SYLVAIN CHAUVEAU

Un autre décembre

CD/ Fat Cat

A cool fall-night in the darkened salon of an old palazzo. Next to an open window, with white curtains playing in the wind, a sunken figure huddles over an old piano. Everything is dressed in shadows and only single notes evolve from the wooden casket of the piano, dance in the wind and then loose themselves in the night. The music breathes the dark and eerie air of a world-weary and mistreated genius, while from far away the noise from the streets and the nightshift of an industrial factory sweep into the room and get lost somewhere above the polished wooden floors. Time drifts on.

I remember, when I was a kid, that whenever we visited a friend of my mother I tried to sneak into a side-room of their flat, where they hid a piano. Of course, I couldn’t play it, never did, but I liked the sound and feeling of this instrument. The big manual and the vibrating sound of the instrument, so I kept on hitting single notes, finally trying somehow to figure out melodies. But I never got anywhere, because I was too young and too blind as too the real beauty of the sounds I was producing. What I am trying to say is, that it takes a lot of talent and patience, almost bordering on obsession, to go on creating piano-pieces without any formal training at all. It can work, though. Without formal training you’ll never be any good in classical terms, of course, but on the other hand, a lot of people with a lot of classical training didn’t turn out the new Glenn Gould, did they?

Sylvain Chaveau has a rare talent and the necessary obsession. And he is unable to read or write music. Nevertheless he has spent quite some time of his live in various progressive and experimental projects. His aim is to strip down melodies and songs to bare and single notes, leaving them free to vibrate in the air and to let their overtones interact with one another. He uses only what is really necessary to create an atmosphere and a sound and he only uses the most basic instruments of western musical tradition, which is of course the piano mostly. Thereby he creates beautiful pieces of slow, almost monotone music, but with a lot of warmth and emotion in them. Then he connects them with just as soft and subtle electronic glitches and clicks, which make you wonder if they were really produced synthetically or if they aren’t just a result of the recording process; broken microphones, old magnetic tapes and heads, and so on. But maybe there is no difference at all and maybe the difference is not at all important because it is all the same anyway. Because every emotion connected to a cultural stimulus, such as music, is denotated by our personal history and education. Therefore, we only ever compare the history of our life with that of the artist. Chauveau also adds some field recordings and then switches to an harmonica at the end of this album, which adds to the lonely and silent atmosphere of this record even more.

It fits perfectly that Chauveau has supported Sigur Ros recently. It is understandable when listening to “un autre decembre” that he spent over eight months creating and “composing” the music on this record. It has to be said that “un autre decembre” might be the most beautiful music I have heard in a long time, because this is an opportunity for the listener to really let himself fall into music, to get completely absorbed by every single note played. As I get older and as my life gets more and more complex and faster, I need these moments of ease and beauty more than before, and I am able to enjoy them more than before.

02/2003