A couple weeks ago in my Aesthetics class I racked my brain for an artist that I should probably never listen to again. The artist I came up with was Aphex Twin. Why, you ask, would I consign the immense creative and music deconstructing power of Aphex Twin to the garbage bin? To be honest, I'm not sure. I've been a fan of Richard D. James ever since I discovered music on the internet and though I've listened to probably every single thing that he's put out over the years, his later work has been disappointing me with its ridiculousness and lack of musicality (particularly the Analord collection) to the extent that I felt (in that moment in class) that I would probably be better off if I never listened to him again.

In this funk of AFX disownership I stumbled the other day across a reimagining (also known as a "cover") of the very first Aphex Twin track that I ever loved, called "Flim" from the Come to Daddy EP. It's performed by The Bad Plus, and whether you love them or think they're gimmicky trash, this performance captured my heart and reminded me why I fell in love with Richard James almost twelve years ago. It's because despite the awkward ramblings through not-music and his predilection for disturbing images and sounds, he makes some startlingly beautiful music. The fact that these delicate musical flowers are found in the musical equivalent of a industrial scrap yard makes them all the more precious.



The original track is here.

Garner's latest EP is an exploration of reimagining where we've been and where we're going. Beginning with "Undo," Matt McKenna croons: "we cannot go back / what's done we can't undo" and "there's still so much that you just don't see / and all I want is for us to be / good." As the song trails off into the nether regions of a guitar arpeggio, we're given a sense that this has been a comment on what's coming: a guitar/whistle duet foreshadowing the wordless refrain of the next song, "Sing."

"Sing" brings the record firmly into bubblegum territory, including an oft-repeated sugary hook, innumerable "doo"s, rock glock, bathetic characters and a shallow, amusing love story. I was quick to dismiss this song when I was sent the recording, but there is a lot going on here that a casual listener will miss. Among other things, the chorus's simple melody is never played the same way twice (pay attention, songwriters): Garner are careful to change up the harmony, dynamics and arrangement of the segment on each repetition. Listening to this song in light of the introduction of the EP suggests that there is a tangible point to this bubblegum anthem, as well, but I'll get to that in a minute.

Purple's cover evokes memories of Harold's adventures with an immersive reality of his own creation. If you've seen the cartoon, you'll know that Harold can't find his way out of his purple dream, after creating a scary dragon, vast ocean, mountain, hot air balloon and a city full of windows (none of which are his own), until he remembers that the moon is always outside of his window and is able to use that as an anchor to draw his bedroom. Garner seems to find a similar loophole to get out of their virtual space, after the dismissive "Let Me Do (What I Do)," the self-indulgent escapist fantasy of "Catapult" and the poignant illustration of how a regret begins in "Chasing Jane" (though the song ends with "maybe next time…" that next time never comes for the listener). "My Soul Is In My Sound" is Garner's equivalent of Harold's moon: all the struggle of the record is forgotten as the band enters into a truly captivating groove. The narrowly-avoided disaster (of being fined or arrested) is a satisfying and fitting conclusion to an EP that makes excellent use of the lyrical/conceptual ellipsis (on every song except the ill-begotten "Catapult," which finishes with something akin to a series of exclamation marks and ones).

Back to the point of "Sing" now: When we reimagine the past, now matter how well-intentioned that creative drive might be, our products are ultimately poor shadows of Real Life™, though they might be full of infectious fun (as "Sing" is). Their attractiveness is difficult to turn away from. If for no other reason, that's why this EP is worth spending time with. By juxtaposing introspective ballads with bubblegummy pop, Garner attempts to show us the traps of numbingly obtuse popular culture. And the band suggests, of course, a means to deepen not only our experience, but also culture itself: by recognizing that this isn't just an exercise in making (and listening to) pretty music. Our souls are in our sound.

So I'm reading this book right now called Hamlet on the Holodeck.

The first chapter compares dystopian entertainment (the "feelies" from Brave New World and the "televisors" from Fahrenheit 451) with utopian entertainment (the holodeck from Star Trek, especially as used by Janeway in Voyager to experience her favourite "holonovels"). The conclusion reached is that the major difference between the two technologies is the habits of interaction that they encourage, the defining interaction of the dystopia being simple sensory/stimulus-response, the utopia being imaginative action and reflection (for the implied purpose of emotional/intellectual maturation).

Obviously there is a lot going on here rather than just the technologies used; responsibility for proper use of the technologies seems to be dispersed among three things: the Medium, the Content and the Percipient.

I'm pretty sure that the analysis is sound (if not exhaustive) and I'm wondering how this can be applied to my relationship with music. I've come up with the following questions (so far).

1. How does the actual medium cause me to respond imaginatively?
2. What kinds/genres of music encourage this type of engagement the best? Specific artists/albums/songs?
3. In what manners can I imaginatively respond to music? How can I encourage myself to respond more fully and in more varied ways?