April 13, 2023
ELECTROCHOC NO. 4

Woulg & Corporation

7:30pm Conference / 8pm Concert
In collaboration with the Conservatoire de musique de Montréal


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Woulg 

Woulg (Greg Debicki) is an experimental electronic music artist based in Montreal, Canada. He has gained recognition for his unique approach to electronic music production, characterized by glitchy textures, intricate rhythms, and a strong emphasis on experimentation.

In addition to his solo work, Woulg has collaborated with a variety of artists and organizations. Notably, he worked Push1stop to create "Interpolate", an AV project with 32 channel surround sound and dome projections, and with Montreal Life Support to create the project "Empty Vessels," which utilizes AI to control three robotic cellos in a live performance setting.

Currently he is working on using small VAE's to take over limited aspects of his music production, composition and performances, with the goal of eventually making himself completely obsolete.

Website
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Program
Woulg presents some new multichannel experiments with an AI library written entirely in Jitter with the help of Wireframe Wolves. The work is an extrapolation of some of the ideas of hyperglitch through experimental sound design and spatialization techniques, while fulfilling the mandatory quota of melancholic melodies.





Corporation

Corporation is a duo formed by Racine (Julien Racine) and Keru Not Ever (Justin Leduc-Frenette). They released their first album, "Graffito", with the record label Genot Centre in 2019. They have performed in Paris, Prague, Brno, Luhačovice, Ottawa and Montreal, among other places. With their "Scene" series, they have been producers-in-residence at Hong Kong Community Radio since 2022. They will release their next album on Tropisme in 2023.

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Program

Cœur de cheval dans le corps d’une foule - 20’

Heart of a horse in the body of crowd: it is us, in the incandescent hearth of a bestiary. We have nothing to record this hustle and bustle except our memory, which often fails in its task. Horses orbit, and the dust, brownish, rises. They flee or follow the wind, it depends. The smell of bousin mixes with mountain fury. Through the dust, it's hard not to think of love stories, like wild worms taken from the animal fable we live. These memories reappear in an insistent way: they are string quartets, ensembles faithful to anamnesis and desire. We could have called it Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun, but it is quite another thing, it is already the burning dawn, and we cannot surrender to dreamy sleep. Coincidentally, it's music.