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À propos de cet album
The Shape of Time Is Gone est un album de rock progressif en huit titres, présenté dans le style de 1973. Il se déploie comme une suite où les structures familières se sont dissoutes et où les instants se superposent sans début ni fin clairement définis.
Son univers sonore s’articule autour de l’orgue Hammond, d’une guitare électrique claire ou légèrement saturée, d’une basse analogique, d’une batterie minimale, de l’écho à bande et de discrètes couches de synthétiseur. La musique demeure abstraite, atmosphérique et en apesanteur tandis que ses formes se dissolvent lentement.
Au fil de huit titres reliés, l’album retire un à un les repères familiers. Les commencements restent introuvables, les lignes refusent de tenir, les instants se dupliquent imparfaitement et des voix séparées surgissent sans ordre. Dans le mouvement final, même la distinction entre changement et immobilité s’est dissoute.
La musique reflète cette perte progressive de structure. Les sonorités de l’orgue Hammond se prolongent au-delà de leur résolution attendue, les guitares claires ou légèrement saturées reviennent à travers l’écho de bande, les figures de basse dérivent loin de toute destination fixe et les percussions minimales n’apparaissent que lorsqu’un passage réclame un poids provisoire. De subtiles textures de synthétiseur élargissent l’espace sans transformer le disque en production électronique moderne.
La suite est conçue comme un seul voyage atmosphérique continu plutôt que comme huit chansons isolées. Des phrases antérieures reviennent sous des formes modifiées, la densité croît puis retombe, et le centre mélodique le plus net du disque cède la place à des arrangements toujours plus ouverts, jusqu’à ce que le dernier titre ne conserve presque plus aucun rythme.
Année d’archive : 1973 · Publié :
Liste des titres
- 1Where the First Moment Should Be4:29
- 2Lines That Refuse to Form3:52
- 3A Shape That Doesn’t Hold3:18
- 4The Same Moment Twice3:44
- 5Everything Happens At Once4:04
- 6Voices Without Sequence3:23
- 7No Edges Left to Follow4:23
- 8Nothing Remains To Settle4:24
Paroles originales en anglais
There should be a moment here A place where it all begins But every time I look for it It slips before it settles in No edge to mark where this one starts No line to separate the flow I reach to find the first of things But there’s no way to truly know Where is the start Where does it begin I feel it forming But it never comes in Where is the line I’m meant to follow through Every direction Feels equally untrue The sound arrives without a cause The note appears without a past I try to trace it to a source But nothing ever seems to last Where is the start Where does it begin I feel it forming But it never comes in There was no moment after all No place where time could first appear Only a space that feels like one That vanishes when it comes near
There should be a pattern here A line I can follow But every line I try to draw Refuses to remain I mark a point It drifts away I trace a path It will not stay The shape appears Then comes undone Before the edge Has even begun I try to join What won’t align The space between Rejects the line It won’t hold It won’t hold Nothing forms Nothing forms I draw it twice It shifts again What once was clear Now has no end No line remains No form to see Only the act Of trying to be
It almost forms Then disappears A shape begins But won’t stay clear It folds It tears It doesn’t hold It doesn’t hold It doesn’t hold I try to give The moment form But every edge Refuses norm It bends away Before it’s true It never stays The way I knew There was a shape I almost saw But it dissolved Without a law
It happens once Then happens more The same returns But not before I hear it twice But not the same A second voice Repeats the name It overlaps It misaligns Two separate paths In fractured time Again again But not as one Again again It comes undone I see the moment split in two Both are false Both feel true It stacks It bends It won’t divide Too many places At one time The same moment Happens twice But never lands In the same place
I hear a voice before it speaks I see the end inside the start A thousand moments overlap And pull the sequence all apart The past arrives with what will be The now is never standing still Everywhere at once it seems A crowded, shifting, silent will Everything happens at once No line to follow through Every second calls my name But none of them are true Everything happens at once No order left to find Every place and every time Collide inside my mind I try to separate the flow To hold a single passing frame But every piece I try to keep Is different, yet the same Everything happens at once Still louder as I fall Every moment ever made Is happening through it all No before No after call Only everything And nothing at all
Not in order Not in line They speak before They speak again No first No then A voice arrives Without a place Another fades Without a trace I try to hear A single thread But every word Is somewhere else instead Calling out At different times But all at once Inside my mind No sequence left No way to choose Only voices I cannot lose
There used to be a way to see A line to guide the in-between But every edge I try to trace Dissolves before it can be seen No boundary No divide Nothing left To step inside Nowhere to hold I reach for form, it slips away I name a shape, it will not stay The corners bend, the sides collapse And leave behind an open gap Nowhere to hold Nowhere to hold If there were edges once before They’ve faded into something more A space without a point to find No path ahead, no path behind
It doesn’t move It doesn’t stay No sense of night No sense of day No shape remains To fall apart No thread to trace From end to start Nothing forms And nothing fades No voice returns No silence grows No place ahead No one who knows Stillness becomes everything
Explorer cet album
Recommandé si vous aimez
- Le rock progressif vintage des années 1970
- L’orgue Hammond et la guitare à écho de bande
- Les structures abstraites qui se dissolvent
- La prog atmosphérique en apesanteur
- Le flux continu des albums-concepts
- Les voyages désorientants au casque
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