October Project: Falling Farther In

[Epic] (1995)

 



I.

The last time I heard October Project perform, at Club de Wash in Madison (in October 1994), they were back by popular demand, having played an expectations-shattering concert the previous spring. It was an extended leg of a tour promoting their eponymous debut album, and they played as expertly as only lots of time logged on the road can prepare one for. They performed most of the songs from their first album, plus several others not yet recorded, and a magnificent cover of “As Tears Go By.”

It was the kind of show where the audience was so enraptured, they just stood there–some swaying in time to the music–with awe on their faces. Nobody was dancing–except in place–instead all were entranced by the music. I saw that I wasn’t the only person in the crowd singing along with the band; obviously, others had taken this music as much to their hearts as had I. I also saw an astonishing sight: there were a couple of men standing near the stage who were so deeply moved by October Project’s words and music that tears were running down their faces, unnoticed.

What is October? October is the month on the edge, the point of balance between life and death. Leaves fall from the trees, the air turns cold, it might even snow. Animals prepare to hibernate, or rush about storing provisions for the winter. The earth prepares for the sleep of winter. At the same time, the sky is never so blue and clear, the woods never smell so sweet as in October. There’s a clarity to the air and to the sun’s light unlike at any other time. It’s the last precious bloom of life before winter settles down over the land. You feel yourself yearning for the thick heat of August, but prepared for the freezing clarity of January. October is also the time when the walls between the worlds fade to their thinnest, and magick can easily walk out of your dreams and into the world.

Like the month from which they take their name, October Project’s songs live on this interface, this edge between summer and winter, between the dark and the light: their songs can bring magick into your life. Their powerful poetry never dismisses the darkness–the Shadow in each of us–but embraces it, to win through to a greater understanding of life, and our place in it.

October Project’s second album, Falling Farther In(Epic), has all the strength of their first album, but continues their story by adding to their oeuvre with new songs and new themes. The songs’ arrangements are still built around Mary Fahl’s rich contralto, with the other voices and instruments supporting her and adding layers of lush harmonies. Julie Flanders’ poems continue to be mature and resonant, evoking the human experience in rich images.

The CD opens with “Deep As You Go,” a 5/4 rocker that opens the door for the album: the journey inward, falling into the shadow, begins. My favorite tracks (at the moment) are the anthemic “Something More Than This,” the relentless “After the Fall,” the apocalyptic “Dark Time,” and the CD’s title track, which begins with just drums and voice, and builds up to the climactic refrain: “I leave a life behind me/I feel myself begin/I’m reaching out to keep you/Falling farther in....” It’s the album’s climax, too, the culmination of the inward journey. “Something More Than This” is a reminder that “There is always something to return to/Something you allowed to slip away....” No matter how difficult life becomes, no matter how weighed down by the secrets we carry inside us, “There’s something more than this.” By contrast, “After the Fall,” with its surging melody and shifting chords, reminds us that we can’t run away from the shadow: “The farther you run,/The more you recall/The loss of your innocence/After the fall.” Both songs, in their different ways, convey an awareness of realities beyond this one–a sense of broader perspectives–and that whatever we think we know, there’s more hiding in the shadows that we need to learn.

“Dark Time” is a simple ballad, but the lyrics evoke a cold glimpse of the beginning of the coming dark age: “Remember the warnings/Forget what you’re told/The heart of the temple/Is hollow and cold....” There’s snow falling throughout this song; gather together for warmth as we may, there’s no escape. (“Dark Time” calls to mind Yeats’ “The Second Coming”: Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;/Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world. It also makes me think of Signal To Noise,a novel by Neil Gaiman and Dave McKean, which contains the insight: “There is no one great apocalypse. There are only lots of little ones.”)

Julie Flanders is a poet. Emil Adler is a composer. October Project is the ideal vehicle to interpret their music. (This is the band I wish I was playing in. These are songs I wish I had written.) It’s music you will listen to so many times, always finding new layers in the mix, that you will inevitably end up learning all the songs by heart.

