https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VKzWLUQizz8
Genesis begins
with the dawn, heavy reverberating blasts herald the coming of a cosmic event;
the birth of a new world. In my mind’s eye I could see the magma riddled planet
emerge from the darkness of space. Similar thematic connections were
popularized by Kubrick’s use of Also
Sprach Zarathusstra in the beginning of 2001:
A Space Odyssey. Like Kubrick’s film I wanted to establish a sense of reality
to my narrative and thus employed the use of photography and fabricated miniatures
to root my story in the realm of quasi-feasibility. With both the medium and
stage for my narrative set I waited for my next musical cue.
The trumpeting
planetary introduction of Genesis is short lived. Humming arcs and static sounds
intermittently sweep through the drum beats and horn blasts, unsettling the quiet
between notes. As the intro draws its last deep sound the audio dives into a screaming
base. Now we are plummeting toward the red scarred planet. The music writhes
and sparks with wriggling synthetic noise. I tried to evoke this idea by
simulating, the best I could, the volcanic turmoil of the charred world. Bright
reds and searing whites fill the spaces where only darkness used to be.
The
music retains this violent flavor as the song progresses almost as if the whole
score is on its way to beat the crap out of someone. Shrill jabs quicken in
rhythm and skewed electrical cuts rise and drop to create a further sense of discord.
Something new is making the world violent; some other force is wielding the
flame that forged the planet. Man has emerged; skipping the millennia of oceans
and undisturbed woodlands, our tale follows violence and fire. Though the world
has now cooled to the deep blacks and browns of night, the Cro-Magnon man wields
a troch in his hunt for prey. Innovation has made man the new force of chaos,
and as the music rises with the tine like hum of steel, we see him swallowed in
his creations of wire and gears.
Tension
is starting to build as the music pushes toward its climax. We experience the
same unsettling feeling that Annie Dillard described in her experience in the
Virginia river bottoms when the dusk came and she began to realize some of the
spectral horrors of night. Genesis’
dawn is over and dusk has come. The hissing whir of saw can almost be heard as
the song spins into hysteria. Electric strikes transform the theme from its original
bass to an alternating twist of shrill overtones and haunting gasps. War has
come to man.
The
flames of early man have died and smoke fills the skies behind armed soldiers.
The muddied landscape speaks of death and a ravaged world. Genesis closes as
the music regresses to pounding piano keys and horn blasts, a funeral
procession for a violent era. Colorless gravestones mark the burial of a chaotic
life and as Genesis rolls into the
next song in its album Let there be light,
a sign of new life springs up between fallen snow and yellowed decay.
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