Mue On Ritual, Intimate Spaces, and Decomposition in LP "Les vasières" (Halocline Trance)

 

Mue by Vincent Castonguay

Explore the esoteric and terrestrial that is embodied in Mue’s first full-length new album, Les vasières. Even though the electronic duo—made up of Léon Lo and Catherine Debard—is based in Montreal, the sonic perimeters of Les vasières are vast, spanning across complex layers of sound and space. 

Elaborating on the landscape of their latest release, the band explains: “The French album title translates to “The mudflats.” Sounds from disparate sources form aural silt that is brought to life by waxing and waning cycles, each improvisation presenting a new, different mudflat scenario.”

By incorporating the sound of water, nature, and compost, Mue presents more than an album but an auditory experience through their experimental rhythms and alternative percussions. In this conversation with Mue, Liza Makarova mediates the intimacy of Mue’s spontaneous-yet-methodical approach to their world-building and soundscaping process. 

Les vasi​è​res by Mue. Cover artwork by Katherine Melançon, graphic design by Haley Parker

Liza Makarova of Also Cool Mag: What is the history behind Mue? When did it start and why?

Catherine Debard of Mue: Mue is definitely a pandemic project. It [all began]in March 2020 – I was supposed to go on a European tour and had sublet my place. A few days before leaving, I started having doubts and ended up cancelling everything (which was a really good decision, since the international lockdown happened the week after). I stayed at Léon's place and we quarantined together.

Léon Lo of Mue: I had some gear stocked at home from a previous performance, so one day, out of boredom or curiosity, we decided to jam together for the first time. I set up my computer to record it just in case and it turned out to be unlike anything either of us had done individually before.

Liza: Throughout the three- (or more) year process, what were the feelings, sources of inspiration, rituals, and expectations that motivated you to develop Les vasières?

Catherine:  Looking back on the recording process, the ritualistic aspect was undeniable. I think the pacing was important in this respect. We recorded a song or two at a time, a few weeks apart, for a few months. Each time, we would clear the space and since our project is hardware-heavy, it would take us about an hour to set everything up. It was meticulous and messy as if we were building a world out of a bunch of cables and machines, all intertwined and tangled together. Then, without talking much or planning anything, we improvised until we connected with each other and when the sounds locked, we would record until we felt satisfied. It would always start playfully and chaotically, but then, intuitively, we'd find each other and vibe on the same frequency.

Léon: I would say “frequencies”, as there were so many elements acting of their own accord. It was entrancing but also eerie in how egoless the process was.

Catherine: Somehow, we always intuitively stopped recording at the 12-minute mark, possibly our own sacred time unit. That was the first phase of the project, and we didn't have an album or concept yet.

Léon: After letting those recordings sit for a bit, we revisited them, chose the ones we liked best and set about cutting them down to more digestible formats. That proved to be really difficult because of the overlapping cycles of different lengths. Finding the right spots to cut out without it showing too much was challenging. But at that point, there was a feeling that the compositions could become something more concrete –that together, they could turn into something else. Kris from La Rama was an early supporter and singled out two songs (“1,000 Passages” and “A Tangle of Filaments”) to release as a limited edition 10” vinyl on the store’s in-house label La Rama Dubs. Toronto-based label Halocline Trance gracefully signed on to release the remaining tracks, which were coalescing into something like an album.

Catherine:  It's around that time that we started thinking about mudflats, right? That's what “vasière” means. We added the interludes to expand a bit more on the idea. Before that, I remember we were into more of a “compost”, “slimy” imagery. I was trying to grow plants out of vegetable scraps, and I recall we were both pretty invested in the process.

Léon: Yes, listening to the tracks, we started seeing how our disparate sounds would come together like all the different overlapping cycles present in mudflats: those of the waves, the countless micro-organisms, the vegetation, the birds overhead, etc. So, each jam was re-imagined as us having set up a new mudflat and wanting to see how all the different elements would co-exist.

LM: The album is both transcendent and down to Earth. While utilizing high-frequency vibrations to create an ethereal aura, the title—Les vasières—and the organic rhythms create a grounding sensation. By balancing the abstract and the earthly, where would you “place” the sonic atmosphere?

LL: I think "transcendent" and "down to Earth" are two poles that we reach for. However atmospheric our music may be, we really want it to be a physical experience.

