A pixelized pink-on-pink cover image with a handmade oval burn mark: That's all the information you'll get with your CD of Jonathan Parant's Littérature. Don't expect track titles, credits, or liner notes. You'll barely be able to make out the title of the album on the spine of the jewel case. All avenues of interpretation are left open and you may find that to be a blessing or a curse, depending on how much you need to know about what you are listening to. Far removed from the music of Fly Pan Am, Parant's best-known project, Littérature takes listeners to the heart of -- of what, actually? Upon first contact, the music evokes the electro-acoustics of Lionel Marchetti or Leif Elggren (track seven comes very close to the mysterious shortwave frequencies of the latter's Extraction). Processed feedback, contact microphones, objects producing tiny sounds recorded up close, and ambient hums and drones are all transformed within the bowels of a computer before coalescing into this music. At times it exerts a fascination on the listener (track eight, track four), but as a whole it comes through as a somewhat clumsy album, a string of studies, exercises in sound art. The pieces lack a conceptual frame to tie them together or a hook element that would retain the listener's attention.
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