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Thursday, June 10, 2021

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

The existence of black midi as a band 

should be used as primary evidence 
that reality is simply a simulation 
whose source code has been written 
by either Kurt Vonnegut or David 
Mitchell. This is not because of how 
strange its aesthetic is, although there 
aren’t many acts out there that can 
claim to rival it, but because of how 
it’s managed to captivate such a large 
portion of music fandom with their 
undefinable variation of rock.

For the most part, it doesn’t seem 

like audiences or the critical sphere 
knows what to make of them, aside 
from the fact that they are undeniably 
exciting. This whiplash is probably why 
so many were quick to place them in 
the same haphazardly conceived “UK 
experimental post-punk” movement 
as other bizarre rock groups from the 
scene. However, even on their debut 
record, black midi sounded slightly 
removed from such categorization. As 
if to prove that this wasn’t a fluke, their 
freshly released sophomore project 
feels like a band actively pruning itself 
from the musical zeitgeist. 

Schlagenheim challenged all of the 

conventions of noise and experimental 
rock while maintaining the youthful 
spirit and lack of self-importance that 
gave those genres their potency in the 
first place. It certainly has the energy of 

a debut. Cavalcade, on the other hand, 
feels like an entirely different beast 
altogether. Putting aside the vast and 
numerous sonic departures, there is 

a definitive atmosphere on Cavalcade 
that is completely removed from its 
predecessor. It seems as though black 
midi have approached the project with 
a heightened seriousness, as if to say 
“Well, we had our fun, now it’s time to 

really dive into the trenches.” Of course, 
there is a fine line to walk between 
seriousness 
and 
pretentiousness, 

especially with a band of their technical 

prowess, but their apparent lack of any 
overarching mantra naturally voids 
any potential pretense.

Our discussion begins with the 

opener “John L.” If there was any 
resistance to the idea that black midi 

isn’t out to be a crowd-pleaser, this 
track instantly quells it. Horns and 
guitars and drums are all layered 
precisely on top of each other often 
with total silence taking refuge in the 
space between. Every note feels like a 
blunted dagger being thrust through 
the chest. It’s one thing to take on this 
Frippian psychosis by itself; if one were 
going to do so, the Jodorowsky-meets-
Teletubbies-styled music video is the 
way to go. 

But 
the 
choice 
to 
follow 
it 

immediately with easily the most 
relaxed and pleasant song they’ve ever 
done is somehow more shocking than 
anything that happened on “John L.” 
The band ventures into late 60’s era 
prog on “Marlene Dietrich.” This is 
where it becomes clear that Geordie 
Greep has been developing his singing 
from Schlagenheim to Cavalcade. It 
reveals a softer nuance to his voice that 
was previously unexplored.

The middle portion of Cavalcade 

arguably works as one large suite 
that consists of several different 
pieces. There is a greater emphasis on 
transitions between songs, with the 
effortless glide between the dreamy 
soundscape of “Diamond Stuff” and 
the groovy punk rock of “Dethroned” 
being 
a 
particularly 
spectacular 

example of this. The album then 
finishes out with the nearly ten-minute 
avant prog epic “Ascending Forth”, 
which sees the band stretching their 
pathos as far as they can. Much like the 

title suggests, it certainly reaches the 
highest peak on Cavalcade, with the 
final moments reminiscent of the end 
credit curtain roll of a 1930s musical 
drama (perhaps the Marlene Dietrich 
reference was not as innocuous as 
previously thought). It’s the perfect 
closer to a project that feels so confident 
in its ambition.

Lyrically speaking, a first glance 

would suggest that black midi are 
working with the same cryptic and 
absurd messaging that defined much 
of their early work. But much like the 
first project, we would be ignoring 
the details that lie under the surface. 
Cavalcade goes even deeper, as it seems 
to be tying in a larger theme across its 
seemingly disparate track ideas. Each 
song presents the concept of a fall 
from grace in some manner. “John L.’’ 
tells the story of a cult leader whose 
members turn on him. “Slow” lays out 
the existential quandary that our only 
interaction with time is the process of 
it leaving us.

Unsurprisingly, 
the 
track 
that 

brings this all together is “Ascending 
Forth,” which, aside from the clever 
double meaning (ascending fourths), 
really gets at the heart of why the 
band decided to focus on such a dour 
subject. On the track, we are told the 
story of Markus, an artist living among 
orthodox monks who is struggling to 
create. 

