Sylvain Chauveau is well known by now for his pioneering modern classical compositions but S., his latest EP and first release for the Type label, explores altogether more experimental territory. S. presents itself as a meticulously “designed” release; a repeated alternation of slow-boiling ambient and minimal solo piano-phrase pieces that conjure the feeling that they inter-relate and self-refer without ever revealing precisely how. You could draw comparisons to the collaborative work of Alva Noto and Ryuichi Sakamoto’s Vrioon and Insen projects to a degree, but what Chauveau has done here is separate the piano from the ambiance and digital surgery still further by placing them in entirely discrete, alternating tracks through the course of the EP.
Bereft of meaningful names, thus cleverly avoiding coloring the listener’s perceptions of each piece, it initially comes across as rather ethereal and intangible, especially given that at just over 20 minutes, S. is so slight. This initial impression does not last long.
“Composition 8” is simply fascinating: a heavily treated guitar drone is accompanied – with Noto/Sakamoto-eque scarcity – by brief and slightly unpredictable guitar chords and, in the closing few moments, a mysterious, cut-up spoken word sample. On one listen this piece can be rather unnerving and mysterious, on another it’s buzzing, blurry warmth draws you in like a roaring fire on a wintry evening. That such depth of atmosphere can be achieved with such scarcity is quite intriguing, and this piece alone will bring you back to the EP again and again.
Conversely, the following track “P.” consisting solely of a brief piano solo built up from silence with notes added only when strictly necessary, actually comes off as colder and more clinical than its predecessor, but this fully prepares the listener for the icy and mechanical chill of “S/E”, it’s metronomic, shrill ringing, and telephonic buzzing building over six minutes before collapsing in up on itself.
“N” returns again to solo piano phrases, this time employing more densely packed and warmer chords in preparation for the closing “A_”. Managing once again to be exceptionally atmospheric, “A_” amalgamates many of the preceding elements into a much richer piece. More warm, almost glowing drones swell and ebb among a wash of digital artifact’s, and once again the mysterious, cut-up voice weaves its way into the mix.
Is it successful? Having listened to it many, many times, often in quite different contexts, including playing it at a very low level for a more realistic effect as indicated in the brief liner notes (I recommend trying this when it’s raining heavily outside), all I can say is: search me. You could argue that it’s been successful simply by virtue of the fact that I’ve played it so many times in order to try and fathom it out, it really is that unusual. If there is a deeper meaning, or a cleverer, more complex structure to S., I have yet to discover it. In fact doing so would probably detract from the mystery and intrigue of the release – the very reason one is drawn back to it over and over again.
The sheer minimalism of S., right down to the laughably simple sleeve art (rendered gorgeous by the exquisite choice of colors, metallic inks and Type’s staple – a matt laminated digipack) will also likely appeal to fans of the Raster-Noton label and as such, makes this yet another highly original and exquisite entry in Type’s increasingly uneven catalog.
S. is out now on Type. [Purchase
