On reflection...

I really ought to apologize for the tone of my last post. To dislike a piece of music is one thing, but to let my dislike turn so readily venomous is distasteful in the extreme. I am truly sorry, and I will try to keep better control of myself in the future.

Absolut Null Punkt - Live in Japan

No matter the aesthetic value of surprise, I think it can safely be said that this mess of noise lies irredeemably on the distant side of good taste. Occasional passages of rhythmic cohesion are the only concessions made on this album to conventions of musicality. The sounds coming from my speakers are as ugly, as inchoate, as aleatory and, plainly put, as painful as can be. 

Imagine you had audio recordings of every visit you've ever made to the dentist's office. Now imagine listening to all of them at once: Every scrape and gargle, every whoosh of suction and muddled attempt at speech, every buzz of every drill... Your reaction would not come close to the disease I feel while listening to this awful assembly of noise.

Even if I admit a benefit to seeking out new listening experiences, even if my absorption in the iPod of Lewis Mint has shown me this strategy for combatting the stultefying sameness of my day-to-day experience, there can be no reason whatsoever to pursue discomfort such as this... No reason, perhaps, but these: To shock one's peers, and thereby prop up the facade of one's so-called personality, or else simply to punish oneself in a way less bloody, but no less desirous of attention, no less self-aggrandizing, and no less pathetic than to administer little wounds to one's own flesh.

A.R. & Machines - Die Grune Reise

This album, in fact, offers a good example of the sense in which Mint, in his listening, seems to have sought the subversion of expectations. The music here is in many aspects, quite straightforward rock 'n roll. Some of the guitar riffs will remind the listener immediately of other, better known songs. The first track, "Globus", made me think of that "Spirit in the Sky" song, often heard on classic rock radio.

It doesn't take long, though, for subversion to enter the picture. Traditional rock structures are upended and in some instances dissolve into incredibly strange sound manipulations: squeals of feedback, multiple layers of screaming and laughter, electronic bleeps and bloops, and so on.

There is, too, a distinct Eastern tinge to much of this album. Web research shows that A.R. stands for Achim Reichel, apparently a key figure in what has been labeled (after the fact, of course) as Kraut Rock, a movement among German rock musicians of the late '60s and early '70s. That era's interest in non-Western spiritual traditions seems to have manifested itself here in droning textures reminiscent of the raga. Personally, I have never been much interested in the kind of reverse colonization evident in, say, George Harrison's sitar fixation. There is too much hand-wringing and apology in it for sincerity to persist untainted. But seen from what I increasingly think of as the Lewis Mint perspective, the integration of foreign sounds into a traditionally rock 'n roll context would make for surprising listening indeed.

Sorry for my silence!

First off, let me apologize for the long break between posts. I spent the last few months overseas in pursuit of a personal obsession different from, and (obviously) taking priority over the one to which this blog has been (spottily) devoted. 

About the specific nature of this second interest, which has so dominated my attention of late, I will tell you only that I am no nearer to satisfying it now than I was when I left home all those months ago. Beyond that, there is nothing else I want to tell.

Regarding the focus of this blog, I assure you that I did not abandon my interest in Lewis Mint during my long absence. In fact, while traveling I thought often of my mysterious house guest, and while I arrived at no significant conclusions regarding his personage or whereabouts, I did spend quite a lot of time listening to his playlists, and I return to this project with renewed vigor and, perhaps, a better appreciation of the subject at hand. 

I wouldn't go so far as to say my listening over the last few months has made me a fan of any of the bizarre music Mint seems to prefer, but it has given me an idea of the aesthetic tenets to which he subscribes. Mint's musical selections vary drastically in style, instrumentation, genre, time and place of origin and so on. What they have in common seems to me to be the effect they have on the listener, and the discipline required of the listener for, if not actual enjoyment, than intellectual engagement to occur.

Seen in this light the drastic variations evident between Mint's selections become a unifying factor. Difference is Mint's muse, as it were. Above all else he seems to seek surprise. To be disoriented, or to have one's expectations subverted is for Mint (in my opinion) a means for the renewal of listening as an activity. 

Think of it this way: Every morning I put the kettle on to make my coffee (I use a french press, as all coffee lovers should). And every morning I am just a little further bogged down by the drudgery of such daily tasks. I sit in somnambulant stupefaction waiting for the water to boil and, at the whistle, I stumble back to the stove to remove the kettle from the element, pour the water, and wait for the grounds to steep. Now imagine that one morning, without prior warning, rather than whistling, the kettle should bark like a dog. Seen from Mint's point of view, the surprise of this would startle me out of my stupor, and for at least that one morning I would be able to appreciate again the subtle pleasures of waking, boiling water, and slurping up that first delicious sip of coffee.

I hope that makes sense, as it is an idea I intend to return to in the future. For now, however, let's turn again to Mint's music.