2 November 2024
The other day I was walking in my neighborhood and came upon a Mastiff panting in a parked convertible. When I stopped to say hi, his face drooped into a pretty goofy limp-tongued stare. We held eye contact long enough for him to drool a nice long glob, and with the laugh that gave me I continued on my way.
I started what would become “Copilot Blues” to extend the levity of that moment—the studio had been heavy in the preceding days and I needed it. Working out its composition did feel playful as shapes stacked up on that wheel like limbs on a unicycle, but a different door opened when it began to turn blue.
As this happened I was looping Autechre’s Quaristice, an album that sounds (and literally is) blue, so I think that had something to do with it. But as the palette cohered, I realized with unmistakable clarity that it was also facilitating a communion with Dani and Tina, two canine members of my family that we said goodbye to within months of each other this year (Dani just weeks ago).
It seems obvious now; the dog is alone in the vehicle, physically stagnant but still heading somewhere else. His expression is a little frightened, maybe confused, but also relaxed in the way it can only become over a lifetime. And he’s looking right at us with the unwavering eyes of a loyal copilot.