What is the ultimate Big Thief quantum listening experience?
“I just think that they are one of the best bands ever. I’m never really more emotional than I am at a Big Thief show,” Lucy Dacus outrightly expressed, when talking about the New York band.
While I’ve yet to be treated to the emotional hurricane of a live Big Thief show, there are two overwhelming points of truth to Dacus’ admission. The first being, that whoever the artist may be, there is perhaps no place more emotionally provoking than a live show.
In the broken landscape of modernity, experiences have become brutally desensitised. Life is viewed through the convenience of a pocket-sized TV screen, and when we finally come up for air, moments seem foggy, diffused and at worst manufactured. But when the alchemy of a perfect live show hits, the smog of everyday life seems to lift.
It’s ultimately what makes music as crucial as it’s ever been, punctuating the monochromatic humdrum of digital living and recontextualising the brief space in between all of that with renewed meaning. In adulthood, my most emotional moments have all come in the communal depths of a live show.
But they’ve been closely followed by glimmers of recorded beauty from the Big Thief back catalogue, which is where the second part of Dacus’ comment rings true. Removing the live show setting from her quote and her point remains as valid as before. Because there arguably is no modern moment of overwhelming emotion soundtracked better than by Big Thief.
Their enveloped soundscapes cross the perfect barrier of escapism and engagement. Keeping you latched in to very present feelings of emotion, while offering you a vehicle in which to escape from that, if you will, following the storylines of Adrienne Lenker’s lyrics as it glides across folk-tinged indie melodies.
So, what is ‘quantum listening’?
In short, “Quantum Listening” is all about the idea of listening as activism. More than the humdrum tones of background music and instead, the idea of art being engaged and at the very forefront of your focus. It was a concept designed by the highly respected American composer Pauline Oliveros and one now bastardised by me, a humble music journalist.
But ultimately, Oliveros’ theory is one ready-made for someone like me, someone living in the midst of everyday and using music to help me through. His manifesto leans into the idea of conceptualising sounds and music through the lens of environment. Essentially that means how music entangles with your surroundings; why the emotion of Radiohead might feel more pertinent in twilight or how Bon Iver’s reverberated vocals seem to cut through like Autumn rain. Nonsense to many, but enlightenment to others.
At the kernel of this is a crucial idea we should simply never lose sight of in terms of music. Not to mistake it for simple background music or worse, but more common in the modern age, the soundtrack to your latest reel. It should be an emotional companion. So as the white noise of modernity grows ever louder, Oliveros’ theory becomes more important. Because we need these situational environments to help reconnect us with whatever album is on our rotation.
So, as this upcoming Big Thief album, Double Infinity, draws ever nearer, it begs the question: Just where would the Big Thief quantum listening experience take place? Well the confirmed opening track for the album ‘Incomprehensible’ opens through a mirage of chimes before the melody pulls it through to the other side, stirring an emotional undercurrent upon immediate listen. It’s almost like the swell of cold that rushes over you, when entering the murky yet calming depths of a forest.
Because it provokes movement, a hasty step forward into introspective progress. The sort that would be amplified by the cool cocoon of isolation and crystallised by the clear air of a forest walk. The flickering in and out of light mirrors the delicate arrangement of Big Thief’s discography, be it subtle drum stabs, piano twinkles or the warm wash of an acoustic guitar. They gently prod you like those very natural surroundings, while all the while instilling a natrual sense of calm. Something about Big Thief’s work, both old and new, feels innately appropriate to the existential quiet of forest solitude.
While ordinarily I would recommend noise-cancelling headphones for any true listening experience, maybe there is something in the infiltrating ambience that would work best with a Big Thief listen. The leafy crunch under the foot, the tweeting bird overhead, or the refreshing breeze around are all natural sounds and tactility that influence the recording of their music and should, thus, be warmly welcomed as intruders of the song.
“We tried to record the album with just the three of us in isolation in the woods. But we realised that we really wanted to open up the doors and bring in a big community of people that we admire,” Lenker said of this latest album and maybe inadvertently set out an appropriate mission statement for their music in its entirety.
Something that should be initially met with concentrated isolation, basking in the natural influences which inject the overall soundscape, but never should your grip over the song’s journey and meaning be too tight. Instead, it should be prepared for the openness of interpretation and allowing the natural circumstances around you to introduce themselves and heighten meaning. Because after all, there’s nothing more emotional than the community of a Big Thief live show.
