Music to feed your imagination. It’s a musical pill that takes you far away from your comfort zone. Ariâ sounds like you’re crossing over to the other side, getting sucked in and feeling submerged. As an explorer of the seas, the land and sound, this time round, Molécule takes us on a journey to Greenland. Just like Vangelis’ Antarctica score, which was the soundtrack to my childhood, I let the synthesizer’s icy sonar sound take a hold of me.
When facing the Earth’s beauty, contemplation is the only action possible. Molécule has been able to merge his whole body and soul with the organic power that Greenland presented him with. I feel mindfulness. It’s an opportunity to experience this interactive voyage between the abyss and the summit of an iceberg, among the northern lights and the sound of an ice floe cracking. Eléments is the ticket to my inner journey, I’m a molecule, an element in symbiosis with the world. I am life.
There’s no doubting that Molécule went through a transcendental experience when faced with the force of nature in the Arctic, and I love Sila because it appears to be the proof of this. Sila is an impetus towards the fusion between the sky and the earth, between ice and water. It forces us to let go when facing this mystery, like a shout for joy for impermanence, one that celebrates life.
For Molécule, the cold can be felt at a frequency of 5951Hz. At this frequency, his equipment no longer functioned, as though the atmosphere was frozen, preventing any sound from escaping. It’s the testimony of a man who has come to this land in search of self-transcendence. It’s perhaps for this reason that, surprisingly, his music isn’t cold, but organic and effervescent. His sound gives the impression of molten lava that’s pure and white.
In this song, you can hear the Far North, the wind and the sled dogs that you imagine exist by the foreboding sense that a storm is coming. The elements are raging. We’re confronted with the Violence of reality, by this of a land of extremes. Molécule depicts a landscape that is as magnificent as it is hostile. The storm fades away, leaving the human voice to be heard. Life.
It’s the melting point where a few whole notes that are as soft as cotton rekindle an inner flame, one that literally makes the ice melt.
There’s something cold and precise, almost surgical about this track, which doesn’t take away from its certain warmth. This paradox is pretty strong. Incidentally, I think this duality can be found on all the tracks on the album. It’s a combination of the concept and of efficacy.
This track in particular really had an effect on me because it falls into place really slowly and gently. Ii feels like you’re wandering around in the sounds, making for a truly immersive listen, like background music. The grainy elements build up and take shape in what at first may appear chaotic, but then afterwards, you realise that everything was mastered after all. The melody falls into place, making me feel like I’m in the cold, wearing massive headphones.
This is one of the album’s harsher tracks. I was immediately captured by the bass line. The track’s core is simple: there’s a kick and a bass with other elements swirling all around. It’s the kind of song I go for. The use of “concrete” sounds is interesting because, while these sounds make you immediately think of snow, the cold, ice and the sea, you’re not necessarily able to say right away what you can hear.
Some of Molécule’s tracks truly take you into transcendence. And this is exactly what Inlandsis conjures up. The white noise at the beginning of the track, which appears again just before the second “moment”, reminds us that the void is not entirely empty… it’s truly spot on. The productions give us the sensation of fluffy, cotton-like sound of snow. Inlandsis shows Molécule to be a true Paul-Émile Victor, an explorer of the mind. The track’s second moment takes us on a first class inner journey. It’s a mythical experience.