The Living Music List #34: On the Right Place for Art (and Love)

Last week, we were grateful for the moment. Now, let's appreciate the view.

Currently listening to: This Must Be the Place by Talking Heads

Love is a place as much as it is a feeling. We experience it, are surrounded by it. A person whom we love is a place as much as they are a person. They create their own space that we want to endlessly inhabit. Being in their proximity, a place that is never entirely static in the way that time is never motionless, we find a feeling as fleeting yet meaningful as observing a thousand-year-old statue. They exist here in this place, and fill it with their presence, their energy, their emotion. Places and the people in them—and vice versa—literally and figuratively define our own existence. To me, this is why there is so much emotion hiding in plain sight within Talking Heads’ This Must Be the Place. It dances and bobs around with its easygoing, “naive melody,” yet its lyrics describe the balancing of feeling contentment and peace in the face of unstoppable forces and insurmountable odds: life, time, love, and death. In a world full of worry-worthy happenings and “all those kinds of people”, some of us are lucky enough to see “a face with a view” on somebody with whom we can “share the same space for a minute or two.”

Reflection

Hello, friend.

Is it raining where you are? The sky’s been in quite a state around here as of late. Raining, snowing, blustering and mist-ifying a grey haze for days and days.

The weather doesn’t bother me so much, though. I’m a homebody, mostly. All my work is done sat on the couch or at the desk, in the climate-controlled escape pod of my apartment.

I apparently lost a book that I felt the sudden urge to start reading last night. The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. It’s baffling—less than 800 square feet and my uncracked paperback has grown legs and taken its leave. I searched for it on the small shelves under my TV stand and my side tables.

Rifling through the scattered chunks of my library, I found myself slowing down and taking in the sight of the living room. I noticed the books that were mine and those that were my fiancée’s. I remembered how she had spoken about her experiences reading some of them and wondered at others I didn’t realize she possessed. These were handheld environments in which she spent hours at different points in her life. They all contributed to the person she is today, whom I love with all my heart.

I picked out The Catcher in the Rye. It was one of those books, you know—the ones that are on nearly every essential reading list. A love or hate kind of novel, and one I had still avoided reading… at least until yesterday, when I thumbed open its front cover and began rectifying that.

This is Christine’s favorite book of all time, after all. How could I go on not having read my soon-to-be wife’s favorite story? That would be like not knowing her birthday or forgetting that she had a sibling.

As I entered the story, I felt like I was gaining a glimpse into an old house that she lived in as a child. A place that she’s mentioned once or twice, without much description, but with a sort of awe and comfort eveident by the tone of her reflection. I could see a bedroom that was solely hers, rather than the one we share. I imagined the knick knacks adorning the desks and posters hung on the walls. I recalled my own youth and considered how far we both had come, how much our consciousnesses had advanced.

There’s this idea that the Greek playwright Aristophanes wrote about in Plato’s Symposium, that two soulmates are really just two halves of one human being who was split in two by Zeus, suggesting that they were always destined to return to each other, searching for wholeness. If you believe in true love and soulmates, then it isn’t a stretch too far to think of the connection between these two halves being unseverable and inalienable. That this thread connecting the two halves is not just a thread, but a magnetic force of attraction constantly pulling to make one whole again. This force of attraction is so strong, and so inherent in the nature of a true loving relationship, that when the halves come together again, everything clicks into place and just feels right.

This is why the concept of a place—physical location, space, and distance—carries such an important meaning for our lives. We were born into this world without a choice as to where. But as we grow and become independent beings, we gain complete freedom of movement within the world. And a large world, this one is. So many places and possibilities. Yet, how many of us remain close by to the people we were destined to encounter in the dependent years just after birth?

“Home is where the heart is.” Where our family are. Where we feel a certain way. Because everything we aim to do in this life is affected by where we are, by the energy of the spaces we exist inside. The way we speak, the food we eat, the way we perceive the world around us… and the art we create.

