„Here, there, and everywhere“ – some notes on „Luminal“, „Lateral“ etc.

Two albums. 

Luminal is eleven songs, with vocals.
Lateral is one longer instrumental piece, around an hour long. (F.A.)

Four albums, from left to right: Keith Jarrett & Jack DeJohnette: Ruta and Daitya. A milestone of archaic grooves, with Jarrett playing electric keys for the last time in his life. I wish the two would have followed these paths untrodden. Luminal, an instant classic. Paul Bley: Open, to love. A stone cold classic. Lateral, another instant classic. Don‘t call it just another Eno ambient work, it is beyond compare and has a perfect second title: Big Empty Country. Imagine the wide open spaces of a Taylor Sheridan Neo-Western series, with an decent sense of longing, romance, loss of words, and no figures in the landscape. No kitsch, no Hollywood score, no violins from the sky. Just waves and waves and special colours. And then these acoustic guitar lines, ascetic as they are, like a Nashville Nirvana. Like the essence of a Hank Willams tune, suspended in air. Be careful, i am obviously writing nonsense, so I might be right. And the album closing the line of lifers: Ruta and Daitya again – decades later ECM decided to replace the cover. I always loved Maya Weber‘s painting, its dream space. I was 17 when I fell in love with the album. (M.E.)

The content of these albums takes the burden of responsibility away from the listener. Meaning, the responsibility of trying to figure out who is playing what, or how it was recorded, all that information that tends to separate you from just listening. It’s all beautiful and dreamy. Inspired and inspiring. Useful/utilitarian. I hear synth sounds, but already that is saying too much. You can disappear into it, talk over it, play it over and over, or just listen to a bit of it and get back to the rest later. The notes that stand out as melodies sound purposeful in a way that makes me think that it’s not necessarily meant for meditation. Although I was driving while listening to Lateral, and maybe that could be described as meditative. It seems right for any type of location. I really think it can work anywhere, out of any kind of speakers.

I thought of a sketch idea while I was listening, where the people making this music were very unlike Beatie and Brian. Like, the opposite. But then I realized that those characters would also fit perfectly well in creating these albums. The music overrides whatever concept you might have of what the composers are like. By the way, who were you picturing in your head as the opposite? 

Right now, I’m recalling the songs in my head pretty clearly. The sound of it all. I guess technically, that also makes it catchy. I hope it’s okay for me to use that word. 

I’m going to put it on again right now. I’ll just start in the middle somewhere.

Fred Armisen

Well, Fred, as true as this may be in some ways at least, your statement comes down to: „Let the music speak for itself“. Not the favourite message for a music journalist. I was a bit working in the opposite direction when writing my questions on paper. And I think it is no real burden to go deeper into the music with some additionl food for thought and sensation. Maybe, in the end, my floating, ever so deep research will end up in my special series of „imaginary interviews“. Nevermind. Easily you will return (every once in a while) to the sounds and the words and the in-between.

Michael Engelbrecht