The Living Music List #25: On Aging Alongside Music
How music is simultaneously timeless and dated + celebrating a half year of Hum, Buzz, & Hiss with this supersized issue of TLML
Currently listening to: Landslide by Fleetwood Mac
Is there a more nostalgia-triggering song than this? As you’ll see in today’s reflection, I’m fascinated by the ability of songs that take on lives of their own alongside ours—they change and grow like we do. Landslide is a prime example of a song with an ever evolving impact on its listener as they age, primarily due to its general theme of growing up and recognizing the fragility of one’s life. Stevie Nicks wrote the song at age 27 (which is how old I am now) and reflected on writing Landslide at that time in her life, telling Rolling Stone:
I was only 27—I wrote that in 1973, a year before I joined Fleetwood Mac. You can feel really old at 27. [Lindsey Buckingham and I lived in L.A. and] it makes me remember how beautiful and frightening it all was. Asking each other, ‘Now what? Should we go back to San Francisco? Should we quit?’ We were scared kids in this big, huge, flat city where we had no friends and no money. But we didn’t quit.
When you consider the lyrics of Landslide, it’s easy to see the fears and anxieties associated with change in one’s life. Will the decisions we make cause everything to come crashing down? Could we die tomorrow and have it all be for nothing?
I felt these themes deeply at 22, when I moved into my first apartment after college, started a new job, and was just generally experiencing a lot of change and upheaval in my life. It felt like I was standing atop the snow that had just started to slide down the side of the mountain. Now at 27, I understand Nicks’ comment about feeling really old even though, relatively, I am not. But I now worry less about change or things crashing down—the song instead triggers a deep sense of longing in me for the ones I love. It makes me remember the earlier moments of my still early adulthood and how afraid I was, and grateful for the people who have been with me through it all. In a way, everything about me and my life has changed dramatically over the last 10 years… except for a few constant companions. They’ve kept me safe amid the inevitable landslide of life. And as this song has aged with me, I feel that we both (the song and I) have grown a little less afraid and a little more grateful that there’s a reason to worry about what we stand to lose.
Reflection
Hello, friend.
What’s the first song you remember hearing?
It’s a tough ask, I know. I’m racking my brain, trying to travel back through time to some early state of semi-consciousness. I can’t find a foothold within my sensory memory, though—it’s all blurry and muddled, like a puddle that’s just been stomped on.
I’m sure there was music there, in that hayday of my burgeoning childhood. My mother’s voice singing me softly to sleep. I see the moon and the moon sees me. The moon sees somebody I want to see. Maybe that’s it?
Or there was my dad’s car radio—playing Depeche Mode or Duran Duran, probably—that was later stolen right out of his precious Nissan Maxima. I light my torch and wave it for the new moon on Monday, and a fire dance through the night. No, there was plenty before that, I’m sure.
Church music, then? The Spongebob theme song? Fuckin’ Twinkle Twinkle Little Star?
It doesn’t really matter what track it was—it’s the reminscing I’m after. Pushing my mind to the edge of its memory bank is giving me the warm fuzzies as I remember just how much music impacted my life in those days of yore.
Songs are inherently, simultaneously timeless and dated. They will always indicate a time in our lives, or even multiple moments in time, but they can also resonate with us no matter their age. The way they resonate may depend on our age as much the song’s, of course.
Consider a classical work of Brahms like Symphony No. 2 and the way you might have heard it as a child—seven years old and bored to death or lulled to sleep—compared to how you might hear it now in your 20s or 40s or 70s. To my 27 year-old ears, this symphony is now quite a lovely, pastoral suite of tunes that makes me feel light, happy, and ready to seize the day. All the while, you hear it and think, “This must have been a banger 150 years ago.”
While the particular styles and aesthetics of a song may help handcuff it to the era and/or scene in which it was released, I can typically listen past these outermost layers for the timeless elements beneath. Go back and listen to an early 2000s emo pop-punk tune like Fall Out Boy’s excessively titled Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part to Save the Scene and Stop Going to Shows). While the song sounds wholly like a product of its time—with its catchy hook, emo vocals that occasionally edge towards screams, and mildly whiny spoken word passage—its lyrics and title are packed with hidden meaning about relationships, mortality, and Shawshank Redemption references. To my 9 year-old self, it was a fun, simple ode to a relationship gone sour (which was something I hadn’t even dreamed of experiencing yet). Now 27 and engaged, I love analyzing the depth behind the playful front of this track’s emo-pop sneer.
I love the feeling of realizing progressions like this. So many songs have been present in my life across the years, accompanying me in different decades, as I grew, as my perspectives on life broadened and shifted. I’ve aged alongside so many of my favorite tracks and witnessed the public perception of them shift too. There’s been greater appreciation for songs that were formerly ridiculed or ignored, while other tracks that were heralded have lately been shunned or forgotten.
