Jean-Michel Blais was ready to make an epic. mirador, the pianist-composer's fourth album, finds the Montreal artist turning his gaze onto a wide, wondrous world—exchanging contemporary minimalism for a light and generous maximalism. It's an odyssey that spans choirs, strings and the music of the Andes, running from Spanish caves to Estonian forests and back again to the hideaway in tiny Nicolet, Québec, where Blais first imagined the adventures that might await him.
The finished album is like a vivid childhood fantasy: a make-believe lookout that opens onto everywhere. From the Andean reverie of "carnavalito" to "kyrie"'s sacred chorale (or is it a sea-shanty?), from the courtly "pavane" to the flamenco of "granada," these compositions are light-footed, rich and intimate. Even starting with nothing, you can create so much—cut a crown from a piece of paper and suddenly you have a kingdom.
Four albums into his career, Jean-Michel Blais is no longer just charting the map of his grown-up heart: on mirador, he offers a path back to childhood—a chance to listen anew, gazing into the imaginary.