CD:  I think a telling example is the kind of field recordings we used in the songs. I had recorded myself playing with rubber bands, pine needles, water... I think these sounds bring everything together in a more physical way, as you were saying.

LL: When you listen to the music and hear these sounds from different sources, you're getting all of their original sonic contexts as well. So, the sounds are actual physical spaces merging and vibrating in your space, and not just ethereal evocations of ideas of space.

CD: Thinking about your question, it made us realize that we both embody a different end of that spectrum. I am very much in my body and my senses, but my contribution to the music is more amorphous, and ungrounded.

LL: Whereas I'm very much in my head most of the time, I contributed the more grounding rhythmic base.

CD: Weird!


LM: Les vasières was recorded on your living room floor. What do “home vibrations” mean to you? What kind of energy is generated while recording in a home studio and how does producing in intimate spaces affect your creative process?

LL: Recording in a small living room with all of our gear felt like a cozy spaceship.

CD: Like the cover of that Silver Apples record, but super chill, and with herbal tea and fruits.

LL: Because we didn't have any plans at the outset, the recordings were intimate moments of exploration. There were no clocks ticking overhead, no pressure to deliver anything specific.

CD: I think it's because the whole thing was so low-key and fun that I made much bolder moves than I would usually. I had the time to dive further into my instruments' menus and settings, which led to more sophisticated, weirder textures. I didn't care about perfection at all, and you can hear that. Also, not using a computer led me to rethink my way of creating loops or to improvise using more than one instrument at a time. It was all quite clumsy but special.

LL: Also, I think it's important to let people know exactly where we worked so that the music doesn't just float around untethered. The context is important because it defined what we could and couldn't do at that specific time. For example, I was a middle-aged, middle-class, cis-het settler of colour lucky to still have a job and some music gear at home.

CD: I was a white settler part-timer in the service industry—temporarily out of work and living out of a suitcase—but still, I was able to get some of my equipment from my place.

LL: We didn't have access to a professional recording studio, and neither were we constrained to just doing everything in Fruity Loops. All this binds the listener back to us at that specific time and avoids creating a purely isolated aesthetic experience.

CD: What I like about working with Léon is that context also becomes a performative, playful and intrinsic aspect of creation. For example, when we started working on our radio show (Heavy Metal Parking Lot, N10as), he had this whole idea of using dice to determine the “energy curve” of each episode. That led us to make adventurous, playful choices that we wouldn't have necessarily made. We could say our live project at Mutek with Katherine Melançon was another example of a both constricting and super-stimulating context.

LM: Many visual and video art pieces, such as the album cover (created by Katherine Melançon and designed by Haley Parker, in addition to Melançon’s music video), were produced in tandem with Les vasières. How do you think the listening experience of “Télophases” changes when paired with the visual component?

LL: The visual aspect of the music video really transforms the listening experience, especially with someone as talented as Katherine. She had run the idea by us of scanning our shared compost and using the resulting images to produce the video for “Télophase”. That sounded awesome, but she mostly kept it a secret until it was done, giving us periodic progress reports along the way. We were totally confident that it would be fantastic, but we were completely unprepared by exactly how fantastic it would be.

CD: When we watched it for the first time, we kept exclaiming throughout the whole thing. We had to watch it a few times in a row to wrap our heads around it.

LL: The images in the video end up taking the lead, in my opinion. They're so strong and the narrative arc is so well-constructed that it could seem like we composed the music to go along with it. That's definitely not a bad thing, and I think it's okay if the music is not experienced the same way as if it was listened to on its own.

CD:  As for the album artwork, it offers a very earthy, physical, material palette (food, leftovers, intimate bodily relationships), but made surreal andeerie. The meticulous beauty and the strangeness perfectly set the tone for the record.

LM: To follow-up: in using compost as material for “Télophase”, the binary between decomposition and composition is blurred. Do the song titles and order convey a narrative regarding these themes?

LL: In keeping with the theme of mudflats, we didn't set out to mark any clear beginning or end for the album. We preferred the impression of catching the middle of something, that things were already constantly starting and ending.

CD: Or like if each piece is a glimpse of an ecosystem at a specific time, a fleeting impression of a landscape. As for the song titles, they emerged from an intense research session on various subjects that we felt resonated with the music.

