Link removed by request of the label
Genre: Ambient, Drone, Experimental
Label: Desire Path Recordings
Web
Label: Desire Path Recordings
Web
Thelma is best described as a place existing in between--a lake within a haze. Against its concave mirror, the sonic territory of Benoit Honore Pioulard--documented across three acclaimed LPs by Chicago's Kranky label--assumes the qualities of this place and all its ephemera, warm breezes, burbling shimmers and avian circlers. During his excursions to Thelma, Pioulard rested beneath the willow and wandered in the meadow, listening, absorbing, and recording. Glimpses are contained herein, where the solace and beauty of this mysterious place resonate in travelers who care to listen.
Should anything of significance be read into the subtle name change from Benoît Pioulard to Benoît Honoré Pioulard? Is the amendment designed to reflect a marked change in the sound captured on this six-track EP compared to that documented on the three full-lengths Pioulard issued on kranky (2006'sPrecis, 2008's Temper, and 2010's Lasted)? One can only guess, but this much is certain: Plays Thelmapresents a radically different side of Thomas Meluch's Benoît Pioulard equation. The trademark vocals, acoustic guitars, and rhythm-based song structures of the albums are gone, and the material instead assumes the form of scenic ambient instrumentals that were crafted using guitar, harmonium, voice, bowed bells, cello, music box, and field recordings, among other sound sources.
Available in digital and twelve-inch vinyl formats (the latter in an edition of 300 clear vinyl), Plays Thelma isn't the romantic paen to an artist's muse one might assume it to be but is rather Pioulard's evocation of a place, specifically a haze-enshrouded lake populated by warm breezes, meadows, and willow trees that that he wandered through and rested under while soaking in the locale's ephemeral sounds. That experience translated into twenty-three continuous minutes of ambient settings that both soothe with enveloping calm (“A Land Which Has No End”) and restlessly flicker (“Calder”). One more surprise comes at the recording's end when “Autochoral” closes the EP with the lulling swirl of a cosmic drone.
Review from Textura.
Review from Textura.