Another Kind of Light
Solstice Reflections from the Martel Brothers and Star Watching at Christmastime
Welcome back to Range and Basin. This outing is dedicated to an interview with J. F. and Pierre-Yves Martel, two individuals who help create one of my favorite podcasts: Weird Studies. Hosted by J.F. and Phil Ford and featuring Pierre-Yves’ oracular synth soundscapes, Weird Studies is an essential listen, navigating art, culture, philosophy and of course “The Weird” via episodes about Judee Sill and Wilco, Twin Peaks , UFOs, and other topics I hold dear.
On Thursday, December 21, J.F. and Pierre-Yves host Lords of Darkness and Light via Nura Learning, a presentation of spoken word, pedal steel, and synth that seeks “to illuminate the shadows and rekindle the light within.” I corresponded with the brothers about the upcoming event and the magical contours of this season.
I am drawn to the idea that at the time of Christmas and other holidays, time gets fuzzy or woozy—the barriers between “then” and “now” seem to collapse and blur, as do the distinctions between light and dark, and the present and our memories. How do you approach the time of the solstice? What does it signify for you?
One of the ideas that have evolved from the Weird Studies podcast is the concept of zones, spatiotemporal expanses where the ordinary rules, suddenly suspended, make way for older, stranger laws. Solstices are a good example of temporal zones, moments in time when the regular boundaries get fuzzy, as you say, and one is permitted the rare luxury of dwelling briefly in the “betwixt and between.” This is especially true of the winter solstice, when the day is shortest (it’ll be dark at 3:30 PM where we live). In our busy age, it’s too easy to miss out on that. There are so many distractions, and as thick as the darkness may get, there is no darkness so thick that a mobile phone display can’t dispel it at the swipe of a finger. This year, we wanted to force ourselves to inhabit this darkness imaginatively in the days leading up to the dark night and on the day itself. The curious thing about this time of year is that the predominance of darkness ends up affirming another kind of light – the light that can exist only in the dark, the light that illuminates your dreams. It’s good to be able to hang out in that light.
What kind of holiday traditions did you two share as kids?
We’re French Canadian, so the easy answer to that question is what is called the réveillon. This is a long dinner that happens on Christmas Eve, traditionally after the Midnight Mass, although in our family it tended to start at 9 PM and end around midnight. It was always a massive affair with the extended family, and our mother and stepfather hosted it most of the time. Some of our fondest memories are of doing the dishes with our step brothers at three in the morning. Even that was a blast.
The notion of light in the darkness, and of the transcendent found in the lowly, is a frequent topic of discussion on Weird Studies.
Indeed it is. What interests us most is the weird overlap between the two: the interdependence of light and dark, and the implication of light that is present in darkness, and vice versa. The idea of shadows is useful here, because shadow as a phenomenon partakes evenly of darkness and light. One of the best books on the topic is In Praise of Shadows, by the brilliant Japanese author Jun’Ichirõ Tanizaki. It’s a wondrous meditation on the resplendence of the unseen, a magisterial effort to emit with words the surreal shimmer of inky shadows.
What albums or art do you associate with winter? Do you have favorites you return to in a cyclical, seasonal fashion?
J.F. Martel: I like the traditional Christmas hymns, a lot. Stanley Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut is a movie I find myself watching every December. This year, Phil Ford and I decided to devote our Christmas episode to John Carpenter’s The Thing, which I can see becoming a yearly solstice watch. We decided that it qualified as a Christmas movie because there’s snow in it.
Pierre-Yves Martel: It was around Christmas time in 1994 that I first watched Alain Corneau's film Tous les matins du monde. This movie, recounting the tale of viola da gamba players M. de Saint-Colombe and Marin Marais in 17th-century France, introduced me to the instrument. The film resonated with me, particularly its soundtrack. I religiously listened to it every Christmas, and in 2004, I finally began playing the viola da gamba.
Another album I associate with winter is Susanna Wallumrød's Sonata Mix Dwarf Cosmos, released in 2007. The album's pacing, spaciousness, the simplicity of the arrangements, and the introverted nature of her performance mirror my feelings during this season.
Weird Studies, and the music that soundtracks it, frequently veers in the spooky. Traditionally, Christmas Eve is a time of ghost stories. What is to be gained by adding a dose of the oracular or phantasmagoric during the longest night of the year?
In addition to being a time of gift-giving and good cheer, the holidays occur at the very moment that darkness takes the cosmic throne. Maybe the obligatory merriment is really a way of acknowledging this without succumbing to it. In the days of the Roman Empire, this was the time of the Saturnalia, when many of the rules and strictures of society were lifted: slaves were able to speak their minds, roles were reversed, masked mobs ran amok in the streets. It was the time when the dark god Saturn had his moment, and the primordial chaos reigned once more. The modern emphasis on consumerism, coupled with the ubiquity of electric light, makes it all too easy to overlook the spectral face of the “spirit of the season.” But as diverted as our minds can be, our bodies remain rooted in the earth, and the earth still trembles in Saturn’s shadow. A lot of people hate this time of year, and there are probably many reasons for that. But one of those reasons, it seems to us, is that there is a certain febrility in the air now, a sense of monstrous expectancy, as though it had suddenly become obvious that there was more to reality than could ever fit within the tight parameters of a modern frame of mind. This is a time of magic. And as Paul Bowles said somewhere (we’re paraphrasing), “Sometimes, magic is something you have to deal with. Whether you believe in it or not is irrelevant.”
Pertinent links:
Pierre-Yves Martel at Bandcamp
JPW: “Oh, Watch The Stars”
Speaking of Christmastime, I contributed a recording to Slow Xmas 3. Dreamed up by Ben Hosley, producer of the Blank Check Podcast, the series presents Christmas music of various shapes and genres, with only one rule: it must be sloooooowwww. I selected “Oh, Watch the Stars,” a traditional spiritual I was introduced to by American Folk Songs for Christmas by The Seeger Sisters. I tried to imagine the Spaceman 3 as the Three Magi, singing along as they made their way to Bethlehem. You can listen wherever: Spotify, Apple Music, and Bandcamp.
Can't wait for this performance! And I love that Pierre-Yves mentioned Susanna's album - it's a favorite of mine as well.