These shifts happen for many of the same reasons that we humans change. We go through things. We learn new information. We meet people who had wildly different music that molded them. All the while, the songs we grew up with—songs that were written in different eras plagued by seemingly different problems—start to show their universality. As these songs grow in age, we can more easily identify the commonalities that bind our species across the dimension of time.
Love. Heartbreak. Sex. Partying. Mortality. Innocence. Pain. Pleasure. Faith. Doubt. Overcoming. Giving in. Letting go. Starting again. These are the kinds of themes that pervade most of the music we listen to and can recognize at any age.
Society has gone through unimaginable change across the centuries—our concerns and fixations have not. There is something so human contained in music—that timelessness that I mentioned—that defies the inevitability of change. Though we are a product of evolution, relatively, it doesn’t seem like we’ve evolved all that much since we’ve become able to make and record music. And just as we often think that the coming and going of many birthdays makes us evolve as individuals, we come to realize that we are still dealing with the same questions. The music is fluid enough to fit the new shape and volume of the space in which we’ve found ourselves, just as it fit the space of the past (though the shape looked and felt so different back then).
I know this has gotten rather abstract, but my point here lies in a juxtaposition: the passage (motion) of time and the actual immobility of a piece of music. The piece is static, rooted in a single point in time, a representation of an artist’s intention, which may have been mysterious and amorphous after the fact, but was at one point singular nonetheless. And despite this, we can’t help but find the songs have aged alongside us. They have gained their own new perspectives and knowledge just as we have. Their age is inseparable from ours, just as their origins are as influential as our own origins.
When I think back to the earliest musical influences in my life, I hear hints of the formation of my personage while also hearing echoes of entire cultures. One song sounds like a decade, say the 1980s, as much as it sound like my father, as much as it sounds like my fifth year of life, as much as it sounds like the nostalgia I feel in my late 20s for all of these people, times, places, and feelings.
I look forward to finding out how the same song sounds as a companion through my midlife crisis and the widened gaze of old age, when I’ll ask the song how it feels to have played the same tune all these years. Has it learned to represent anything new with the same chords? Has it suprised itself by triggering new thoughts and feelings even after all these years of singing the same, familiar lyrics?
Most importantly, I’ll continue asking myself: Do I listen past the past? Do I let the songs in my life adjust their impact beyond their intial purpose? Do I embrace the search for change in the most familiar, seemingly unchangeable places?
Music Recommendations + Bandcamp Friday Reminder!
Hello again, friend.
Thank you for reading today’s post. I hope you enjoyed the reflection—and I’d love to hear what songs you have aged with throughout your lifetime. How do you first remember them? What messages can you collect from them now that you didn’t back then? Share your thoughts in the comments.
And now, on to the new music recommendations for the first time in 2 weeks. I have a nice handful for you today. Please note: The first 5 records on our ambient list are featured in greater depth in The Press Box section (just below the lists). Also, there are a couple of fundraising records on the list I highly recommend supporting (see #10 and #12 on the ambient list).
Plus—it’s Bandcamp Friday! Be sure to purchase your favorite recent albums on Bandcamp today to directly support the artists and labels with 100% of your contributions going to them.
Happy listening, friend.
The Living Music List—Ambient
Note: All of the below ambient projects are available on Bandcamp. Bold and * denotes reader-submitted work—thank you!
Sylvan Library 1 by Johan Fotmeijer (EP / meditative, field recordings) [Narouua / Bandcamp]*
Suspended Between Worlds by Jolanda Moletta and Karen Vogt (single / vocal ambient, field recordings) [Longform Editions / Bandcamp]*
The Nighttime Ensemble by The Nighttime Ensemble (single / experimental, jazz) [Longform Editions / Bandcamp]*
Flowering Tree by Sanae Yamada (single / drone) [Longform Editions / Bandcamp]*
Out Beyond Is by Reign of Ferns (album / experimental, electronic {note: there’s some percussion involved throughout, but it’s so meandering and somewhat irregular that it contributes more to the ambient core of this piece, in my opinion) [Longform Editions / Bandcamp]*
Exotopia by Sanger and Sanger (album / experimental, meditative) [quiet details / Bandcamp]
Mosaic by Fennesz (album / drone, ambient guitar) [Touch / Bandcamp]
Paris by Nils Frahm (live album / neoclassical, ambient piano) [LEITER / Bandcamp]
In My Hour Of Weakness, I Found A Sweetness by Romance (album / vocal ambient, drone {note: some occasional, rather unobtrusive lyrics here and there}) [ECSTATIC / Bandcamp]
Purr24 by Projekt Artists (compilation / electronic, experimental, cat sounds! {note: these tracks all incorporate samples of the artist’s cats and proceeds from this release go directly to charities supporting cats in need like Senior Cat Action Network—as an owner of 2 amazing kitties, I highly recommend supporting this effort from Projekt Records by collecting this album of super interesting and fun ambient pieces made with cat purrs}) [Projekt Records / Bandcamp]
Da Vinci Genius by Sasha (album / classical, electronic) [Late Night Tales / Bandcamp]
Land 01 (أرض ٠١): A compilation for the displaced in Lebanon by Various Artists (compilation / variety of experimental flavors, including noise, drone, vocal ambient, and more {note: proceeds from this album will go to the Beirut Synth Center and Tunefork Studios initiative for the displaced in Lebanon, please consider supporting them by purchasing this very interesting collection}) [Tunefork Studios / Bandcamp]
Queer (Original Score) by Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross (album / film score) [The Null Corporation / Streaming]
The Living Music List—All Genres
Note: All of the below projects are available on major streaming services. Bold and * denotes reader-submitted work—thank you! Reminder: Only reader/press submissions have Bandcamp links in the All Genres list.
