Music for Plants
- erikgundel
- Jun 23
- 6 min read
Living in New York City can sometimes be a bit of a slog. There's the noise, the generally high cost of living, the big crowds, and the intermittent realization that you probably haven't walked on grass or smelled a tree in weeks. Yet, inevitably, there are those experiences that make you think, "Wow, only in New York!", and all else is forgiven.
I was fortunate to have had one of those occasions a couple of weeks ago. My friend, Florencia Alvarado, a Venezuelan photographer and multi-disciplinary artist, had a pop-up art gallery in the Upper East Side. The space was granted to the organization Pachanga, a Venezuelan artist collective focusing on the migrant experience and the cultural representation of Venezuelans within the U.S. Florencia's exhibit was part of a series entitled 'El Consulado'; as not everyone may be aware, due to the strained diplomatic relations between the U.S. and Venezuela, there has not actually been a Venezuelan embassy or consulate in the U.S. since 2019. Thus, this space fostered by Pachanga provides an environment of welcome cultural exchange within New York.
Emphasis on "environment": Florencia's exhibit was entitled Cocoon, and consisted of 4-5 projectors that projected her recent photographs onto each of the walls in a small, enclosed space. To call it nature photography would be reductive, as this work is hyper detailed and zoomed in close, often decoupling color and texture from whatever object you are observing. As the projectors cascaded this series of beautiful, beguiling images, one would inevitably spin around to catch everything, perhaps mirroring the caterpillar weaving the titular cocoon. I have to give a special shout out to the amazing room spray that Florencia employed (called "Herb Garden") that strongly evoked the leaves of a tomato plant, and added a lot to the multi-sensory immersion.
I was meant to have my own contribution to the audio component of the experience in the form of a live musical performance/accompaniment, though this was stifled at the last minute by noise complaints regarding another recent exhibit in the space. This was unfortunate, as I had been preparing extensively, and was looking forward to seeing how my musical interpretation of Florencia's images sat with other attendees. I had been thinking about musical interpretations of plants and nature: who had done something like this in the past, and how successful were they in capturing something natural and organic?
The first thing that came to mind was Stevie Wonder's Journey Through the Secret Life of Plants. I would have to say that this isn't because it's a particular favorite of mine (though I adore so much of his music), but it is certainly a notable oddity from one of the all-time great artists. This album is all over the shop, with somewhat psychedelic synthesizer instrumentals, a ballad about the contributions of people of color to botany, and jazz from the perspective of a Venus fly trap. There's some really great stuff on it (I love "Power Flower"), but I don't know that it always feels connected to the organic world.
Mort Garson's Mother Earth's Plantasia comes with a tag line, much like a film: "warm earth music for plants and the people who love them". This album is certainly warm, full of deeply comforting and nostalgic synthesizer sounds; I put this album on while re-potting some house plants recently, and it really was a fitting soundtrack, one that I believe helped contribute to a couple of those plants actually surviving the process (deepest apologies to the other little guys). As with the Stevie Wonder album, I don't feel that these wonderful, yet tightly composed pieces access that element of chaos and texture inherent to the world of plants.
The music that, to me, most embodies the natural world is that of GAS (aka Wolfgang Voigt), particularly the album Pop. A massively influential figure in the world of ambient music and techno since the late 1980s, Voigt has used his GAS moniker to evoke (in an oft-told musical origin story) his experiences taking LSD in the forests surrounding his childhood home near Cologne, Germany. There is a remarkable consistency to the album art of this project, spanning about 10 releases over almost 30 years: each feature the letters "G A S" atop an image of the natural world, most often trees. On a track like "Pop 1", the listener is immersed in Voigt's memories of the forest, such that it's hard to imagine he didn't actually compose this music there. It's not just a field recording of the space, but rather he evokes the natural world through the inconsistent, somewhat random way his musical elements interact with one another, and the way in which nature is just as often mysterious and scary as it is beautiful. "Pop 5" (which Florencia actually played during the exhibit) strikes this tension perfectly, adding a creepy, somewhat nightmarish undertone that wouldn't sound out of place in the reboot of Twin Peaks. GAS was my primary inspiration and jumping off point when trying to create music for Cocoon.
[As a quick aside, I have become somewhat familiar with the musical sub-genre "botanica", which purportedly attempts to reflect the natural world, though it didn't really speak to me. That said, feel free to comment with any recommendations, or glaring omissions from my admittedly brief survey of plant music.]
My contribution to the exhibit was meant to last for about an hour, so I didn't have time (nor did I want to) plan every little thing out in advance. While I did take some time to design some sound beds that felt right to me, I have a setup of loopers and effects pedals that would allow me to change and grow things in real time (much like a plant!). I've included a recording I made while working on Cocoon below. It's pretty much just a live take, though I excised a few minutes for brevity's sake (it still clocks in at almost ten minutes, but it's all relative). I hope you enjoy it, and perhaps Florencia and I will see our audio-visual collaboration bear fruit another time.
Like many of us, my thoughts have felt scattered by what feels like cataclysmic geo-political events taking place every day. This has been compounded by the dual loss of Sly Stone and Brian Wilson, two absolutely towering geniuses of 20th century music. The latter was particularly formative for me as a young musician, and I couldn't help but shed a tear while listening to the vocal-only versions of some Pet Sounds tracks (do yourself a favor and seek those out on YouTube). As many have said, there was something magical about the way Brian Wilson was able to wed sadness and beauty, both refracting one another and surpassing the sum of their parts. There is plenty of music made by 24-year-old men that is invigorating and youthful, and perhaps timeless, but what Brian accomplished with Pet Sounds, Smile, and elsewhere feels ageless, speaking to feelings of longing and melancholy that- sorry to say, young readers- permeate all of adult life. You don't write "Caroline, No" (technically Brian's debut single as a solo artist) and have it come off authentically without a deep connection to childlike innocence, which Brian maintained for his entire life. I'm very grateful that I was able to see him perform Smile after he finally completed it in 2004, one of the great triumphs in the history of popular music. Rest easy, Brian, and thank you for the endless inspiration.
My thoughts are also with the protestors across the country. ICE has no place in our communities or in our society, and I'm grateful to be in such a diverse place and around people who prioritize openness and the connective potential of art. As this is my music therapy blog, it hopefully goes without saying that my practice (and myself as a therapist) thrives on exposure to all cultures, and all are welcome.
Some music I've been enjoying:
Sheila Chandra - This Sentence is True (The Previous Sentence is False)
Kelela - In the Blue Light
Djrum - Under Tangled Silence
Heinali/Andriana-Yaroslava Saienko - Гільдеґарда
Taylor Deupree - Sti.ll
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