LL: Things, beings, spaces, and the relationships between them.

CD: We followed various rhizomatic associations and jammed intellectually. We looked over the results and named the songs.

LL: Song titles for instrumental music end up acting as super-condensed lyrics, so we tried to choose the most potent words we came across. And about binaries, though they can be useful sometimes, we make it a point to avoid them. A blur is much more interesting to us. Ambiguity rules!


Les vasi​è​res

Out November 25, 2022 via Halocline Trance Records

1. Hylozoïste

2. Ambeing

3. Balanes

4. Télophases

5. Quatre Temps

6. 433 Eros

7. Andand

8. Sumac

9. Naica

All pieces composed, produced and recorded by Catherine Debard and Léon Lo

Mastered by East End Mastering

Cover artwork by Katherine Melançon

Graphic design by Haley Parker


Mue

Instagram | Bandcamp | Spotify

Liza is a multi/interdisciplinary artist and writer who, at all times, feels an inner pull toward the stars, towards the future. They gratefully reside in Tiohtià:ke, which is the unsurrendered territory of the Kanien'kehá ka.


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Nature Is Healing, Change Is Imminent: YlangYlang Releases New Album "Cycles & Decay"

 

Image credit: Thomas Boucher

Imagine laying on a densely-covered forest floor, soft moss cushioning your head, enveloping your hands as you push into it, sinking deeper, becoming one with the foliage. A cool morning dew wets your clothes and you take a satisfying little stretch as you think, “I am but a small frog in an opportunity-filled pond.”

Or maybe you’re just cold, or too distracted by the loons crying on the lake. Either way, this small ritual of participating in the natural cycles of your surroundings strikes a chord - it’s comforting.

Catherine Debard’s new release, “Cycles & Decay,” on Montreal label Everyday Ago, is a reflection on the healing cycles found in nature - growth, decay, erosion, renewal. Debard is a prominent figure in Montréal’s electronic music scene, both in the underground as well as in the academic setting. Her experimental solo project, YlangYlang, spans over a decade of deep-rooted involvement through performances and releases featuring an elegant layering of field recordings over ambient drones, noise, spoken word poetry, and live instrumentals from collaborators.

Releasing on international labels including Crash Symbols (USA), Phinery (DK), Fluere Tapes (SE) and ΠΑΝΘΕΟΝ (RU), YlangYlang has also graced the line-ups at festivals including Suoni Per Il Popolo, Mutek Montréal, Electric Eclectics, Strangewaves, and Tone Deaf. Debard participated in a residency at Red Bull Music Academy at Calgary's National Music Center and in a workshop hosted by Suzanne Ciani.

Lose yourself in the deeply intimate organic soundscapes of “Cycles & Decay” - or in YlangYlang’s words in the, “decomposed sound matter,” “rotten music,” or “compost music” that sets its own parameters, flowing non-linearly towards healing - and check out the equally intimate interview below to be taken on a journey of slowing down, recalibrating, and taking inspiration from nature’s controlled chaos and unyielding cycles of creation and destruction.

Maya Hassa for Also Cool: What was the landscape you were in when making these recordings (either the field recordings or other parts as well) and what were you feeling while being there?

Catherine Debard: I began working on Cedar St. the day media were reporting about the Amazon forest wildfires, in August of 2019. I remember watching footage in awe, while recording cassette loops through distortion pedals. It felt pretty surreal, and heavy I guess. The song was actually called 'Cendres' (Ashes) until earlier this year. The four songs have an end-of-Summer-early-Fall vibe to them, so I'd say earthy landscapes, grey skies, crisp air, burnt orange, russet, crimson, amber, olive, and disintegrated fragments of nature scattered in lovely ways. I regularly roamed the back alleys from my house to Jarry Park back then - I usually walk when I need to ponder and clear my head. 

I listened to the rough versions of the tracks, trying to find possible structures for them, unlocking the mysteries within. These walks were very contemplative. I felt deeply attuned to nature's slow decay, zooming my attention to dehydrated fruits, shrivelled delicate leaves, scattered strange shrubs, patches of moss, the smell of damp earth.

