by David Wilikofsky
Danielle Boutet was born in Quebec City and studied music at the University of Montreal. After graduating she became involved with the burgeoning feminist and lesbian arts scene in the city. Piéces, her first album, was self-recorded and released in 1985 with some assistance from her then girlfriend Sylvie Gagnon. She sold a few dozen copies around town, but the album got wider exposure a few years later via inclusion in Ladyslipper, a well-known mail order catalog. Though Boutet would release one more album, she eventually left music behind for academia.
I only provide this context because it helped me make sense of her music. On the surface Piéces is a bit of a hodgepodge. Opener “Spirale” is a slinky instrumental anchored by marimba; “P. 216” is a eerie synth driven track with Serge Gainsboug-esque spoken word interludes. Each track reveals a new side to Boutet’s artistry: elegiac guitar ballads, experimental soundscapes, jazz noir. It quickly becomes clear that this is music unfettered by any notion of genre or marketability; whether a track comes off as oddball pop or glistening ambience, Boutet clearly prized exploration and self-expression above all else. The album’s title translates to “rooms” in English, and it feels apt. The experience of listening to it is like wandering through a vast mansion, encountering a series of rooms with their own distinct character.
It’s a marvel that Piéces is getting a second chance at life; countless albums like this have been or will be lost to the sands of time, their few existing copies gathering dust in thrift stores and bargain bins. It’s idiosyncratic and esoteric, the type of music that probably won’t ever have wide appeal but will strike a deep chord with the right audience. Labels like Freedom to Spend (who are responsible for this release) are so crucial because they dig deep, writing and preserving an alternative musical history filled with outsiders and dreamers. Because of their efforts, a wider audience than ever before will finally be able to sit with rapt attention in Boutet’s exquisitely rendered rooms; any way you slice it, that’s a small miracle.