Yann Novak’s Meadowsweet (redux) revisits an album made twenty years ago in the immediate aftermath of his mother’s passing. Two decades later, this remaster marks both the anniversary of her death and an opportunity to consider how listening itself can become a way to process the unspoken.
The original Meadowsweet was an attempt to capture something fundamentally ephemeral—the presence of absence, the way a person lingers in the spaces they once occupied. Novak turned to field recordings, not as documentation, but as a means of grappling with loss. The album became a meditation on memory and its relationship to place, constructed from layer upon layer of processed field recordings, formed into delicate drones that hover between clarity and dissolution.
Meadowsweet was composed loosely, then recorded in a single take—a deliberate constraint that mirrored the finality of the subject matter. This finality became embedded in the work through technical failure: when Novak’s hard drive couldn’t retrieve the source files fast enough, a dropout was captured late in the album. The reverb in that section transformed the glitch into something that felt intentional, a rupture in the fabric that paradoxically felt more honest than perfection would have.
Woven beneath the processed field recordings is a recording of an astrology reading—a friend’s sincere attempt to offer meaning through the stars. Though Novak doesn’t believe in astrology, he recognized in this gesture something essential about how we grasp for meaning when confronted with loss. The reading becomes another layer of processing, another attempt to transform the incomprehensible into something that can be held.
Meadowsweet (redux) stands as a document of how we reach for whatever we can when faced with what cannot be rationalized. These fragments—technical failures transformed into beauty, sounds stripped of their sources, systems of belief held without belief—accumulate not as answers but as gestures. What remains is not truth or clarity, but evidence of the attempt itself.
Track Listing
- A Hard Drive (redux)
- Before the Storm (redux)
- A Long Goodbye pt.1 (redux)
- A Long Goodbye pt.2 (redux)
- Miller Garden (redux)
- Swarming Starlings (redux)
- Release (redux)
- Meadowsweet (redux)
Credits
- Mastered by Lawrence English at Negative Space.
- Published by Touch Music/Fairwood Music, UK.
- In loving memory of Ingrid Ann Buslee and Jennifer Hatsuko Crouch.
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[01]
Enregistré il ya vingt ans suite au décès de sa mère, Meadowsweet est le témoignage de l’éphémérité qui nous dépasse et fait de chacun de nous, un grain de sable perdu dans l’immensité de l’Univers.
Réédité et remasterisé, l’album est l’occasion de se replonger dans ces compositions enregistrées à un moment précis de la vie de Yann Novak et qui ont traversé le temps, révélant au passage que les field recordings n’ont finalement pas changés, seule l’écoute prend un sens nouveau, comme un album photo que l’on regarde avec nostalgie, faisant ressurgir des moments que l’on pensait enfouis, révélant des émotions différentes, altérées et atténuées par les années qui nous traversent, et que nous pouvons partager et ressentir sans même nous connaitre.
Meadowsweet est un témoignage émouvant sur l’absence et la disparition, plongée dans la douleur et dans les fragrances qui tournoient dans la mobilité de nos existences vouées à s’effacer, ne laissant derrière elles que les empreintes que d’autres auront créées, en la mémoire de l’oubli éternel. Superbe.
— Roland Torres, SilenceAndSound -
[02]
Twenty years of reflection. Twenty years of introspection. Twenty years of processing. As Yann Novak’s Meadowsweet hits its twenty-year anniversary, its new remaster marks a more bittersweet commemoration than the surface celebration would suggest . The original album was recorded in the wake of Yann’s mother’s passing, a way for him to work through his loss, finding solace in his art and the exploration of sound, meaning, and self. Meadowsweet (Redux) not only marks twenty years of Yann’s work, but also of the loss he suffered, making this remaster even more poignant and moving.
Meadowsweet captures a time, place, essence, and mood, all of which is resurrected and rekindled in the Redux remaster. Originally recorded in a single take from field recordings, Meadowsweet’s composition/performance was a moment in time that mirrored Yann’s real life. Recordings serve as memories, their processing serving as the brain opening and converting them to sound, and the resulting output stepping in as emotion. While field recordings are concrete, memories are ethereal and nebulous, no matter how strongly they’re felt. Everything is an impulse left up to interpretation, which can change with any physical or mental situation at hand. Meadowsweet captures this as well, with its droning, warbling layers shimmering and oscillating like the signals themselves dancing in the listener’s ears. And, like the events that cause memories, the album is the product of a singular occurrence, recorded in on take, marking the moment as an expression more than a composition. Interestingly, this live feed approach led to a technical issue hitting the tape, a momentary glitch in the computer, but its presence speaks to much more; are memories complete, fluid, and true or is there fragmentation, spaces, and biased inferences filling the gaps? Though, personally, I would like to think that it was Yann’s mother letting him know that she was still with him and although grief and loss are overwhelming, taking a break and allowing it to pass by for a moment is as important as holding onto the memories. Philosophical waxing aside, Meadowsweet flows somberly, with hints of both darkness and light, moving continuously forward. Its duality all present on its softly vacillating layers, sonic strata that can almost be seen flowing past. Recorded in one take, the eight parts blend together seamlessly to give the listener a fully immersive experience, full of contemplation, reflection, and reverence.
Recorded in one take during a period of immense grief and loss, Meadowsweet has a twentieth anniversary remaster that reinvigorates the original recording and brings about a call for listeners to take a moment for retrospection and reflection. What is a memory, and is it merely relegated to one time and place? Is it flowing and evolving? Now that we’re two decades later, how does it compare to what it once was? While Novak’s album was a very personal recording, the atmosphere and emotion can be embraced by all, and it’s recommended that we all take that time to reflect and muse on memor.
— Paul Casey, Musique Machine -
[03]
Music has long served as a space where emotions can be expressed and explored without the pressure of resolution. For listeners and composers alike, it offers a rare place to contend with grief, anxiety, or despair without requiring those feelings to go anywhere or even mean anything in particular.
Meadowsweet (redux) is a case in point – a 20th anniversary remaster and rerelease of Yann Novak’s 2006 album Meadowsweet. A tribute to a family member who had just passed, the album represents both Novak’s struggle with the silence that rushes in when someone is gone, and how he chose to live in that emptiness rather than flee it.
Meadowsweet was recorded in a single take, glitches and all, as a musical representation of a snapshot in time that somehow transcends the moment. The glitches are not smoothed over and instead are absorbed, becoming integral parts of the seven tracks.
Novak’s palette was based on field recordings processed into layered drones that ebb, flow, and waver. They are slow and deliberate, exhibiting melancholy and introspection. As Novak traverses the emotional phases of grief, these sounds can be soft and fragile. Yet they largely remain dark, and even rise to the level of suffocation at times. Some passages are notably quiet while others present wall-shaking low-frequency sustain.
Meadowsweet (redux) will be released April 17, 2026 by Dragon’s Eye Records. It is impossible to actively listen to this recording and not get caught up in its emotional currents.
— Mike Borella, Avant Music News
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