ENCRE
flux CD, Clapping Music
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| A paradox, an enigma, a mystery – a lot has been said about Encre and
either nothing or all of it is right. There are no middle ways, because
the whole field of vision has been blurred. Songwriting and composition
have turned out one and the same thing (not even two sides of the same
coin, but really identical). Monotony is the new dynamic and there is no
division between noise and sound and tones. One thing is clear, though,
here is an artist consequently following the path laid down by his own
vision. It doesn’t sound like this path will lead him to freedom and
happiness; maybe if he has fought and won over his inner demons,
desperations and nightmares, but that might be some time still. In the
meantime, melancholia and darkness has a new name: Encre. A world of its
own, maybe not the nicest surrounding to wish for but surely one of the
most intriguing and interesting. |
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Hard to figure out and in the realm of those artists, which dwell on
their being hard to figure out as an important part of their taken or
conceived role as an artist, Encre stands out like the rock of Gibraltar.
For really being an enigma. Let me explain. Austria had, about twenty years
ago or longer, a thriving and pulsating young art scene. Artists like
Schwarzkogler, Turrini and others took the rules and dogmas of society and
turned them upside down by introducing new mysteries and secrets into their
codes and thereby causing commotions, disturbances and protests which were
meant to destroy the rigid rules of society. And for some time, I would say
from a viewpoint of today, it worked. But this role has taken on a life of
its own and finally eaten up the artists themselves. Nowadays, they find
themselves of having to take on a position of distance, of dissonance and
discontent just because they are Schwarzkogler, Turrini or whoever. They
have turned into rules and dogmas themselves. A pity that is. And a following generation of artists in the last decades has found
themselves taking that role made up by the standpoint itself as a starting
point, completely ignoring the original thought, that was truly connected to
the real world it came from. Nowadays they mainly concentrate on the
artworld and “being an artist” is a matter of behaving in a certain,
defined way more than producing art. Well, at least that is my point of
view. To sum that up, a lot of electronic musicians nowadays are mysterious
and enigmatic on purpose. They work hard on producing music and statements
that are hard to understand, if at all – also because of an audience that
prefers things they don’t understand, because those have to be the more
“artistic” works and of course they’d never admit having no idea what
is going on. And the artists have no idea what they are doing either, but
everyone is applauding so it must be okay to go on. A paranoid and
tragically ironic situation, if you think about it, but anyway, to finally
get around this longish introduction I will sum up the connection to Encre
in a little sentence, or maybe two: Encre is none of that. He is the real
paradox. Except for the constant melancholia, there is nothing really to pin him
down, and the source of that melancholia stays just as hidden. Yann Tambour
aka Encre wavers from modern classical avantgarde to drawn out post-rock
(compare the Canadian constellation-bands) to hushed yet manically driven
vocals like a neurotic Serge Gainsbourg in a lonely phonebooth whispering
the details of a big conspiracy into your ears. The atmosphere makes you
think of Black Rain – black as in noir and rain as in Blade Runner, only
there is no action only the underlying fear / feeling of danger lurking
around the edge and the desperate longing for a better life; like a movie by
Michael Haneke. Musically there are both structural elements of songwriting
/ chansons as there are of classical chamber pieces. The language is French,
which, for me at last, adds another layer incomprehensibility, but half of
the CD is instrumental anyway, at other times water sounds, noises and eerie
vocals draw your attention while a monotonous cello or violin lays the
shakey floor on which the whole building stands. You start to wish for the grand release of emotions to forcefully shown
by e.g. Godspeed! You
black emperor, who would have a similar sense of nostalgia and
disdain for current society, but this release never comes. There is only
more desperation and hopelessness. Even if the music changes from classical
to avantgarde band in one short instance, the feeling stays the same. There
is also no sense of the microcosmic beauty of the works of Mitchell Akiyama,
to name one artist who has released a great current record, uses similar
structural tools (noise paired with classical composition or band-situation
songwriting) and whose music is no less mysterious, but Encre has no sense
for beauty, only for desperation and monotonous epic melancholia. But, boy,
is that music intriguing, encompassing and enriching. Maybe Encre lives
through his own longwinded catharsis, one that doesn’t explode but
glimmers away in a long and painful process. Hopelessness has no time
dimension. Living in the past takes forever and living in dreams of a past
that has never happened is the loneliest state in the world. Such is the
vast art of Encre. |
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05/2004