bivouac \BIV-wak, BIV-uh-wak\, noun:
1. An encampment for the night, usually under little or no shelter.
intransitive verb:
1. To encamp for the night, usually under little or no shelter.
Rob had made his emergency bivouac just below the South Summit.
– David Breashears, “Death on the mountain”, The Observer, March 30, 2003
They were stopped by savage winds and forced to bivouac 153 m below the day’s goal.
– Erik Weihenmayer, “Men of the Mountain”, Time Pacific, February 4, 2002
Bivouac comes from French bivouac, from German Beiwache, “a watching or guarding,” from bei, “by, near” + wachen, “to watch.”
On Sunday night, AMC’s Mad Men wrapped up its second season. Before the second season began in late July, I dedicated a portion of my Summer to acquainting myself with the first season of the acclaimed show, which is set in the early 60’s and is centered on Don Draper (Jon Hamm), a New York City ad man. Created by Matthew Weiner, best known for his writing on The Sopranos, Mad Men is head and shoulders above everything else on television at the moment. At a time when HBO is in a down period (thanks to the departures of The Sopranos and The Wire), Showtime still hasn’t realized that Weeds is terrible, and network television is only now beginning to slightly ease up on its fixation with “reality” shows, Mad Men represents television’s best hope for salvation.
Mad Men is the complete package. Its ensemble cast, in terms of talent, is matched only by a select few. With Don Draper, Matthew Weiner has created one of the most charismatic assholes in the history of television and in Jon Hamm he has found an actor capable of serving the character’s enormous complexities. Thanks to its incredible attention to detail, Mad Men is one of the more authentic period shows in recent memory. Weiner’s writing only supports that claim, as he frequently sheds light on the harsh treatment that women faced in the workplace and often incorporates news headlines into the plot. For example, the tension of the Cuban Missile Crisis played a key role in the season two finale. If your parents grew up in the late 50’s and early 60’s, the scenery in Draper’s home will be all too familiar to them.
If you have cable, you have no excuse not to be watching Mad Men. Moreover, if you have an HD television, you have no excuse not to be watching Mad Men in vivid HD. It was announced last week that AMC had renewed the show for a third season, but had yet to reach a new contract with Weiner. I’m hoping that is resolved soon, because I don’t want to imagine what this show would be like without his writing. Given the long wait between seasons of cable productions, the rest of the television world now has time to catch up to Mad Men. If just one of the major networks would take a chance on a show that has even a fraction of the courage and personality that Mad Men has, the idiot box would be a lot better for it.
An inside look at the season two finale of Mad Men (spoilers):
Before I launch into my review of Benoît Pioulard’s new album Temper, I want to quickly touch on his other recent release, Songs Spun Simla. Released in August on the Music Related label, this is Pioulard’s (Tom Meluch) collaboration with Praveen Sharma. Often compared to Boards Of Canada, Praveen’s work is significantly more beat-driven in comparison to Pioulard’s. The two do share similar influences though and Praveen’s electronics come off as a logical foil to Pioulard’s more organic approach. Composed of six songs, Songs Spun Simla, much like Pioulard’s work, is a combination of instrumentals and vocal tracks. The highlight of the set is “Embers” (listen below), which features an outstanding vocal by Pioulard. As someone who was not familiar with Praveen’s music, I am curious to hear more by him. Praveen and Benoît have released one of the more memorable collaborations of the year.
The rest of this review will focus on Temper, Benoît Pioulard’s second full length album and follow-up to 2006’s highly recommended Précis. Temper aims to solidify Pioulard’s singer/songwriter skills while expanding on the hallucinatory instrumentals that were such a part of the success of Précis. Perhaps the best example of this claim is the duo of “Ahn” and “Sweep Generator.” “Ahn” soars thanks to some of Pioulard’s best finger-picking while the instrumental “Sweep Generator” is a shoegazer’s dream. Temper may be more fractured than Précis, but its sublime musicianship and diverse tones make it just as rewarding.
Pioulard’s songwriting chops have indeed taken a step forward on Temper. One listen to “Idyll,” one of his most focused compositions, confirms this. More often than not, I still can’t understand what Pioulard is singing. I love his voice and view it as an additional instrument, so I’m not bothered by this at all. I could just be mentioning this because I was so dismayed by Pitchfork nitpicking exactly that in their review of Temper. It is interesting to note that the limited edition version (sold out) of Temper comes with the lyrics for the album. They are sophisticated and provide a fascinating read, but I almost believe that the atmosphere of Pioulard’s music would be damaged if I were able to hear him clearly. Headphones are a must when listening to Pioulard to truly realize the great thought that goes into these soundscapes.
The instrumental tracks are one of my favorite things about a Benoît album. “Ardoise” is as equally hypnotic as the previously mentioned “Sweep Generator.” These instrumentals are an ideal fit for a film score, so independent directors should take note. It is no easy challenge to balance vocal and instrumental music on record and Pioulard has quickly established himself as a newcomer that manages to do so effortlessly. With Précisand Temper, Pioulard has carved a niche within the experimental community. There is no doubt that he is one of Kranky’s finest artists and for a label with that much talent, that’s saying something.
