 |
| Photo by Lea Thomas |
John Thayer is an audio engineer and composer whose most recent album Supermundane takes up as its task an elevation of the mundane in a way that cuts through the clutter of ego and the varnish of spectacle to examine human experience in dialog with a world of rhopos. Its errand is to understand our relation to our environments in a way that is philosophically serious and rigorous, but which still leaves room for play and experimentation. That penetrates the visage of the mundane rather than simply outlines its form. In fact, it is the grounded nature of the album that allows its evocative soundscapes to achieve the great heights that it does. Supermundane is like a still life rendered in conscious radiation and sound.
When I first sent a copy of the record this summer it captivated me for the reasons expressed above. However, I found that anytime I attempted to collect my thoughts on it, my ideations fell from my grasp like sand through a colander. And yet, I could not shake the need to interact with the work to some extent and disseminate information about it through this blog. So I reached out to John to see if he would be willing to answer a few questions. Thankfully, he agreed.
I need to emphasize that the truest experience of Supermundane can only be wrought by the bare sensation of listening to it. Although, if you are like me, and find yourself obsessed with the work, as I have, John's statements below may afford some additional vantage points from which to appreciate the album. His words can only guide your journey into the album so much as your only volition is willing to carry you. Supermundane is an opportunity for a self-directed investigation of your environment. Take that how you will.
The following conversation was conducted via email on October 19, 2021. It has been edited slightly for clarity.
What expectations do you hope the title, Supermundane, sets for your potential audience?
Super mundane is defined as “transcending the earthly, divine, celestial.” I came across the word and like most people, I assumed it meant something extra mundane. I enjoy its playful nature, it defied expectations and I hope my album does the same. It’s an apt word to describe my thoughts on the power of sound and the headspace I was in while recording the record.
How do dreams inform the sounds and concepts of the album?
I’ve never been very good at remembering my dreams but pre-pandemic I was traveling a great deal and I found myself dreaming more vividly than when I was home. I started wondering how my location was impacting my dreams. The more attention I paid to my dreams the more I remembered. This led me to think about my waking reality and the thin veils between different states of consciousness. There’s a certain freedom within the liminal space. It’s a wonderful area to explore.
What environments did you draw inspiration and sound from for this album?
The record was created and refined primarily in three locations, Maui, Kyoto and Brooklyn. My partner Lea was born and raised in Hawaii and her family has since relocated to Kyoto. Whether it be tour or travel, both places have been a place of sanctuary and community for us for many years. Brooklyn is where I’ve lived for the last 14 years. I work at a recording studio called Thump and it’s a safe space for me, one where I can experiment freely without expectation.
Kyoto is an ancient city, it’s full of beautiful serene places. There’s a pervading sense of stillness that I very much relate to. Maui is a more vibrant, lush landscape. You’re surrounded by 3,000 miles of ocean and it’s a simple reminder of the splendor and enormity of our beautiful planet. It’s hard not to be inspired.
There’s also the digital world, the digital environment, notions of hyperrealism and laptop composition. This music requires long hours in front of a computer moving blocks of sound around with often questionable results. It feels like a very personal practice, a time for solitude and experimentation.
How might the listener's familiarity with similar environments augment their overall experience of the album?
I would like to think anyone with curious ears would enjoy this album, no global travel required. I attempted to make an experiential record that wouldn’t require a backstory and could stand on its own merits. I would say that my ego often prevents me from making anything too tranquil, meaning I like to make music that demands attention, it’s not meant to be a passive listening experience. I hope it’s an entertaining and enveloping sonic journey.
How does "fourth world ambient" describe your music, and what is your reference point for this term?
Fourth World is a term coined by composer Jon Hassell, which he defined as a “unified primitive/futuristic sound combining features of world ethnic styles with advanced electronic techniques.” I wouldn’t use this term as a primary description of my work, but as a studio engineer, I do employ numerous technological systems to create new sonic worlds. I believe Hassell’s use of the term “ethnic styles” implies there is something more ancient and sacrosanct than the typical modern view of music as entertainment. I’m aligned with him in my belief that music is inherently a sacred form of communication and its creation should be treated with a certain amount of reverence.
Why is it important for you to interject a sense of humanity into, sometimes, rigid electronic processes?
I make a great deal of music with collaborators and I’ve found that the best collaborations begin with a collective improvisation or at the very least a shared physicality. It’s rare that a completely remote and computer-based correspondence will yield the emotional legitimacy of an in-person session. Once everything is organized in the DAW then we can mangle until our heart's content.
When making music in a solo capacity I needed to find similar methods of spontaneity and improvisation. It’s not fun to be restricted by a grid so I developed ways to break habits and introduce chance. The best music is a post-linguistic connection to a higher sense of self. It’s something woven from the fabric of spirit, not something manufactured using assembly line techniques.
What was the most challenging aspect of making Supermundane?
Working solo, there was no one to dialog with, making it challenging to know if I was making something worth releasing. I had to trust myself to know when something was complete and that wasn’t always a straightforward process.
Finding the balance between nonlinear composition and listenability is tricky. My solution entails working on a piece and then listening to it in different environments. Passive listening is a real asset in terms of compositional clarity. You can obsess on a sound for hours, but after a break and a casual listen, it’ll immediately present itself as either an issue or a non-issue. Completing the album was an ambition realized and, for that alone, I’m very proud of the record.
Supermundane is out via Moon Villian.
