Kristian, Shalabi, St-Onge. It doesn't roll off the tongue like Emerson, Lake and Palmer, now does it? Although I will concede that this bandname is slightly less cumbersome than Anderson-Bruford-Wakeman-Howe, it's fair to say that this record was not intended for discussion. Can you see asking someone, "Have you heard the new one by Kristian, Shalabi, St-Onge?" Or, "I like the Pixies, John Coltrane and Kristian, Shalabi, St-Onge." Fuck it. It just doesn't work.

But I have to figure something out, because if asked about recent favorite records, my answer would include this thing by Kristian, Shalabi, St-Onge. A bit of background on the players: David Kristian is an electronic musician fond of collaboration who explores the audibility threshold with his ambient works (see Room Tone) as well as dabbling in beat-driven techno. Sam Shalabi is a versatile musician who has lent his name to the near-East trance combo the Shalabi Effect, as well as playing on countless records in the Constellation/Godspeed/Alien8 axis. And Alexandre St-Onge plays upright bass with the Shalabi Effect, in addition to other gigs. All are based in Montreal, where they've performed together as a trio on occasion.

While this record is improvised, the mood of each piece is so integrated and clearly defined it feels more like studied composition. St-Onge's upright bass provides the anchor with unsettling drones, scuffs and plucks. Kristian fills in dark colors on an analog synth, sometimes with gurgling modulation, and other times with quaking bass tones. Shalabi, meanwhile, provides much of the texture, picking and scraping his way on guitar and oud. It's an odd combination on paper, but the three work together as a single six-armed beast intent on conjuring black, brooding atmosphere.

A discomforting sense of anxiety is established from the outset with "Dirt Well." Kristian lays down a warm drone, and over it, St-Onge bows a slow, creaking bass. When Shalabi adds delicate plucks on oud, the music becomes paradoxically both menacing and delicate, as the tiny, precise sounds far exceed the sum of their parts. The music occasionally threatens to burst into pure noise, but the crescendo (and attendant relief) never comes. This music is about the stalk and the hunt, not the kill, and the tension is impressively thick.

The mood throughout is so consistent and relentless that some of the individual pieces are hard to differentiate. As Kristian's is the most sonically flexible instrument, the tracks that stand out most are those where he takes the lead. "The Heart of a Mouse" begins with some looped glitch-style friction, introduces other low level pops and hisses, and then becomes an increasingly quiet buzz that fades over the course of a minute or more. "Insistent Falls" finds Kristian piercing the silence with a high-pitched, grating synth drone piled on by guitar scrapes and bass moans. St-Onge take the lead on "Little Feck," bowing higher in his instrument's range and imparting an eerie, speech-like quality that works perfectly next to the hypnotic hum.

Kristian, Shalabi, St-Onge is a demanding record-- one that requires a certain amount of work from the listener to be fully appreciated. The subtlety and quiet detail simply cannot be grasped without concentration. So no more talking; it is time now we listen.

-Mark Richard-San, October 9th, 2001