Paysages Du Temps

Part 2 (extrait)

C’est une nouvelle collaboration qui s’ouvre aujourd’hui avec l’album Paysages du Temps. Le projet initial était une composition solo de Denis Frajerman très planante, inspirée par Pink Floyd, Klaus Schulze, Neu et d’autres musiciens Krautrock, sur une longue plage de 42 minutes sans interruption, conçue par empilement électronique (drones) successif sur une base répétitive de vents et bols tibétains. Y manquait la puissance d’instruments acoustiques.
Très vite, il fut évident pour Denis Frajerman que les métallophones et la batterie de Loïc Schild seraient parfaits pour ce projet, mais également le piano de Marc Sarrazy.

Les 42 minutes du projet initial de Denis Frajerman devinrent donc deux parties de 21 minutes chacune. L’album solo devint un trio et l’inspiration au Krautrock qui avait présidé à la naissance du projet, un simple clin d’œil dans les notes de pochette de l’album.

Paysages du Temps a bénéficié du financement de la fondation de Gilles Benéjam, Sin Akri Fondation de France.

Thoughts Words Action
There are albums you listen to while, on the other hand, there are albums you inhabit. Paysages du Temps, the latest offering from composer Denis Frajerman in collaboration with pianist Marc Sarrazy and percussionist Loïc Schild, belongs to the latter. It’s one of those finest pieces of experimental music that shifts beneath your feet, breathing, humming, and whispering with every note. Frajerman is a name already woven into the fabric of European experimental music. His work, since his days with the avant-garde group Palo Alto, has always dared to wander. He does not write music to decorate silence. He writes music to challenge it, to sculpt it. With Paysages du Temps, he presents perhaps his most expansive and intimate vision to date, and in Sarrazy and Schild, he has found fellow travelers who not only understand his world, they extend this epic sonic journey to the sheer maximum. This album acts as a slow-motion meditation. It moves slowly, deliberately. It stretches. It pulses. Originally conceived as a 42-minute electronic composition, the piece has since evolved into something far more organic. Split into two parts, the work now becomes a dialogue between acoustic and electronic textures, between composed structure and intuitive exploration. The drone base remains, but it is no longer the sole guide. It is now a canvas for touch and breath, for light and shadow.

Frajerman’s touch is more than evident. There is a depth in his drones, a slow-burning energy that never overpowers but always envelops. He understands tension. He understands patience. And above all, he understands how to build a world out of sound. Loïc Schild, who anchors the first half of the album, brings both ritual and rupture. His percussion does not only keep time, it converses with it. From Tibetan bowls to metallophones, Schild creates a percussive vocabulary that feels like time travel from ancient and futuristic worlds. There is a trance-like rhythm in his performance, yet it is constantly alert, responsive, and alive. Marc Sarrazy enters in the second half with the grace of a poet. His piano lines drift like memory, sometimes lucid, sometimes fragmented. He does not dominate the sonic space but dances within it. One can hear echoes of Satie and Debussy, yes, but also of jazz clubs and silent film scores, of Soviet archives and dream diaries. His playing has clarity, yet it never loses mystery. Together, these three artists have created something very rare, a magnificent album that challenges categorization, yet remains profoundly listenable. It’s a longevious ambient soundscape, but too dramatic for mere background. Cinematic, certainly, but with no clear narrative. Experimental, absolutely, but always grounded in feeling. It is an album that keeps you interested in listening to it over and over again. One must sit with it. Walk with it. Return to it.

