain, “you couldn’t throw a brick without breaking a church window” to an urbane mosaic where you probably couldn’t throw one without hitting a talented, outlier artist with an earnest, cosmopolitan outlook.
Rêves Sonores à Montréal is a thoughtful sonic map of moments in the city, each just two, three, four minutes long. Stefan Christoff sits at the piano and Nick Schofield adds discreet electronic patination, like copper aging green in the weather. “Rise” opens the set with a caffeinated perk before more somber thoughts invade “Ember.” On “Altitude,” perhaps we stand just beneath the giant, illuminated cross on Mount Royal, looking down on the city as it turns on its lights when the sun has finally gone down.
Subaquatic ”Generation I” is stroke and drift, swimming deep down into a St. Lawrence river hiding secret, dazzling coral reefs. ”Avant” is an old man waiting patiently on a bench, smiling to himself at the memory of an old joke. “Tempête” is the kindest storm you will ever get caught out in. Heading toward a close, “De La Sucererie” is far from saccharine, and like”Haunted Lands” and “Le Fleuve Brûlant,” is delivered in a solemn, you might even say virtuous mode.
Rêves Sonores à Montréal is available on Howl! Arts.
