Perhaps I can be really rude and divide up Levitation from the off. It’s comprised of four longer tracks (all over four minutes in length) and five shorter ones (all below three minutes). These shorter pieces can perhaps be best viewed as interludes, brief ideas between the longer tracks. Four of them are essentially rhythmic workouts, with violin and organ switching between supporting and decorative roles. Heard alone, they are a little insubstantial, but they work well enough as tangents in the album. The remaining fifth ‘interlude’ is actually rather nice. Mme Chapuis proceeds from a buzzing violin sound into an organ-led piece, which moves slowly along on a hesitant melody. There is a definite ecclesiastical atmosphere to the track, pierced by a bluesy slur near the end. The four longer works are all very nice indeed. I’ve used ‘nice’ twice now, and I know that it’s never a convincing word of praise, but the good parts of Levitation are indeed simply very pleasant to listen to. This is not to suggest that they are in any way lightweight or inconsequential, however.

The first track, Béatrice, is the longest at nearly 15 minutes, and probably the most substantial too. After a sounding introduction, which is shrill at points, the duo move through slow, shifting sections - often pastoral and melodic. These are given a definite weight, if not a melancholy majesty, by the counterpoints and pace of the playing - if not the very instrumentation itself. It’s genuinely engaging and beautiful. Béatrice is followed by Gilliane (all the pieces, bar the last, are named after women), which is again disarmingly simple. From beginning to end, it’s founded on an insistent organ riff, with violin adornments; the changes are rung by bass notes on the organ, which enter and leave the track intermittently - transforming it as they do. Like the opening track (and all these longer pieces) it’s nothing particularly earth-shattering: simply unhurried beauty.

The fifth track, Mme Tempête, stands out somewhat on the album; it’s a gorgeous, if still agitated, bassy drone - presumably organ-derived. Clearly there is some processing going on, but I can’t be any more specific than that. It’s the one place on the album where the duo’s instruments become obscured and indefinite, detached from the sound. Regardless, Mme Tempête reverberates and shimmers, in an undeniably monolithic way. As mentioned above, the last track on Levitation is not named after a woman; it’s titled Pour L’Orgue, and is indeed for the organ alone. To continue a theme, it’s very, very… nice. It’s based on long, droning melodies - simultaneously rooted in earthiness, yet reaching heavenward. It provides a perfect close to the album.

I’ll happily admit that I’m a sucker for church organs. In fact, I’ll even go further, and say that I was very recently disappointed by an improv album by a strings and church organ trio. Levitation succeeds, in places, where that album failed for me. I say ‘in places’, because - as stated above - most of the shorter pieces don’t stand alone too well, to my ears; they are also the sites of more obvious processing and effects, which might go either way for your tastes. However, as small diversions between the longer tracks, they work - and indeed the whole album hangs together rather well. The four longer tracks, though, are all great; they share an unhurried serenity in tone, a simplicity, and a detached beauty. They are not interested in flashy technique, or impressing the listener, rather they create a comfortable, lush sound-world - somewhere for ears to rest and be still. A very recommended release.