Subsequent to a series of personal losses, France Jobin – Montreal’s minimalist composer of deserved renown – was forced to come to terms with something that haunts the existence of countless beings. As pathetic as this usually appears (courtesy of the average human’s shallowness), she attempted a rational collocation of chaos in her life, at the same time recognizing death as the ultimate symbol of a not better specified “perfection”. The introductory notes quote an excerpt from David Deutsch’s book The Fabric Of Reality, grounded on the theory of phantom photons. Now, when it comes to photons this writer’s cynical experience translates as follows: interesting stuff on paper, yet inevitably destined to become, in most cases, food for pseudo-intellectual exhibition of the self (though I’m convinced that Jobin doesn’t belong to that category). After all, everyone is entitled to clutching at the straws of unearthly conjectures to put a measure of order in their own mind. Particularly when the grim reaper comes around waving us hello under various guises, which – in this day and age – happens quite frequently, including the cerebral demise of selected wannabe “authorities” dabbling in issues beyond their reach.
Fortunately, besides any cognitive necessity Jobin is an expert sound assembler. The music she created for this album derives entirely from a Buchla 200 analog synthesizer, except for a shorter and less assuaging track – “Soar” – made with Klara Lewis and exclusively available in the digital version. The longer pieces “Inertia” and “P”, however, represent everything that needs to be (un)told. There’s an answer to every question, there’s calmness behind any anxious doubt if only one delves in the right combination of frequencies. Jobin concocted textural trails that stay with the listener unobtrusively, typically projecting one or two suspended chords. The result amalgamates perfectly with our environment when played at moderate volume. Still, the apparent stasis is perturbed by the very pulsation that it contains. We detect imperceptible subsurface discolorations, brief dissipations of energy across the harmonic flawlessness, a few dynamic weaknesses and slight distortions in an otherwise rather narcotic flux. It’s sorrow-inducing, brain-quietening, and profoundly individual.