Sure! Here’s the rewritten content while keeping the HTML tags intact:
By: Dave Cooper
Jean-Michel Jarre | Website | Facebook | Twitter
A Prelude
I vividly recall my first encounter with Jean-Michel Jarre‘s music. During the final weeks of 1987, a friend’s older brother returned from university with a large box loaded with cassettes, filled with music he had copied from peers while studying. Once home, he handed the box to his younger brother, who then shared it with me. As we sifted through the tapes, we discovered one labeled simply “J M Jarre – Cities In Concert.” We played it without knowing what to expect, and about 12 minutes in, as the first track neared its conclusion, we halted the tape, nearly overwhelmed with excitement, jaws dropped in amazement. Even today, the first ten minutes of that tape remain unparalleled in my experience. I instinctively knew, as I had when discovering other records that became profoundly significant to me, that this was an artist I would passionately follow for the rest of my life. That feeling would indeed prove accurate.
The tape contained a copy of Jarre’s recently-released Cities In Concert: Houston/Lyon (which I will elaborate on later). My initial copy of that cassette was literally worn out – it was played so much that it broke. I made a second copy of the same cassette, which met a similar fate, before I finally purchased a legitimate cassette. That copy also succumbed to overuse, just like a vinyl version (which developed a significant skip on side 2) did, leading me to buy it on CD – and later again when Sony remastered it in the nineties. This highlights just how deeply passionate I was – and still am – about Jarre’s music.
This fervor wasn’t limited solely to Jarre’s Cities In Concert album, though it is one of my most cherished live recordings by any artist. That same enthusiasm urged me to explore Jarre’s other works. At 15, my finances were modest, although I had begun to build a decent record collection. Recognizing the time it would take to save enough to purchase all of Jarre’s albums with my pocket money and sporadic odd jobs, I asked all my friends if they had or if their parents had any Jarre albums. Miraculously, I managed to compile about half of Jarre’s earlier work onto a series of tapes that were somewhat haphazardly recorded by various friends. Many were unlabeled, some were in the wrong order, or had gaps in them… but those tapes were played over and over until eventually replaced with purchased copies of Jarre’s albums across various formats. By that time, I was already enamored with Kate Bush, Pink Floyd, and a few other bands, but my obsession with Jarre’s discography had impressed everyone around me, friends and family alike, with its intensity.
Nevertheless, this isn’t just a narrative of my long-standing fanhood; it’s about Jarre himself. To truly tell Jarre’s story, we need to take a step back to post-war France.
From Lyon to Paris (1948 – 1979)
Born in Lyon, France, in August 1948, Jarre was immersed in music from an early age. He was the son of prestigious film composer Maurice Jarre, renowned these days for his work on films like Lawrence of Arabia, Doctor Zhivago, and A Passage To India, among many others, and Francette Pejot, a celebrated figure of the French resistance during World War II. The marriage of Jarre and Pejot was fraught with disappointments and disagreements, culminating in divorce five years after Jean-Michel was born; a situation attributed, as noted many times, to Maurice’s self-centeredness and commitment to his musical career. In 1953, Maurice left for America, prioritizing his career over his family. It would be years before young Jarre would see his father again.
Francette Pejot with a very young Jean-Michel Jarre
Jean-Michel’s own musical talents began to surface early on. By the age of five, he was playing the piano, and though he loved music and showed a natural aptitude, he became frustrated with the constraints his first tutor imposed, leading him to abandon formal training for a time. His innate talent eventually led him to the Conservatoire de Paris to study classical piano under Jeanine Rueff, however, even there, he found the bounds of his classical training stifling. During this time in Paris, Jarre’s interests in art and literature began to flourish. Paris, a vibrant hub of creativity, exposed Jarre to various influences that would shape his artistic vision in the decades that followed. Though he was a dedicated student, Jarre began to divert his focus toward extracurricular activities. As a teenager, he joined several bands, favoring guitar and singing over the keyboard, and this period marked the beginning of his songwriting journey.
