Christopher Bissonnette
In Between Words
By Dimitri Nasrallah
Though In Between Words is Windsor, ON resident Christopher Bissonnette’s second album for Kranky, Bissonnette has been a part of the fragmented Canadian ambient landscape for years now as a member of the Thinkbox Collective. Thinkbox Collective was necessarily a compendium of its numerous members and their divergent tastes, so whereas the Thinkbox output always varied greatly depending on the release, ranging from dark techno to guitar experimentation to noise, ever since Bissonnette made the jump to Kranky, he’s been exploring the subtle side of longer, drone-ier ambient guitar music. Fittingly, none of the six tracks on In Between Words jumps out and grabs the listener, or even aims for jarring atmosphere. Rather, Bissonnette opts for quiet guitar tonalities that wash over the audience one layer at a time. 2005’s Periphery was a darker work, but here he explores the minor chords for music that’s equally subdued but leaves a brighter aura. Granted, ambient music has more captivating producers — one thinks of Oren Ambarchi, for example, using his guitar in just an abstract way to more immediate effect. But In Between Words rewards those willing to pay close attention, especially in the more distinct passages that make up the second half of the album.
Christopher Bissonnette
"In Between Words
Michael Wehunt (4 March, 2008)
It would be strange for several reasons to speak of “In Between Words” as Christopher Bissonnette’s highly anticipated follow-up to “Periphery.” For one it’s “sleepy time music,” as my friend Audie refers to ambient, and therefore only a few sleepy (and wise) people are highly anticipating its release. Plus that phrase makes it sound like a press blurb. But mostly it’s because “Periphery” was the debut release by an artist who was virtually unknown at the time. That album was a crystalline shimmering pool of gorgeous drift and mesmerizing near-classical composition, and my jaw still drops into a puddle of drool whenever I put it on. It is a jewel in Kranky’s inimitably consistent catalog, breathlessly capturing the nodding-out essence of pure drone while leaning toward the organic clipped and pasted loop aesthetic of Taylor Deupree’s 12k label. “Periphery” hit that sweet spot that Stars of the Lid patented and so many others fail to mimic, but it always remained degrees away, instead employing microscopic processing and a much more romantic and minimal mode.
So I was surprised at how Krankyish “In Between Words” sounded from the first moment of lead piece “Provenance.” This is a decidedly darker and grainier Bissonnette. “Provenance” throbs with something approaching menace even as it bursts through clouds into brilliant sunlight. Even as my eyes were happily closed throughout the record, I was let down by the fact that the majority of droners in the world compose music that has a similar aim as this. Why the 9 rating then? Well, even though these six tracks scratch an itch that’s easier to reach, the depth of Bissonnette’s compositional skills is still astounding. The pristine clarity of “Periphery” has fallen away to a reluctant wonder given to both hope and a piercing melancholy. “Orffyreus Wheel” is tempered with washes of noise and clattering sounds as it reaches upward in emotion, and “Tempest” is a sort of avant-garde abstraction I’d have never expected from Bissonnette. “The Colonnade” and “Jour et Nuit” close out the album with seventeen glorious minutes that soar majestically and one-ups even Eluvium in the great epic drone race. Still the grit wears through, but every grain is essential. Christopher Bissonnette could have easily duplicated “Periphery” a couple more times before anyone grew weary, but instead he’s proven that he’s in the upper echelon of ambient artists today. 9/10
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