Come in
The end of the year is fast approaching. This is normally when we see all the ‘best of’ lists and reviews. There is no need to rehearse the good and bad of these practices, they will roll on in one form or another. They always do. We like marking and noting, but also it reflects the way such exercises work to re-enforce the claims of the big platforms to adjudicate what is worthy of praise and determine what merits attention.
So what to make of our second year living in, through, and with a pandemic? Uneven would be an understatement. I have thought and written multiple versions of this post. I could talk about the way the world feels like that moment when a mix is falling out of sync and the DJ is struggling to fix it. Or the way that the music scene deeply mirrors many of the most significant points of stress in politics, economics, and society, but this seems to be recognised only in a superficial and incomplete way. Or the way that the spread of the virus is being accompanied by the steady march of bad faith, which continues to warp and damage interactions and relations. Or, or, or. More and more paths fall by the wayside, still our garden contains many more forks ahead.
Instead, let me offer a suggestion: go and listen to Move D and Benjamin Brunn’s ‘Songs from the Beehive’. The album captures so much of what is important and feels obscured at the present moment: openness and sincerity, care and craft. It unfolds in a beautiful, inviting fashion, with Stefan Marx’s palette of colours providing a fitting visual accompaniment. Combined, the presentation is both uncompromising and understated, a complete work that asks - but does not demand - our attention. According to Discogs, it came out in 2008, I presume that must be correct, I cannot remember, it feels like it has always been there. Evergreen, the music is disconnected from any specific moment, and perhaps this is what is needed now: something pristine and preserved, when so much feels bent and broken. The enduring features of the album come precisely from the thought and care that went into its production. Move D and Benjamin Brunn are artists who have honed their skills, mastered their instruments. In this sense, the album is timeless because of the time they gave to it.
For whatever reason, the title of the first track has always stuck in my head. Combined with the warmth of the music and the beauty of the artwork, it feels like an invitation and an injunction: ‘love the one you’re with’. An age old message, but worth putting to the front of our minds, especially as our devices tempt our attention to drift to trivialities and torment. It is beyond our control whether Fortuna will be kinder in the new year, but we can choose what we prioritise and what we do. And in that regard, there is something to be said for a bit more thought, a bit more care, and listening more carefully.