Artist/Composer:Yves Robert, Bruno Chevillon, Cyril Atef
(P) 2019
Knowing how to let go. Reaching the point where skill and virtuosity are incorporated to the point of no longer requiring the least effort. This threshold where extreme acrobatics no longer inhibits the abandon to unforeseen impulses, the sudden desire to caper around or stay immobile, listening to the hills.

01. j’ai raison, l’ordinator / I’m Right, Computer
02. dans les bras de morphing / In the Arms of Morphing
03. moins que rien, plus que tout / Less Than Nothing, More Than All
04. pour tout au plus rien au monde / For Everything and Nothing in the World
05. your skin
06. herpès / Herpes
07. vibre chaud / Hot Thrill
08. embrasser mon tuyau / Embrace My Tube
09. puis souffler sur la braise / Then Blow on the Embers
10. respirer 3000 virus par seconde / Breathe 3000 Viruses Per Second
11. l’eau qui rêve / Water that Dreams
12. le sperme du diable est froid / The Devil’s Sperm Is Cold
13. inoxidental
14. changer d’habit comme de chemise / Changing a Habit Like a Shirt
15. algorythmique de danse / Dance Algorhytmic
16. perdre le paradis et 75 cheveux par jour / Losing Paradise and 75 Hairs a Day
17. à genou les puces / On Your Knees, Chips
18. débarrassé du jésuschrisme / Free of Jesuschrism
19. gagner 20 millions de cellules par seconde / Gaining 20 Millions Cells a Second

 Total time: 50:00
Yves Robert – trombone, IT (Usine software)
Bruno Chevillon – electric double bass, electronics
Cyril Atef – drums, electronics, vocals
Production notes:
Compositions by Yves Robert (1, 2, 3, 8, 12, 14, 15, 17); Cyril Atef (5); all other tracks by Yves Robert, Bruno Chevillon
and Cyril Atef
Recorded by Viktor Szabó at BMC Studio, Budapest on 21-23 June, 2018
Edited by Yves Robert
Mixed and mastered by Viktor Szabó
Artwork: László Huszár / Greenroom

Produced by László Gőz
Label manager: Tamás Bognár

Thierry P. Benizeau - Jazz Magazine (fr)
Z. K. Slabý - His Voice (cz)
Olasz Sándor - (hu)

Click on the image for higher resolution!Knowing how to let go. Reaching the point where skill and virtuosity are incorporated to the point of no longer requiring the least effort. This threshold where extreme acrobatics no longer inhibits the abandon to unforeseen impulses, the sudden desire to caper around or stay immobile, listening to the hills.

Infatuations: that of our ears instantly captured, captivated; that of the three partners reunited here, the trombonist Yves Robert, the drummer Cyril Atef, and the double bassist Bruno Chevillon, themselves bewitched by the infinite sound possibilities of their instruments. Spellbound in the strongest sense: magnetized by sound and its substance, its seed, its bite, its dough, which they work on with joy, mixing, kneading it, whipping it around, folding and refolding it, as if by dint of the grinding triturations they were able to reach out and touch its very mystery.

In these 19 tunes there is something of the wonderment of childhood. Something of the carefree, sunny joy of three kids having fun playing around freely with their breath, their fingers, and their immediate understanding. And it is a miracle, after so many years playing, to have so much childhood within you. The pieces are short, between one and three minutes in general, five or six at most. With the very first attack, a world is set down, a course is laid out, a pulse is taken. It is infinitely structured. And infinitely precise. And at the same time it is always seeking, exploring, digging, tinkering, having fun, exploding, laughing.

It is sometimes said that writing is a way of projecting your voice to the interior of a cave whose dimensions and shape are as yet unknown: projecting it in order to listen to how it comes back, to discover how it sounds, how it resonates, to try and understand what it is, this shout you have released. In the same way, the accomplices here launch asteroids of rhythm and sound that we hear passing the pavilion of our ears, going to strike our entire cortex, to accelerate our pulse. The trombone quakes, vibrates, throbs, caws, gurgles, gargles, yelps, sizzles, rasps, and slogs away. At times you hear it enjoying going along for a while with the double bass and the drumkit, flirting on the side with rock, pulling out, suddenly awakening a rhythmic fire worthy of a carnival, to become cunning, smiling, almost like a fanfare.

And then suddenly again it gets derailed, distorted, the thirst for surprise and experimentation takes the upper hand once more. Long-held notes against the background of the double bass and the drumkit skimmed lightly with a brush. Helicopter blades passing. Melancholy brass instruments emitting long notes, suddenly twisting the sound with a sadness that is splendid, slow, pulsating, restrained. Always transformed. Metamorphoses. Ruptures. Reversals of tempo, sudden halts. Hallucinatory, dreamlike lentos. Then setting off anew in crescendo all the way to ecstasy.

“And if I attack like this?” “What if I speed up here?” “If I brake suddenly?” “You daring me?” “You don’t dare?” “You’re on!” Each time it’s like a beep that one gives to the others, setting them a challenge, stimulating them. Childhood, always childhood. Even the titles, which tell of modern life brushing joyfully with the absurd, and as the album proceeds, drawing a self-portrait as a musician brimming over with charm and humour. The contemporary world is there, everywhere: computers, viruses, hair falling at the rhythm of 75 a day, everything that would match with blues if the artist were not in possession of the only asset worth having, the only reason for life: freedom.

Ah, to bring chips and computers to their knees! To be free of “jesuschrism”! With a joyful fervour, a virtuoso humour, the music of Yves Robert plays. With the melancholy of someone who knows there is no other paradise.

Sylvain Prudhomme

Born in 1979, author of novels and reports, an enthusiast of West African music of the 1970s and 1980s, in his book Les grands (Gallimard, 2014) Sylvain Prudhomme recounts the journey of an old guitarist through the back-streets of today’s Bissau, forty years after independence, against a background of revolutionary ideals and disappointed hopes.

Translated by Richard Robinson

YVES ROBERT Born in 1958, he has been roaming the fields of music (written, improvised, visual, and scenic) for nearly 40 years. Gifted with great technique, with an accurate and dynamic tone, he plays the trombone with spirit and freedom. His sweeping style unites melodies and playful musical textures like so many stories nourished by sound images.

BRUNO CHEVILLON, the most graphic of double bassists, both rapid, accurate, and powerful in the low and high registers, an impressive pedigree.

CYRIL ATEF, a spritely and cheerful drummer, prince of relaxed tempo and ultra-accurate, a kind of living encyclopoedia of global and interstellar groove.

This trio is about 20 years old: we know no more, nor do we wish to, there is no birth certificate. It’s like evidence of familiarity and the instant confidence in sound. With us, all musical intentions are listened to and taken into account.

Melodies criss-cross, rhythms and modes of playing respond to one another, with suppleness and liberty. Of course we can change, according to mood, to desire, and we don’t deny ourselves that. Among friends we manage, we manage and arrange the pieces, we smash them up and glue them back together, we exaggerate, and we like doing that.

The important thing is the intensity of the moment, the pleasure of surprise, the feeling of playing, and the sound, which emerges from the instruments and envelopes us.

That’s why we use electronic effects, digital audio techniques: to envelop us. To knead the dough, and stretch it towards the incredible, the unheard-of.

To surpass the instrument with jubilation. To intensify the sense of being.
To play music is to celebrate the absence of paradise.

Yves Robert