Safe Then Sorry by Ciao Malz (EP / indie pop) [Audio Antihero / Bandcamp]*
This Weather (E.P.) by Yoshika Colwell & The Vernon Spring (EP / experimental, singer-songwriter)
Time Enough for Love by Seahawks (album / new age)
MAGDALENA by Waleed (album / electronic)
Noctian Airgap by Hesaitix (album / electronic)
haha, no worries by Lubalin (album / electronic pop)
12 by White Denim (album / indie rock)
copy/paste, vol. 1 (abridged) by Garbage (EP / rock)
Keep On / Operation by Dusky (single / dance)
Cosmic Waves Volume 1 by Angel Olsen (album / alternative)
Pour It Out Into The Night by The Revivalists (album / alternative)
Liminal Animals by Ulver (album / new wave)
Fauxllennium by TV Girl & George Clanton (album / indie electronic)
DAZE by Everydaze (album / Mandopop)
Maybe in Nirvana by Smino (album / hip-hop/rap)
Forevergreen by gavn! (EP / folk)
A Complete Unknown (Music From The Motion Picture) by Timothée Chalamet (single / soundtrack {note: a pair of iconic Bob Dylan songs from the upcoming biopic, and Chalamet does a pretty great job})
The Press Box
Today’s features in The Press Box include a mysterious and meditative release from the new Narouua label (led by an artist who is not all that new), and a gorgeous 4-pack of longform singles from the wonderful Longform Editions label.
Sylvan Library 1 by Johan Fotmeijer [Narouua]
Available now for purchase and streaming on Bandcamp.
In the artist’s own words:
This EP is rooted in memories of quiet, magical nights from my youth. Sitting in the dark, listening to Kjell Alinge’s Eldorado on the radio, dreaming of distant worlds. It’s shaped by the stillness of fishing trips with my father in the northern Swedish mountains, the rhythm of rivers and the vastness of the fjäll. And it carries the whispers of countless long walks through forests, where the trees seemed to hum with their own stories. These sounds are my way of capturing those memories, a reflection of the wonder and mystery that still linger from those times.
Johan Fotmeijer—who’s released this album as the first piece of his fresh label Narouua—has made music under many names. Fotmeijer started making music in the early 2000s as the mysterious character Claudia Bonarelli:
Back then, it was all about clicks’n’cuts and deep, dubby soundscapes, with stories about [Claudia] being an activist arrested during the big protests in Genoa, or part of an occult artist collective from Eastern Europe. Or maybe a female avatar for the notorious anarchist Luther Blissett? (Who?)
Johan is also one half of the duo Thet Liturgiske Owäsendet, who have created improvised music across many genres, often with hints of ambient. The duo has released music on labels like Opal Tapes, Lobster Sleep Sequence, and Forwind.
Suspended Between Worlds by Jolanda Moletta and Karen Vogt [Longform Editions]
Available now for purchase and streaming on Bandcamp.
In the label’s own words:
Finally, Italy’s Jolanda Moletta and Paris-based Australian Karen Vogt come together for the first time with Suspended Between Worlds. Both use vocal intonations as the key source to conjure cocooning compositions of dream-like ambience. Suspended Between Worlds reaches a flow state of stillness encompassing the birdsong and ocean sounds along the Breton coastline where they convened, before summoning energy and inspiration from their surrounds in the quiet of night.
