Music nerddom has helped me through several patches in life. Most recently, my obsessive relationship with music helped me through a rough March ’17. I’m glad I discovered No Home of the Mind at the start of it.
Ambient music is difficult to get right. When an ambient album manages to strike that fine balance between dynamism and stillness, it makes listening to it a cathartic experience unlike any other. By this and other measures, No Home of the Mind is a rare beauty. Through its ten-song stretch, it crosses heights so many albums within this insular genre attempt to reach, but fail to. Of these, its most impressive accomplishment is its ability to add a layer over a reality that can sometimes seem ugly, transforming it into something beautiful. Every one of my tens of listens of this album, be it in Airoli, Powai, Pune, or Dubai, at home, on foot, or behind a steering wheel, has added colour to everything around me, making life into that scene in every classic movie — the one after which amazing things happen to all its characters.
Special shout-out to La La Land for being a total bummer and not having that scene.
I’ll refrain from describing No Home of the Mind beyond calling it incredibly moving piano-driven ambient music, so as to not take away from the incredible experience that is the first listen. Instead, I’ll say this. March wasn’t kind to me. I’m sure if you asked me about February thirty days ago, I would’ve said the same thing, just as I would have about January before it. Obviously, there was nothing objectively wrong with my life then, and my life is objectively great now too. Most of what I’ve done since is recognise that fact, and in the words of Kendrick Lamar, be humble. That said, I’m glad March is over, and April looks great.