In the late sixties, France was ablaze with revolutionary spirit, and Jarre’s musical journey was on the cusp of transformation. In 1968, amidst widespread anti-capitalist protests and strikes paralyzing France’s infrastructure, Jarre made the bold decision to leave the Conservatoire de Paris and apply to the GRM (Groupe de Recherches Musicales). GRM, a Paris-based organization founded by composer and theorist Pierre Schaeffer, aimed to fuse diverse musical disciplines and develop genuinely new approaches to music, greatly inspiring Jarre. Schaeffer became something of a surrogate father to Jarre, encouraging his creativity and supporting his early endeavors. Known for his focus on musique concrète, Schaeffer believed that all sounds could be musical, dependent on the intent of the composer or performer. His experimental works, at times abrasive and atonal, at other times minimalist, captivated Jarre; the liberty from conventional compositions, which had previously frustrated him, appealed to his adventurous spirit.
While working at GRM, Jarre completed and released his first original compositions. Though some of his collaborations were out by that point, Jarre’s early explorations of electro-acoustic music produced what is often regarded as his first true solo release, a 7” single featuring ‘La Cage’ and ‘Erosmachine’, released in 1971. ‘La Cage’, a strikingly percussive piece infused with theremin and an electronic motif, is undoubtedly exploratory, but the friction between avant-garde experimentation and the melodic essence typical of Jarre’s style is already perceptible. Conversely, ‘Erosmachine’ adopts a softer approach, built around a tape loop resembling rulers being flicked and dragged across a desk, underpinned by a gentle, gliding melody and breathy sounds, ultimately building to a literal climax with a final cry from the indulged femme. The overall impression is reminiscent of someone who perhaps had watched Barbarella one too many times, yet Jarre’s fascination with juxtaposing the modern and classical was clear. This tension between the old and new continues to shape Jarre’s work today.
In October 1971, Jarre was commissioned to create an original piece for the Paris Opera Ballet. For the young composer, this was validation of his experimental electro-acoustic efforts: he was the youngest composer to be featured in this way. The outcome was ‘AOR’, a multi-part piece primarily performed using tape loops and the early VCS-3 synthesizer, which left the cream of Parisian society somewhat bewildered. This may explain why a full recording of ‘AOR’ has never surfaced; however, a quick online search might yield some rudimentary audio clips. Much like ‘La Cage’, ‘AOR’ marked an important progression in Jarre’s compositional style, as he crafted a classically-influenced multi-part ‘suite,’ a method he would revisit often.
However, his first solo album – which is not Oxygène, commonly believed to be his debut – but the 1972 release Deserted Palace, holds significant personal importance for Jarre. Initially conceived as library music for producers to use in soundtracks, it has gained notoriety among Jarre collectors due to its absence of reissues, although some tracks have recently surfaced in a compilation. While crafting Deserted Palace was likely a strategy to elevate his profile for soundtrack opportunities, it’s hard not to see it as a demarcation point for Jarre – a search for his unique musical identity. He had mastered the avant-garde style of his mentors at GRM, yet a sense lingered that he was still striving to synthesize his diverse influences.
By this time, Jarre’s work began to garner attention, leading to a wave of early soundtrack projects – from jingles to TV soundtracks and theatre pieces – culminating in his first complete soundtrack commission for the film Les Granges Brûlées (“The Burned Barns”), released as Jarre’s second solo album. Les Granges Brûlées was crucial for Jarre, showcasing further advancements in his style, blending avant-garde elements with a melodic sensibility refined through his advertising work and collaborations with French pop artists such as Patrick Juvet and Christophe, to whom he contributed music and lyrics during this era.
Perhaps either intrigued or dissatisfied with his soundtrack experiences, Jarre shifted his focus to crafting another solo record: one that was thematically cohesive, perhaps even deliberate in its intent. With a fascination for the unique sounds of early synthesizers, Jarre embarked on creating another electronic record, infused with a far broader range of influences than ever before. His avant-garde leanings remained, combined with the catchy melodies from his advertising jingles and pop collaborations, along with the classical elements gathered from his education and traditional music from his homeland. While Jarre enjoyed the freedom to explore these diverse inspirations, recording it proved technically challenging. Without the luxury of studio time, Jarre opted to record the album in his kitchen, employing a makeshift setup of second-hand equipment he had modified, alongside a basic eight-track recorder.