The production is essential here. Laurent Rochelle’s touch as a recording engineer and mixing collaborator is subtle but crucial. There is air in this mix, space to move, to think, to feel. The textures never crowd each other. Each sound has its place, its echo, its resonance. The album breathes like a living thing. Even the physical object, the cover designed by Jérémy Chinour, reflects the spirit of this marvelous full-length album. Inspired by the science fiction aesthetics of the eighties, it evokes the past yet travels into the future in so many ways. It invites the listener to think of music not just as sound but as a story, as a landscape, as a place to explore. Paysages du Temps is not for hurried ears. It asks something of the listener, time, attention, and openness. But what it gives in return is vast. It offers calm, but not complacency. It offers movement, but not speed. It offers experimentation, but never at the expense of emotion. This album is a quiet revolution and it vividly showcases how music can still be an act of thought. It can stretch beyond borders, between genres, between cultures, between technologies, and still remain deeply human. Frajerman, Sarrazy, and Schild have created timeless pieces of sonic artistry. Or rather, they have created something about time itself. Its passage. Its pressure. Its poetry. Paysages du Temps is a gift to those who still believe in music as art, as mystery, as a mirror and you should check it out on April 25 when it comes out.

Djordje Miladinović (April 2025).

Psychédélic baby magazine
French composer Denis Frajerman has always done his own thing. From his early days with the experimental group Palo Alto to his long solo run chasing sounds that sit somewhere between contemporary classical, ambient, and literary hallucination, he’s never been one to play it straight.
His latest release, ‘Paysages du Temps,’ just landed on Klanggalerie and it’s one of those albums that doesn’t announce itself with a bang but quietly pulls you into a whole new headspace.
The album started as a 42-minute solo piece made of layered electronics, wind instruments, and Tibetan bowls. Denis was deep in a zone inspired by Pink Floyd, Klaus Schulze, Neu, and that whole Krautrock cosmos. But as the piece developed, it became clear that it needed something more physical, more alive. Enter two longtime collaborators: Loïc Schild, who brings in metallophones and drums that shake the air in the first half, and Marc Sarrazy, whose piano gives the second half a more grounded, emotional flow.
Instead of one long solo trip, the album became a duo of 21-minute sides, each one shaped by a different musical partner. The result is something that doesn’t quite sit in any genre. It’s not ambient, not really classical, not rock either. Sarrazy calls it an “unidentified musical object,” and honestly that feels about right.
The mixing and recording were handled by another frequent Frajerman ally, Laurent Rochelle, who helps the whole thing breathe in strange and beautiful ways. Even the artwork, by Jérémy Chinour, adds to the mood—it looks like a lost sci-fi paperback from the ’80s and feels like the perfect visual entry point into the album’s strange little universe.
If you’re into slow-build sonic landscapes, music that feels like it’s been aged in some shadowy room for decades before seeing the light, or just want something that sounds like nothing else in your rotation right now, Paysages du Temps is worth a deep listen.
You’ll want headphones for this one. Maybe a foggy window to stare out of too.

