“The civilized man has built a coach, but has lost the use of his feet.” ― Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self-Reliance and Other Essays
In the modern world, we can be awfully quick to consign ourselves to following the opinions of, as Heraclitus termed them, the 'popular singers'. Rather than engaging our own brains to deduce and analyse situations, we will defer our thinking to whatever or whoever offers the narrative of least resistance. Although this is an observation made by countless thinkers over the centuries, from the Ancient Greeks all the way up to the modern day, it is worth reminding ourselves that we should all strive to assert our intellectual independence.
This realisation was most recently, and poignantly, brought to my attention after reading Walden by Henry David Thoreau. After I finished the transcendentalist classic, I was inspired to become more proactive in my own critical thinking when considering widely held beliefs and ideas. Whether it be economy, spirituality, philosophy, etc. or even music, it is always worth challenging the conceptions we currently hold on a position (no matter how personal or undeniably true they may seem to ourselves).
It is in this vein that I endeavour to start a new section on Do You Even Psychedelic? pertaining to literature. I think it is reasonable, in a blog born from interest in psychedelia, to have articles which concern the conscious-expanding ideas of books (a powerful novel can prove more efficacious than a plethora of drugs). Hopefully, the ideas presented and reviewed will be everything from challenging to revelatory, and help us all journey further down the road of internal philosophical discovery.
I intend to start this new section by reviewing the book which prompted it, Walden, and I will most probably break the analysis of the novel into six or seven thematic 'chapters'. These chapters will concern different strains of thought which I found within Walden to be particularly compelling and provocative, such as 'self-reliance' and Thoreau's 'theory of consumption'. When I finish that series of articles, I may move onto another thematic analysis of a text or several one-off reviews (similar to my album and single reviews).
I hope I have successfully conveyed to you the excitement I feel for this new series, which intends to bring us all closer to new ideas, encouraging progression towards a lifestyle of a more greatly expanded conscious, or in other words, a psychedelic one.
Transcend!
Written by Daniel Sharman.
I first came into contact with Ulrich Rois when I stumbled across his small independent music label, Feathered Coyote Records, a few weeks ago. As soon as I heard the label's name, I knew he was a man I wanted to get to know more about. As a result, Rois subsequently introduced me to his prolific experimental folk band, Bird People, whom are a truly fantastic act which I hope to both interview and review in detail in the coming months. So it is indeed safe to say that when Ulrich posted this taster single for his upcoming minimalist banjo solo album, 'Along the Belt, Around the Bend', I couldn't wait to delve in and see what sonic revelations were on offer.
I was not disappointed.
Sunrise In The Valley is a sum of several wisely-chosen components, and, if telling of what is to come, my anticipation for the upcoming album is surely increasing. Firstly, the track opts (and I imagine the whole album will follow likewise) for a vocal-less, bass-less, drum-less composition, even though one would of been very easy to add. This leads to a John Fahey-esque feel, evocative especially of his more minimalist work, the recurrent theme of the song being played on with small nuances and flourishes to give a more fluid, free-form structure. Indeed, this adherence to acoustic minimalism helps create the aura of earthy naturalism which is typical of much of Rois' work (especially with Bird People), painting a picture of bucolic landscapes and lush wildernesses, transporting the listeners to a more simple and honest environment. Moreover, the deliberately restrained arrangement also causes me to think of the minimalist compositions of Terry Riley, an apposite comparison as the single draws on many of the drone influences characteristic of Riley's work. The consistent repetition of several almost raga-like melodic ideas helps the listener slow down and step in beat with aforementioned simple but wholesome atmosphere.
Rois informs me the album is to be released sometime in the coming months, possibly late this year (2015).
From the Soundcloud page:
A track from the forthcoming album "Along the Belt, Around the Bend" by Ulrich Rois (Bird People, Metal Mangs Orchestra, Feathered Coyote Records)
Recorded May 2015 in Waidhofen/Ybbs, no overdubs or edits
Copyright 2015 Burrow Sounds
Review written by Daniel Sharman
{Watch a video of the recording here}
In recent years it seems South America has developed a propensity to produce fantastic psychedelic folk (wilderness psychedelia) acts. This includes artists such as Ø+yn, Montibus Communitas, and Pan Del Indio. The latter of these bands recently released a fantastic live performance showcasing this wild experimentalism, broadcasting on the Sale Productions YouTube channel.
As far as my understanding goes, Pan Del Indio is the running project of Federico Fossati, an Argentinian instrument maker whom specialises in areophones such as flutes. Pan Del Indio have released three albums, all of which are slightly different, and are of a more meditational tone than the performance exhibited here.
Whilst not fast-paced, the performance is certainly not serene either. An interesting confluence of flavours arises - the traditionally Indian instruments of the dirluba and shruti box being used to construct a distinctly South American mood. For me, the dirubla is the focal point - rich and sombre, not often associated with psychedelic music, amongst the basal drone of the didgeridoo and shruti box. This is what makes the recording so interesting, the mixture of several not often heard instruments coming together to create some genuinely stimulating folk psychedelia.
The leads me into the real importance of this post - to somewhat introduce a new regular written feature of the blog. In the coming months, I plan to start examining different and unusual instruments from around the world, looking at their psychedelic usage and their background. In doing this I hope to further one of the blog's main aims to help people reassess what they do and do not consider to be psychedelic, encouraging people to both listen to, and perform with, more interesting sonic textures. Look out for the first post soon!
