Brian Eno’s oft-told story of the genesis of ambient music paints a picture of serendipitous discovery. Recovering from a car accident in 1975, he lay in bed, too weak to adjust the low volume of a barely audible, partially functioning record player diffusing 18th-century harp music. This ethereal soundscape, interwoven with the gentle patter of rain, sparked the idea of ”music for airports,” music designed to be unobtrusive yet engaging, ”as ignorable as it is interesting.” This narrative, however, has been contested by Judy Nylon, the friend who played the record, claiming a collaborative effort in balancing the subtle sounds. Eno’s artistic background, steeped in the philosophies of John Cage and the embrace of chance and process, likely contributed to this romanticized origin story. His student notes foreshadowed ambient music’s essence: ”Make music to be heard, but not listened to”, reflecting a vision of sound as an atmospheric element rather than a foregrounded experience.
While Eno’s narrative emphasizes a fortuitous beginning, ambient music has clear precursors. Erik Satie’s ”furniture music,” intended as a sonic backdrop to social interactions in a Parisian gallery in 1920, predated Eno’s work by decades. Although the audience ultimately listened attentively rather than conversing, Satie’s concept resonated with Eno’s later ideas. Mid-20th century genres like mood music, easy listening, and muzak, though initially dismissed as background fodder, also contributed to the evolution of ambient music. These initially derided genres, often associated with housewives and deemed intellectually unchallenging, have since been reassessed and recognized for their influence. Eno, a self-proclaimed ”non-musician” and former member of Roxy Music, formalized the genre with his 1975 album ”Discreet Music,” followed by the seminal ”Music for Airports” in 1978, the first installment of his four-part ”Ambient” series, co-created with Harold Budd, Laraaji, and Eno himself. This series cemented ambient’s place in the musical landscape, influencing a diverse range of contemporary genres, from hip-hop and jazz to post-classical music.
The pervasive influence of ambient music is evident in the works of artists like André 3000, whose 2023 flute-based ambient album ”New Blue Sun” surprised many. The proliferation of ”Deep Focus” and ”Ambient Study” playlists on platforms like Spotify demonstrates the genre’s functional application in enhancing concentration and productivity. This utilitarian aspect, coupled with the advent of the Sony Walkman in 1979, facilitating personalized and private listening experiences, further solidified ambient music’s cultural relevance. Eno’s intellectual approach to music theory and his established position within the pop music landscape undoubtedly contributed to his version of the ambient origin story gaining traction, as well as the genre’s elevated status.
However, Victor Szabo’s 2023 book ”Turn on, tune in, drift off – Ambient music’s psychedelic past” challenges this established narrative, offering a revised history that acknowledges overlooked figures and influences. Szabo, a music professor, doesn’t entirely dismantle the existing narrative, but rather illuminates alternative pathways and addresses the marginalization of women and people of color within the genre. His work builds upon earlier attempts to broaden the understanding of ambient music, such as David Toop’s ”Ocean of Sound,” which primarily focused on the listening experience itself. Szabo delves into the psychedelic culture of late 1960s California, highlighting the role of studio experimentation and the exploration of altered states of consciousness in shaping ambient music’s development. Artists like Jimi Hendrix, with his expansive and sonically adventurous compositions, exemplified this period’s experimental spirit.
Szabo also explores the interconnected history of ambient music with the new age movement, which emerged from the same cultural milieu and initially encompassed a broad range of alternative practices, eventually solidifying into a distinct musical genre. He points to the influence of radio stations like ”Music from the Hearts of Space,” which played a crucial role in disseminating a blend of minimalist compositions, yoga music, and soft rock, promoting a contemplative and introspective listening experience. Furthermore, Szabo highlights the ”Environments” album series, which began in 1969, featuring natural sounds like birdsong, heartbeats, and ocean waves, marketed with pseudo-scientific claims of psychological benefits. These albums, complete with fabricated listener testimonials on the back covers, aimed to induce relaxation and improve well-being.
Szabo’s critique extends to the early 1990s British rave scene and the rise of ”chill out” rooms where slower, more atmospheric electronic music provided respite from the frenetic energy of the dance floor. This music, dubbed ”ambient house,” evolved alongside the emergence of Intelligent Dance Music (IDM), a genre often criticized for marginalizing the African American roots of house and techno. Even some artists involved in the scene recognized the increasing dominance of white males, while figures like Detroit techno pioneer Derrick May accused British artists of “prostituting” the genre. Szabo’s comprehensive study meticulously traces the multifaceted evolution of ambient music, acknowledging the contributions of often-overlooked figures like Pauline Oliveros, Wendy Carlos, Miles Davis, Alice Coltrane, Lee Perry, King Tubby, Carl Craig, and Derrick May, as well as the influence of traditional music from various cultures.
Finally, Szabo connects the emergence of ambient music with the launch of the Sony Walkman, suggesting that the portable device facilitated a more personal and introspective listening experience, presaging the individualism of the 1980s. Ambient music encourages self-reflection, offering a sonic environment for contemplation and introspection, which can be both beneficial and potentially isolating. Its openness to interpretation makes it a fitting soundtrack for uncertain times, as exemplified by its resurgence during the pandemic. However, there’s a risk that ambient music merely provides a temporary escape from the pressures of modern life, rather than facilitating meaningful change. It can become a sonic anesthetic, dulling the anxieties of a demanding and often unhealthy work environment. Szabo offers a more optimistic perspective, suggesting that ambient music can help us process complex emotions and foster a sense of connection with the world around us. He proposes that it can be a tool for healing and reconciliation, promoting empathy, peace, and solidarity. This expands the role of ambient music beyond mere escapism, encouraging a deeper engagement with both our inner selves and the wider world.
