The sound of life today is an exhausting experience. Small displacement motorbikes, public transport rumble, fashion shop mood tracks, grocery store pop, late night party next door disco high volume, vintage song-fuelled tv ads, obsessive synth soaked dramas. The grand perpetual assault plan is working. With devastating results. That's why I picked up my things  and went up to the country to paint my mail box blue. In other words I ride out to the silent zone and listen to the quiet buzzing of sub life. Then i can start thinking for real.

Quiet noise
Draw and believe

Engaging my whole attention torwards the simpler notions, a little guy, a small beast emerge. They will be the defining instance of neutral grace. A pure symbol of things gone unnoticed. They shape the musical mind with an urge to discover how to recombine what has been laying around for ages.


The rhythm inside the rhythm is something to perceive all around us, all the time. If I drew a maze of corresponding sounds from the visual cues in this "music-system 1" device, one could obtain pretty good results. Apart from being a painting it is also a sequenced development with accidents and rich opportunities.

Sound pitching

The long search for that sound. That particular clean, distorsion-free electric sound that rings long and far like the strike of a bell. I spend countless moments striking the strings to find that certain pitch that reverberates for ever.  Stuff happens in that quest for THE note. Very often the guitar is plugged in to something it was never meant for. From this otherworld i will come back and not know how i ever got to such a place.  Music IS sad in fact. I try reaching for the most desperate sadness possible. And from there apply reverse therapy to get that feeling better drive.


Is the emotional value of sound directly proportional to the amount of melody contained within ? The answer to that is my job. And that work is nested somewhere between logic decisions, chance meetings, desperate unconnected rhythms that somehow suddenly spell out the mystic sequence of a perfect phrasing. With pure synthetic noise, fragments from an out of tune piano, the sound of wood on wood. With all the tools of the trade easily at hand, what's more difficult to find, grab and keep alive is that moment when your subconscious takes the drivers seat and brings you home to the heart of the melody you' v been looking for for the last five years. An old note just laying there in some corner for ages, if you throw it at a cascade of ethereal descending chords, will suddenly smile and smile away. In my artwork i like using the simple materials, a pencil, a brush, a piece of discarded cardboard and think how to integrate these elements in landscapes, or plain reality. Same with music.

Not dreaming

My favorite instrument is the one that revealed the best part of what is mostly hidden. In the stuff we do there is the ghost of what was, and I choose mine with great care. I want to take all my time, at a really slow pace to unfold a song, an idea. You have a wound there and I have some medicine here to fix it.



People i like to think about


Husker Dü

Michael Henderson

Keith Rowe

Pauline Oliveros

Captain Beefheart

Hermeto Pascoal

This Heat

Thelonious Monk

Sly & the family Stone

Jan Jelinek


John Lewis

That feeling
Fenêtre de liberté

Partir à la reconquête du son familier. Le dynamiser ou l'endormir. Dénaturer sa coque naturelle, couper en fines lamelles l'à peine audible, assigner des comportements imprévisibles aux surprises du temps, du tempo, moduler, transformer et chatouiller la pauvre expression samplée. Pourquoi faire subir ce traitement stratégiquement violent ? Pourquoi l'esprit musicien veut -il réorganiser la paix du monde sonore ? Sans doute parceque le son en lui-même n'existe pas et ce que nous prenons pour le bruissement des feuilles n'est autre que l'acouphène qu'on espèrait avoir oublié, et le si sympathique chant de l'oiseau n'est que le borborygme des labyrinthes de notre corps. Le six cordes est une bon ami si on lui parle accords, mais il livre de redoutables secrets si on le maltraite. Que ce soit servi en tranches ou livré tout chaud, de toute façon, Muddy Waters dans ses tous premiers enregistrements, avait LA voix et LE son. Cette émotion me parle et je voudrais en parler eléctroniquement.