The plight of the humble bumblebee dips in and out of public interest at roughly the same rate as trouser leg girth. One moment it seems to be of utmost importance to look after these airborne fuzzies, the next they’re not given a second thought. At 10am every morning, a sizable bee (possibly a queen) pays a visit to one of the south-facing windowpanes in our lounge. I don’t know if it’s drawn by the way the light hits the window or by the flowers in the garden, but the bee appears punctually, even adjusting to Spring’s sixty-minute forward leap. She’s often found resting on our window ledge which suggests that our flat could be the midway point on her rounds. Whatever the draw, our little visitor keeps on coming and has done so for months now.
Her arrival marks a brief parallel between the repetitive schedule of working life and nature’s own cycles – we’ve all got appointments to keep. It’s also a moment to be reminded of the simplicity of existence. We’re all too often tangled up in our own grumbles to see life as it is and sometimes humans can seem at odds with the environment around them. Uncomfortable, even. Concreting over everything. Swapping real blades of grass for astroturf. It’s little instances like this that help to nudge priorities back in order.
,,, as long as i long to memorise your sky ,,,, the latest recording patchwork from elijah jamal asani, begins with the sound of an inquisitive bee. It’s a collection of nature recordings, with birdsong, rainfall, the gentle buzzing of crickets, and swished streams elegantly dovetailing with more human interferences: zither, wind chimes, wooden blocks, small bursts of padded synth, and softly fingered piano. These sounds were captured by asani during one of the sixty nights that he recently spent in the Grand Canyon. This pastoral approach brings the landscape drifting into our ears as if floating in upon a spring morning’s breeze.
The third track, snappily titled ‘thirtyonecircles /// soft shoulder(s) confluence near second mesa’, calls to mind the ambience of David Toop and Brian Eno. A kick drum’s addition shifts this into Clams Casino’s Rainforest EP territory, albeit deconstructed and reimagined. The sounds are stretched, separated, isolated. They are soporific in the best way. It cleanses like a deep and untroubled sleep with percussive sounds on wood and soft fabric materials intertwining with light three-note synth pulses. It’s the new age airiness of Kankyō Ongaku relocated to Northwest Arizona’s ancient depths.
On the penultimate track, amongst avian chirrups and distant flowing water, we’re treated to the flurry-puffed flute of Aaron White and, during ‘~~~littleriverhypothesis••’, there’s Midwife-esque guitar from her Like Author, Like Daughter era. The strums reduced to a dangling drone, giving the impression of broad vistas where notes peel off into the hazy distance.
The bottom of one of the seven natural wonders of the world might not be a viable destination for us all but, through this painstakingly arranged work, a transportive opportunity is offered. A glimpse at the serenity of the canyon’s shade. Why not take the timely lead of an inquisitive bee and follow it along its way.
