Boards of Canada's Campfire Headphase: Not For the Bored

Back in the day, we used to use BoC’s work as filler on various DJ mix CDs. It serves well for good mood-transition, as the songs are typically instrumental (aside from some sampling) and THICK with emotion (yes, we consider “hopelessly lazy” to be a valid emotion). Their pieces were always catchy and melodic, with intricate beats behind lots of sweeping harmonies. Great movement, considering how soupy they crafted their tracks to be. Most of it felt dark, if not morose, but it always kept our attention through those swift movements.

However, to the casual listener (or even a seasoned fan), this newest release will more than likely send the message that Boards of Canada wants to put you to sleep. Elevator music. Theme music for sci-fi dream sequences. Or perhaps the sort of neo-hippy, patchouli-mob-ish tunes one would expect to doze off to during an aromatherapy massage session (complete with crystal rub? Word). Maybe that would be a reasonable assertion. But nothing could possibly be that simple. Could it?

A bit of a departure from their fan/critic-labeled “electronica” efforts such as Geogaddi or Music Has the Right to Children, Campfire is much more laid back. Describing their “style” for the sake of labeling convenience seems pretty impossible to us. We don’t hold BofC’s feet to the electronica fire for a number of reasons, but mainly because their "style" has always felt like an overwhelmingly classical journey with electronics being the most convenient vehicle to travel in. Even more confounding: they’ve been getting this odd “psychedelica” stamp by reviewers and critics recently. We have no idea what the hell that means. But it sounds like snobbish, musical esoterrorism at work to us.

Stranger still: other critics are highlighting the use of guitars in Campfire. Seriously? Musicians? With guitars? No way… that’s just… so crazy…

GET THE FUCK OUT!

Not to downplay the introduction of new instruments for this Scots duo, but their use of guitar is hardly notable, let alone stellar. For the most part, any guitar work is used as loop-material. If not used for loops, it simply pokes in and out of tracks the same way they previously used synth instrumentation or their reproductions of 70’s educational film pieces*. There’s no reason to use phrases like “break-through” or “turning point” when referring to their use of the guitar. That is hardly the case. And by carving out their use of real strings for the first (recorded) time, the listener runs the risk of losing the potential point of the arrangement as a whole.

And as for the arrangement as a whole…

To our ears, no single track breaks completely free from the others, as they all appear to be designed to be listened to in tandem. A sort of dreamy, lazy waltz through a set of numbed emotions, all clasped hand-in-hand. Which makes the entire album great for background music. The term “background” is quite important here. If we were to strap on headphones and plow through this entire album, focusing on its movements the same way we would any version of Holtz’s Planets, we would probably end up irritated with notions of unnecessary repetition and spotty intra-song transitions. It would be the aural equivalent of being underwater while watching two hazy submarines in the distance, slowly grind into a minor collision, in slow motion.

But those feelings are more than likely planned by the Brothers Sandison. As stated earlier, the album appears to be a representation of emotional progression. Not all emotions are pleasant, and they rarely exchange places smoothly (even the more innocuous ones). Concepts such as these are difficult to express with music, but we venture that they are even more difficult to decipher from music. Especially instrumental music.

If that description was far too vague for you (it would be for us), then perhaps a more discreet approach would be more appropriate.

Here’s the track listing with some terse notes for each:

1. Into the Rainbow Vein – too brief to go anywhere substantial, but tasteful. Emotion: shoulder-shrugging confusion.
2. Chromakey Dreamcoat - bent guitar sample, looped in catchy way. Emotion:contemplative elation (like, when you cheat and get away with it, but feel bad)
3. Satellite Anthem Icarus - slow mover. Floats on by (ocean sounds and all). Emotion:depressing disappointment.
4. Peacock Tail - ever heard anything off Moodfood by Mood Swings? Yep. Emotion:couldn’t get a good read on this one, actually.
5. Dayvan Cowboy - wispy, gets Bruckheimer soundtrackish at the 2:00 mark. Emotion: happiness at news of your never-met step-uncle’s not having colon cancer.
6. A Moment of Clarity – another brief track. Barely audible. Emotion: Sleepy time.
7. ’84 Pontiac Dream - a solid nod to 70’s porn, with cartoon effects mixed in. Emotion: subtle excitement at watching sibling(s) be punished.
8. Sherbet Head – almost three minutes of four repeated notes, with the recording of a cinder block being dragged across gravel. Emotion: after-argument calm, with echoes of rage.
9. Oscar See Through Red Eye – light rhythm, electro-claps, synthed-up strings. Emotion: the building of pride.
10. Ataronchronon – could easily be a “eureka moment” sound bite for Star Trek. Emotion: “No shit? Word!”
11. Hey Saturday Sun – a friendly set of interweaving loops with a very, very lazy beat. Emotion: drunken elation.
12. Constants Are Changing – very tight build-up in the intro, but then it decides to go nowhere but where it feels like going. Emotion: indifference, like that felt after a workmate who tried to get you fired emails the entire company asking who stole their can of soda from the communal fridge. Whatever man.
13. Slow This Bird Down – DJ Screw kills an electro-single for the first part, and then all drops off for a heavily-produced guitar loop. Emotion: what you feel when thinking about how your dog will one day be dead.
14. Tears From the Compound Eye – very reminiscent to some of their earlier stuff. Very bare, ambient intro which then fades into nothing, which ends up being the entirety of the song. Emotion: dejected confusion caused by, let’s say, at the age of fifty, learning that you are, in fact, adopted.
15. Farewell Fire – even more subtle and drawn out than the previous track. Of its eight or so minutes, this song is trying to end for seven of them. Emotion: The feeling one gets when smelling the scent of rain as if evaporates from hot pavement.

Again, contrary to some of our takes on individual tracks, we enjoyed this album (in so far as it fits the concept we felt it was supposed to represent), but we were somewhat prepared for the nature of Board of Canada’s style. As always, we suggest sampling on the interweb before plunging into anything (hello there, obnoxious caveat statement!).

*Thank you Shannon! BofC would probably thank you as well!

Image from Warp Records, BofC's label