Adron's "Organismo" is a delightfully difficult album to pigeonhole. Take Brazilian tropicàlia, collide it with the limitless female singer/songwriter vibe of the 1970s and then allow a jolt of labyrinthine surreality to shock it all to life. You'll tap your foot. You'll hum "Pyramids" for days. You might even take a space Viking as your lover.
I was fortunate enough to catch Adron (a.k.a. Adrienne McCann) and her band in concert last month. It didn't take them long to win me over with their sound, but after the fourth space-related reference of the night, I knew I needed to reach out to her for the full scoop.
ADRON: Jorgonian of the Midnight Sun is an imaginary Viking lover who, in the song, visits me from outer space. I yield to him, though begrudgingly, knowing our passion will never last. He is inspired by a person of Norwegian descent I briefly had a crush on. Be afraid if it's more fun that way.
&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;a href=&quot;http://adron.bandcamp.com/track/jorgonian-of-the-midnight-sun&quot; _mce_href=&quot;http://adron.bandcamp.com/track/jorgonian-of-the-midnight-sun&quot;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;Jorgonian of the Midnight Sun by Adron&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;
Nope. That kind of reconciliation is beyond my jurisdiction. Those lyrics did however comfort me somewhat at a time when I worried about forgetting and losing everything I loved and remembered fondly, because I can be forgetful and I lose things. Something about the mechanics of string theory makes me feel at ease, imagining that if all reality is woven together by an intangible fabric, and there is no real subatomic distinction between me and the space around me, then nothing can possibly be separate from anything else, and nothing can possibly be lost.
&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;a href=&quot;http://adron.bandcamp.com/track/stringsong&quot; _mce_href=&quot;http://adron.bandcamp.com/track/stringsong&quot;&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;Stringsong by Adron&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;lt;/a&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;gt;
Well, I'd like to explain the title first … Once, during a brief season of strong interest and immersion in the study of tarot cards (I'm still interested, but more in the way of a hobbyist and not a scholar), I sat in on a class by Atlanta's own Randall Carlson, purveyor of insights into all things hermetic and cabalistic. He made reference to the Sun card, on which it appears that the sun is superimposed upon another sun whose rays shoot out from behind it. In his opinion (which he may share with other experts on the subject, I don't know), this could be a signal to some coming apocalypse — a meteor that is prophesied to come and mess up the Earth irreparably. I liked the phrase and the idea, and used them for a song about the possibility of our known reality being completely smashed to bits by some cosmic disaster, be it a meteor or a black hole or whatever you like, and the possibility of that not sucking too bad. I'm mostly at play when I toss these ideas around; I don't actually relish the idea of all humanity perishing in a cosmic apocalypse … but I like to imagine cosmic apocalypses in which everybody is somehow transdimensionally leveraged into a condition of purer being, maybe a bodiless oneness, like something the Mayans and the Hindus have suggested might happen at the end of certain time cycles, which might be approaching sooner rather than later.
&amp;lt;a href=&quot;http://adron.bandcamp.com/track/sun-behind-the-sun&quot; _mce_href=&quot;http://adron.bandcamp.com/track/sun-behind-the-sun&quot;&amp;gt;Sun Behind the Sun by Adron&amp;lt;/a&amp;gt;
I have to apologize, because I've never read Frank Herbert's "Dune," although I should and probably will someday. I am a raging David Lynch fanatic and pretty much anything he does makes me happy, including his ridiculous and messy adaptation of "Dune." It's so ridiculous and messy that I can tell it's ridiculous and messy without having even read the novels. So can everyone, I think. Nevertheless, I love the scene where Jeffrey Beaumont is given the pain initiation test and recites, "Fear is the mindkiller. I must not fear." I think if we all remember the Litany in our moments of tedious daily reality-type bull****, we will all be stronger humans, don't you?
I hope listeners find the experience comprehensive, encompassing many different landscapes. I hope it brings about a sense of peace, optimism, enthusiasm and curiosity without irony or disingenuousness. Or if nothing else, I hope the listener says to him/herself, "Oh, how nice."
Photo credit: Jason Maris
Originally published at HSW: Space Music: Adron's Cosmic Tropicàlia