The Disintegration Loops

One thing I like to do when reading is to have background music on to help me visualize the world the author is trying to build, this has led me to discover many music gems and genres that I wouldn't have came across otherwise, to name a few: Zeit by Tangerine Dream, Nafs at peace by Jaubi, Ágætis byrjun by Sigur Ros, Atarashī hi no tanjō by 2 8 1 4, Advaitic songs by OM, Music for Nine Post Cards by Hiroshi Yoshimura, Dopesmoker by Sleep and, one of my favorite discoveries, the one that I'm writing about today, The Disintegration Loops by William Basinski.

Now, embark on a musical journey, and think about your all-time favorite tunes. the one that makes you hit repeat without a second thought. Now, let's talk about the magic of those specific moments in a song, those choruses or notes that grab your soul and refuse to let go, you know the feeling, right? well, unless of course if we're talking about an MGK song then I'm sorry you couldn't relate. 

Anyways, now imagine a song, where time pulls a magic trick and seems to be frozen, whilst you're lost in that specific moment, in that sweet spot where every note extends the moment and takes a backseat. That dear reader, is how I would describe the universe crafted by William in the disintegration loops. The thing about this masterpiece; besides the beautifully sad story of how it was created that I'm going to mention later in this article; is not just the notes, it's in the way William captures the essence of the moment, stretches it out, and lets it linger like an old friend who doesn't want to say goodbye.

The story behind the creation of the Disintegration Loops has been repeated so often that even Basinski himself has grown weary of telling it: In the 1980s, he crafted a series of tape loops using processed snippets of music gleaned from an easy listening station. In 2001, while revisiting his archives, he opted to digitize these decades-old loops for preservation. Initiating a loop on his digital recorder and leaving it to play, he returned after a short interval only to observe the tape gradually disintegrating as it played, the fine coating of magnetized metal was slivering off, and the music was decaying slightly with each pass through the spindle.

Astonished, Basinski replicated the process with other loops and eventually created the music of what would later be his disintegration loops, but that's obviously not the whole story. Shortly after that, a day that everyone on this planet will remember for years to come; and if they didn't the the USA will remind them every single year and on every single occasion to justify ruining the Middle East; the day of the September 11 attack. From the roof of his apartment in Brooklyn, the aftermaths of the explosions were visible, William put a video camera on a tripod and captured the final hour of daylight on that day, pointing the camera at a smoldering lower Manhattan. 

The next day, on September 12, he cued the first of his newly created sound pieces and listened to it while watching the footage. The impossibly melancholy music, the gradual fade, and the images of ruin: the project suddenly had a sense of purpose. It would become an elegy for that day. Stills from the video were used for the covers of the CDs, and eventually, the hour-long visual with sound was released on DVD.  You can watch the video yourself here if you have an hour to spare: Disintegration Loop 1.1 (official) - YouTube 

The beauty of the music that The Disintegration Loops offers is not easy to explain, even if other pieces that follow a similar direction exist, Steve Rich's Music for 18 Musicians for example, or GAS's pop, even some Aphex Twin pieces from his Selected Ambient Works Vol II... It remains difficult to quantify the special pull of this music, you either get it or you don't. Each of the nine loops in the original four volumes possesses a unique character and sonic identity, yet collectively, they interweave like variations on a theme.

Dlp 1.1, characterized by a mournful horn, immerses the listener in a realm of tragedy and loss, resonating with a sense of prevailing mortality, especially considering its pairing with the earlier-discussed video. On the other hand, Dlp 2.1 presents a fractured drone laden with anxiety, fear, and an impending sense of demise. Meanwhile, Dlp 3 envelops the listener in a dreamy, lush, and shimmering sound, reminiscent of a Beach House track but distorted and raw, radiating with hope and comfort. Dlp 4 unfolds a narrative of bravery and courage, its generally uplifting tone countered by chaotic distortions that maintain a sense of unease throughout the loop. And then, Dlp 6 emerges as a sonic embodiment of peace, a complete immersion, free from disturbances, inviting the listener to rest easy.

The moods and textures of these pieces are all different but they become more powerful in relation to one another.

Anyway, there isn't really much else to say that, well there is, but I could write another hundred lines about them and they wouldn't express as much as listening to the actual thing would, so please, go listen.