Bedroom Community

Some things that happened to me while I was listening to this album on my iPod today:

1) My tube train stopped between stations.  It was a very full Victoria Line train, head in armpit stuff, nil possibility of me being able to get my newspaper anywhere within my field of vision, never mind get a pen out to do the crossword.  After a considerable wait, an alarm began to sound.  A slow, insistent alarm, the type that says “now don’t get too worried, but you should probably have a look at this.”  I wondered what the noise could be.  I glanced around.  No-one else seemed more bothered than you would expect someone to be when stuck in a rather hot carriage for an interminable period.  I turned the volume down on the iPod.  The noise ceased immediately.  That was Track 3, “We Love You Michael Gira”.

2) I eventually left the underground, mildly irritated, and headed for the bus.  Very stop-go, they’ve been replacing some Victorian water mains round here for months now, digging chasms in the ground and installing temporary traffic lights while they do so.  The gossamer drones of last track “Forgetting You Is Like Breathing Water” began to build in intensity and rise both in pitch and volume.  It became quite intense.  I closed my eyes, and let the sound flood the darkness.  The sound kept building, getting really quite loud, and finally began to grate mechanically.  I realised the track had finished, and I was listening to the sound of the driver pointlessly revving his engine.

I’m pretty sure John Cage would approve.

Ranging from the bottom of an overpowering Tim Hecker guitar crackle canyon (“cities collapsing”, as my friend Andrew always says whenever he hears something like this) to the high atmosphere jetstreams of Eliane Radigue or a 12K type like Richard Chartier, Theory Of Machines has more depth than anything I’ve heard all year.

Mapsadaisical