Benoît Pioulard is a master of minor matters. It starts out with his name, which is actually Tomas Meluch, but that doesn’t really matter, at all. It continues with the face that »Sonnet« is already his eights solo record in nine years, not even counting the two records with Rafael Anton Irisarri under the name of Orcas. In this context, a new album is more than negligible. It ends with 14 new tracks, all of them making minor matters sing. The raw material of »Sonnet« (A poetic form consisting of how many verses? Exactly, 14!) was taken from field recordings of air conditioners, birds, grasshoppers and other negligibilities of everyday life, imitated or interpreted by Meluch on the guitar, in order to create new compositions made of loops. Sometimes, they’re just a few seconds long, sometimes more than seven minutes, echoing beautifully and harmlessly. »Sonnet« is a record that unfolds slowly, carefully layering its sounds, weighing in a melancholy dizziness. »Sonnet« is like a soft, woolen blanket, giving us the necessary warmth on a spring’s night: it’s so negligible, so beautiful, so beautifully negligible.
Sonnet
