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.