Laurent Dailleau, Isabelle Duthoit et David Chiesa ont recueilli dans ce disque d'impressionnantes microsismographies qu'il faut écouter et écouter encore tant cette musique de solfatare s'évanouit - peut-être est-ce plutôt qu'elle rompt si nettement avec nos habitudes et canons auditifs qu'il nous faut nous agripper pour tenter de la saisir.
Exigeante, souvent âpre, elle avance par séquences contrastées (ostinato et mosaïques éclatées): Dailleau y réussit la prouesse de faire du theremin un instrument agile dont l'association avec la contrebasse large et respirante est très réussie (filets perçants et grumeaux), tandis que la clarinette veinée et rayée promène sa gouge et ses oxydations.
En publiant cet enregistrement, le label Potlatch partage et assume avec les musiciens le risque de créer un monde sonore dont on suivra attentivement les enrichissements.
Guillaume Tarche l Improjazz l Janvier 2003

A fervently new mood of improvisation is available on this record. The trio of David Chiesa (bass and little percussion), Laurent Dailleau (theremin and computer) and Isabelle Duthoit (clarinet and voice) have developed a startlingly idiosyncratic method of interacting - not only among themselves, but also between each of the instruments they play. Unguided by mimicry of tone, rhythm or volume, these three French musicians intermesh uniquely disturbing and alluring sounds as a continuous screen on which to project sense and emotion. Layers of sound come and go almost unnoticeably because the whole field of sound is so consistent in mood, though exactly what that mood is can't be pinpointed. That unnamable but absolutely inescapable tone is intricately etched into each of the eight tracks on Ur lamento, seven of which were recorded in early September of 2001, while one is from a May 2000 concert in France. Long streams of clarinet air glide, mouths open and close, the bass stretches consolingly, percussion pops in, a computer hums and a theremin wanes.
Duthoit's vocals percolate with hisses and grumbles during Falaises, confronting tiny woodtaps, swift bow-bounces and computer rings. A frightening yet oblique interaction ensues, like an animal in a cave being uncomfortably discovered by antennas. The depth of intensity conveyed far surpasses anything that is possible when everyone in an improvising ensemble plays their instruments as fast and/or as loud as possible, a typical shortcoming of many American improv groups. Mingling with the high-pitched, electro-tones and swizzles on Etherfield are small flutter-bowings of bass, then sonic identities begin appearing and disappearing in even waves, trickling like tides timed to grains of sand rather than the moon. Woodpeckerish clarinet attacks accompany scratchy strings and a lush theremin timbre-twist. The intensity sustained throughout the recording is not one dependent on the progress of inciting and resolving crises, but instead results from the maintenance of an oblique and strange yet entirely organic dynamic of emergence and correspondence. A comfortable, relaxed intensity permeates these passionately controlled dramas unfolding through our ears, creating a cohesive set of improvisations where sonic ideas ricochet off and penetrate into each other in ways that sound like pure intuition saying "yes".
Andrew Choate l Coda l November 2003

Still little known outside of France, the three musicians forming Triolid deserve wider recognition among free improv circles, at least judging from Ur Lamento, their first album as a trio. Their music is informed by the London scene that spun from the Spontaneous Music Ensemble and the more cerebral Austrian-German current of quiet, highly focused improvisation, along with France's very own take on the subject. It means that the musicians are seeking a form of interaction based on intense listening to each other's moves but still claim the right to use large dynamics and get excited. The most original voice is that of Laurent Dailleau's theremin. The instrument in itself is a rare feature in this -- or any other -- context, but Dailleau expands its register to new lengths. He also plays it in conjunction with a computer. Bassist David Chiesa uses a wide range of extended techniques, focusing mostly on unusual textures. He provides a certain level of restlessness by turning the usually (at least in other music forms) firm bass register into the aural equivalent of quicksand. The clarinet of Isabelle Duthoit is a strange, evanescent creature that takes pleasure in hiding among Dailleau's plaintive electronic cries. In two tracks she vocalizes through the instrument, the screams scraping our insides as much as her vocal chords. Ur Lamento is intense and mesmerizing, but also a demanding listen.
François Couture l All Music Guide l April 2003

Can you make demands upon pure improvisational music? The simple answer is no.
The more correct (and lengthy) response is to ask the same question of its listeners. What does one bring to the listening table? Does expectation and theory only dull the experience? The best approach (for many) is to consider the listening experience as meditation, and to open your ears to all possibilities.
The French improv band Triolid comes to most American ears with no expectations. This recording of clarinet, theremin/electronics, and bass is a mostly understated affair. Even with clarinetist Isabelle Duthoit’s screams of madness on Falaises are not overblown. The trio remains within themselves, and the moment. This is not so much a noisy affair as it is a reflective outing.
The combination of instruments, clarinet/theremin/bass is the feature here. Each has the possibilities to make ‘noise’, none do. Duthoit, a classically trained musician, David Chiesa former rock bassist turned improv student, and Laurent Dailleau a full time theremin musician play a patient game of extended thoughtful lines.Their meditations are ours.
Mark Corroto l all about jazz l April 2003

The group Triolid delivers Ur Lamento, another fine electroacoustic recording from Potlatch. The young French players are Laurent Dailleau (theremin computer) Isabelle Duthoit (clarinet and very scary vocals) and David Chiesa (bass). Culled from live and studio sessions, this intense group explores texture and timbre in a highly focused fashion. The music's abstraction allows the insstruments to merge in provocative ways - on some of the tracks, the three get to the point where they almost achieve sympathetic resonation. The high keening of Dailleau, the buzzing strings of Chiesa, and the warm clarinet and vocal tones of Duthoit oscillate provocatively to produce music of bewitching charm.
Jason Bivins l Signal To Noise l March 2003