Lucky for me I had the day off from work on June 3, 2013. It was a Monday, the sun was out, and Boards of Canada was scheduled to stream their new album live that afternoon. For most fans this would be the first opportunity to hear the album in it's entirety, for free, a week before it's initial release. Good guys those Boards of Canada.
What intrigued me most about the event was this: the album would be streamed only once, starting at exactly 3:00pm EST, meaning that anywhere from 100 to 10,000 to 100,000(?) people would all be connected to the internet and forming their first impressions of the album simultaneously. If someone asks "When did you first hear "Tomorrow's Harvest"" the most common answer will certainly be "6/3/2013 at 3:00pm EST".
This is quite a psychic event in my opinion, and the engineering behind it was not arbitrary. I believe it provides some insight into the title of the album.
It's a simple metaphor: the Soil is the collective mind gathered at one specific time and in one specific place (internet/noösphere). The Seed is the music contained on "Tomorrow's Harvest". After the broadcast, or Planting (implanting?), a period of Germination begins. The next day this process begins to yield substantial critical/emotional feedback: the Harvest . The opening track is called Gemini, a not so subtle nod to the importance of timing involved here.
Realizing that I was lucky enough to take part in this epic experiment/operation/ritual, I set out from my home and traveled by train up to the north side of Chicago. My plan was to walk south along the lakefront while I listened to the new album. I figured heads across the world would be taking in the scenery of thousands of different environments (psychic components of the Soil), and I wanted the landscape of Chicago's lakefront to be part of the equation.
I have made this specific walk (from the campus of Loyola University Chicago in Rogers Park to Navy Pier) three or four times before in my life. It's about 6 miles in a straight line, but on foot, more like 8, and usually takes me about four to five hours, depending on how often I stop. I timed the start of my walk so that the live stream would start about a quarter of the way through my journey.
As I said, it was a beautiful sunny Monday. I had no responsibilities and nowhere to be except present in the moment. Lucky me.
The music of Boards of Casteneda is unique, and as the live stream began, it suddenly became absurd to me. I tried to imagine just exactly what other people could have chosen to do as they listened to the boardcast. Dance? Fuck? Meditate? Gamble? Drugs? Videogames? Fish? A million questions regarding the nature of music assaulted me, and I began to wonder about my own choices, and why I had made a trip so far from home just to listen to an album. As I spiraled inward, meditating upon these questions, the music ceased to be music, and the sound became an environment. I was in, and I was in deep. So deep that when I stopped my thoughts and looked around, I had no idea where I was. I wasn't simply disoriented, I was completely and utterly lost.
The jolt of adrenaline from this realization pierced my entire being and I suddenly flashed on a long forgotten memory.
When I was 5 years old, I was at a family party in the city, an area I was not familiar with. My sister and I went with a group of kids from the party to a nearby park, a rather massive city park. It was exciting because the other kids were older than us, and we were going without our parents. My only instructions: "Stay with your sister."
Everything was moving so fast. We crossed a busy street and made our way to the playground. It seemed like there were a million people at the park. People were playing soccer, riding bikes, having picnics, and all I know is that one minute I was with the group and the next I was all alone. I had no idea how I had gotten separated, I had no idea where I was, and I had no idea how to get home. Every step forward was a step in the wrong direction and I literally became frozen with fear.
"Where the fuck am I? When the fuck am I? Who the fuck am I?
What did I do to deserve this?"
I had no hope of answering these questions when I was 5 years old. At five years old I couldn't process the emotions or the enormity the situation. All I could do then was cry. Hysterically.
Realizing this same situation as an adult hit me like a hammer. It was a completely pure emotion, and it immediately connected me with my 5 year old self, as if I was in one place (LOST) but at two different times (child, adult). There wasn't a thought in my head that could offer comfort or clue. The horror was incredibly real.
As this drama deepened, the music of Boards of Canada continued to stream. It took what seemed like an eternity to realize that I still had headphones on. I was somehow oblivious to the fact that the tones and rhythms of the album had become an inseparable soundtrack to my situation. Oh, did I mention I had smoked marijuana at the start of the live stream?
I finally recognized one step I could take to alter the situation was to remove myself from the environment the album was creating. I summoned all of my power in that moment (fear of that magnitude can be crippling) and magically removed the headphones from my ears, thereby lifting a powerful veil from my reality. I was still lost, but I could feel my feet on the ground, and I could walk. I turned around 360˚ and scanned my environment, finally recognized the Willis Tower and moved South. As I slowly moved forward, I began to orient myself and in a few minutes I knew where I was again. The whole event lasted no more than 15 minutes.
It took me the rest of the next week to process what had occurred.
I knew I wouldn't have the opportunity to listen to the album again until the official release, but for some reason, I knew exactly how I would listen to it. There was no doubt in my mind, having experimented extensively with film/album sync, that the way to listen to "Tomorrow's Harvest" was also the way to watch "Tomorrow's Harvest".
At about 2:00 am on June 11 I downloaded the album from iTunes and cued up the DVD of the Final Cut of Blade Runner. I smoked up, but this time I did not experience any fear or horror. I was simply in awe at how grand the whole thing was. Everything.
As the movie finished around 4:00am, I had to ask myself if I had ever really seen Blade Runner before. I've watched that movie five or six times before in my life but I'm not sure I ever really saw it.
As far as "Tomorrow's Harvest", I had actually only listened to the first fifteen minutes prior to this viewing, so this was the first time I actually listened to the album in full. I can't imagine listening to it any other way, at least for awhile.
Start the album "Tomorrow's Harvest" by Boards of Canada at 00:00:09 of the Final Cut of Blade Runner. This is specific; make sure that when the album is at 00:05, the DVD is at 00:00:14. Start over if this is not in sync. The film should play without sound or subtitles. Listen to "Tomorrow's Harvest" on headphones (put the album on repeat). You'll know for sure if you are locked in when the clenched fist of Roy Batty appears.
Also, if you haven't read Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep before, I recommend reading it before you watch this. It's a quick read and, in my opinion, it is essential to appreciate the full scope of this.
I really hope you take the time to experience this one, it's worth the dollars and cents. If you do, please let me know what you think.
Update 9/28/2020: spin Tomorrow’s Harvest at 00:03:14 of the original Blade Runner.
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