It's the moment when the plane finishes the ascension and hits the open sky as the sun bursts through the clouds and it's smooth sailing and the barf bags are safely stored away and everything hits you at once—the majesty, the calm, the wonder, the foreverness of it all.
All any of us wants to feel is not alone. An antidote to feeling alone is oneness with the universe, and oneness with each other. We achieve this unity through sharing—I give a piece of myself to you, and you give a piece of yourself to me. When we share those experiences, and share who we are, then that unity becomes part of the tapestry of human existence, and that is what makes us feel like a part of something bigger. Because we are, at least in those moments.
I don't think that the Yolngu singing would have landed with me all that well in isolation. I also don't think I could've taken the classical English new age synth runs too seriously if it was just that by itself. But when shared together, and irrevocably intertwined, the combined sounds become something really special.
Taking that in requires the courage to be open, I think. It's extremely easy to be dismissive of these sounds, since they aren't familiar. Hearing something new has a way of making one feel uncomfortable... at first. With courage and openness and genuine curiosity, though, we can start to understand what these new sensations are. We can make a connection.
If we still had a guaranteed 20ish reviews coming in this week—collectively that would be more indicative of the general populace of average music listeners, as opposed to the three or four crazies that populate these pages on a normal week and skew the mean—I think a lot of them would probably be dismissive of this music, and that makes me kind of sad. Understanding, but disappointed, I guess. Music is a great way to connect to someone else, to learn something new about a different way of life, to take that experience and feel one with the universe. Closing yourself off to those experiences means denying yourself that gift. I'm not saying that every album has to be your favorite album of all time, but it's worth the effort to get to know a piece of art, just like it's worth getting to know another person.
That 20-minute documentary about Waak Waak Djungi in Japan is probably essential viewing if any of this interests you. Not because of the music itself (surprisingly little of it in the film), but because of the way that these ideas of oneness are openly discussed by the participants of the doc. There are three Indigenous Australians, two English dudes, and a Japanese guide. Three cultures coming together, attempting to understanding each other, to learn, to become one. The joy is palpable from all parties, because this shit feels good. This shit is important! Humans cannot exist in isolation!
Taking that in requires the courage to be open, I think. It's extremely easy to be dismissive of these sounds, since they aren't familiar. Hearing something new has a way of making one feel uncomfortable... at first. With courage and openness and genuine curiosity, though, we can start to understand what these new sensations are. We can make a connection.
If we still had a guaranteed 20ish reviews coming in this week—collectively that would be more indicative of the general populace of average music listeners, as opposed to the three or four crazies that populate these pages on a normal week and skew the mean—I think a lot of them would probably be dismissive of this music, and that makes me kind of sad. Understanding, but disappointed, I guess. Music is a great way to connect to someone else, to learn something new about a different way of life, to take that experience and feel one with the universe. Closing yourself off to those experiences means denying yourself that gift. I'm not saying that every album has to be your favorite album of all time, but it's worth the effort to get to know a piece of art, just like it's worth getting to know another person.
That 20-minute documentary about Waak Waak Djungi in Japan is probably essential viewing if any of this interests you. Not because of the music itself (surprisingly little of it in the film), but because of the way that these ideas of oneness are openly discussed by the participants of the doc. There are three Indigenous Australians, two English dudes, and a Japanese guide. Three cultures coming together, attempting to understanding each other, to learn, to become one. The joy is palpable from all parties, because this shit feels good. This shit is important! Humans cannot exist in isolation!
I'm not saying that I'm good at living this idea to its fullest, or that I'm always open or consistently brave. Sometimes it's just easier to stay within one's shell, or do things that feel like an attempt at understanding but are actually dishonest attempts at doing so. As you read this on a Friday, I'm probably traveling around EPCOT in Disney World, where they have a Japanese Pavilion, where I can pretend that I'm charting the same path that Waak Waak Djungi did in 1998, but we all know that this is false. It's a corporate-funded and -sponsored whitewashed attempt at "culture." I'm not saying I'm not going to enjoy myself—this is a fun vacation—but I'd be dishonest with myself if I claimed that this had anything to do with the human tapestry or intimacy with a higher power.
So instead, I listen to Waak Waak ga Min Min as the airplane from Philadelphia takes off, and I hear the beating heart of the world as I witness the marvel of being in midair, above the clouds, above everything. I'm not even saying that this album is going to get you all the way there, but it's at least a fucking attempt, ya know? Something about this album's story—the chance encounters, the mysteries discovered, the recording of a ritual and making it eternal, the willingness to trade ideas and create something wholly new—really touched me this week. This is beyond the music itself, which I found alluring and in general surprisingly catchy.
I just like the idea of being privy to this amazing story, and in some way a part of the story too. Think about how many unlikely events had to occur to get music from Yolngu voices to our ears. The commitment to record the music in the first place, the chance encounter with the lost CD more than a decade later, my own romance with music, forging friendships with people who make Record Club happen, the choice to listen to an indie rock album whose bassist is weirdly active on Reddit, whatever unlikely shit occurred that made Alex Bleeker discover this music, the timing of his discovery jibing with an anonymous request for a recommendation, everything falling exactly into place in the days leading up to an ascent into the clouds and a soundtrack that fits that moment of true understanding and oneness perfectly.
So instead, I listen to Waak Waak ga Min Min as the airplane from Philadelphia takes off, and I hear the beating heart of the world as I witness the marvel of being in midair, above the clouds, above everything. I'm not even saying that this album is going to get you all the way there, but it's at least a fucking attempt, ya know? Something about this album's story—the chance encounters, the mysteries discovered, the recording of a ritual and making it eternal, the willingness to trade ideas and create something wholly new—really touched me this week. This is beyond the music itself, which I found alluring and in general surprisingly catchy.
I just like the idea of being privy to this amazing story, and in some way a part of the story too. Think about how many unlikely events had to occur to get music from Yolngu voices to our ears. The commitment to record the music in the first place, the chance encounter with the lost CD more than a decade later, my own romance with music, forging friendships with people who make Record Club happen, the choice to listen to an indie rock album whose bassist is weirdly active on Reddit, whatever unlikely shit occurred that made Alex Bleeker discover this music, the timing of his discovery jibing with an anonymous request for a recommendation, everything falling exactly into place in the days leading up to an ascent into the clouds and a soundtrack that fits that moment of true understanding and oneness perfectly.
I feel it, man. I feel it.
GRADE: 4 pukes out of 5
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