| Summary: Nature's lure; city's rush. |
How fitting it was, the other day, to be cycling through an overgrown bike path with the textures of Inez Lightfoot and Je Suis le Petit Chevalier still fresh somewhere between my cochleas and subconscious. I’m speaking of an ethereal drone split-cassette containing Inez Lightfoot’s “visceral” (as Inez described it) side -- encompassing the mysteries of nature, and sea-foam-soft synth driven drone from Je Suis contrasting yet complimenting the opposite side. Two ladies who are aurally attuned to their surroundings score on this one.
Inez Lightfoot, a local to me in Pittsburgh, features her usual legion of night-chirpers (crickets), not the stereotypical sound effect present at a lacking performance, rather a constant, calming creature chant approving the peaceful offering that is Inez’s music. A waterfall drone may be heard, eventually crashing into a distorted rush -- a quite literal harsh noise sound accompanied with a cathartic yell. Then, a babbling brook shares the essence with the ghost-neighs of a Native American warrior princess. It’s always a treat to experience the new experimentation in Inez’s music. The sounds seem to erupt out of an ancient hollowed-out tree trunk with transcendental vitality.
French/Belgian Je Suis le Petit Chevalier (good thing her music is not as difficult to listen to as is pronouncing her moniker) hazes out the other side with crooning chants and a knack for inducing a dream-like state. At one moment, she takes what sounds similar to squeaky car brakes and turns it into a ritualistic pattern -- lulling the audience elsewhere. The setting I get is somewhat of an abandoned club with some songs serving as echoes of times past, still haunting whatever may lurk around the cobwebbed corners. So with the spookier tendencies some of these songs flaunt, the rest are relaxing -- like cruising through a coastal region with a soothing mist enveloping.
Alongside other female droners such as Grouper and Inca Ore, these ladies have potential to emerge even higher in the underground scene. If pretense was present this would seal the deal, but it will happen naturally as the fallen leaf grazes the placid lake (okay, that was pretentious -- had to get that off my chest) and naturally as their art comes across. The one complaint I can think of is in the vocal department; I would like to hear more pronounced lyrics once in a while. In any case, both sides better get used to being in my Buick’s tape deck rotation.
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