Tom Leclerc
a brief story of slowness

Leave it to Montreal-based Moderna Records to satisfy my ears with delight. Tom Leclerc‘s debut release for this boutique label appears like an aural pillow made of fluffy clouds after a long day of sonic bombardment with music that I could only classify as trash. Its beauty is first in the simplicity of its sounds (deceptively bare synthesizer patches), second in the gorgeous harmonic progressions (melodies and counterarpeggios flutter, ebb, and flow), and third in its pure intent (you can feel the soul of this Nantes-based (France) composer. I love the way his refined sine waves fill my studio with just the right amount of reverb and sparse delay. There may be only three or four concurrent layers at a time, but it’s enough to cleanse my spinning mind and palpitating heart. Shaped by unhurried days on the Breton coast, A Brief Story of Slowness reflects the quiet solitude of Maison Minard, the cliffside retreat in Côtes-d’Armor. “With a synthesizer placed before a wide bay window overlooking the sea, these compositions emerged from long walks on the shore, from clouds sinking toward the water, from rain tracing patterns on the glass. Days were marked only by shifting skies and a few cups of coffee, within a house that seemed designed for listening.” Just reading those words makes me want to retreat into my own cabin, somewhere in the woods of Kent, with just a single instrument. But then I know I’ll bring a laptop. And then I’ll know I’ll do more work. So perhaps I can just do that here, with this album on repeat. Slowing down is something that requires practice. And it is in that moment when all the noise finally settles (like the fake snow in a shaken globe), that one can finally see clearly. And it’s not about “not thinking” during those moments, but rather about seeing things for how they truly are, without mental formations and internalised defilements. I think this record is a beautiful instrument for stepping back, listening with an open heart, and watching reality unfold before you as it only can.
East of Oceans
Ride or Die

I have already proclaimed on more than one occasion that it is impossible to keep up with the output of Brock Van Wey. This prolific electronic musician dabbles not only in gorgeous ambiance and emotional electronica but also in soundtracks, deep house, and much more. Just today, I was trying to absorb the latest album by bvdub titled Farewell, released on Silent Reign – yet another outlet for Brock’s relentless output. The most “annoying” thing for me is that I truly think that it’s all great. So how do I pick a favourite, or highlight an album in this column that I think you should pick up? Thankfully [for me], this write-up is not about bvdub. It’s not even about his other moniker, Earth House Hold. Today we’re spending time with East Of Oceans – a somewhat elusive project that surfaces every few years (as opposed to every month). The thing with Brock is — if you know, you know — it doesn’t matter whether he changes the genre, or the bpm, throws in some vocals or some beats. At the heart of each piece is still that person that I know on the inside, even with all of his imposing looks [tattoos and all] on the outside. Yes, as Brock writes on his Bandcamp, there is plenty of pure happiness, pure joy, and pure everything all at once. But even as he attempts to throw at me everything that could possibly encompass this fantastic artist, all of the insane, overclocked, and broken rhythms, all of the deep, rumbling, and distorted basslines, all of the distant chords, jumbled up lyrics, and sped-up loops, with tracks that scream for my attention with their everything and all at once, beneath the thick sonic layers, beneath the twitchy grime and face-planted slab of sound, it’s still profoundly touching, very much vulnerable, and maybe even sad. And that’s what Ride or Die is all about. At least for me…
DNGLS
La route des Alpes – 1921

DNGLS may initially sound like a new or previously ‘undiscovered’ artist, but behind the alias, you will find Maxime Dangles, a French producer whom I’ve showcased on these pages before (see this track premiere, for example). I wish I could attribute the music on La route des Alpes – 1921 to a specific genre. But, as usual, there are no categories here. Suffice it to say that if you like Burial, you will enjoy this journey through the Alps. Yes, one would think that once Burial ripped the band-aid off his particular take on garage meets dubstep meets ambient, distilled through a nocturnal and emotionally-haunted electronica, everyone would jump on that bandwagon, and follow through. But, for one reason or another, this wasn’t the case. And yet, when you listen to Dangles’ second track on the album, “Ascension” or “Rouche & Glace”, you’re immediately transported to those murky days of Untrue (and damn, Burial’s self-titled turns 10 years old next May!). But back to La route des Alpes. This album is actually a film score, and was commissioned by the Scène Nationale du Lux in Valence for a cine-concert on André Bayard’s 1921 silent film. This is a journey through the regions like Évian, Col du Galibier, and Mont Blanc. And although we don’t have the silent film, we’ve got this music for you. “Epic flights echoing the grandeur of the landscapes, a deep sense of nostalgia, darker tracks shaped by the harshness of the elements, later contrasted by the lightness of clearings traced by his synthesizers, a fragile, skin-deep composition elevated by immersive and masterful sound design.” I liked this album a lot, and I was initially planning to premiere a track for you on here, but time slipped by, as I got swallowed up by Headphone Community, where I am spending most of my time and energy these days. And that’s all good, since now you get a dedicated write-up. Pick this one up from the French Lifeguards / IFT imprint.






