A few months ago, I had never heard of William Basinski, and had never heard any of his music. But lately I’ve been getting into ambient music, because I like listening to it at work – it’s calming but it also helps me be productive. I wanted to explore the genre beyond its best known artists, i.e. Brian Eno and his collaborators, so I looked online for recommendations of other ambient albums. A Reddit thread on the topic of “best ambient album ever” had more than a few mentions of Basinski’s Disintegration Loops albums, so I found those on YouTube and started playing them.

The Disintegration Loops are astounding. The title is literal; Basinski took old analog tapes that he recorded decades ago, looped them into a reel-to-reel tape machine, and played them until the tapes physically fell apart. It sounds bizarre, but it’s fascinating to listen to, as the sounds on the loops gradually devolve and deconstruct.

Since this is not exactly mainstream commercial music, imagine my surprise when this year’s Vancouver International Film Festival program was released, and one of the scheduled events was a live performance by Basinski. From not even being aware of him to suddenly encountering his work and being enraptured by it, and now he was coming to play live in my city? I know when the universe is trying to tell me something. So I bought a ticket, and went to the show this week.

Being something of a newbie to this whole ambient scene, I had no idea whether there would be lots of people at the show, or embarrassingly few (which has happened at a few VIFF events I’ve attended). When I got to the theatre, I was very proud of myself because I actually recognized the pre-show music on the PA: Eno’s album Thursday Afternoon, which I like to play in my car when I’m driving. But then I realized that I shouldn’t be too smug, because this is probably the only ambient album I can easily identify.

By the time the show was scheduled to start, the theatre was completely full. At the front of the stage was a table with a mixing board, a laptop, and a small analog tape deck. Next to these was a little two-pronged metal fork on a square base, and next to the table was a tall metal stand with two arms, shaped like a T. I wasn’t quite sure what all of this was for, or what the etiquette is at an ambient performance. I was pretty sure that people wouldn’t wave lit-up cellphones in the air or yell out requests, but beyond that, I figured I would just have to see what happened.

credit: @musex1 on Instagram

After a brief introduction by the VIFF programmer, Basinski ambled out onto the stage. Being that ambient music can be kind of arty and mysterious, I half-expected him to be dressed in something otherwordly like a swirly wizard’s cape and pointy hat. But he was simply wearing an ordinary black T-shirt and jeans. He picked up a hand mic and welcomed everyone, said Vancouver was a beautiful city (which it is), and fired up the laptop, while making jokes about finding the right settings. Then he reached over to the tall stand next to the table, and only then did I notice that one arm of the T was draped with loops of tape. He picked up a loop, gently threaded it into the tape deck, turned up the sound, and off we went.

This was one of the most interesting and intense (in a good way) experiences I’ve had at a live performance in a long time. Basinski sampled sounds from the tapes, and looped the sounds on top of each other, building up a repeating sonic collage that had identifiable elements throughout, like sets of piano notes or crackling radio static. Sometimes it was loud, sometimes it was a single quiet sound floating in space, but it all fit together and flowed.

Accompanying the sound was a projected video on the screen behind the stage: puffy backlit clouds drifting across the sun, what you would see if you were lying on your back on a summer’s day and watching the sky. Every once in a while Basinski would lean over and carefully remove the loop from the tape deck, place it on the other arm of the T, take another loop, and feed it into the deck, sometimes threading it around the metal fork as well. How much of this was planned and how much was spontaneous was impossible to tell – it was unobtrusive but at the same time masterful.

What I didn’t expect at all was my physical reaction to the music. As the sounds progressed, I felt my limbs and muscles relaxing into the curves of the seat, my heartbeat slowing, and my jaw drooping (I was wearing a mask so at least that wasn’t visible). It was somewhat unsettling because none of this was anything I was doing consciously, but it wasn’t scary, because it felt safe: it was deeply soothing and restful. There was a backlight on the stage at an angle that shone into my eyes, so eventually I rolled my head back and looked at the ceiling instead, watching Basinski’s moving shadow and the changing lights from the stage and the video.

The performance ended with a very long fadeout of a single repeating piano chord. The audience was absolutely dead silent as the volume slowly decreased – I honestly wasn’t sure if or when the piece was ending. But as the very last very quiet notes evaporated, Basinski gave an awkward and self-deprecating half-bow, and the audience exploded into applause. I looked at my watch and was amazed to see that an entire hour had passed – it felt like forever but it also felt like a split second. It’s very hard to describe.

This event was an incredible experience that really expanded my musical boundaries. I’m glad the universe pushed me in this direction, and I’m looking forward to further adventures in the world of ambient music. If you’d like to explore Basinski’s music for yourself, he has more live dates scheduled – they’re listed on his website – and he also has a new album, which you can buy on Bandcamp along with the rest of his releases.