by Slav Ka
Imagine you can play a dance track backwards. Just imagine! You start at the end when the music decays and only a few blips and a kick drum remain. Going backwards, the blips intensify; a flowing synth line wonders into the track; percussion starts pounding; the wave of sound rises like a tsunami, the track peaks; the wave crashes and retreats to expose, again, a lonely blip and a kick drum. At the end, there is a stark realization: this music is a palindrome as it sounds exactly the same played backwards or forwards. Musicians tend to snub electronic music producers for this linearity and lack of any emotional musical development. Well, your Honors of the Supreme Court of All Things Music, may I present to you Exhibit A: LOE's remix of Peter Pardeike's Love Supreme. Secure your headphones, adjust your volume and write down your mood before launching into the track.
LOE's remix starts slowly and melancholically, like a rainy morning, and slowly and deliberately accelerates once the drums enter and the tracks seemingly shifts from atmospheric to rhythmic. And just when your reptilian dance brain manages to identify the familiar dance tropes, the music all but dissolves into a break filled with sparse melodic elements of things yet to come. And out of that primordial soup, various sounds bubble up to the surface and inevitably coagulate into Act 2 of Love Supreme. Macbeth's "stars, hide your fire, lit not light see my black and deep desires" would not be out of place in this Act 2 as well, when darkness and fury start burning through the track and displace all other emotions as Love Supreme reaches its apogee. And, as Act 2 hurls toward its curtain drop, fire and fury start receding to reveal yet another new element in Love Supreme's sonic palette: despair and regret, manifested by the mysterious cello that suddenly enter stage left. Thus ends Love Supreme. Remember that mood you wrote down before pressing 'Play'? Doesn't it feel now like a distant, flickering light at the other end of the universe?