I've never been one to dwell on the technological aspects of a recording, but hearing Nu-Turn
in six-channel surround sound must be a surreal experience. As it is, the machine on my rack dates
from 1990, old enough to predate the home theater era and the advent of SACD recording, so two
channels are all I've got. But regardless, there's something oddly vibrant about Benoît Delbecq's
solo piano performances, an interwoven tapestry of focused improvisation, African rhythms, trance
music, impressionism, and modern classical music of the most abstract sort. All those threads would
probably benefit from a three-dimensional listening experience.
Delbecq has always skirted the boundaries of genre, an open attitude which has served him
well in various group contexts. The French pianist's recent transatlantic duet recording with
Vancouver clarinetist François Houle,
Dice Thrown, was a series of
serene yet involving conversations. Here the conversations, including very distinct voices, involve
only himself.
Within 20 seconds after the start of "In Rainbows," which opens Nu-Turn, the
pianist
exposes his intent. Stretched out, pedaled phrases collide with distinctly muted tones from the
prepared piano, immediately creating a percussive aspect that persists to the end of the piece –
and, for the most part, the record. What Delbecq chooses to do with those counter rhythms and the
contrasts in general between Old and New World styles, of course, is the interesting part.
The timbral hues extracted during the evolution of "On Laterite" include high buzzing
noises and
marimba-like patterns, as well as clean, deliberate, thrusting phrases on the regular piano.
"Into Neon"
swirls in dark impressionistic held tones, as does the title piece. The measured use of dissonance,
as well as the contrast between explicit melody and relaxed textures, give each piece a distinct
identity.
All the elements that make up this interwoven whole come together in the eleven-minute closer,
"Into White" (part of the "in"/"on"/"into" series that
makes up most of these compositions). It has
moments of pointed polyrhythmic pointillism, outright dark brooding, and finally a gradual evolution
toward peaceful (yet still somewhat edgy) resolution.
Benoît Delbecq has no need to resort to gimmickry or pretense, though he throws a whole lot of
ingredients into this particular pot. Skip Stéphane Ollivier's liner notes unless you're interested in
discussions of "a music, all in all, which would be less the 'fruit' of an existence than the sign of
passing within us." I suppose the great thinkers out there might enjoy that sort of discourse,
but as
for the rest of us it's enough to just listen, absorb, transport, and return. It's quite a trip.
~ Nils Jacobson