Also Cool: Maybe it’s because I’m in a forest while I write this, but Cedar St. and Waning Now sound like laying on the forest floor while being consumed by the moss and lichen surrounding you, maybe even decomposing with it. How would you describe the idea of decay in sound - in the composition of a piece, the sound manipulation, or the possibility of decaying music in its physical recorded state? 

CD: While isolated at home last year, I became interested in trying to re-grow leaves from the cores of vegetables. On our kitchen table, I grew little leafy ecosystems, miniature islands in glass bowls. Leaves would grow to a certain point, then they'd wilt, and their entire appearance would start to shift. The greens would either fade or veer into yellows, browns, or peach tints, strange furs would appear as mold and slime began to spread. It was pretty captivating. Around the same time, I was contemplating the idea of 'shadow self', or in a very simplistic way, the subterraneous, dark counterpart of the conscious self that contains the ugly repressed stuff. I've oftentimes tried to bridge this disconnect between my mental activity (mostly rational and mundane), and the raw, unexplored potential underneath, which I can't access. I’ve wondered about the possibility of 'eroding the mind' metaphorically, using these decay processes I was witnessing in nature.

I've decided to apply this idea to music and composition. It led me to develop, within each song, a kind of relational system in which the sounds would interact with each other. I'd imagine various strategies in order for them to affect one another through various causal reactions, either in 'cooperative' or disruptive ways: 

'What if, every time this sound erupts, it generates little patches of sound fur onto that layer of synth? What would happen to the synth?' 

'What if the static quality of this recording was influenced by the dynamics of this bass movement as if it were pushed by the wind?' 

'How can a piano emerge out of this rumble of sounds and evaporate into thin air?' 

'Can the song flicker in a subtle way, like the sunlight seeping through the leaves of a tree?' 

The more abstract, the better. It forced me to seek new mixing & assembling techniques that would concretize these conceptual ideas.

AC: The second track feels like sitting on a dock in the rain, glass bottles washing up on the shore, reminiscing. What is the meaning of the lyrics on Penumbra

CD: That sounds really good, I wish I were there! Penumbra is a love song written just before the dawn of a relationship. Now that I think about it, it's the only love song I've ever written in a profuse catalogue of songs about relationships! It's telling - I've given a lot of thought on the subject, read countless books, and experienced various iterations of disappointment, frustration and doubt throughout the years. Then, in 2019, a new perspective emerged. Nothing new, really, but the difference was that instead of intellectualizing my way through it, I saw a concrete path. 

The first step was to jump out of my head and dive inwards to investigate the darkened, the uncomfortable, the dim, the vague, the penumbral. What is in there?!! Then, I needed to foster a kinder relationship with my inner self, gather together all the pieces hidden in the corners, not just the flattering parts. Right around that time, I met someone I could imagine being this truer version of myself with, someone with whom I could explore and fabricate a new kind of relationship, something truly good. It felt dizzying, like being on the edge of a cliff and taking a leap into the unknown. That's what the song is about; the decision to make oneself vulnerable again, carefully, by removing the protective barriers - and also being intrigued by the unknown. It can even be a love song towards a renewed connection to oneself as well.

AC: There’s a sense of controlled chaos throughout the tracks - sounds cycle between harshness and what seems like the exaggerated or over-amplified sound of rushing water or wind, and lush, bright moments of renewal. The music has a natural, nonlinear behaviour, but also a sense of a journey towards healing, flowing between good and bad moments. Is this state of healing what the album title, “Cycles & Decay”, is also alluding to? 

CD: Yes, totally! Change is imminent, it permeates everything, so I'm trying to make friends with it, to jam with it. I've had a good amount of highs and lows, I've struggled with my mental health, with my physical health, I've experienced losses, some harder to recover from than others, I am aware that I will suffer in the future too. With time, I started noticing the cyclic feel of my own life, the reoccurring waves, ever shifting, yet familiar. I thought that in order to avoid sourness, I should cooperate with the cycles instead of fighting against them. For me, that means being malleable, listening to myself more, trying to stay vulnerable and open (and not turn into ice), and exploring ways to heal and learn out of hardships, while developing tools that help me navigate the inevitable. Things will get rough again, but it's not a reason to reject happiness when it's available - or to cling to the good times. I want to be a positive force, not one that drags down.

