Even though it is the plain of uneventfulness, I trace out a line of flight in a daydream. Even though I am daydreaming, I dream of plain things. Let me arbitrarily start from the last fifteen seconds of Is It Now? The unintelligible message corrupted and weakened by power line noise is good enough to set me off packing. In a moment I will remember what the packing is for. Before I do, suppose I am going just out of town but not too far, nothing special there. So I take out a necklace with large colorful transparent beads to examine the environment outside. I remember spending an afternoon out in the country, gathering daisies and making flower wreaths, then traded them for the wonderful necklace with a girl I met who also came to play on the same meadow. The beads are beautiful and useful. You can place each of them successively before one of your eyes and squint the other, rotate the bead a little, and observe the air, the clouds, and the sky. To Filter is to transform. Brown and blue. Some information is lost, but what remains comes clearer – if it’s a clear day. Today is not the best day, hazy and fuzzy. The clouds exhibit a tint of yellow, the air is lazy, doesn’t want to stir, perhaps mildly polluted even. But I can hear it humming a tune of warmth whichever bead I choose to observe it through. That’s good enough for an outing. I spend the next nine minutes loiter around the room to pack. All I need is to stuff some snacks into my bag. But to do so with my footsteps and body movements synchronized to the lethargic Dub bass takes time.
The yellow tint on the clouds could be a reflection from the mild pollution, or it gently warns of a dissolving sun. In the latter case, it should rightly arouse a sense of urgency. I Come Alive into the Climatic Phase No. 1 and get myself on the road. There doesn’t seem to be much going on outside on the late Saturday afternoon, except the smell I expect of grass dust thrown up by running feet that permeates the air out in the country. Here along the road, everything seems standing still, including the air. But as I slowly drive past them, a chorus of coconut fairies forms out of slightly condensed air, and they sing in different pitches as I turn around bends of various curvatures. read more …
A winter walk in slow motion. The sounds of every sinking step along the snow carpeted trail, of a twig’s shudder felt by each cell of the tree, of water droplets dripping from glittering icicles, of pine cones being kicked sideways, of broken glasses…
An endless journey forward through the monotonous sparse woods, which effortlessly extends itself by looping the same scenery. It invites a meditative mind to open the inner eyes, drawn to meticulous examination of every detail in the derivation, and lulled to dreamy introspection of the encompassing philosophy.
At times clouds pass over and hastily flew on, casting transparent shadows on the otherwise blinding whiteness. A strange flicker produced by the transient chiaroscuro induces a moment of intellectual illumination, in which the mind briefly floats in the air of delightful clarity.
When I was small and looked at “Still Life in Motion”, or “Movement in Still Life”, I thought of a largely immobile living being undergoing quasi-equilibrium movement. Now it suddenly clicked that still life refers to a painting, like that of a couple of drying flowers gathered from outside the house, a framed old photograph of someone distant in memory, a plate of promising green grass, and an empty bottle – all of which set against a patchy gray wall in a dark room. So is trudging in that snow, doubtlessly a motion but in truth a collection of snapshots of the outer scenes and inner states.
I have never been good at ambient music. But when I open the window, and all the luminous particles of sounds and samples come along a sudden blow of wind onto my face – like this entrancing opening – I am the most willing captive to offer my most secret imagination.
I had written stories to conclude my previous art book projects. So let’s pretend to do the same to the most recently finished one, by actually writing about Andy Stott – Faith in Strangers. I could do so merely because of the cover art, which is a photo of one of Modigliani’s female head sculptures, even though my actual execution involved only paintings. When I first skim-listened (because New Romantic in another album of his sounds nice), which happened before the project, I wasn’t particularly impressed. One day, after I finished the project, I went to Andy Stott’s page again to renew my subscription to New Romantic – the two events were unrelated. Suddenly that elongated face that I lately became familiar with caught my attention. Though this particular one isn’t featured on the art book.
So I tapped in and gave it a second listen. I don’t remember if I got to my present day level of appreciation of these sounds precisely on that day, or if my turning from disinterested to infatuated was because of the realization of who made the album cover sculpture. At any rate, since then I have been drawn into this record deeper. And it reveals additional connections to Modigliani’s sculpture works: the sound palette is heavy, colossal in size, much like the African art inspired bulky legs and bodies of the caryatids; saturated, grainy in texture, just like the surface of the stone material that Modigliani worked with. The opening Time Away pretty much has them both – as if the deep and long lasting calls resounded through pre-historic time to this very moment. A third connection, there is the wonderful female vocal appearing throughout the album; unlike every other heavily processed sound, it is mostly left untouched, embodying the pristine femininity exuding from the outward roughness of the stone work… I’m probably connecting dots that never exist… So much for a clearing of the throat then.
I can very well relate why Violence is one of the hottest hits. In between the fragile, unstable, volatile singing inside a pitch-black room that is occasionally pierced by a flicker outside the window, the two grave, massive outbursts work like a slaughter machine, swallowing and grinding all your sick, deranged, and misanthropic substance to produce a gigantic organism of emptiness.
