Review Summary: A Nameless Fear: How Geogaddi Conveys The Indescribable
It is safe to say that all four major albums released by Scottish electronic duo Boards of Canada are on a fairly equal footing, each regularly touted as the group's magnum opus. This could largely be attributed to the fact that each conveys a radically different mood, with vast soundscapes that conjure images so abstract that they are inherently tied to the sounds that inspired them. That being said, it is BoC's 2002 release, Geogaddi, that is perhaps most firmly linked to the group’s identity. A stark departure from the warm and comforting atmosphere present on Music Has the Right to Children, this album offers what might be considered the next logical step. While it is difficult to pinpoint what the overall tone on Geogaddi is, the words “apprehensive” and “intense” seem most fitting. Youthful wonder has given way to uncertainty and the sort of nameless fear only faintly realized in the mind of a child who has just begun to grasp the world around them.
“Ready Lets Go” serves to perfectly induct the listener into the bizarre landscape of Geogaddi, with an anticipatory drone that awakens an immediate sense of urgency. The wavering synths present throughout the album are at once luminous yet unsettling, as though representative of the same pastoral aesthetic of the previous album now filtered through a dark lens. The longer tracks, each separated by interludes that revel in experimentation and backmasking, tend toward repetitive loops that gradually build with numerous layers so subtle that they are unlikely to be detected on the first listen. “Music Is Math” offers one of the more coherent chord progressions on the album, eventually deteriorating into a swirling coda of voices. “Gyroscope” uses a pounding beat in conjunction with a heavily distorted recording of a numbers station, sounding as though the music is giving chase to the listener. The delicate flutes and driving rhythm of “Julie and Candy” offer a sunny reprieve, while “1969” is similarly melodious but far more oppressive due to the robotic vocal samples that repeat throughout. “Alpha and Omega” juxtaposes a repetitive synth pattern against tribal flutes and drums that create a trancelike ostinato. “The Devil Is in The Details” is easily the most unnerving track, with a sparse keyboard phrase played over a fluttering beat accompanied by a trembling speech seemingly meant to induce hypnosis. “Dawn Chorus” could loosely be considered the albums’ climax, with an almost triumphant progression paired with grandiose synth leads and vocal yelps. Yet Geogaddi ends on an unexpectedly reserved note, with “You Could Feel the Sky” and “Corsair” sounding like the buildup to a resolution that never arrives, as “Magic Window” leaves only silence until the runtime of 66:06 is reached.
Of course, I would be remiss not to mention the interludes that comprise half of the tracks on Geogaddi. With such an abundance of shorter numbers, one might be tempted to think that BoC simply wanted to pad out the album’s length. However, each offers a unique bridge between their neighboring tracks. While “Beware the Friendly Stranger” may nowadays be more often associated with a certain web series, it plunges the listener further into the dark atmosphere they can expect following the more conventional opener. “In the Annexe” is a morose, lonesome piece that calls back to MHTRTC cuts like “Pete Standing Alone” and “Turquoise Hexagon Sun”. “Over the Horizon Radar” is a serene contrast to the disquieting tracks that preceded it, while “Diving Station” acts as a somber piano-led comedown to “Dawn Chorus”.
Geogaddi inspires a complex range of emotions. Far from simply being an eerie electronic album, it conveys a sense of dread, isolation, yet ultimately a degree of hope in the face of the unknown. The flow between tracks is simply unparalleled, and the sheer depth of the duo’s seemingly simplistic compositions illustrates exactly why this album is so often hailed as their greatest accomplishment.
