Where we're at.

This music was recorded in November of 2019. 'Messe Pour Les Temps Pressants', the previous album culled from those sessions, appeared at the onset of the pandemic. In its accompanying essay, we emphasized its mood and themes had nothing to do with the current events, but acknowledged it was driven by a sense of impending doom. We agreed to christen this new one 'Hécatombes' (hecatombs, sacrificial offerings/disasters) as in the meantime things went from bad to worse, from foresight to actual catastrophe.

Granted, our association – Christine Webster+Other Matter – stemed from an online relationship before we met IRL. Music didn't play a great part in our online friendship. Musings over the awkward, if not downright fascistic direction politics and society are taking in the Western world, paved the way towards this music. Anger, and hope as well, accumulated during the Yellow Jackets civil rebellion in France fueled it (the cover shot is taken from Michel Kristof's portfolio: it's a typical, weekly scene of police crackdown on demonstrators). That, the three of us agree upon.

Yet, when we felt it was time to release this second album, lock-downs and various personal hardships (the 2020 kind... you know, right?...) had taken their toll on us. We're now scattered all over the country. We kept in touch of course, and downed more than a few beers and whiskeys in epic online 'apéritifs'. But our feelings were not exactly in harmony. 2020... again, you know, right?... how we grow apart because of isolation, pressing matters, because, pixels making it difficult to decipher that fleeting expression on each other's face, because we can't be together in the room relieving pressure through sound.

Christine keeps a positive outlook nonetheless. In the first draft for this essay I expanded on the sacrificial offering metaphor the title seemed to call upon. She relented, as she doesn't feel we lost anything to the madness 2020 was – we are not slaughtered yet. Foggy as it all his (a fog of teargas...), the embers are glowing in our online campfire. In her own words: 'My wrath will tear up the skies, not the other way around'. This music was conceived to ward off bad omens, and works even better as a catharsis now that 'we are there', post-catastrophe, post-everything. Of course this self-published album will be lost in a flow of data – there's no denying there are more pressing issues everywhere – but we insist. We resist.

On the other hand, Michel feels temporarily defeated – crushed, battered. He's been exceptionnally fecund artistically in 2020, but feels everything he produced was a louder and louder case of crying in agony, living for today, not even in a situation to plan tomorrow. And sees no reason to conceal it from the listener. I don't disagree either. Other Matter, and his solo act, and my solo act, albeit very political in nature, were also conceived as emotional vehicles for the pains you dare barely express in words. All in all, it's there in 'Hécatombes' too. Christine is a driving force, a pulse, a heartbeat, somewhat industrial in its vigorous crudeness, while OM is geared towards lament, improv, nostalgia. The crux of it all lies in the fury – the physiological and psychological response to the mounting pressure. A response that begs to become action.

As for me, I don't know. I have fallen in a strange lethargy, interspersed with bursts of inspiration. To be honest it's a bit maniacal. I understand my two friends' points of view, behind the veil of alcohol and pills that sometimes wrap my reality. I strongly believe in this music, and to perform it in front of YOU would be the best of cures, and I hang on to this possibility. The fact we're not 100% on the same page doesn't worry me much – this will keep the music human in the truest sense, clashing motives and emotions interwoven, a beautiful tapestry that reflects a common quest, that is really to cure ourselves, to cure you of all evils, even for a moment. I miss you. JP