“In Ancient Chinese philosophy, yin and yang is a concept of dualism, describing how seemingly opposite or contrary forces may actually be complementary, interconnected, and interdependent in the natural world, and how they may give rise to each other as they interrelate to one another.”
If you know bvdub, then this statement rings true on many levels where his music is concerned, and it’s also a perfect metaphor for his latest mix.
Often recognized as a master of modern ambient music, we find ourselves in a different terrain exploring the sound of his roots and earlier influences. You’ll hear these influences amongst the (rare) occasions he inserts beats into his ambient music and even more so in his aliases as Earth House Hold and East Of Oceans. The raw, deep, emotional and unpolished forays are a signature sound that the biggest Brock fans can hear a mile off - whether it’s a twelve-minute classic bvdub monster, or 150-bpm breakbeat.
We find ourself in a polarizing world, with Brock currently (no doubt for many of us reading) on the other side of it. Whilst today we worry about an increasingly dangerous virus, Brock is literally on lock-down in the middle of it, unable to leave his apartment in China.
All of this has come together as one complete, timely mix. If Brock’s isolatedmix 50 was the yin, then this is the yang to follow it up. If you only know Brock for his ambient work, get ready for a taste of his other side. And if you thought for one second that this virus outbreak was bad, imagine being at the epicenter of it on the other side of the world amongst a truly dystopian lockdown.
And lastly, if our isolatedmix series ever needed a more defining moment to encapsulate its meaning and name, this might just be the one…
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“Returning to China two days after the revelry of my birthday back in the US among lifetime friends and family, I entered a ghost town in every sense of the word – depending on your belief system, both figuratively and literally.
All freeway exits and entrances sealed. All roads closed. All business, schools, everything shuttered. Villages guarded by vigilante blockades keeping any outsiders out. Nothing but complete and utter silence. A town of one million reduced to me, my girl, our dog, and the one person I saw on the street in a four-day span. Two days later, our apartment complex would shut itself off from the world as well – no one in, no one out – police in biohazard suits adding emphasis to orders already now on loop 24 hours a day via loudspeakers throughout the city, and countless red banners warning that simply paying a visit to a friend could amount to “double homicide.”
With literally nowhere to go and nothing to do but watch the tallies climb along with the rest of the world, I had to get my mind to another place. A place in the now... a place for the living. And since I don't know how to live in the now, my mind of course returned to glories – and defeats – of times past. More specifically, for some reason, my well over ten years of DJing from 1989 to the beginnings of 2000, before I left it all behind.
Ever since I've begun making my own music, I have, for the most part, eschewed DJing in any form, from mix or podcast invitations to requests to do it live, mostly because I felt it would now be impossible to let the music of others speak for myself – to truly express what I wanted to say. But extreme times call for extreme measures... and new looks at life, and how I live it, bring new perspective. And with that new perspective came the realization that the beauty of others' music can bring beauty not only in and of itself, but also in its ability to say things I can't... a beauty that was literally my entire life for over a decade, but one I have, for the most part, resisted for some reason unclear to even myself other than being some kind of subconscious defense mechanism to protect myself from the pain of how it all ended.
But it doesn't have to be “one or the other.” Music is one, massive life we all share. And sharing it in more ways than one only makes that life even better.
So, under a forced isolation that stretches into the times I write this, I made a mix. A mix that celebrates my newfound lease on a part of my life I thought long left behind. A mix that speaks to the hope that it can remain and grow once again to even a fraction of its former self. A mix that is, more than anything, a story of darkness and light.
All tracks burned as MP3 to CD, and mixed on two Discman's recorded to the same tape player I used to record my mixes in the '90s, a rare find in a mystery closet at my friend's house while back home. Because that is literally the only method I used in the last couple years of my “career.” I don't have turntables anymore, and I refuse to use CDJ's or whatever their equivalent is. And at the end of the day, I always take the path of most resistance.
In coming back to this place, I've seen even clearer where I've come from. Where I've been. Where I long to return. And where I still want to go.
Everyone told me not to come back. Many questioned why I would return to such a place. To pure darkness. And the dark hearts of human nature that have, unsurprisingly, arisen from its depths. But you can't see darkness without light. And you can find either any day of the week if you're looking.
Why did I return? The answer is simple. This is my home. And you don't run away from your home.
Even when it's on fire.
- bvdub
