Stone in Focus
How the classic Aphex Twin rarity simulates the sensations of being alive (and dying)
For the past 15 years I’ve been a percussionist with the contemporary chamber-band Alarm Will Sound, and thus had a close relationship with the music of Aphex Twin — I’ve played his music all over the world and done various arrangements myself: including our forthcoming studio recording of minipops 67 [120.2][source field mix].
It’s been a big week for the Aphex Twin fandom, so it seemed the the perfect moment to start what will undoubtedly be many articles mentioning the profound effect he’s had on my musical world.
… sent straight from heaven.
4xLP vinyl boxset housed in a hinged oak case with a bespoke chemical etched and eroded copper plate and engraved logo with paint infill. - $400
📗✨😲
"An artist you follow has released new music."
#19
I can't just… put this track on whenever. I need to consider what's happening in my surroundings, and in my life. This is because I know without a doubt that it will profoundly change my state of mind every single time. It will color my reality. I don't know how else to describe the experience of listening to this music other than to say it's like the sensation of being alive… and dying.
… but is it "ambient"
1 Across (3 letters): "Ambient Brian"
ENO
Oh, for your name to be a crossword repeater! You've defined your genre. And by all accounts, Brian Eno defined the genre of "Ambient Music." His 1978 album Ambient 1 - Music for Airports is what most people think of first when they hear "ambient" used as an adjective next to “music.”
But Aphex Twin's use of the word to describe his own music was always slightly unsettling to me. Strangely, ambient music is sometimes described as “beatless.” If that's a requirement for music to be ambient, then Richard is misusing the word. Both Selected Ambient Works 85-92 and Selected Ambient Works Vol 2 (henceforth referred to as SAWI and SAWII) feature many sampled or programmed beats. Most of SAWI even has that four-on-the-floor kick drum right off a dance floor.
Even when there aren't "drums" per se, almost every track has some sort of rhythmic content that implies a regular beat at a particular tempo. Many of them create fascinating, otherworldly little grooves.
For example #17 aka Z Twig:
Or #2 aka Radiator
How about #5 aka Grass:
Even much of Brian Eno's own Ambient 1 - Music for Airports has unambiguous tempo — you can nod your head to it. It’s 84 bpm. (or is it 42? or 168? — they’re all the “same tempo” anyway).
For cases where there truly is no clearly defined beat, I had a wacky epiphany: does my own heart rate become the beat? It could be at a tempo created either a) by my reaction to the other musical elements, or b) my own physical state.
Obviously I took this little non-peer-reviewed idea with a grain of salt… until the truly beatless #16 aka White Blur I showed up in my earbuds during a run. I'm now convinced even this music has a tempo… it's whatever the current tempo of the blood pumping through my veins:
The notion that ambient music is “beatless" is a misnomer.
Even without drums, it usually has tempo to be perceived in it somewhere. It could be in a real groove, or in the pulsing of a held synthesizer note, or in the duration between audio samples. In addition to being “beatless,” ambient music it is also often described as having no musical or melodic structure.
But none of these characteristics can define a genre — they are just various compositional devices that could be used to achieve its intention. Defining a genre by what’s not there is pretty weak. Especially when we can define by what is there.
… If that is what it isn't, then what is it?
This confusingly worded question has a confusingly worded answer! Ambient music, according to Eno himself:
"…must be as ignorable as it is interesting."
A whole genre defined by the existence of a contradiction. Can something be simultaneously interesting and ignorable?
Totally.
As usual, I like to go with a human experience as a reference point: in meditation, one discipline is to focus on an "anchor." When I realize my mind has wandered away, I bring the focus back to my anchor and begin again. There are several anchors typically suggested, but the most common is the breath.
One way to stay with the breath is to simply look for what's interesting in it. The more fascination I can find in the anchor, the longer it will take for my mind to wander. In that sense, meditation can open up a sense of awe in relation to my ordinary surroundings. It keeps me in my present moment by amplifying real sensations and coloring my perception of reality.
This contradiction is inherent in the practice — I find my breath interesting when I pay attention to its nuances, but just ignorable enough that I frequently lose track of it. I notice that, and begin again. The scales of what’s interesting vs ignored are perfectly balanced: they tip subtly back and forth in cycles of consciousness.
Two other anchors that are often suggested: sound and heartbeat. It just so happens that, along with the breath, those three anchors are the fundamental trio of human musical perception. More on this after intermission.
… interesting, ignorable… intentional
To Brian Eno's definition of ambient music, I would humbly suggest one addition: a definition of the intention, of both composer and listener:
The intention in ambient music is not to tell a story, or take me out of my surroundings (as non-ambient music does), but to keep me in my surroundings by amplifying real sensations and coloring my perception of reality.
Sound familiar? Ambient music might just have a lot in common with meditation.
Intermission: Monkey is wise. Monkey has 10 million views
For a very long time, the only way to really hear #19 aka Stone in Focus was on a copy of the original UK vinyl pressing (currently starting at the low low price of just $450 on Discogs). When I got my own copy of the CDs in 1998, I never heard the track (it was omitted from the CD version for length reasons). But about 8 years ago it showed up on YouTube.