Vitalweekly.net
For reasons I am now no longer sure, I thought Palo Alto was an American band, but it turns out to be a French group, of which I recognised the name Denis Frajerman because I reviewed some of his solo work (and more later). The group also has Jacques Barbéri, Philippe Masson and Philippe Perreaudin as members. One of the reasons I missed their start in the early 1990s is that I was buried too deep in the world of noise music, power electronics and such that I missed releases with gentle electronic music, drums, saxophones, ‘ethnic’ loops, inspired by Tuxedomoon and the early Made To Measure releases by the Crammed Discs label. Their initial releases were on Old Europa Cafe and T.T.I.C.C. Contingent, and I never heard these until today’s reissue, along with ‘Excroissance’, a cassette single with three tracks from 1993. From the information, I also understand science fiction is “a leitmotif in the group’s work”. Of course, I am much older (perhaps not wiser), and my musical tastes have changed over the years and expanded. I admit downloading music opened another world that would have been closed off; Tuxedomoon was out of (financial) reach in my formative years, and I never listened to much radio. That all changed, and it’s easier to hear where Palo Alto is coming from. I don’t know which instruments are played, but wind instruments, keyboards (inc piano) and drums (or drum machines) are used a lot. There is also some primitive sampling and electronic processing, adding a delicate abstraction layer to the otherwise delicate and highly melodic music. The music is often filmic, full of sunshine, melancholy, drama and joy. That may sound like a wild ride, but it brings some excellent variation to these discs, and I found this a pleasure to hear. A great lost gem from the past revived; Klanggalerie once again did a fantastic job.
From Denis Frajerman, I reviewed some solo releases before (Vital Weekly 1261 and 1184), and he teams up with pianist Marc Sarrazy and drummer/percussion player Loic Schild. They recorded two lengthy (22-minute) pieces, and the cover mentions, ‘the electronic part was recorded in 2023, the acoustic parts were recorded in September 2024. Recorded and mixed by Denis Frajerman, Nautilia studios, 2023″, which I regard as a typo. But I also gather the three players weren’t in the same space, as the cover also mentions Sarrazy and Schild “composed their own part”, and I understand Frajerman composed using this material into the two pieces on this release. Maybe something is lost in translation. Anyway, the album is a tribute to the German krautrock music of the early 1970s. That’s possible, but the album also has some leanings towards jazz and electronic music and does not always have that driving force. Especially Schild’s percussive approach is very much inspired by improvised music. Frajerman adds electronics to the pieces- that abstraction amidst highly melodic music. It’s because I also just heard Palo Alto’s double album quite extensively that it’s hard to avoid comparing both works, even when they are 35 years apart. Whereas Palo Alto’s approach was in creating shorter pieces, in these two works, it’s all about longitude, an ever-changing kaleidoscope of sounds and moods, lots of (Apdarkish moods. It may not be the music I hear often, but I found this reflective mash-up of electronics, improvised percussion and keyboards very lovely. (FdW) (April 2025).

Esprits Critiques
Les frontières entre la musique et l’art contemporain sont poreuses et Denis Frajerman a toujours su s’immiscer dans les interstices. Que ce soit en tant que membre de Palo Alto, à la manœuvre des imposantes Variations Volodine ou sur de beauxalbums solo, il a toujours trouvé l’équilibre entre exigence du propos et beauté du résultat. Il sait aussi s’entourer comme on le verra.
Inspiré d’une certaine idée du planant seventies comme Pink Floyd, Klaus Schulze ou Neu, cet album pousse beaucoup plus loin que ces ancêtres l’élaboration patiente et inspirée d’un climat. Difficile de rentrer dans le détail de deux pièces de 21 minutes chacune mais on peut tout de même distinguer les deux volets.
Le premier est notamment marqué par l’impeccable légèreté de frappe de Loïc Schild. Oui, on peut installer une tension et des mélodies avec des cloches (des bols thibétains en fait) pour en faire quelque chose de léger mais prenant, avec une utilisation poussée des sons de vent.
Le second volet est articulé autour du piano très libre de Marc Sarrazy. Il sait se fondre dans le son ou le secouer, le relancer ou au contraire l’apaiser. Le trio propose donc une œuvre inspirée et d’une variété qui se dévoile au fil des écoutes. Un cheminement pas si tranquille mais qui réussit le tour de force de garder sa pertinence sur la longueur.
(April 2025).

Solenopole.com
Par-delà les genres, les époques et les conventions, Paysages du Temps ne se contente pas de défier les étiquettes : il les désagrège. Fruit d’une conjonction rare entre trois artistes à l’orbite créative distincte — Denis Frajerman, Marc Sarrazy et Loïc Schild — cet album s’impose comme une énigme sonore, une cosmogonie musicale à part entière. Publié chez Klang Galerie, cet opus est une invitation à traverser, non le temps, mais les couches de notre perception, à explorer les sédiments de la mémoire auditive.