Oxygène possesses a surreal atmosphere of its own. The title is fitting, since the album serves as a symphony of air, with its swirling, ever-changing moods acting as a metaphor for the atmosphere surrounding us, essential to life on Earth yet the source of numerous weather-related calamities. ‘Part 1’ opens deceptively with graceful, drifting synth lines interspersed with seemingly random oscillations; towards the end, it builds a darker tone, reminiscent of a cloud slowly swelling into a thunderhead. ‘Part 2’ sees Jarre unleash a proto-techno rhythm as a steady metronomic pulse escalates to a crescendo, transitioning into the commanding boom of ‘Part 3’, a dramatic conclusion to the first half of the album. The second half takes a different turn, beginning with the now-iconic ‘Part 4’, endlessly reinterpreted and parodied since its release. Its rhythmic gait gives way to the dreamy tranquility of ‘Part 5’, which is abruptly shattered midway through by an energetic rhythm propelling the listener into a swirling soundscape. This unexpected and powerful shift exemplifies Jarre’s ambition. Synth lines and cascading rhythms are joyfully panned across the stereo field, guiding the listener through Jarre’s crafted audio journey, ultimately arriving, breathless, at the conclusion in ‘Part 6’. Here, Jarre establishes a tradition he would carry forward in future albums, closing the record with a track that echoes a more traditional musical style. ‘Oxygène Part 6’ is a gentle, Latin-tinged piece, with a synthesized percussion line accompanied by sweeping organ melodies, the ebb and flow akin to an imagined tide, and imitated seagull cries. This serves as a melancholic yet atmospheric farewell, easing the listener out of a deeply immersive experience.
Even upon completion, it appeared for a time that the album might not reach a broader audience, as Jarre faced repeated rejections from record labels. Over time, his hopes diminished until Francis Dreyfus, head of the Disques Motors label, recognized something unique in Jarre’s vision. Although Disques Motors was predominantly a jazz label, Dreyfus decided to gamble on Oxygène, undertaking a low-budget limited release of 50,000 copies in December 1976. Dreyfus’ cautious approach was soon disregarded as the album became an overnight sensation. The initial pressing sold out almost instantly – as did the subsequent one. Clearly, much like Mike Oldfield’s Tubular Bells a few years prior, the record resonated with music lovers of all ages and backgrounds. The following year, Oxygène topped charts worldwide, selling approximately 15 million copies – a milestone unmatched by any other French artist.
The reactions to Oxygène proved, unsurprisingly, to be extremely polarized. The initial press reception was largely negative, with many critiques focusing on Jarre’s choice to use almost exclusively electronic instruments, arguing that this choice rendered it somehow emotionally vacant or less than music: assertions that Jarre dismissed, probably because these were often the same labels applied to Pierre Schaeffer’s music, the very work that influenced Jarre’s creations. Yet the public spoke through their purchasing decisions, prompting many critics to reevaluate Oxygène as its global popularity grew. Jarre became a household name, particularly in France, while promoting the record abroad; interviews often revolved more around his choice of instruments than Oxygène itself. In many ways, Jarre inadvertently became an ambassador for a movement. Electronic music had matured, with bands like Tangerine Dream and Kraftwerk garnering wider audiences. Jarre’s major contribution to the genre lay in his ability to popularize it, dispelling misconceptions. Some viewed his decision to avoid creating an avant-garde record as ‘dumbing down’ the bold, uncompromising nature of the genre at that time; however, his detractors either overlooked or undervalued the multitude of influences that shaped him. If he was guilty of any transgression, it was simply being authentic and fortuitously being at the right place at the right moment.
Jarre dedicated months to promoting Oxygène; inevitably, his thoughts turned toward recording again. The success of Oxygène provided him with the resources necessary to spend time in a proper studio. His next album, titled Équinoxe, would be a much more polished endeavor. Adapting his expanding collection of analogue synthesizers with custom-built machines designed alongside his ‘artistic collaborator’ Michel Geiss, whose musical insights and technological expertise would prove invaluable to Jarre in the years ahead, Jarre retreated to the studio to record his new album.
