Oh, behold the passing from one plane to the next – the clues are
there, and I am a sleuth undeterred. The first clue, an easy one: My Friend Went to Heaven on the Frankford El
says it all right there in the title. The second clue, have you cracked it?
“How to administer Naloxone for an opioid overdose.” Then a link. I dread the
thinking of it, but might Christian Mirande have lost just such a friend in
just such a way? Might this collection of avant-garde pieces be an ode to that
friend?
It would not surprise me in the least. Mirande crafts field recordings
into experimental compositions, the sonics (movement, static, the subconscious,
voice, instrumentation) mimicking life on various levels. Is it a reminder to
recognize the minutiae one comes into contact with throughout one’s day, the
minutiae that one does not give thought to? Is it a reminder to be deliberate
in our interactions, with the world, with others? Is it a facsimile of the
devotion we give to trivial things while cracks form in the façades of the forgotten but
important details?
The Frankford El still runs, and we slap in earbuds for our journey,
and we turn inward. Mirande allows us to turn even further inward if we give this one a chance.
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