Review Summary: Dig your roots deep into one of progressive electronic's quirkiest masterpieces.
Mother Earth's Plantasia, as unassuming a little album it is, is inarguably Moog maestro Mort Garson's defining and most popular work. Through bootlegged, full album uploads on YouTube to resellers asking absurd amounts for original pressings to professionally-done re-releases by major record labels, this is the work that refused to be buried, that endured the harsh sands of time. Not his psychedelic concept album debut (released under the pseudonym the Zodiac), nor his sinister ambient project
Black Mass. Those albums received an uptick in interest at different points in time, I'm sure. But it wouldn't be out of line to say that those spikes were wholly dependent on his 1976 record,
Mother Earth's Plantasia.
It almost seems too ridiculous an idea to even indulge. How could some random throwaway record, one that was initially only available for purchase at a specific plant store in Los Angeles (or given away for free with the purchase of a mattress from Sears), become a genre-definer with legions of fervent fans both young and young at heart. Could it be simple supply and demand? Something as positively "un-magical" as inflated rarity driving up interest? Or is it just so deeply ingrained in internet nerd music lore that everyone just accepts it as a "classic?"
Whatever the reason was in the past, it's different now. The "hidden gem" mystique of the album has long since been eroded by dissemination into commercials for tax software and official remasters available through traditional streaming avenues. You can listen to it right now, as easily as you would any album released in the current year. You can lounge to the chilled "Baby's Tears Blues" from the comfort of home, you can crack a childish smile to "You Don't Have to Walk a Begonia's" whimsical naiveté, you can blow your geeky friend's mind by showing them how similar "Concerto for Philodendron and Pothos" is to "Zelda's Lullaby" from the Legend of Zelda (and other game songs from that era), and best of all, you can even turn up your hi-fi stereo and play the title track ("Plantasia") to your plants on repeat. Just as Garson intended.
I say that, but it's first and foremost "warm earth music for plants," yeah? The album did originally come with a booklet about how to take care of your new indoor plant after all (no instructions about mattresses, however). But we now know that that was all tongue-in-cheek pseudoscience and new age nonsense. No, your ficus doesn't get tummy aches. And even if it did, playing it "Swingin' Spathipyllums" probably wouldn't help. Frankly speaking, I don't even have a house plant. And I doubt many of the people who listen to this are avid gardeners.
Mother Earth's Plantasia is one of those records that is heard because people want to hear it. It's spacey ambient synth work crosses generations. It's eternal in its simplicity and its beauty. New meaning sprouted from oddity and obscurity into a brand new genus of its own. It's no longer just for the people who love plants, it's for everyone. And I'm sure Mort Garson wouldn't have had it any other way.
