The cover of Voile au Vent features a sailing ship that is being carried by the wind inside its sails. The image seems to recall the past rather than the present. The ship is surrounded by utter impenetrable darkness. Even though one can see beautiful drawings of delicate flowers in the background, this scene brings to my mind rather the gothic horror tales of Edgar Allan Poe – specifically ‘The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket’ which deals with a ship lost in the frozen waters of the Arctic – rather than beauty or serenity.
The record itself starts off with a warm and brooding drone. It is followed by piano keys rambling like skeleton fingers and a beat that sounds like a wooden heartbeat. Such is our entry into the wondrous gothic world of Frederik Croene & Timo van Luijk. A duo whose approach is entirely introspective and devoid of outside influences whilst remaining aware of their existence. Timo van Luijk appears to be intend on releasing his work on vinyl only, despite of most people’s opinion that it is a dead medium from a haunted past. He also happens to run the tiny label that honours this ancient medium and has released a miniature output of records – six in the past seven years – thus creating a discography that is closer to the treasure chest of a secret society, rather than an enterprise bent on making profit.
The second piece opens with warm brass sounds which are reminiscent of foghorns signaling a ship that is coming from a distant journey and is about to enter a foreign port. These sounds are followed by a brief military drum passage and ghostly, ominous, twangy string sounds set in as an accompaniment. These sounds were most likely curled from the intestines of a piano. Although the instrument has been around for centuries, it would appear that all of its potential has been exhausted by now. Frederik Croene is bent on drawing new sounds, and appears to be highly successful in this.
Side B opens up with an aural vision that reminds me of haunted houses and children’s lullabies in equal measures. The piece is moody and shimmering, reminiscent of a fata morgana. It seems to be more intent on conjuring up visions rather than bringing a mere piece of music to the forefront. The final piece on this release differs a bit from the others since it seems to be throwing a huge chunk of modern classical music into the stew. There are triangles, Sciarrino like flutes, Lachenmann’s crashing pianos are also present as well as a brief funky bass to be found. It is a curios epilogue to an equally mystique album. Voile au Vent is unsettling and soothing in equal measures; partially modern and partially gothic. Comes highly recommended. (77ships, the hedonistic monk)