Sylvain's aural signature, a clustery piano phraseology, mannered, melodious and oftentimes attractive enough, seems at first out of place on Creative Sources, a label based in Portugal known for its relentlessly shifting electro-acoustic configurations.
To the extent that Chauveau's signature undergoes a self-dissolution, mutating into an impersonal movement through shifting sands of indefinitely repeated beginnings, the work is perhaps not so very far from the normal network of relations associated with the label. One piece, consisting of several segments, is presented with mineral clarity. This emphasizes the brittle beauty of the instrument, its gentle, plaintive character, captured well by the lucid recording. But to be effective, especially in what is ultimately non-linear improvisation, animated by several periods of silence of varying length, it also requires a certain thrust in connecting the various movements, a thrust which is lacking in numerous areas. Chauveau lets the line dangle too loosely in places, or pulls it prematurely, in the end giving the piece an uneven pace that doesn't always hold one's attention. This is on the one hand.
On the other, at least in certain places, the piece does deepen through concentration, taking form, gaining in weight, shade and motion, and dissolving and reshaping in an expanded auditory field. It's also unobtrusive and pleasant from afar. It has it's own coherence and time sense — a series of evocations and excursions into memory interspersed with improvisatory plunges into the here and now. Some of the pieces simply aren't well linked; Chauveau's comings and goings are too apparent; and the proceedings never come full circle on their own.
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