Rutger Zuydervelt & Bruno Duplant – L’incertitude

L’incertitude has spent life in two separate countries, but in spite of its long-distance discourse, it offers a natural, uninterrupted flow of sound. For Bruno Duplant and Rutger Zuydervelt, the collaborative process was smooth and intuitive – there were no lengthy discussions, and that has carved a creative outlet into the music, allowing it to be more expressive and loosened from the stresses and pressures of expectation.

The two tracks were fired through digital cables, streaming through to the other musician via European bandwidths and long distances. Although recorded remotely, L’incertitude is a connected, united album, and one with a strong bond. And because of mutual respect, the music is elevated, the distance appearing to be stronger than an album produced in one room, when everyone is together. It’s all about the artists gelling with one another. You can’t fake a musical bond; it’s either there or it isn’t. Mutual respect and appreciation makes all the difference, turning a collaboration into a special project.

Duplant is a composer, residing in Northern France, while Zuydervelt lives in Rotterdam. Perhaps the most important – essential, even – aspect of this collaboration, and what makes it a success, is the trust and friendship on display. Respect is a key element to the music, sticking like an adhesive to every sound, making it whole and complete. From emptiness, structures are built inside the music. Some of the swirling textures are minimal, at least to an extent, vibrating with a frisson of tension, but there’s a mass of emptiness within the music; like a huge sinkhole in the middle of the street.

From within, the music slowly revolves and gathers, constructing something from its inky depths, rising up with a dynamic burst. Scattered over its ground zero are murky field recordings which include a wailing baby and birdsong…but even these sounds are distant, coming from a portal or a gateway, instead of living in close proximity. Like a static-eaten police band picked up on an amplifier or a radio, it’s a secret bandwidth that has somehow crossed over, reaching with long fingers into the listener’s domain.

Spontaneous stabbing electronics are a feature of the second piece, which expands on its musical selection and seems bolder, more experimental. Multiple sounds were exchanged, but space has been preserved. There are rivulets for the listener to fall into, to interpret, and to become part of the creative process by way of their imagination, filling in the blanks, and the well-timed artefacts are fascinating to behold.

www.cronica.bandcamp.com

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