by Izilda Amber
Admittedly, I devour music in the same way I consume coffee, it’s often unhealthy and most likely obsessive (and contrary to popular belief, neither fixation is a substitute for a personality). Transitioning to college, I had to give up certain practices that added a sense of satisfaction in my life. Music became a crutch when I couldn’t produce art in the same capacity anymore.
Grouper isn’t my first venture into more instrumental type bands, but I was a bit hesitant to dive back into ambient noise. I was riding off a recent wave of garage punk, and with the fever dream of a commute to Rutgers, I was worried this album wouldn’t engage me enough to keep me awake. However, returning to this branch of music reminded me why I gravitated towards it so much in the first place.
As the album A I A: Alien Observer began, I was flushed with familiar distortions of sound. Admittedly I was preparing for the track to loop its melodies and hit some sort of climax, like I’ve come to expect from this type of sound. Yet, as the beginning tracks commenced, something primal stirred in chest, as if striking upon a collective memory of something long ago. In the strangest way, it was the calmest I have ever felt. The intrusive anxieties that pervade my thoughts were fed. My mind was completely content gnawing into atmospheric noises, no longer fixated on the slew of traffic ahead of me; instead I was bombarded with snippets of old memories. Suddenly I was snapped back two years, remembering feeling this exact way when I finally completed a painting at four in the morning. I had been listening to Whirr’s “Distressor” on repeat. Grouper had lured me back into an ethereal state of being, melting into whatever dimension the music took me to. The narrative of this album doesn’t rely on traditional aspects of storytelling, like the spoken delivery of passionate ballads (a notable example being The Decemberists’ Hazards of Love). However, the mystic depictions of intimacy and vulnerability are nonetheless ubiquitous throughout the album. Every sound introduced is purposeful, its role in the establishing the mood of the piece intricate.
Listening to this album is a unique phenomenon, to say the least, as it is something that demands to be experienced. There is nothing passive about the piece. You’re guided through layered harmonies, lulled into the space. And while I stated the album still holds a dimension of storytelling, the narrative isn’t invested in communicating an explicit story. The narrative is derived from the interplay between artist and audience. Grouper creates a sound, and that sound prompts memories from your own story. And so when Grouper creates certain moods through an assortment of metallic notes, it is like etching chalk marks onto a blackboard, the blackboard being a composite of your total life experiences. Images and emotions rise and fall to every surge of the piece. With every swell of the melody, you’re bleeding stark white upon the black of the board. With each pronounced arc of a song, your personhood is retold in muted abstract parts. There is an unresolved tension between layers of past and present experiences resurfacing throughout the duration of the album.
Percy Shelley wrote in his essay, A Defence of Poetry, that artists are receptive to certain stimulus more so than others, and this directly affects how we experience and encounter the world. Listening to music of this nature ultimately affects us differently; you are no more likely to encounter what I felt listening to this album than the next person. However, a prevailing shared experience with all listeners is the introspection that bands like Grouper facilitate. This kind of music forces you to slow down and take in what’s around you, so it’s no surprise you’ll be more receptive to the inherent beauty of your natural environment. The throws of gray shadows curling around pale streetlights will appear striking. Red brick buildings nearing the sidewalk will drown you in nostalgia. This same captivation, the overwhelming sensation of awe will overtake you as you ignore the numbing chill in your fingertips and pause, admiring the impossible neon hues of reflected green and red lights gliding along wet pools of tar streets. While I can’t ensure you that this album alone will enhance your perspective on life, there is an undeniable sense of satisfaction that leaves you closer to feeling complete.