L’origine du projet, née dans l’esprit de Denis Frajerman — artisan sonore aux racines dans l’avant-garde de Palo Alto et compagnon de longue date de l’écrivain Antoine Volodine — relevait presque du mirage : une plage de 42 minutes, construite par empilement électronique, entre nappes de drones, vents étirés et tintements de bols tibétains, comme un écho ambient aux grands anciens du Krautrock (Klaus Schulze, Pink Floyd, Neu). Mais très vite, le rêve solitaire a convoqué d’autres souffles : les fêlures organiques de la batterie et des métallophones de Loïc Schild, la main évocatrice de Marc Sarrazy au piano. Ce qui aurait pu rester un pur exercice d’atmosphère se métamorphose alors en hétérotopie musicale — un lieu autre, où les textures électroniques fusionnent avec les grains concrets des instruments acoustiques, révélant un monde sonore sans frontières. À l’image d’un film de Tarkovski ou d’un roman de Ballard, Paysages du Temps donne à entendre ce que nous ne savons pas encore que nous ressentons.
Dans la première partie, Loïc Schild façonne le rythme comme un sculpteur de vide : ses percussions ne battent pas le temps, elles l’appellent, le fragmentent, l’éparpillent. On croit entendre les résonances d’un temple invisible, les pas d’un chaman traversant les ruines d’une civilisation future. L’influence de son long compagnonnage avec les traditions percussives d’Inde et d’Afrique s’y devine, mais comme transmutée dans un langage nouveau, entre rituel et onirisme. Puis, dans la seconde partie, le piano de Marc Sarrazy émerge comme une lumière sourde dans le brouillard : chaque note semble chercher sa place dans l’espace, chaque accord agit comme une brèche ouverte dans le réel. Influencé autant par Debussy que par le free-jazz et les musiques de film soviétiques, Sarrazy transforme les silences en drapés, les mélodies en ombres mouvantes. On devine l’écho d’un passé réinventé, d’un jazz spectral issu d’un pays qui n’existe pas.
L’alchimie des trois musiciens — inédite bien que née de fidélités anciennes — repose sur une écoute mutuelle d’une profondeur troublante. L’album, mixé par Laurent Rochelle dans un studio qui résonne comme une cathédrale de sons souterrains, possède une densité tactile, presque géologique. On y devine la main de Jérémy Chinour, dont la pochette — hommage aux couvertures de SF des années 80 — agit comme un seuil d’entrée dans cet univers suspendu. À la manière d’un rêve lucide, Paysages du Temps est une œuvre qui demande à être habitée, vécue, traversée. C’est un disque qui ne se  consomme pas : il se contemple, se laisse infuser, jusqu’à coloniser notre mémoire affective. À l’heure des formats courts et des hits instantanés, cette œuvre longue, patiente, sans refrain ni accroche immédiate, est un acte de résistance poétique.
Plus qu’un album, Paysages du Temps est une cartographie de l’intime. Il ne parle pas du temps linéaire, celui des horloges, mais de celui des rêves, des souvenirs, des sensations enfouies. Il nous ramène à cette perception primitive où l’instant s’étire, se diffracte, devient paysage intérieur. Chaque écoute est une redécouverte, une variation, une méditation. Dans un monde saturé de bruits, ce disque est un souffle. Un souffle qui, loin d’être nostalgique, ouvre des possibles : celui d’un art sonore libre, voyageur, sensible — un art qui ne cherche pas à séduire mais à transformer.
Paysages du Temps : plus qu’une œuvre, une énigme vibratoire à vivre les yeux fermés, le cœur ouvert.
(April 2025).

Blow Up
Denis Frajerman (elettronica, strumenti), Marc Sarrazy (pianoforte) e Loïc Schild (metallofoni e batteria) fanno quello che una volta si chiamava kosmische musik, un’elettronica solenne e classica che disegna bande-le sue sonorità voluminose e austere per ipotetici viaggi nello spazio profondo, con tastiere che dominano la scena e percussioni mai troppo invadenti, che sottolineano le cadenze. Qui, le due suite sono caratterizzate dalla presenza di Schild, che improvvisa e sconvolge l’imponenza delle tastiere, aggiungendo una sorta di incertezza e indeterminazione all’insieme (Paysages du Temps parte 1), poi dal piano di Sarrazy, che scivola piuttosto delle note romantiche sui venti freddi del nulla emanati dalle tastiere di Frajerman (Paesaggi del tempo parte 2). Un bell’esercizio di stile.
(May 2025).