Grand Bruit (1991), 28\u201955<\/b><\/p>\n
The great mobile sound bodies have an ordinary yet amazing ability to place the listener-traveller within, as if he or she was inside a giant double bass, in this case a train stroked by a double bow: the rails and the air.
\nIn 1991, I explored this phenomenon during my daily commute from the studio to my home. I used only a 21 minutes recording and treated it as a single sound object. I then processed and enhanced it as a photographer would have done, immersing it in successive ‘baths’. The title I chose for this singular form was Grand Bruit.<\/p>\n
Stop\u00a0! l\u2019horizon (1983), 18\u201905<\/b><\/p>\n
Saturday morning, nine o\u2019clock as I reach the studio.
\nNo one here.
\nI only turn on the spotlights as the fluorescent tubes are too noisy. I switch the power on, shut the door, unplug the telephone. I then switch the mixing desk on, which sends an electronic impulse into the amps. The four speakers react individually with a very brief and low hiss. A kind of presence.
\nI haven’t listened to anything since the evening before and my ear is refreshed by a night\u2019s sleep.
\nI feed the original mix into the master recorder and sit down in the centre.
\nRemote control: PLAY
\nWith the first sound I close my eyes. The studio instantly vanishes. Another place, a much larger space opens up.
\nI enter it.
\nI have the very distinct feeling that music is merely a \u201cgreat noise\u201d, chiselled inside with a thousand details. It opens up like a living organism to let my hearing wander across it. A magnetic relation quickly occur and all the sounds that constitute this great noise draw me towards the East.
\nI accept this direction.
\nLater, much later, I reach a distant point on the horizon which pulls me towards it.<\/p>\n
Recollection GRM<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Recollection GRM Grand Bruit (1991), 28\u201955<\/b><\/p>\n The great mobile sound bodies have an ordinary yet amazing ability to place the listener-traveller within, as if he or she was inside a giant double bass, in this case a train stroked by a double bow: the rails and the air. Stop\u00a0! l\u2019horizon (1983), 18\u201905<\/b><\/p>\n Saturday morning, nine o\u2019clock as I reach the studio.
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n
\n
\nIn 1991, I explored this phenomenon during my daily commute from the studio to my home. I used only a 21 minutes recording and treated it as a single sound object. I then processed and enhanced it as a photographer would have done, immersing it in successive ‘baths’. The title I chose for this singular form was Grand Bruit.<\/p>\n
\nNo one here.
\nI only turn on the spotlights as the fluorescent tubes are too noisy. I switch the power on, shut the door, unplug the telephone. I then switch the mixing desk on, which sends an electronic impulse into the amps. The four speakers react individually with a very brief and low hiss. A kind of presence.
\nI haven’t listened to anything since the evening before and my ear is refreshed by a night\u2019s sleep.
\nI feed the original mix into the master recorder and sit down in the centre.
\nRemote control: PLAY
\nWith the first sound I close my eyes. The studio instantly vanishes. Another place, a much larger space opens up.
\nI enter it.
\nI have the very distinct feeling that music is merely a \u201cgreat noise\u201d, chiselled inside with a thousand details. It opens up like a living organism to let my hearing wander across it. A magnetic relation quickly occur and all the sounds that constitute this great noise draw me towards the East.
\nI accept this direction.
\nLater, much later, I reach a distant point on the horizon which pulls me towards it.<\/p>\n