October Project will be coming to Madison again this fall. This is one of those shows You Do Not Want To Miss. Expect a deeply beautiful, powerful, emotional, moving musical experience. Also expect to see a lot of people wearing black (you know why).



II.

Now I’m going to go out on a limb for a bit, and speculate on one of the reasons why I think October Project is such an important band (I mean, aside from the quality of their work): October Project does a lot to heal the breach that has evolved between classical or high-art music and popular music–an artificial distinction that is a relatively recent development in Western music culture. In other words, October Project are writing classical music using the musical vernacular and tools of their times.

In Mozart’s day, and as late as Brahms, what we now call classical music was popular music; walking through the marketplace, you were as likely to hear someone singing out the “hit” aria from Mozart’s latest opera (everybody went to the opera, not just the blue-haired upperclass) as you were to hear a folk song. More likely, perhaps, because opera was popular music at that time. (The single most powerful impact that the modern recording industry has had on Western musical culture is the evolution of the passive listener: while it’s ever easier to listen to recorded music, fewer people make music socially in their homes, or go to concerts. I’ve also seen friends give up playing music, because their “amateur” performances can’t duplicate the impossibly “perfect” performances available to professional musicians in modern recording studios via multi-track editing. I suspect both Robert Schumann and Emil Adler would agree with me that the diminishing presence of the average amateur musician is a problem for our culture.*)

This is how October Project comes across: songs as popular and as beautifully composed, as elegant and as singable, in the context of the musical language of their times, as Mozart’s or Schubert’s were in their own eras. And no wonder: between them, the members of October Project have as much time logged in on classical music training as a dozen other bands combined. It shows in their professionalism, the sparkle and craftsmanship of their arrangements, and the well-trained precision of their performances.

As a composer, Emil Adler is a modern heir to Robert Schumann; he is writing lieder, chanson, art-songs–whatever you want to call them. His settings remind me of Schumann’s beautiful lieder in their lushness, their adventurous harmonies, and their singability. (The opening three songs of Schumann’s Dichterliebe keep coming to mind in particular.) Emil’s musical language adds to Schumann’s all the harmonic innovations of modern jazz, plus the tools and techniques available to musicians at the end of the 20th century. The result is a music complex in its harmonies–full of unexpected yet internally-logical chord changes, unresolved sus-IV progressions, and ringing 9th chords–yet also intimate and very singable.

Maybe I’m projecting all of this onto October Project. Maybe it’s a side effect of my recent reconciliation with my own classical training, which I have come back to after more than a decade of rejection. Maybe it’s that October Project appeared at the same time that I began my reconciliation process. If I am projecting, however, then October Project’s first CD deserves at least some of the credit for inspiring me to sing again, and to start using my music theory training again: their songs pulled me in, making me want to figure out the chord changes, making me sing along with the music when I played the tape in the car (which I have done a lot).

So, for whatever reason, I feel that October Project creates genuinely life-affirming music. Never dismissing the darkness–the shadow in each of our lives–but embracing it, to win through to a greater understanding of existence and our place in it. And to the acceptance and peace that understanding brings to the pilgrim who seeks the truth.





* The late John Cage had this to say about this subject (interviewed in the 1983 Peter Greenaway film, John Cage: A Music Circus, made on the occasion of Cage’s 70th birthday concert in London):

Cage: I don’t myself use records, and I give the example of someone who lives happily without records. But I notice that no one pays any attention to me. Or maybe a few pay attention, but most people use records.

Q: It’s useful to hear music from concerts or performances one can’t get to.

Cage: No, it’s really not useful at all. It merely destroys one’s need for real music. It substitutes artificial music for real music, and it makes people think that they’re engaging in a musical activity when they’re actually not. And it has completely distorted and turned upside down the function of music in anyone’s experience. For instance, if you don’t believe what I’ve said, I was present at a concert conducted by Stravinsky of one of his own works. I was sitting behind a ten-year-old child and his father. After the performance was finished, the child turned to his father and said, “That isn’t the way it goes!” (laughs) I told that story to someone, and I received this one, which is charming: A child in a similar circumstance turned his mother and said, “Why don’t they turn the record over?” (laughs)










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