“Suspended” is the key term in the title Suspended Between Worlds—this is a stirring soundbath of ethereal vocal layers keeping you aloft with the birds, whose peaceful cacophany of calls can be heard throughout. Karen Vogt, half of the duo behind the record and a previously featured artist here on Hum, Buzz, & Hiss, offers:
Breath moves through us with the transient nature of the wind as we emote, express ourselves, communicate information, and connect to something higher to transcend daily life.
The Nighttime Ensemble by The Nighttime Ensemble [Longform Editions]
Available now for purchase and streaming on Bandcamp.
In the label’s own words:
An ensemble of Chicago musicians including LE alumnus Lia Kohl and Daniel Wyche, The Nighttime Ensemble’s debut offering is inspired by slow-motion mood merchants Bohren & Der Club of Gore – specifically their Midnight Radio album and a comment on YouTube on it: “I can feel how fragile our world is, how lonely people are after midnight, how absurd it is to be attached to anything!” This eponymous work is a towering monument to ominous spaces in an exquisitely drawn unfolding of ambient, doomy jazz.
Appropriately titled for both the music and the collective of artists behind it, The Nighttime Ensemble embodies free expression with a dark edge. It’s openly moody throughout, with Lia Kohl’s cello careening gently alongside Brian J. Sulpizio’s off-kilter piano strikes. The whole thing conjures up scenes of open, smoky rooms populated by mysterious characters with questionable intentions.
Guitarist Daniel Wyche offers a preview of the origin of this group improvisation:
Through the lens of the Chicago tradition of extended technique-based free improvisation, the open space and quiet patience of certain threads of new music, a general stillness and the sense of nothing every really touching, we worked toward something new and left the studio late enough unclear in all ways.
Flowering Tree by Sanae Yamada [Longform Editions]
Available now for purchase and streaming on Bandcamp.
In the label’s own words:
Best known for her work in psychedelic proto-punk, fuzz-trance outfit Moon Duo, Portland’s Sanae Yamada’s first work under her own name is a transcendent stream of reflective, gentling tonal drift and soft notes of keyboard and guitar. Warm, achingly subtle and unassumingly beautiful in its simplicity, Flowering Tree is spirited by the open-ended connection between nature and our interior space.
The simplicity is key here—Yamada lays down droning tones as if they were soft blankets, establishing an enticing space in which the little fluttering notes from her guitar or keys can roll around. It’s immensely peaceful and comforting. Yamada speaks on the setting in which Flowering Tree came to be:
The room where I work looks out on an apple tree, which was in full bloom. When the wind blew, petals would float in the air and down to the scrappy grass below. I sat in this room and listened to my own breath and the sounds that came into my head, body and hands. Flowering Tree emerged from that place of presence, stillness and receptivity.
Out Beyond Is by Reign of Ferns [Longform Editions]
Available now for purchase and streaming on Bandcamp.
In the label’s own words:
With a fever dream take on Jon Hassell’s humid fusions of transient sound and place into new world orderings, Ryan J Raffa and Andrew Weathers’ project is all fizzing texture and rhythmic pulse melting into gorgeous liminal zones. Out Beyond Is moves slowly like the rise from sleep into the break of dawn, casting a heightened and evanescent state through the convergence of environmental sounds and free composition into newly imagined spaces.
This project was perhaps the most suprising of the new bunch from Longform Editions. It defies expectations and refutes traditional structures. It’s incredibly irregular and rugged, and yet, it somehow feels like it has a smoothness and a consistency to it.
Like Sanae, the duo of Raffa and Weathers mentioned the place where they work on their music as a major source of inspiration behind the new piece:
The recording space is porous. We’re as much of the sonic landscape as the trees blowing in the front yard and the trucks driving by.
Further Reading: The Best Ambient Music on Bandcamp, November 2024
While I was away last week, Bandcamp released their Best Ambient list of November 2024. They release these lists every month and they’re a great starting point for finding some absolutely wonderful new ambient records. Read their list here.
That’s all for this week’s issue. Thank you for reading. Until next time.
Your friend,
Melted Form
Remember to listen to the hum, buzz, & hiss of the world around you—there is music to be heard there.
Read the previous issue of The Living Music List:
Afterword—Let’s Get In Touch
Are you an artist, a label owner, or a member of the press? Want to share an in-depth feature of your upcoming release, an advertisement, or a guest post for a future Hum, Buzz, & Hiss issue? Get in touch with me at meltedform@gmail.com. As always, I would love to hear and recommend your music, especially if it’s new and ambient/electronic/experimental.
Also, you can keep up with me and hear more of the music I’m listening to by following me on Substack Notes (I’m very inactive these days, though, I admit). Join our community of music-loving writers and readers discussing the latest releases, old gems, and everything in between.
https://letterboxd.com/9413/list/years-of-age-26-27-28-29-30/