There are lots of versions: various experimental covers, versions slowed down and played in reverse, the obligatory "… looped for 11 hours straight" versions — but the definitive go-to has always been the one below. It's a single play-through of the track, featuring a looping video of the World's Chillest Snow Monkey, sitting motionless in a hot spring. Monkey is wise. Monkey is probably meditating. Monkey understands, because Monkey has been there.
This video has ten million views and over 15,000 comments.
If you frequent YouTube comment sections, you know they can be dangerous places… full of mean spirited judgment, fights, and trolling. But a funny thing has happened in this one. It has somehow turned into a massive public square for love and support. Thousands of people sharing their most personal stories of struggle and pain, or their moments of true contentment and happiness. It's so gorgeous. It renews faith in humanity. I highly recommend a visit.
On Stone in Focus:
… the music and the math and the feelings
In that it colors the reality of the listener while remaining simultaneously interesting and ignorable, Stone in Focus is one of the most effective examples of ambient music ever made.
But calling it "ignorable" does not do justice to the power in the simplicity of the sensations it evokes.
Imagine if it were possible to forget what it feels like to be alive. You need a reminder — something to simulate that feeling. This music would be the purest demonstration I can imagine — a demonstration working simultaneously on all three modes of perception:
The Pitch 👂
Richard was experimenting with microtonality in this era, and SAWII is full of the fruits of that exploration. I hear in this track the most natural sensation of tone possible: the pure tuned harmonic series. The synth is so aligned with the harmonic series that it's hard to tell whether it is actually playing chords, or just one note at a time with intensely locked harmonic timbre: if I listen on headphones, I simultaneously hear a smooth stream tone and feel the motor of individual vibrations. It connects the scale of hearing to the scale of beating. It’s a visceral and wonderful timbre.
A little countermelody appears above the chords on upper harmonic partials — its high frequencies glow. They absolutely sing with resonance.
The Tempo 🫀
Fan-fic conjecture: Richard loves metronomes, just like me. We could be friends 🙂. The only beat material in this music is a subtle click in the background. It’s 84 bpm (or is it 42? or 168? — they’re all the “same tempo” anyway). It could be an actual metronome sample, or some similar sound.
He also does this in #13 aka Blue Calx, a track that I’m intimately familiar with, as my band Alarm Will Sound has been playing an arrangement by Caleb Burhans for over 20 years. To achieve the metronome sound live, one of us climbs under the piano with a metronome in one ear, set to 134 bpm, and play the beats on the frame of the piano with pedal fully depressed. It’s an absolutely genius effect Caleb devised here — the vibration in the piano resonates the strings and creates a reverb effect, just like in the track.
But in Stone in Focus (much like in my own compositional journey), Richard uses a metronome-like sound in a way that paints an undeniable implication of the human heartbeat for a body at rest.
The Phrase 🌬️
There’s that breath again. This music is breathing. These chords are endlessly interesting — I can follow them. My mind wanders. I bring it back.
I inhale: two chords, over 6 heartbeats: 4 beats as my belly expands and 2 more as the last bits of breath move up into my chest.
I exhale: one chord, 8 heartbeats.
I pause: the space between the breaths: 2 beats.
Try this with me. Empty your lungs and push play. Listen to the click. Count 6 in, then 8 out, and pause 2.
This three-part phrase, using three chords, repeats for 10 minutes. A nice length of time to meditate, if you can make it.
What makes this music ignorable is what makes it powerful:
The pitch, tempo, and phrase mirror perfectly the three modes of human perception in their purest forms: the sensation of tone, the heartbeat, and the breath.
This music lives, and then it dies.
… the feelings
I recently experienced a change in my life that I had no control over, and it caught me massively off-guard. It wasn’t nothing… but certainly wasn’t something I would ever have expected to throw my mental health in disarray. For some reason, I experienced it as a massive, traumatic loss. I had an intense period of what I might characterize as grief. Despite the fact that nobody died, that’s just how it felt. It lasted months.
To say my reality was amplified… colored by this change, was an understatement. I seemed to feel every sensation on an exponential level, especially sadness and loss. Music took on a completely different quality.
As I stood staring out the window in the middle of one night after another, I felt like a ghost. I needed a reminder of what it felt like to be alive. I played #19 again and again. It slowly recreated breath, heartbeat, and a sensation of tone, where the place for all three had suddenly felt empty.
But in #19, the cycles eventually slow down. The heartbeat goes first… slowly moving out of sync with the breath. The breaths expand and slow as well. The beats pause. In the final minute, the chords at the top of two of the cycles experience a momentary blur: like a sandy gust of wind passing, the pitch goes out of focus. The chords lose their clarity and their grasp on natural resonance. Three clicks happen in isolation, and then two.
And then it’s over.
A simulation of living, and dying, at a time I needed it. Strangely, it never occurred to me to leave a comment for Monkey… but I’m sure Monkey understands.
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Excellent read