When David Byrne wrote This Must Be the Place, I think he was writing about a person first and foremost. Yet, he framed the song around the concept of a place—a home. A moment in the passing time as much as a physical location or the proximity to his other half who provided a wholeness to his being. We wouldn’t have gotten that wonderfully touching song if it weren’t for his love for his partner and their luck in finding their ways back to each other (and was it luck, or was it destiny?)

Whether we are lucky or destined to be existing in this brief blip of time in which we have encountered so much art that has enhanced and defined the shapes of our lives, we must also appreciate where we are, who we’re around, and how we got here. We should be grateful for the luck of the draw that dealt us into a hand that allowed us to witness the presence of our fellow artists and our friends. That we live in a country where art is not just freely allowed but encouraged, rather than restricted and ostracized.

When the weather gets a little kinder, I’d like to go find a hill nearby and look out at the horizon. I’ll see sights familiar and new. A sunrise or sunset worthy of capturing by paint, poetry, or photograph. They may not deliver full justice to the view, but I’ll be able to look at them again in another time and space, remembering that I was in the right place.

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Music Recommendations

Hello again, friend.

Happy Valentine’s Day! Thank you for reading today’s post. I hope you enjoyed the reflection—and I hope it reminded you of a place where you feel safe and happy.

How do you think a physical environment affects the creative process? What about a person in your proximity (a collaborator, a lover, a muse)? Let me know in the comments.

Now, on to the music. Stick around after for an in-depth feature on a gorgeous new drone album from Julien Demoulin, HTDC, .foundation, and Zakè.

Happy listening.

The Living Music List—Ambient

Note: All of the below ambient projects are available on Bandcamp. Bold and ^ denote reader-submitted work—thank you!

1. A Trial of Distances by Julien Demoulin, HTDC, .foundation, & Zakè (album / drone) [Sound in Silence / Bandcamp]^

   {Note: See more on this release in The Press Box below.}

2. The Last Days of May by Fennesz (single / ambient guitar, drone) [Longform Editions / Bandcamp]^

3. Echoes on the Hem by Tujiko Noriko (single / experimental, spoken word) [Longform Editions / Bandcamp]^

4. Coy-Koi by Natalia Beylis (single / melodic, drone) [Longform Editions / Bandcamp]^

5. Safehaven by James Murray (single / drone, electronic) [Home Normal / Bandcamp]^

6. Landscapes of Lovers by James Murray (album / drone, electronic) [Home Normal / Bandcamp]^

   {Note: Reissue of the 2018 album.}

7. Mana by Asha Patera (album / dark ambient, drone) [Independent / Bandcamp]^

   {Note: I thought the artist’s description of the album on their bandcamp page connected well to today’s reflection. See the quote below.}

   It is inevitable that one's environment will have an impact upon the creative process. Much has been written about certain movements originating in specific areas due to this. Recognising it in my own work, I began to consciously channel this influence into the five tracks that compose the album. Each tells the story of its locale through sound: sometimes stark, sometimes melancholic, sometimes light—like the ever changing nature of the local climate.

8. lawrence by Unharm (EP / experimental, ambient guitar) [Independent / Bandcamp]^

   {Notes: Tracks 1 and 4 are more melodic and less ambient, but tracks 2 and 3 are more experimental, dark, and noisy. A really interesting 4-piece as a whole, though!}

9. 神​祕​的​情​人 by 泰合志恆 (album / lofi, melodic) [Geometric Lullaby / Bandcamp]

10. resolve / relate 02 by fields we found / quiet details (single / drone) [Independent / Bandcamp]

The Living Music List—All Genres

Note: All of the below projects are available on major streaming services. Reminder: Bandcamp links included for reader-submitted work in the All Genres list.

