An initial simulacrum of tranquillity slowly develops an almost scary edge, transforming itself in a strict, no-genre music stretching all over the place. Richard Chartier’s “Archival 1991″ takes its basic source from reworked analog and digital synthesizer sounds; its first minutes are characterized by an impressive series of resonant metallic blows, such as in giant bottles with air compressed inside, struggling to get out, yet just turning around itself. As the mass of sound flows on, getting thicker and surrounded with haze, it seems like it wants to possess you completely. Everything comes to an unstoppable sense of uncomfortable levitation; you just don’t know where this painful hovering will decide to land you. One thing’s for sure – a pleasure trip it ain’t: you have to listen hard and get all your faculties in place, otherwise your senses could betray. Chartier starts from very simple means to design an outlook of your own desperate will of surviving even the hardest ordeals; like a greybeard’s eyes, his music can surely wither you. Magnificent stuff.