U63 | Thibault Jehanne | Farol
Farol_excerpt1
Farol_excerpt2
format : CD ltd to 200 hand numbered copies/Digital. packaged in clear vinyl sleeve with folded insert + an additional art card both on 350gr satin paper
release year : 2020
length : 45’17
track : Farol
status : still available
>>> order via Paypal : chalkdc@unfathomless.net
(Belgium) : 14 € (inc.postage)
(Europe) : 15 € (inc.postage)
(World) : 16 € (inc.postage)
~
: info :
Farol is the sound portrait of a monumental architecture : the 25 Abril bridge in Lisbon.
The 25 Abril bridge is a symbol for the Portuguese capital. Visible to tens kilometers around, it serves as a visual and noisy landmark. As we come closer, the buzz becomes stronger until it gets blatant, like the light from a lighthouse which becomes blinding when the coast is near.
~
Farol est le portrait sonore d’une architecture monumentale. Ce field recording nous emmène au cœur du pont du 25 avril, emblème de Lisbonne. Visible à plusieurs dizaines de kilomètres à la ronde, il sert de repère à la fois visuel et sonore. À mesure qu’on s’en approche le bourdonnement se fait plus fort jusqu’à devenir éclatant, comme la lumière d’un phare devient aveuglante lorsque la côte est proche.
(Thibault Jehanne, June 2019)
: reviews :
~
Conceived as a tribute to the 25 de Abril Bridge built over the Tejo River linking parts of metropolitan Lisbon in Portugal, the sound recordings made by French sound artist Thibault Jehanne around the suspension bridge in 2017 and brought together in “Farol” tell of a secret world that may still reside in the pylons, cables and transport infrastructure of the bridge. The structure itself has seen and experienced a fair amount of history itself: from 1966 when it was completed to 1974, the bridge was known as the Salazar Bridge after Portugal’s dictator at the time; the bridge was later renamed 25 de Abril Bridge after the date of the Carnation Revolution that overthrew the government Antonio de Oliveira Salazar left behind after his death in 1970. Doubtless this and other memories of the bridge’s changing fortunes – and with them, those of Lisbon and Portugal as well – are stored within and throughout the monument, awaiting the moment when a medium sensitive to the ghosts resident within the bridge calls to them, inviting them to reveal their secrets and wisdom.
The original sounds Jehanne recorded may have been pedestrian and very loud – traffic noises mix with the noise of winds gusting over surfaces on the bridge – but on “Farol” they assume an eerie otherworldly quality and bring forward phantom spirits with messages to share with us mortals. Choirs of voices starting close to the beginning of “Farol” eventually become chants of protests against an unpopular fascist government. Industrial rhythms and drones, traffic noises and the screech of aircraft flying close by block out the sighs and susurrations of the bridge’s invisible inhabitants but when all the noise of daily city life dies down, the presence of these beings reasserts itself.
Out of his recordings gathered from the bridge and its environs, including the creakings and the moanings of the bridge cables as they sway in the winds, and the splashes of water in the river below, Jehanne fashions a hypnotic and spellbinding work of history, memory and change – and the hopes, disappointments, failures and sacrifices contained therein – all bound up in this architectural structure. The bridge almost comes alive, labouring to breathe, and straining at its cables and suspenders. Nothing repeats on the CD and there are new surprises almost right up to the end of the work.
Nausika/Jennifer Hor
The Sound Projector
~
Thibault Jehanne shapes sound like builders shape metal. Farol may be a tribute to Lisbon’s 25 April bridge, but its reverberations seem otherworldly and unknown. After hearing the recording, we’re not sure we’d want to drive across the bridge; it seems desperately unsafe, ready to collapse, haunted by specters of sound.
It is said that the bridge is inescapable; no matter where one resides, one can see it. Casting a shadowy presence on the capital, it almost becomes the capital, like an evil overlord. The bridge is described as loud: the closer one gets, the louder the bridge gets. Traffic mixes with the friction of wind on exposed surfaces; nearby planes interject their engines.
The opening minutes ebb and flow, but possess a sense of foreboding. Hammering disturbs the drones in the ninth minute, but who is hammering? And then, at the ten-minute mark, the piece turns musical, with plodding percussion conveying a sense of inevitability. Two minutes later, the pounding cedes space to the passing of cars and trains.
A conference of drones, breath and flies converges at the quarter-hour mark. The impression is that of an acrid seance. One imagines this CD will not be used to attract tourists. By amplifying such sounds, Jehanne exposes the underbelly of the bridge’s existence: the pervasiveness of the hum that prevents some people from sleeping and haunts others’ dreams. Impassively, the bridge stands, now twice its original size, thanks to a lower platform added for trains. One might call it a marvel of architecture; and yet, it creaks and groans, unwilling to let people relax. 625 feet is a long way to fall, or jump.
Voices appear in the 25th minute, then chanting: Viva la revolución! The Carnation revolution of 1974 toppled Salazar and prompted the change of names: the slow buzz of humanity, the desperation for turnover, and eventually the carnations placed in muzzles, the danger spent.
Clearer sounds begin to emerge: a whooshing train, the lapping of water against a buoy or pier, a bird shaking its wings. The transition is akin to that of a dictatorship giving way to a democracy. Soon the water sounds become pristine. A great cacophony emerges, then bursts, giving way to quiet running water, to birds and more distant echoes from the bridge. The danger is over, the time of peace has begun, the bridge has a new name, the children frolic in the fields.
And yet, from beneath the metallic drone, one can still hear the groans of ghosts.
Richard Allen
A Closer Listen
~
Still quite young, this French composer, of whom I reviewed a couple of works before (see Vital Weekly 953 and 1001) and of whom I don’t know much else. He creates music, installations, photography and film work; that’s what I learned from his website. His previous releases were released by the French Kaon label, but this one is on Unfathomless, known for their work with field recordings and in this case, it is all about the 25th April Bridge in Lisbon. I am not sure how Jehanne works, what kind of technology is at his disposal but my best guess would be that following the recording ‘in the field’, there follows an extended time on the computer for further transformation of the material. That is, of course, if Jehanne is using the strangest angles and microphone technology to tape his sounds and that all the transformation takes place in the actual process of laying the sounds on the recorder. Still, there is a moment in which these recordings are collaged together as that is something that I’m certain of that happens. The level of processing isn’t that far off what could also be a natural recording; keeping it close to the original but with a whim of strangeness attached to it. In the forty-five minutes of this piece Jehanne shifts between with great care between all the different approaches to the sounds. From relative quietness to something that is sonically more charged, albeit it never becomes too noisy. It is all done with some keen ear for pacing; a fine flow of sounds happens and it tells a story, even when that is an abstract one. It is about men, nature and architecture; about taping events from a place, empty surroundings but also cars passing and a herd of football fans crossing the bridge and chanting. At least that’s what I believe to hear. It is good, it’s solid and perhaps somewhat unsurprising also; something radically new doesn’t happen. That may not always be necessary of course.
Frans de Waard
Vital Weekly
Unfathomless 