As for chaos and non-linearity, I feel that it's what keeps me alert and challenges me in a good way. It would be easy to slip into stubbornness, despair or denial. We wake up every day and live in a society that isn't good for the majority of human beings - it's important to remember that again and again. 

Whitesupremacy-colonialism-capitalism-racism-oppressivesystems-pillageanddestructionoftheEarth

Not only that, we also have to reckon with the toxic stuff we've inherited from them, some nasty things like the notion, for example, that if I don't have a respectable career, I am considered a failure. That's ugly, right? It makes absolutely no sense to me; my value system rejects this idea, and yet I struggle with it often!

There are so many things to deal with, all at the same time, and chaos wakes me up - it makes me pay attention! Noticing times like the other day, when I did something that went against my values, becoming aware of when I contradict myself, listening to other perspectives and genuinely trying to get them, being gracefully present during an afternoon by the railroad tracks, obsessing about the future and then, after a few days, feeling at peace with it. Being proud of a friend's achievement, while acknowledging a tinge of envy, saying ‘fuck off’ to the idea of perfection, being able to articulate a complicated idea out loud for the first time... 

Working on music connects me with myself, eases the anxiety and helps me deal with unpredictability by creating my own unpredictable, chaotic musical landscapes and then, problem-solving / finding new ideas to make them sound good. I separate myself into two parts - a creative force and a destructive one. The destructive side is rambunctious, reckless, angry, sabotaging, it takes pleasure in making a mess, but it does so while trusting that the other side will come and harmonize everything. It's pretty therapeutic!

AC: Is there a story of a naturally occurring cycle or historical experience you would want to share? One that could provide some context to the cycles of sonic decay and rebirth you described? 

CD: The first cycle I became aware of was the cycle of the Moon. As I became more cognizant of the external influences I bathed in, I grew better at handling my mood swings & energy fluctuations. I felt I could better cooperate with the intangible forces. Paying attention to my menstrual cycle gave me some precious insight, too! Instead of forcing things, I try to better respect my body and its rhythms. Seasons form an important cycle too. I realized recently that I often create sound material during the Summer, assemble it into songs during the Fall, and mix and master music during Winter. In the Spring I feel too scattered to do anything. 

There are also larger life cycles, ones where you feel like you are tackling a big 'theme' in your life. I'll end by giving an example of one. A few years ago, I saw three snakes in the span of a month. The day before I caught sight of the first snake, I had a conversation with a friend about the concept of 'Mono No Aware' while sitting in the passenger seat of his car. As he pulled the definition and read it to me, I felt seen, as if something deep inside was acknowledged, followed by the realization I wasn't alone feeling this way. The first snake was a beautiful, golden and white snake in the middle of a dirt road in New Mexico, the second one was a lean black one with a red line on his back, and the third one, a smaller brownish grass-snake on a mountain in Hamilton, ON. I had always been afraid of snakes, as a symbol and in real life, and I had never seen any before. From then on, I associate a snake with the ouroboros symbol, and seeing one signals a new start for me.

AC: I can’t help but ask what your workshop with Suzanne Ciani was about?

CD: Suzanne Ciani is so inspiring. As legendary as she is, she emanates realness - and that's truly refreshing. She mostly talked to us about her relationship with the Buchla synthesizer, showed us her way around it, how to set it up, how to build a sequence. I'd never even dreamed of playing with one myself, so it was great to get to learn about the electrical pathways and how it modulates within the machine. It gave me ideas about composition - that's what financial constraint does, it motivates you to find alternative ways to create results, I'm getting quite good at it! Suzanne also shared stories from her early days in the experimental electronic music scene, and how she built  a pretty inspiring career for herself by staying bold and determined. I hope I soaked up some of her energy! 

Listen to “Cylces & Decay” below

YlangYlang

Bandcamp I Instagram I Soundcloud I Spotify

Composed & Produced by Catherine Debard

Recorded between 'my apartment in Montréal'
& Fort Rose, Hamilton in 2019

Catherine Debard: Piano, Synthesizers, Field Recordings, Noises & Textures, Vocals

Connor Bennett: Saxophone & Effects on Track 2 & 4

Evelyn Charlotte Joe: Acoustic Guitar & Effects on Track 2
Upright Bass & Toy Piano on Track 4

Video for Cedar St. by Charline Daily

Mastered by Amar Lal
Artwork by Catherine Debard


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