Équinoxe serves as the more refined counterpart to Oxygène. Jarre envisioned the album as a reflection of a single day in the life of a person, commencing with awakening and concluding with falling asleep once more. However, the elemental essence of Oxygène re-emerges within the music – this time, it is water that plays a central role. The album indeed possesses a liquid quality, enhanced by appropriate sound effects – Jarre’s cherished musique concrète – from the ebb and flow of the tide in ‘Part 2’, to the bubbling water sounds in ‘Part 3’, the thunderstorm that kicks off ‘Part 5’, and the persistent storm that becomes a key element of the finale in ‘Part 8’. Jarre’s classical training is more evident than on Oxygène, showcased in the playful intricacies of ‘Part 1’, to the haunting theremin-inflected synthetic strings in ‘Part 2’, culminating in the distinctly romantic gliding theme that reigns in ‘Part 7’. Yet, Jarre’s prototype electronic dance music remains intact, especially in the looping patterns of ‘Part 3’ and the hypnotic rhythms of ‘Part 6’, while the anthem-like ‘Part 5’ arguably lays the groundwork for trance music nearly a decade before the genre fully emerged. A key aspect of Équinoxe’s flowing quality is Jarre’s increased use of sequencing, allowing him to program notes and chords with a speed and precision that would have been difficult using only manual techniques – ‘Part 3’ and ‘Part 6’ particularly capitalize on this advancement. Once more, the album concludes with one of Jarre’s traditional compositions. ‘Part 8’ opens with the sound of rain, then gradually introduces a simulated Parisian street band, complete with a whimsical organ, as if the listener is wandering toward it, ultimately fading away as if they continue walking past. The storm crescendos in intensity, leading to the refrain from ‘Part 5’, transposed to a slower organ tempo, concluding the album on a warm, nostalgic note. Jarre’s reverence for the traditional music of his homeland shines through vividly in this piece. His fondness for the Parisian street band portion is clear, as he has performed it separately, outside of ‘Part 8’ of Équinoxe, under the title ‘Band In The Rain’.
Not unexpectedly, Équinoxe was a resounding hit upon its December 1978 release, both in France and across Europe, where Jarre’s popularity soared. Even in the UK, where media reception was overwhelmingly negative, Équinoxe managed to reach number 11 on the album chart. Now, with two successful albums, the inevitable question arose: would Jarre consider performing live? Initially, Jarre hesitated; after all, the analogue machines he preferred were notoriously unreliable on stage – having proven to be problematic for other bands, they often lost tuning or functioned poorly in humid conditions. Additionally, Jarre would be unable to play all the equipment himself, as the albums contained dense layers of arrangements that had required overdubbing in-studio.
Nonetheless, for the adventurous Jarre, it was merely about finding the right event to make live performance worthwhile. That opportunity eventually came from the Parisian authorities, who invited France’s new phenomenon to perform an outdoor show for Bastille Day in 1979. Jarre set up his equipment on a specially constructed stage at Place de la Concorde in the heart of the city, opting to perform alone by using tapes to replicate parts he couldn’t cover. While he had extensive experience performing with other bands, this time he became the sole focus of the growing crowd. He later confessed to escalating nervousness as the crowd assembled around him. By evening, the audience stretched as far as he could see: the attendance at his Bastille Day concert set the Guinness World Record for the largest crowd at a concert, as around one million people gathered in central Paris to witness him play the entirety of both Oxygène and Équinoxe. Even at this early stage of his career, Jarre had the foresight and ambition to coordinate spectacular visual elements for the show: buildings nearby displayed specially-prepared slides throughout the performance; water fountains were illuminated in diverse colors, synchronized to parts of the music, and fireworks punctuated several tracks. In many ways, the Place de la Concorde show marked the beginning of Jarre’s increasingly grandiose performances; spectacles that would become synonymous with his name over the next four decades. For Jarre was merely at the outset of his journey.
Next time: The introduction of a new digital synthesizer transforms Jarre’s artistic approach; Jarre’s live performances escalate in ambition even in the face of hardship; and Jarre navigates the challenges posed by traditional British red tape (and the notoriously unpredictable British weather).
Let me know if you need any further adjustments!
Fuente original: echoesanddust.com
Publicado originalmente el 2017-01-11 02:59:00 por
Hashtags sugeridos: #Echoes #Dust #Guide #JeanMichel #Jarre #Part