Wednesday, March 18, 2020 — 5A
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Regularly, I find myself yearning to
be out in the woods. Whether it’s the
stereotypical “call of the wild” or a
deeply poetic passion for the natural,
being among the trees has always been
a rather important form of respite for
me. It’s a place where sitting on a mossy
stump doing nothing in particular is a
productive action. Over the years, this
urge
has
only
gotten
more
potent.
I
started
to
convince
myself
that
trail-running
is
the
only
form
of
exercise
I
actually enjoy.
I really began
to
appreciate
the
tiny
nuances,
one
being
the
interaction
between
the
trees.
I
would
notice
the way the
wind brushes
the
leaves
and
envision
the
trees
communicating in some discreet waving
pattern, like flag signals. In a way, I
started to see the woods as a connected
group. And if Conference of Trees is any
indication, it appears as though German
composer Pantha Du Prince may share
my belief that nature holds a collective
power.
Conference of Trees finds Pantha Du
Prince continuing down the path of
using more organic instrumentation,
but perhaps with more intention and
effectiveness than ever before. The
project starts out with the soft hums of
wood chimes and low groaning strings
(reminiscent of Stars of the Lid), setting
up the earthen mood and atmosphere
for the rest of the album. Over time,
wooden percussion hits appear, slowly
progressing with more aggression and
rhythm. All of this evokes imagery of
the album’s namesake. Roughly the first
40 minutes of the album run together
so unimpeded that it could easily be
mistaken for a single track. On its own, it
could be considered ambient; in context
with the whole album, it acts as the
pregame to the party that is the second
half.
The album progresses by taking on a
more direct tone. Songs become more beat
driven and dance inspired. For many, this
may feel like a bit of a departure from the
way the album starts, but fluidity is one
of Conference of Trees’s greatest assets
— it never feels abrupt. Pantha wants
to look at nature both organically and
synthetically, yet impressively neither
aspect feels all
that forced. He
walks the line
between
the
two with deft
precision.
As
a
result,
the
reverie of trees
conversing
is
never
broken.
If
anything,
the
album
depicts
how
the interaction
of
the
trees
changes
over
time. It starts
out subtly and
then gets more
prominent
until
it
dominates
the forest, only to fade away into the
background. Conference of Trees acts in
the same way as nature: a cycle.
When I listen to this album, I can’t
help but think of a forest in Utah called
Pando. Walking through, it would seem
like a simple amber aspen grove. Beneath
the surface is where it gets interesting.
The forest itself is actually just one tree,
connected underground by a network of
fungal roots. The woods itself becomes a
single organism, able to send a message
from one trunk to another even several
acres away. It’s relieving to look at nature
in such a way. We’re living in a world
now where urban life and proximity to
one another can no longer be comforting
nor provide any security. Taking solace
under a lonely pine or in a boysenberry
thicket is beginning to look more like
a necessity rather than a privilege.
Unknowingly, Conference of Trees acts as
a strong proponent of social distancing
and therefore a fairly essential listen in
these trying times. Trees are probably the
safest thing to hug at the moment.
‘Conference of Trees’ and
the hidden life of the forest
DREW GADBOIS
Daily Arts Writer
PANTHA DU PRINCE
Let’s paint a picture. It’s Saturday night
at Skeeps. Your $12 Moscow Mule pitcher
is running dry. “Down” by Jay Sean is
blasting on the speakers. Everyone’s
losing it. Luckily, you lock eyes with
that special someone from across the
muddied dance floor. You find your way
through the crowd and begin to hit the
basics: Name, major, hometown, your
least favorite President of the University
whose last name starts with an “S.” Next
thing you know, you’re in a Lyft back to
their place. The two of you are violently
making out in the back seat while your
driver tries to politely tune you out.
Once you get back and crash on their
couch, they suggest watching something
on Netflix. Perfect idea. You both scroll
around aimlessly through titles, hoping to
find something agreeable. Now’s a great
opportunity for you to suggest a show
that demonstrates just how cultured and
cool you really are.
“How about ‘The Office’?”
Just then, thunderclaps emerge from
outside. The glass in the windows shatters
as the eyes of the person you arrived with
begin to glow bright red. Thunder strikes
and the wind howls throughout the room
as you watch in horror as their head does
a full 360-degree revolution.
“THE OFFICE ENDED IN 2013!” they
reply in a demonic intonation.
“The Office” has become a symbol of
stale viewership. In 2018, Netflix dished
out $80 million just to keep the ’90s sitcom
“Friends” on its platform for another
year. And why wouldn’t they? The show
is rewatched constantly and remains
one of the most popular titles streamed.
These shows have become a staple of
entertainment for boring people. Just
think of all of the new ideas that aren’t
being funded as a result of continued
audience lethargy. By comparison, in 2016,
it only took $6 million to fund the first
season of “Stranger Things,” a Netflix
original that also remains one of the
platform’s most talked about titles to date.
Netflix has shown it has the potential to
create engaging storylines. However, the
disparity in funding used to rehash the
past is remarkable. Netflix’s corporate
strategy works best when audiences gain
dependence on their supply of comfort
and nostalgia. If the only thing you
watch in 2020 happens to be “Parks and
Recreation,” you’ll eventually become
so trapped by the pattern of watching a
single show that you’ll pay anything to
keep viewing it. As users fall victim to a
cycle of repetitive viewing, services like
Netflix will continue to allocate a sliver
of funding to new content.
While “The Office” and “Friends”
are both hilarious shows (maybe not
“Friends,” but I digress), we’ve seemed to
reach a stalemate in a television culture
where our fascinations are dominated by
nostalgia. Look at the countless remakes
and sequels that are currently dominating
the film industry. Why bother creating
new things if what they already have will
still make more money? Our collective
fixation with the past is killing not only
TV but also entertainment in general.
In order for any media to succeed there
have to be new attempts at artistry,
both good and bad. Leaving no room for
creative growth has resulted in audiences
feeling like we’re stuck in a job we hate,
mindlessly selling paper and aimlessly
hitting on the receptionist with a fiancé.
Fortunately, there might be some
light at the end of the tunnel. As of
2020, “Friends” has been removed from
Netflix and will be heading straight to
the new streaming service HBOMax in
May. “The Office” will be departing from
Netflix in 2021 and is expected to draw a
huge wave of new subscribers for NBC’s
online service “Peacock,” which is set to
launch on April 15th. What will these new
streaming services mean for continued
watchability? While it’s too early to tell,
I’m sure viewers will find some way to
pay an extra ten bucks a month in order
to justify the Michael Scott sticker from
Redbubble stuck to their laptop.
In the meantime, use the absence of
some familiar titles to watch something
new. Television has literally never been
better and more diverse. Take some time
to get a suggestion from The Daily. If
you hate it — so what? At least you tried.
Maybe the next time you’re hitting on
someone at Skeeps you’ll have something
new to talk about besides how much
Greek life sucks.
It’s 2020: Forget ‘The Office’
and start a new TV show
MAXWELL BARNES
Daily Arts Writer
ALBUM REVIEW
Conference of Trees
Pantha Du Prince
Modern Recording
TV NOTEBOOK
“The Office” has
become a symbol of stale
viewership
Our collective fixation
with the past is killing
not only TV but also
entertainment in general.
In order for any media to
succeed there have to be
new attempts at artistry,
both good and bad