Just noticed in On Oath, between the musical sentences played by the first woodwind-like layer, the blank is filled with some faint humming of a rotating mechanism, which actually is also the last sound heard in the end. This and the previous reference to machines are enough to evoke that industrial gloom that prevails Eraserhead that I recently watched, leading properly to Science & Industry, a nice rise in tempo structurally
More than a year ago upon first hearing it, I was taken aback by the chiptune-like arpeggio in the opening track but subsequently discovered the sparkling loveliness adorning the rest of the 40 minutes. The impression still persists. But somehow the light of the gems suddenly was able to pierce through my heart as I picked it up again, perhaps because my BoC fever has finally receded to a healthy level.
If Boards of Canada evokes imagery of my world view and abstract emotions, then maybe R Plus Seven by Oneohtrix Point Never is more like a personality portrait. Be it an individual track or the flow of the entire album – if there exists in it such a thing as a flow at all – unexpected turns of events or an abrupt abortion of an ongoing theme can occur anytime anywhere. And of course it never happens in an unpleasant way –
After the ostentatious opening, ‘Americans’ brings twenty seconds of calming air from a distant afternoon playground before a rapid change of focus on a secret garden rising out of a fresh downpour. The dazzling young green rocking up and down as dewdrops roll off is my first favorite melodic moment. I could stare at this for hours but no lingering is allowed. A long interval of fast-forward with space warping and human voice jittering throws me onto the clouds and left me gradually descending into the world of Botanicula, where the sap running through the transparent leaves resonate with peculiar little creatures making their own noises. The unique signature of choral elements in R+7 is notable for the first time. At first, one bright-eyed creature sings a note or two and immediately disappears to give way to another. The tiny random contributions thus piece together rhythmic patterns that friskily hop into different keys.
All that vanishes before my eyes and a short practice session ‘He She’ makes the transition to a hushed ‘Inside World’. The female vocal has a sparse but coherent line accompanied by broken pieces of sounds. It feels as if hearing my cell splitting and blood circulating with slight irregularity. Then comes the gliding waves gently pushing me to the realm of mind. It too is so brief that soon the first theme returns again.
And before I am drowned in my inner bodily reflection, ‘Zebra’ lashes out its briskness at full force. The first theme is repeated for two minutes with naughty brass and joyous choir scattered around before it breaks down and comes back to a state of ‘Inside World’. Fragmented electronic church bells sway in the ambiance; random horn melody wanders aimlessly further and further away. And then a prolonged pause. read more …
As a fan of Snoopy comics and old animated movies, my initial reaction to this news was also “eww”. But to be honest, this 3D Snoopy doesn’t look all that bad. Well, it’s true we can now see Snoopy’s fur and – oh, good grief – Charlie Brown’s teeth! That’s a lot of unoriginal details compared to the comics. But if we look around at any other 3D animation we will notice the modeling of this movie is so simplistic. So it really depends on with what we compare it to. Going 3D inevitably brings texture, shading into the business. Apparently the movie makers don’t lack the technology to make it much more realistic (like what Disney did with the ice and the snow in Frozen?) But they choose a minimal setting, and perhaps even a bit too plain. That brings me into thinking that they have made an effort to try to balance between natural looking in 3D and the original style of simplicity. One doesn’t simply say something is inappropriate just because he believes it should just be the way he thinks it ought to be.
Since some protestors brought Tintin into the conversation, I will take it and I think it illustrates quite the opposite point. I first get to know about Tintin from none other but the 3D movie. I thoroughly enjoyed the movie. The animation quality only adds to its brilliance. (Uncanny valley? Just another typical syndrome of narrow-mindedness.) Exactly because of the movie, I got interested and moved on to read the original comic. At first sight I was amused by the portrait of Tintin. I thought, two dots for his eyes? But pretty soon I loved the comics no less than I do with the movie. So why can’t I be more open-minded towards the 3D Snoopy?
We see Snoopy everywhere, on pencil boxes, on T shirts. But how many know what kind of character Snoopy is? The point is to have more people discover the greatness inside the beagle. Some of them might, like myself in the case of Tintin, go to dig for the original comics. And maybe they will appreciate the comics better, or not. What matters is Snoopy continues to bring joy to the world, and his spirit continues to kindle our hearts.
Now that well reminds me of BT. His late effort has been devoted to making “entry level” EDM (I just meant dance-floor inspired). I remember him saying
…as people get into the dance music their tastes change and refine and then listening to something like what I do or Boards of Canada or Au5 appeals to them.
(Hey hey, I’m a living example here again!) So if he wants to make something to entertain his target for a while I’m all fine (though I don’t listen to them.) And this is analogous to what I’m trying to say here regarding the new 3D Snoopy movie. I might still not be so much a fan for the visuals. But judging from the trailer, which has already presented some of the very essence of the peanuts gang. I gladly look forward to seeing it. I hope it still conveys the warmth, loveliness and naughtiness, which could definitely be done.