Reviewing “The Anthropocene Reviewed”

I cannot buy a book before I’ve read 

it. Questions of limited funds aside, 
what if the book just sits on my shelf, 
unread until I move again? What if I 
hate the ending? The rational answer 
to my concern, of course, would be to 
return the book; however, returning 
a book requires effort and gas money. 
Besides, more than anything, buying 
a book is about trust — trust that 
it will subvert your expectations. 
It’s a leap of faith. So when I saw a 
signed copy of “The Anthropocene 
Reviewed” by John Green for the first 
time, I surprised everyone, including 
myself, by buying a copy. I wasn’t 
prepared to find a new favorite book.

Wherever I move, I will be 

taking this book with me. Green’s 
collection of personal essays about 
the 
Anthropocene, 
our 
current 

geologic age of unavoidable human 
influence, is easily digestible but 
incredibly complex. The book is 
composed of essays, or “reviews,” of 
different facets of the Anthropocene 
— anything from “Penguins of 
Madagascar” to “Auld Lang Syne” 
and “Sycamore Trees.” The idea was 
sparked when beloved brothers John 
and Hank Green found amusement in 
reviews of national parks on Google, 
leading them to come up with “The 
Anthropocene Reviewed,” a podcast 
in 2018, with episodes like “The 
Icelandic Hot Dog Stand and Signing 
Your Name 250,000 Times” or “Air 
Conditioning and Sycamore Trees.” 
Now, “The Anthropocene Reviewed” 
exists as a book, with excerpts from 
the podcasts, as well as new essays.

Green is known for his wildly 

divisive young adult novels but has 
most definitely hit his stride in writing 
non-fiction. The connection between 
his YA fiction and this collection of 

essays isn’t overt or noticeable (except 
for the parts where he mentions his 
books). Many of the dozens of deeply 
emotional and philosophical essays 
are around four to six pages. Due to 
their extraordinary nature, I’ve had 
to take multiple breaks reading this 
book. Green simultaneously paints 
a deeply honest roadmap of his life 
and the Anthropocene, focusing 
on coping with the condition of 
our deeply bizarre, ultra-modern 
world and unintentionally creating 
an unfinished list of reasons to love 
being alive. He writes with such 
unconditional love for the world — 
it’s no small feat to convince me that 
the answer to my problems is to visit 
Indianapolis.

As expected, a common theme 

is the magnitude of the Earth’s 
temporal range or range of existence 
in units of time. In an essay titled 
“Humanity’s 
Temporal 
Range,” 

Green writes, “We know we are 

circling a star that will one day 
engulf us. We’re the only species 
that knows it has a temporal range.” 
Green focuses on questions of relative 
temporal ranges by portraying our 
short but impactful time on earth and 
how he has come to terms with the 
inevitable destruction of humanity. 
In another essay on the Bonneville 
Salt Flats, Green writes, “In the age 
of the Anthropocene, humans tend to 
believe, despite all available evidence, 
that the world is here for our benefit. 
So the Bonneville Salt Flats must 
have a human use; why else would 
they exist? Nothing can grow in that 
dry, salty soil, but we find uses for it 
anyway.” Within the book, Green 
describes how humans manage to 
persevere as a species and wreak 
havoc upon the Earth. The Earth has 
existed for billions of years before 
us and will exist after. Humans tend 
to believe their impact is the most 
beneficial occurrence to ever happen 

to the Earth, but Green succeeds 
in making humans seem just what 
they are: mortal. That’s not to say the 
author underplays climate change. 
Humans, despite being clueless about 
the history before them, are both 
creative and destructive.

Green also observes phenomena 

surrounding humans that have lasted 
for thousands of years. While writing 
of the history of the treatment of 
Staphylococcus aureus, a bacteria, he 
mentions, “[Staphylococcus] doesn’t 
know about people. It just wants to 
be, like I want to go on, like that ivy 
that wants to spread across the wall, 
occupying more and more of it.” 
Perhaps Staphylococcus is Green’s 
apt metaphor in describing humanity; 
always evolving into a new form, 
but also fundamentally creative, 
destructive, parasitic and never-
changing in its identity. 

 MEERA KUMAR

Daily Arts Writer

“Cavalcade”: black midi’s procession beyond the boundaries

DREW GADBOIS

Daily Arts Writer

Black Midi: Cavalcade album cover

Read more at michigandaily.com

Read more at michigandaily.com

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