Back Pages #10: Jean Derome and the coolest CD I Own

Jean Derome — Le Magasin de Tissu (Ambiances Magnetiques, 2001)

(The Back Pages series is explained here, where you’ll also find links to the other installments.)

I’m long overdue to write about Jean Derome’s Le Magasin de Tissu (Ambiances Magnetiques, 2001). It’s one of the CDs that the French-Canadian label sent to KZSU back in the day, and I loved the concept so much that I bought a copy of my own, so that I could play them both on the air simultaneously.

It made sense to do that because of the cut-up, randomized nature of the album.

Le Magasin de Tissu (“The Fabric Shop”) is a collage of Derome’s solo improvisations, roughly 90-second snippets that he recorded onto three CDs of 23 tracks each. He used a battery of instruments: horns, flutes, percussion, noisemakers, one small keyboard, his voice. Each CD also included 14 tracks of silence.

The final recording consists of all three CDs played on shuffle simultaneously. The result is an unpredictable trio of sounds — and because of those silent tracks, you also get spontaneous spans of duo or solo playing.

I’ve long been fascinated by randomness and random (or pseudorandom) numbers, so this concept was catnip. Certainly, it harkens back to John Cage-ian ideas. A similar process was behind Tania Chen’s recording of Cage’s Electronic Music for Piano.

But Derome adds another dimension.

The CD booklet includes a MAP OF WHAT’S HAPPENING, a schematic telling you which tracks from which of the CDs are playing. You get to see the random duets and trios that emerge. Corresponding charts show the track listings of the three source CDs and an inventory of the instruments used, both in pictorial and text form. How cool is that? (Scroll through the gallery below to see.)

I know, I know — this all sounds like Homework: The Game (a D&D reference from Gravity Falls), but for me, it hits all the right nerves of geekdom. (See also Harold Budd and Andy Partridge.) On my first listen, I followed dutifully with the map, gleefully cross-referencing the instrument charts. At KZSU, I gave the CD multiple spins, and one time I indulged myself by playing two copies simultaneously, flickering each CD from one track to another, possibly creating unintended quartets, quintets, and sextets.

This album is the kind of thing that works once. The magic comes from having just one permutation codified on disc. Do it a dozen more times, and the beauty fades into scaffolding and plaster. The art of it, and the fun, come from the process more than the result. (I’ve noted similar feelings about albums by Kris Davis and Didier Petit and Alexandre Pierrepont.) Although the result is meaningful: As with improvisation in general, Le Magasin captures one moment in time while reminding us that every moment is unique.

There’s further backstory: The reason KZSU got this CD was because I’d encountered Derome and Joane Hétu, the Ambiances Magnetiques proprietors, during a 1999 trip to Paris. They performed at Les Instants Chavirés as the duo Nous Perçons Les Oreilles — appropriately shrill and piercing stuff, as I recall. (And findable on Bandcamp!) They’re from Quebec, and between my spotty French and their grasp of English, we established contact and started radio servicing.

That was an exciting period for me, when I was still learning about the global scene and making discoveries every month. And when Le Magasin arrived, well, that was one of the best rewards.

Here’s the album on Bandcamp.

SF Tape Music Festival 2024

SF Tape Music Festival
Victoria Theatre, San Francisco
Sunday, January 7, 2024

Abstract music tells a story. There is a trajectory — maybe a gradual buildup, maybe the classic fast-slow-fast, maybe an epic novel of surges and fades. But reaping these rewards can take focus. Sure, I sometimes play sfSound Radio in the car, but much like a complex novel, listening to electronic music is most rewarding in an undistracting environment that lets you absorb.

Francis Dhomont, 1981. Source: Radio France, where you’ll find an hour-long Dhomont documentary (in French) broadcast early 2023

That’s what makes the San Francisco Tape Music Festival special, and it’s why it fills up the Victoria Theatre. This is a gathering place for people who want to celebrate this music and hear the pieces presented with dedication: high-end loudspeakers surrounding the audience, lights off (save for the glowing EXIT signs), and mixing-board curators tweaking the stereo pieces to take advantage of the speaker field. The atmosphere is communal — artists chatting, catching up on one another’s projects and lives, then going reverently silent during the program.

“Tape” music refers to an audio composition committed to fixed media, the term dating back to reel-to-reel tapes and the musique concrète work that began 75 years ago. Nowadays, is done digitally, but the practice and process of musique concrète still fascinates, and part of the fun is to learn the real-world sound sources that mutated to form these pieces.

Adam Stanović’s Into the Sea used the normally pleasant sounds of a crashing surf to create glimpses of gaping terror. As you can read in the concert program, Stanović had played ocean sounds to his mother in her final stages of cancer — a gesture of comfort, but one that he believes could not bring her peace. “I couldn’t listen without hearing terror, agony, and fear,” he writes.

Boyi Bai’s Echoes of National Parks drew from recordings at National Parks. I remember a lot of water involved, and the larger project, What Does Your National Park Sound Like?, bears that out. But there were also human-made sounds (a bell), wind, possibly some traffic. You can hear it on Soundcloud.

One of the “classic” pieces, Xenakis’ Concret PH from 1958, sounded glassy. I pictured solid glass rods spilling out onto a floor, bouncing a little. But no — Xenakis used the sound of burning charcoal, clipped into an irregular percussive flow.

Some pieces went amusingly “meta” by using other pieces as sources. Brian Reinbolt’s Bischoff Surface Variations was built from segments of John Bischoff’s electronic music album surface variations, used with permission. Francis Dhomont, who had died weeks before this show, had submitted a new piece to the festival: Somme Toute, an octophonic construction alluding to many of his past works — a joyful crazy-quilt of sounds.

And Matt Ingall’s new revision of Scherzo. Allegro molto included chopped-up recordings of his own radio interview about the Tape Festival and the original 2002 version of Scherzo. Allegro molto, making it possibly the only Tape Festival “song” ever to include the title. That piece began with segments of intensely fast cuts with lots of musical sources — Ingalls’ own clarinet, out-jazz, cartoony sounds.

This year, sfSound posted extensive online notes for each of the four programs that it presented, a rich resource for learning about the pieces and the composers. Here is the link to the Sunday show’s program, and below is the Sunday agenda, with links to artists’ own pages:

Sunday January 7, 2024 (7:00pm)
PIERRE SCHAEFFERÉtude aux tourniquets (1948)
BRIAN REINBOLTBischoff Surface Variations (2023)
BOYI BAIEchoes of National Parks (2023)
JOÃO PEDRO OLIVEIRAN’vi’ah (2019)
THOUGHT GANG (ANGELO BADALAMENTI (1937–2022) & DAVID LYNCH) – Stalin Revisited (2018)
MATT INGALLSScherzo. Allegro molto (2002/2024)
JOHN GIBSONIn Summer Rain (2021)
GILLES GOBEILUn cercle hors de l’arbre (2014-2015)
MAGGI PAYNEAries 2020 (2020)
ADAM STANOVIĆUnto the Sea (2022)
IANNIS XENAKISConcret PH (1958)
FRANCIS DHOMONT (1926-2023) – Somme toute (2022)