Here's another name I've never heard of, as usual, but one I'll certainly remember. Internet research reveals L'Eclipse Nue to be the work of one Daniel Sine who has been at it for at least a decade and produced a million albums under that banner; but I'm too fat and old to keep my finger on so many pulses and refuse to feel embarrassed for showing up late to yet another party. Besides, I'm only just becoming accustomed to the idea that noise can do much more than just the one traditionally scary thing - which I realise is ridiculous given how many Nocturnal Emissions albums I own - and L'Eclipse Nue represents a significant further expansion of my horizons towards symphonic noise, or stadium noise, or some other fucking silly category that's probably already done the rounds while I was looking the other way. Faces from Dreams is harsh as buggery, but selectively so, and its distorted squalls of feedback are palliated by both the ultra-high definition recording of the same and the contrast of quieter, pseudo-choral passages suggesting sunrise on alien worlds, at least to me. The cover lists eight distinct tracks, although it feels like a singular piece of work, operating in much the same way as a symphony, albeit by means of mood and texture rather than notation. I'd guess there's a lot of layering here to account for the richness and breadth of what we hear, and the whole is overwhelming but in a good way. Just when you think you've pretty much got a handle on what can be done with noise, something like this comes along and demonstrates that we're only just getting started.
No comments:
Post a Comment