Patrick Bernatchez‘s film Lost In Time was originally produced a good seven or eight years ago and the soundtrack that Murcof produced for this double narrative take of life and death was originally released on vinyl back in 2014. The good people at Glacial Movements have chosen to re-issue it on CD and they really are the most suitable label for making this slow moving, frozen dronescape available again.
Murcof is most well known for his drone work and this soundtrack does not disappoint. Where it may differ from other outings is the interaction between those dark settings and the choral output of the Petits Chanteurs du Mont-Royal. This children’s choir that was first formed in the 1950s has about 210 members and has had the opportunity to sing in all manner of situations. Here they are tackling the aria from Bach‘s Goldberg Variations and Murcof is interspersing it with his own structures to produce a highly unusual juxtaposition.
There is a keening element to the opening drone with the subtlest of rhythms moving throughout, like resonant black winds moving branches to and fro. It is a remorseless environment and the injection of feedback gives a sense of anger or frustration as it grows louder and more overwhelming. It begins to drift away and into the mix the choir is ushered, making things much more hopeful and positive. It feels like the dawning of a new day, but it seems to be a false dawn as the sound becomes a little wilder and the vocals a little screechier until the drone takes over again, and the air turns a little more negative. The drone is kind of relentless, even with the advent of strings to calm things down, but it is only temporary. A new lull arrives in section five, which consists of sparse piano droplets with plenty of sustain and a burst of spacey organ rippling. There is a touch of the slow motion feel of 2001: A Space Odyssey here and with the sprinkling of Theremin at least goes some way to settling down the vibe. The moments of uplift only ever prepare us for a further descent and some mono synth stabs, deep and hazardous, are set against a loop of the choir like some sort of battle of good against if not evil, then maybe negative space. Here and there as the piece progresses, moments of light are introduced, sudden explosions and synthy attacks; a delightfully mournful, repetitive piano motif with an air of descent finds the drone lighter for once, but these sparks don’t last.As we drift towards the gradual dissipation of the work, there is no real resolution, and that makes perfect sense as the film’s protagonists are stuck in a loop of life and death from which there appears to be no escape. Interestingly, one other comparison I had was the scene from French TV series Les Revenants where the woman police officer and the main female character are trying to escape in a car along the edge of the dam, but just keep re-appearing in the same place. Some of Murcof’s experiments here would also fit really well into that strange universe concocted by Fabrice Gobert as it has a similar sense of unreality and relentlessness. I am desperate to see the film because Murcof’s work here is so intriguing, but also so unrelenting.
You kind of have to take a deep breath before immersing yourself in this soundtrack, but it is definitely worth it.-Mr Olivetti-