Review written by Daniel Sharman
After a few months hiatus, I have come back onto the psychedelic writing scene with an article detailing my thoughts on susurrus, wilderness, and what I consider to constitute the truest and rawest psychedelia around. As you may imagine, the article itself is rather abstract and difficult to comprehend at times, so to make the concepts described easier to understand I have compiled a list of a few artists which channel the susurrus below to get you started. Happy listening.
The Drone Accelerator (all albums)
The Myrrors (Arena Negra)
Kikagaku Moyo (Mammatus Clouds)
Master Musicians of Joujouka (all albums)
Arbete Och Fritid (specific parts of most material)
Cloud Shepherd (All albums after Mark Pino joins)
Ø+yn (most if not all material)
Montibus Communitas (all albums)
Pandelindio (all albums)
The Night Collectors (Voice of the Cicada and Maybe Tomorrow)
Scattered Purgatory (all material)
In coming months I will be attempting to review as many of these as possible. It is also important to note I have already written reviews for two Montibus Communitas records, one Drone Accelerator LP, and a Night Collectors cassette. You can find these in the section of the top bar titled 'Album Reviews'.
Article written by Daniel Sharman
'One sound–miraculously, it also happens to be a word–now covers the entirety of language. That word is susurrus. It is similar, perhaps identical, to the “hum of the Earth.”' - Andrew Joron
The above quotation, taken from Andrew Joron's profound work: The Theremin In My Life, is but a fraction of a marvellous essay in which the author and poet examines how the unlikely instrument of the theremin has impacted upon his life. Not only does Joron offer specific insight and adoration towards the electrophonic instrument, he also pursues a more general attempt to delineate and examine the fundamental essence of the sounds he is able to create.
Joron's description of a unifying base-drone of worldly existence, so called 'susurrus', is an insight that still fascinates me as much today as when I first read it. From the moment I started listening to alternative forms of psychedelia, I have been pondering the link between the different musicians and artists that I discover. In their respective sounds, there seems to exist some sort of obscure connective element which places them all into a single, distinct overarching creative canon.
Now, this is not for a moment meant to suggest that every piece of music I have ever listened to has shared this quality. No, this susurrus has only ever presented itself to me within certain types of music, what I consider to be psychedelic music, or at least pure psychedelia. Therefore, in discovering this 'hum of the Earth', as Joron puts it, I can come closer to truly defining psychedelic music, at least to my own satisfaction. If I am to place these artists together according this abstruse feature of their sound, susurrus, then surely it must mean they all feature the Hum of the Earth within their music. Or moreover, they can harness and tap into this sound, as Joron claims to do with his theremin.
So what does this susurrus sound like, or at least present itself as? This is where definitions become increasingly blurred. The idea of a universal drone itself can be viewed in several ways; most significantly as a concept in itself or something which actually exists ontologically within the world. Kawabata Makoto, one of the founding members of Acid Mothers Temple, claims to have heard a humming in his ear since he was a young boy and thinking it was an alien. Although this susurrus may not reveal itself to all of us in the same way it did to Makoto, anyone who has ever felt they connected with (or 'got' or 'dug' or what have you) the aforementioned pure sound of psychedelia will have understood it to a greater or lesser degree.
Note: In this article, I am framing susurrus as a predicate of psychedelia, or at least wilderness psychedelia. What constitutes psychedelia is a long-standing debate, and the definitions presented here are merely those which I have explored and examined to my own satisfaction. It is only in my personal view that this Hum of the earth represents raw psychedelic music, and alternative views are varied and plentiful.
To take a step back, so as to further this exploration, the term susurrus itself requires sharper definition. The word itself refers to a whispering or rustling, like one may hear from a river. This basic definition can be developed to view susurrus as an underlying quality which can be almost imperceptible at times ('hum of the earth'). Also, in covering the 'entirety of language', a great unity is indicated - an ability to link and to balance, and also remain immutable in the face of humanity's constant change and development. This hum, the susurrus, is immutable, unchanging.
I would now like to introduce another concept which illuminates susurrus; wilderness. There is a link between the wilderness and the susurrus, so much so that they are integral to one another, and perhaps even one and the same.
Wilderness, spoken about on the blog before, is the natural state of the earth when it has not been altered by human civilisation. However, civilisation is in fact a human construct invented as societies grew increasingly complex. Humanity is actually inherently connected to the wilderness as that is the chaos from which our species sprang and developed (see evolutionary biology, etc.). This is important in reminding us that we all have the wilderness, and a wild nature contained within us to some degree.
Furthermore, through accepting this wilderness within ourselves it can be realised that susurrus as we experience it is actually a sonic expression of this inner wilderness. It begins to finally define the creative canon I mentioned earlier because this raw psychedelia which invokes the susurrus is actually allowing you to connect with the wilderness within you and very well the wilderness around you to.
These concepts, as previously mentioned, can seem incredibly abstract and incomprehensible at times so I have written an accompanying post which gives suggested listening for artists which I consider to channel the susurrus. Thank you for reading and happy listening.
Article written by Daniel Sharman
