A Closer Listen
One seldom thinks about holes unless one falls into them. contre-montagne is all about holes, specifically those of Montreal. According to Anne-F Jacques, the entire city “was created by digging holes: removing stones from the ground, then making buildings with them.” Holes seldom exist for long before someone considers filling them: with trash, with dirt, and in this case, with snow.
The album represents a unique recording site: a place in which pollution mingles with a thriving wetland habitat. One pauses, only momentarily, to wonder if this might be a good thing ~ before dismissing it as another example that nature will find a way. Jacques calls the icy bottom “the glacier of Montreal,” noting the turquoise color of the artificial meltwater lakes. On various occasions, Jacques sneaks “through a hole in the fence” to discover what these holes might sound like. The results are revelatory.
The most noticeable sounds connote depth and enclosure; at 70 meters deep, a hole is in effect a cavern, and in dry months may attract its share of intrepid creatures. One can hear the echoes, a visceral, hollow drone. There is scraping – a thin, metallic sound – but also a cricket-like noise extending from the emptiness. Even without snow, the site sounds cold and lonely – the forlorn condition of a hole waiting to be filled. When a train passes by late in “août,” it is like a long-lost friend; and not coincidentally, the train also seems to unload a plethora of insectoid inhabitants.
Returning in November, Jacques is beginning to experience the frost. The sounds are thinner, edited by the air. Dogs can be heard in the distance, then wind in the foreground, icy crackles, conveying the knowledge that winter has arrived. Trucks and conversation criss-cross the sonic field. Somehow Jacques is not spotted; one imagines the artist crouching down, a secret spy. A whistle briefly bisects the taps, which continue unabated before the entire recording shifts to a higher volume and denser viscosity.
As a hole is filled with snow, silence is filled with sound, a mind with wisdom. While listening, one meditates on spaces filled and unfilled, the nature of the void, the desire to make things disappear and the cold realization that out of sight, out of mind does not necessarily mean gone. (Richard Allen)
Sat May 24 00:01:41 GMT 2025