Delphine Dora & Mocke L'invisible Est Multiforme

After a first album as a duo released on Okraina Records: "Le Corps Défendant", Delphine Dora and Mocke invite us to join them again in listening to a new album. We slip into it as if in a dream, the music carries us away with its floating images.

Heard before on a handful of disturbingly beautiful solo albums and in collaborations such as Midget!, Arlt, Chevalrex, Mohamed Lamouri, Mocke (Dominique Dépret's nom de plume) is a subtle and inventive guitarist, who draws melancholic arpeggios, with a beautiful languor, that walk the line between tensions and tears. Delphine Dora has been heard with Roxane Métayer, Sophie Cooper, Andrew Chalk, Jackie McDowell, Helena Espvall, Valentina Magaletti ... meeting in a moment of improvisation, a solitary sincopated voice blooming between the black and white keys of her piano, tuning betwist these keys, or at other times in the gap of the right note. Here improvisation feeds on melody, or is it the other way round?

Recorded in an old church in the village of Mauzun in the Puy-de-Dôme, by Cyril Harrison, "L'invisible est multiforme" is an invitation to join them, to let these abstract songs erase our obsessive thoughts of the day, to open ourselves to the vibrant poetry of the air and the evening, to finally forget ourselves. Each note played by these four intertwined hands is like a slight break in the fabric of time, sliding one over the other, reminding us of mortality and its beauty. Ritornellas flow out of mechanical clocks, fragile, taking care not to hurt the silence. Both seek to dig and open up new paths to enrich their duet, to open up imaginary landscapes. Sometimes the guitar cuts through the fabric of an organ, fractures the song, just as the rain erases a landscape, redrawing it. But very quickly, both of them continue to follow this new path, improvising what will serve as a framework, a perspective, a language. There is a kind of praise for slowness in this "invisible", a desire to hold back the song, not to let it slip away, to let the listener's ear enter its course, to share the last note, its illumination. Each of these thirteen short sound pieces merge into a common colour, a vibration close to the different tonalities, which inter-penetrate, like a cubist painting. Words cannot take away the mystery of this record, words can only fail to describe the music, you must hear it.' - Michel Henritzi