THE RIFF ALBUM OF THE MONTH
Sight and Sound: Air’s legacy
Join us on July 7 at 1 pm PST/4 pm EST
I remember the moment in amber: the light, the mood, and the tattered mall carpet where I stood 25 years ago when my musical sensibilities shifted on the spot. I was stocking CDs at the music store when “Talisman” came into rotation on our multi-disc changer, and it only took a B side to get me hooked.
“Talisman” — from a debut album that would see backlash for its ubiquity — had a retro-futurist sound emerging from a broad lineage including Kraftwerk, Pink Floyd, Brian Eno, Bach, and Serge Gainsborough.
From the carefully selected Fender P-bass and Fender Rhodes layered with a Wurlitzer 200A, and contrasting strings, a cinematic melody emerged in buttery, ‘70s tones with a sense of menace. Noir gold. Achingly downtempo and luxuriant but with the unease of the fin de siècle.
All I needed was to hear that song before I was ready to devour both their EP and debut, delving into mesmerizing soundscapes that were not necessarily krautrock, prog rock, space rock, film score, nor easy listening — but perhaps all of them in one. It is the creation of atmosphere itself – full of lush pockets and braided currents. The tempo suggests a seemingly laid-back tone despite what I would learn about the duo’s ambitions and painstaking dedication to mastering everything from instruments to production.
This is not my first time choosing a group with French connections and a reverence for analog craft. Yet, this month’s pick considers the mathematics and architecture of music in a wholly different way. Nicholas Godin and Jean-Benoît Dunckel, respectively hailing from those disciplines, were aiming for something in a much larger scale. Keen listeners are space travellers through their vast musical environments. They compose an ether surround I imagine space to be like — full of terrible awe.
The duo’s cinematic sound would lead to scoring an entire album for Sofia Coppola, an enchanting soundtrack to the 1902 Georges Méliès film Le voyage dans la lune, an ambient soundtrack commissioned by a museum, a brilliant mixtape, in addition to their five studio albums, and collaborations with artists from Charlotte Gainsbourg to Jarvis Cocker to Beck.
Air’s self-produced debut, Moon Safari, reached unanticipated heights, and the duo deliberately made a departure into more experimental work. Their non-mainstream sophomore 10 000 Hz Legend was not as critically favoured, despite exceptional songs and concept but because of this, Air won me over by staying true to themselves at a time many imitators were assuming their sound. 10,000 Hz Legend asserted Dunckel and Godin were not DJs — as they were rumoured to be despite playing full albums live— and the pair dubbed themselves “Electronic Performers”.
Honing their craft and collaborating for a second time with Nigel Godrich, Air’s third album Talkie Walkie is where the band came to fullness. Using interesting production techniques and cancelling the guest vocalists (including Hope Sandoval) so they could fully realize their album, Air received the highest critical praise.
And while some feel the vocals are both a sweet and weak point of the album, Godin and Dunckel’s decision to do all the singing was an important step in owning their sound. Talkie Walkie is the pinnacle of the band’s musical journey together and is also our album for discussion.
I spent a year writing an article about Moon Safari in my head, especially after Dunckel and Godin stepped away from their solo work to announce a world tour to play the entire album this year. A tour for which their first North American date is in my city of Vancouver. But there will be plenty of time to talk about Moon Safari before looking further into the evolution of a long career sometimes overlooked due to the commercial magnitude of their first album.
I know Talkie Walkie will be new for some, and I don’t want to colour too much that experience more than to explain how adroitly Air refined their sound and how they gave it substance. Stereogum, who get their name from 10 000 Hz’s “Radio #1" said Talkie Walkie:
stands as the duo’s blatant all-caps Air-as-musicians record. The album’s songcraft exceeds any of the previous records’ efforts without sacrificing the cult textures and kitsch sci-fi futurism. It’s a logical progression from all that came before, marrying the pair’s rocket-fueled obsessions with songs you need a scalpel to excise from your brain.
Pop Matters nailed the existential position of Talkie Walkie in their 2004 review, stating:
What Air really created is an audible diorama, with three dimensions of very still depth. It doesn’t matter that the meaning behind the group’s music is about as complex as their moniker, because the emotional strings they pull stretch far into the distance…. In a way, the group is going for a similar effect to fellow countryman Albert Camus. The importance in their work is not the narrative, but the feeling it evokes. In Camus’s case, that feeling was alienation. In Air’s case, it is just the opposite.
I feel connected and deliciously unsettled when I listen to Air. Like deep-body-relaxation but on a precipice. It’s how I feel about a city — safe within its burrows, yet estranged by its rectilinearity.
When I listened to Talkie Walkie walking across Rainbow Bridge in Tokyo on a summer night, I felt in its sound the same warmth of water and light against the beautiful austerity of industrial design. It’s a privilege to feel Air’s sound as an architecture — something materially in space. For our discussion, I’d like to consider the physicality and dimensions of music as part of our discussion. Nicholas Godin says of songwriting:
I really think of music as an architect. My studies really affected the way I’m composing. I think in three dimensions. Sometimes I’m more interested by space and new landscapes and materials than I am by music itself.
Godin emphasizes that since he uses synthesizers to create the music, his relationship to music is very physical, as I imagine Dunckel, who is a gifted, classically trained pianist.
Godin continues:
You make a song by forgetting the song. You don’t try anymore. You forget about everything. The music decides everything….
I hope my choice complements the discussion Jeffrey Harvey on Daft Punk discussion last December. After all, Daft Punk were Air’s “French touch” comrades and they supported each others’ work. We can certainly revisit this group’s recurring talking points Jeff listed, including nostalgia and technology’s role in music.
Air is among my favourite bands of all time and Talkie Walkie approximates my inner life. I am a synesthete and the visual world is audible to me (I can hear silent film, gestures, paintings or lights flashing, etc). To me, Air’s compositions can deftly cross-wire spatial relationships with sound and emotion.
I believe passion about a band or album creates the liveliest conversations in our monthly meetings. As much as I intellectualize, it comes down to how you feel about the music. I know Terry Barr has a kindred connection to the band and I hope all who decide to listen and join will enjoy the album, whether it is the first or thirtieth listen. All are warmly welcome.
If you’ve never joined before, sit in and listen, and you’ll know what I mean. We create a safe and inclusive space. Kevin Alexander has a great description here of what to expect if you have never joined our monthly chat.
Please bring your reflections and questions or listening ear to our next talk on Sunday, July 7, 2024, at 1 pm PST/4 pm EST (changed from June 30).
Terry Barr Nicole Brown Jeffrey Harvey Anthony Overs Charles in San Francisco Charlie Cole Stanley C. Kevin Alexander Steve Goldberg Paul Combs Keith R. Higgons Chris Zappa Madeline M. Dovi Alexander Razin Bill Cooper David Acaster Scott-Ryan Abt James Gaunt
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Jessica Lee McMillan © 2024
