(Witherwillow Sounds, digital)
Matthew Trammell wrote a piece for the New Yorker in 2017 titled “The Weightlessness of Obama Pop.” In it, he remarked on how pop music during Barack Obama’s presidency seemed obsessed with going to space, whether it was Rihanna’s “Diamonds” or Nicki Minaj’s “Starships.” The theory: In a society that was less rocked by political strife, art didn’t bother interacting with deep or dark themes. Instead, it focused on sci-fi flights of fancy and cosmic-level partying.
“Obama pop is left as a well of escapism,” Trammell wrote in conclusion, “a public record of joy that didn’t bother with gravity.”
What, then, to make of the music that has emerged from Donald Trump’s two presidencies — and all the attendant political and societal turmoil to which they have given rise? Indie-pop outfit MGMT is a perfect example of how changes in the political landscape can shape music. Known for breezy electronica-flavored hits such as “Electric Feel” and “Kids,” the duo faced the first Trump administration with the gloriously goth disco album Little Dark Age, equal parts shiny grooves, feelings of paranoia and encroaching doom.
Vermont artists have been quick to react to America’s recent pivot toward authoritarianism. Punk rockers Rough Francis recently dropped the ferocious Fall EP, a politically charged record that pulls no punches. On the other side of the sonic spectrum, there’s the new Thorny album, A Long Dusk.
The project of Plainfield musician JD Ryan, Thorny creates experimental and ambient music, just on the edge of drone but with ghostly flashes of melodies. His latest piece is a 43-minute-long sound bath of gentle, icy synths and subdued bass that moves at the pace of a melting glacier.
A Long Dusk is inspired by the notion of transitions, of time passing into the next age and all the upheaval those changes bring. “It feels like the sun is going down on this era, and it’s taking a long time,” Ryan wrote in an email to Seven Days.
Ryan creates a sonic interpretation of the long, slow disappearance of the sun — the retreat of warmth and light and the onset of the darkest night. As blips of synths play against the seemingly interminable chord progression, they conjure fires going out and a landscape passing into shadow.
While there are no lyrics spit from between clenched teeth or huge dynamic swings to articulate rage, the track is a surprisingly effective way to interact with political unrest. Ryan’s composition summons the feeling of being a patient witness, a lone observer on a hill watching the world change before one’s eyes.
A Long Dusk is now streaming at witherwillow.bandcamp.com.