9 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 ARTS