1. Close Quarters by whait (album / experimental americana) [Longform Editions / Bandcamp]^

2. The Gorge (Soundtrack from the Apple Original Film) by Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross (album / film score)

3. Phonetics On and On by Horsegirl (album / indie alt pop)

4. A Hurricane Of Frowns by Capital Cities (album / indie pop)

5. Love & Hyperbole by Alessia Cara (album / pop)

6. ONE DAY HOME by Joshua Radin (album / singer/songwriter)

7. Envenomations by Mike Parker (EP / jungle/drum’n’bass)

8. Sonolodge by Eyal Talmudi (album / worldwide)

9. Anything At All by Denison Witmer (album / folk)

10. New Dawn by Marshall Allen (album / jazz)

11. Spirit Fall (feat. Chris Potter & Brian Blade) by John Patitucci (album / contemporary jazz)

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The Press Box

In this edition of The Press Box, we’re examining an expansive ambient drone record with a lot of feeling and star power behind it.

A Trial Of Distances by Julien Demoulin (including remixes and reworks by HTDC, .foundation, & Zakè) [Sound in Silence]

When I asked Julien Demoulin about the meaning behind his new record A Trial Of Distances, he shared a quote from another artist, the Queens, NY-based ambient composer, Theodore Cale Schafer:

I usually try not to talk too much about my own music. I feel like it has a face value and everything else drawn from it is reflection. It has personal meanings, but in a way that is abstracted and singular. I don’t want to talk about it like it’s important.

I understood the response immediately—there’s an indirectness in ambient music that doesn’t lend itself to easy determination of meaning. It’s personal, and emotional—abstracted, as Schafer put it.

In the case of A Trial of Distances, Demoulin’s synthesized drones, complemented by the subtle brass of collaborator Kelly O'Donohue, ring out in the night and seem to trail off endlessly toward the horizon. There’s a smoky haziness wafting around my head as I sit with it, visualizing the lengths to which the pair went to capture this singular feeling in the 15-minute, 3-part suite of A Trial of Distances. A feeling, no intended meaning necessary.

I feel I need to be honest with myself and others and not attach some sort of phony concept to the music I make. When there is one, I’ll gladly mention it.

Demoulin did mention the use of O’Donohue’s brass—here, a mix of trumpet, trombone, and flugelhorn—as a core element of the record’s DNA. And indeed, the instruments come together to form a character amid the drones, hinting at melody while still blending seamlessly into the palatte of the pieces. I can’t help but think of Vangelis’ BLADE RUNNER soundtrack. Demoulin explains:

I’d wanted to use brass instruments as part of my work for a long time. There’s a warmth there that I don’t find in strings, which seem to be more widely used.

Demoulin did not only have O’Donohue’s help on A Trial Of Distances—after the main 3-part suite concludes, there are 3 more tracks running for another 45 minutes offering 3 alternate perspectives on the singular feeling of this record. HTDC, AKA How To Disappear Completely, offers a deep, resonating remix. Denver-based ambient artist .foundation then delivers a 9-minute rework that I felt swirling in my chest. Finally, the record is closed by a 30-minute longform remix by Zakè, the ambient droner who also heads the essential ambient label Past Inside the Present.

All in all, A Trial of Distances is a sensory bath of sound and light that neither overstayed its welcome nor left me wanting more. After a few repeated listens, I was pleased to be able to work on writing this letter just as peacefully as I could sit and close my eyes, feeling my body travel what felt like thousands of miles in an hour.

A Trial of Distances is out now on Bandcamp via the Athens-based Sound in Silence label, available for digital purchase and streaming. Limited edition CDs are also available (pictured below).

Julien Demoulin is a Brussels, Beligum-based ambient artist, whose other recent works include Ephemeral Maps [2024 / Healing Sound Propagandist] and Inner Lives [2022 / Aural Canyon]. Demoulin also makes dark ambient music as part of Aeons, who last released Into Eternity’s Embrace in 2023 [Reverse Alignment].

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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:

The Living Music List #33: On the Right Time for Art

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.