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Pianist and composer Melaine Dalibert returns to the algorithmic compositions he is so fond of on Night Blossoms, having momentarily abandoned them on his previous album, which was more tinged with pop and quasi-romantic harmonies. With this equally successful album, he demonstrates, if there were any doubt, that he is equally gifted in each of the two stylistic facets of his art.
How can pieces based on such abstract and rigorous constructions evoke so much emotion when listened to? Melaine Dalibert 's music projects the listener into a universe where the dull routine of daily life no longer holds sway. No measure, no beginning, no end: for those who let themselves be taken in, Night Blossoms makes you lose all reference points of commensurability.
From the very first seconds of "A rebours", the ear rests on a cottony bed of clouds, rendered almost tactile by the delicate tones of the piano, which slowly churns out a long melody, patiently built backwards, in stages. Indeed, it begins its journey on the last note, which it repeats and fleshes out each time with new clusters of sounds that precede it, convolutions and whirlpools in which we let ourselves get lost, with only the compass of a path we know we'll have to retrace.
The swirling fog of notes on "Windmill" evokes the hypnosis that can result from observing the grains of an hourglass slowly pouring out in a single movement, but whose trajectories of fall are always different. Before long, this record plunges us into an unspeakable melancholy, tinged with deep nostalgia.
Here's a rule of thumb from the composer for one of the pieces, "Eolian Scape": the process is the construction of a natural C minor scale(do re mib fa sol lab sib do) that progresses from third to third* from the fundamental*, contained in a single octave*, over a binary and ternary* polyrhythm that becomes increasingly complex as new notes are added, through the eight sequences that open with each addition: do - mib - sol - sib - re - fa - lab - do. It's all very regulated, very mathematical and very controlled, but surprisingly far from the effect felt on hearing: that of a liberation of the senses and perception, coupled with an intense meditative plunge. How can reason and the will to rationalize be so defeated by musical alchemy, despite the rigorous system on which it all rests? The answer lies largely in Mélaine Dalibert's profound and inspired interpretation, at once concentrated and natural.
In this journey, there is still space to explore, which is made possible by the reverberation and echo effects delicately added by David Sylvian on "Yin" (4) and "Yang" (6). The ex-singer of the band Japan, collaborator with Ryuchi Sakamoto, Robert Fripp, Holger Czukay and Fennesz among others, creates a subtle electronic veil resonating over the piano's already naturally reverberant acoustics, which are superbly recorded throughout the album. In between, "Sister" (5) is like a minimalist jig, spinning and dancing with its haunting six-beat rhythm. The record ends as if by surprise. It leaves us alone with the scent of night flowers...
Guillaume Kosmicki
