Established in France, Microfilm broke onto the scene in 2003 with its Debut Demo. Seven years and two accomplished albums later, the four musicians are back with even more of their extravaganza of pictorial melodies. The band is well known regionally for a live show that infuses video art into the performance like no other, but transitioning this experience into a compact disc has always been troublesome. From the very beginning, it is relatively easy to form a misconception about The Bay of Future Passed; its real facets start to reveal themselves only after one has heard it a couple of times and has already classified it as simplistic and formulaic. With songs that are faithful to a definite structure, the album doesn't do itself any favors and it may be difficult for listeners to view the album any other way.

Take “State & Island,” for example. It is easy to remember, catchy, and it grabs the audience's attention straight away. However, soon after one realizes there is more to the music than just neatly arranged instruments, one begins to wonder: sure, samples work in mysterious ways for bands like From Monument to Masses, but how does Microfilm deal with them? Well, for once, it actually does not, as the band lets its audience make the decision. The band allows us to take, twist, and interpret them in any way we wish. The music might stay in the background, or it might not - it is all up to how we make it work. Microfilm offers an incredibly subjective experience, and it all depends on what the listener wants to extract with her subconscious pliers: the music or the samples. It is an intricate process and it works on many different levels, for when the samples start to seem like a bit of a turn off, the music actually climaxes. Be that as it may, it is not a powerful climax, but something unexpected, for which the listener may be unprepared. Happening at a very late stage, it is whimsical in effect and yet manages to function every time.

With “Devant Nous, Rien,” the band explores a different type of landscape. Although at times flat, the musicians inscribe a very precise balance to the track. If at first the listener might be confused, she will soon figure out it is all about tranquility and the state of mind Microfilm induces with its random jumps from progressive-like post-rock to more ambient sounds. Melodic and relaxed, the song does not stray from the four-minute mark, and yet this is all the band needs in order to put its intentions forward.

However, there are times throughout the album when the music is just too subtle to overtake the samples, and hence the listener has to tolerate something that does not feed the imagination. Narration is not always put to good use, and, although the music works as a journey through images with the aid of sound, it is not cinematic as it fills up all the empty spaces in which one's mind could assemble things. What is most amazing about Microfilm is how delicate it makes the music sound; the powerful and complicated “Combinaison” could easily battle for the best song on the album. Perhaps the omission of samples really does work better, for this song and its drenching guitars actually do feel different. Yet again, one should not really question a stylistic choice, but go with it and try to grasp it even though at times it just seems like a device used to distract the audience.

For something different, albeit not completely so, try “Blood Sample.” The piano creates a mellow and melancholic atmosphere, and at this point it turns out The Bay of Future Passed is really an infectious effort and it does stay with us. After listening to it a second time, one will be able to remember its choruses and even parts of the samples. Overall we are dealing with a powerful and conceptual record, but it is the concept that one might need time to get used to and even more time to begin to understand it. Although by the time the audience gets there it might already know its jigs by heart, it is an audial, partly-visual experience that is much more complicated than it initially appears.

-Diana Sitaru