Panic and Anti-Panic
When I put a record out into the world, it should have a life of its own, separate from me and my ideas. Ideally, it will travel to far away places where I lose all control over its reception. At the same time, I think it's important to leave a trail in the world so that someone who finds the record can, if, they desire, follow it home.
In the spring of 2009 I received an invitation to participate in The Festival of Endless Gratitude. The Festival, organized by a group of musicians, visual artists and producers, came together in Copenhagen, Denmark, during the third week of May. The organizers located the festival in an former trolley repair station, a space in the early stages of a transition into an arts center. In this rough but impressive space they installed a stage, bar and art gallery, and devoted four nights to celebrating the connections between a group of artists and musicians in Copenhagen and western New England.
I took Sunday afternoon to explore the city by myself, with the Botanical Gardens as one of my destinations. The day began overcast and with a cold rain, but by the time I arrived at the Botanisk Have the sun shone warmly. On one of the garden paths I chanced upon a bronze of the goddess Athena and the satyr Marsyas. As a player of reedpipes and shawms, I have felt a sympathy for Marsyas' misfortunes involving the gods and musical instruments ever since I first encountered the stories. I took several pictures of the statue while thinking to myself, "here's an album cover for some future day."
Upon my return, I decided to release the recordings of my European performances, and to use this picture for the cover. All I needed now was a title. The god Pan often takes the form of a satyr in visual art, and the word "panic" is derived from his name. The two Olympians with whom Marsyas had unfortunate encounters are Athena and Apollo. Pan and satyrs, to me, conjure the Dionysian aspect of the life, while Athena calls to mind life's Apollonian aspect. So I considered this jumbled complex in my mind of Marsyas-Satyr-Dionysian and Athena-Apollo-Apollonian and came up with Panic and Anti-Panic. The idea of going on a brief tour of Europe to play music in places I had never been before would ordinarily strike me with, well, panic. Yet on this trip I remained, to my surprise, quite relaxed and in the moment. Panic and Anti-Panic. Following the festival in Copenhagen, I hopped into a late nineties Volvo with the duo Aeth'r Myth'd and hit the road, opening for their concerts in Germany, Belgium and the Netherlands. Both musicians in Aeth'r Myth'd are also members of Sunburned Hand of the Man. If I imagine my music on a continuum with the music of Aeth'r Myth'd (or Sunburned, for that matter), I'd place them more towards the Dionysian end of the spectrum, and myself more towards the Apollonian. Panic and Anti-Panic.
In the spring of 2009 I received an invitation to participate in The Festival of Endless Gratitude. The Festival, organized by a group of musicians, visual artists and producers, came together in Copenhagen, Denmark, during the third week of May. The organizers located the festival in an former trolley repair station, a space in the early stages of a transition into an arts center. In this rough but impressive space they installed a stage, bar and art gallery, and devoted four nights to celebrating the connections between a group of artists and musicians in Copenhagen and western New England.
I took Sunday afternoon to explore the city by myself, with the Botanical Gardens as one of my destinations. The day began overcast and with a cold rain, but by the time I arrived at the Botanisk Have the sun shone warmly. On one of the garden paths I chanced upon a bronze of the goddess Athena and the satyr Marsyas. As a player of reedpipes and shawms, I have felt a sympathy for Marsyas' misfortunes involving the gods and musical instruments ever since I first encountered the stories. I took several pictures of the statue while thinking to myself, "here's an album cover for some future day."
Upon my return, I decided to release the recordings of my European performances, and to use this picture for the cover. All I needed now was a title. The god Pan often takes the form of a satyr in visual art, and the word "panic" is derived from his name. The two Olympians with whom Marsyas had unfortunate encounters are Athena and Apollo. Pan and satyrs, to me, conjure the Dionysian aspect of the life, while Athena calls to mind life's Apollonian aspect. So I considered this jumbled complex in my mind of Marsyas-Satyr-Dionysian and Athena-Apollo-Apollonian and came up with Panic and Anti-Panic. The idea of going on a brief tour of Europe to play music in places I had never been before would ordinarily strike me with, well, panic. Yet on this trip I remained, to my surprise, quite relaxed and in the moment. Panic and Anti-Panic. Following the festival in Copenhagen, I hopped into a late nineties Volvo with the duo Aeth'r Myth'd and hit the road, opening for their concerts in Germany, Belgium and the Netherlands. Both musicians in Aeth'r Myth'd are also members of Sunburned Hand of the Man. If I imagine my music on a continuum with the music of Aeth'r Myth'd (or Sunburned, for that matter), I'd place them more towards the Dionysian end of the spectrum, and myself more towards the Apollonian. Panic and Anti-Panic.
Labels: panic and anti-panic
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