{"id":2361,"date":"2021-08-23T09:52:45","date_gmt":"2021-08-23T08:52:45","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/?p=2361"},"modified":"2022-06-07T22:45:30","modified_gmt":"2022-06-07T21:45:30","slug":"behoud-stilstand-door-ambient-het-onbewogen-leren-liefhebben","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/en\/2021\/08\/23\/behoud-stilstand-door-ambient-het-onbewogen-leren-liefhebben\/","title":{"rendered":"Hold stasis: learning to love the uneventful through ambient music"},"content":{"rendered":"<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><strong>A year and a half ago, as the world came to a sudden standstill and daily life turned into a slow and uneventful ordeal, Front editor Ruben van Dijk found himself looking for music that captured exactly that. Now, as life is slowly inching towards relative normalcy, he reflects on the sounds that helped him reconcile with all-encompassing nothingness and mind-numbing isolation by highlighting the artists responsible: Green-House, Ben Seretan and Elori Saxl.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\"><strong>Written by: <\/strong>Ruben van Dijk<br><strong>Illustration: <\/strong>Linde Helene<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\">Looking back at the first COVID lockdown, somewhere between March and June of 2020, I can scarcely remember how I spent my time. I think even then, in the evening, I had probably already forgotten the events of that particular day. There was so much emphasis at the time on how \u2018historic\u2019 this would turn out to be, how we would still tell our (grand)children about this. Meanwhile I found myself in some sort of memory vacuum. <em>Would<\/em>I tell my children about this someday? What even was there to tell?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">Those first few months were pretty much a void. It\u2019s almost blissful in hindsight: nobody was doing anything, so it felt totally OK and acceptable to do nothing. I didn\u2019t pick up a hobby; I didn\u2019t learn a language; I have no new skills to show for from that time; I didn\u2019t even read a single book. What we felt at the time would be a watershed moment, a big reset, that would allow us to change our ways for the better, turned out to just be a passing fancy. At least for me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">The only thing I did acquire was a renewed appreciation for ambient music, something I have carried with me since; something that not only enhanced the early pandemic nothingness, but helped me heal during the much more difficult period that would follow. After a brief summer in which the pandemic already felt like something of the past, long forgotten, the second lockdown (that started in October and only just ended) was a different challenge altogether. As I write this, we, as a society, are slowly but steadily working our way out of that darkness. And much in the same vein, I am working hard to leave my depression behind, finally finding the words to address what\u2019s happened and give meaning to the sounds that have gotten me through. &nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\">Over the course of a month, I corresponded with some of the artists responsible for my favourite ambient music of this year: <strong>Ben Seretan<\/strong>, <strong>Elori Saxl <\/strong>en <strong>Green-House<\/strong>. Each of their latest albums helped me reconcile with a very difficult time in my life, all in a very distinct way. I asked them all more or less the same questions: what state of mind did their abstract sounds emerge from? What part did their natural environment play in the process? And was making these albums as therapeutic and healing as listening to them was for me?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-large\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"1000\" height=\"1000\" data-attachment-id=\"2352\" data-permalink=\"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/en\/cicada-waves-1616680341-1000x1000-1\/\" data-orig-file=\"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/cicada-waves-1616680341-1000x1000-1.jpeg\" data-orig-size=\"1000,1000\" data-comments-opened=\"1\" data-image-meta=\"{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;0&quot;}\" data-image-title=\"cicada-waves-1616680341-1000&amp;#215;1000-1\" data-image-description=\"\" data-image-caption=\"\" data-large-file=\"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/cicada-waves-1616680341-1000x1000-1.jpeg\" src=\"data:image\/png;base64,iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAAAEAAAABAQMAAAAl21bKAAAAA1BMVEUAAP+KeNJXAAAAAXRSTlMAQObYZgAAAAlwSFlzAAAOxAAADsQBlSsOGwAAAApJREFUCNdjYAAAAAIAAeIhvDMAAAAASUVORK5CYII=\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-2352 nebotheme-lazyload lazyload\" data-sizes=\"auto\" data-ls-sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1000px) 100vw, 1000px\" data-src=\"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/cicada-waves-1616680341-1000x1000-1.jpeg?w=740\" data-srcset=\"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/cicada-waves-1616680341-1000x1000-1.jpeg 1000w, https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/cicada-waves-1616680341-1000x1000-1-300x300.jpeg?crop=1 300w, https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/cicada-waves-1616680341-1000x1000-1-100x100.jpeg 100w, https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/cicada-waves-1616680341-1000x1000-1-600x600.jpeg?crop=1 600w\"><\/figure>\n\n\n<iframe loading=\"lazy\" width=\"100%\" height=\"120\" style=\"position: relative; display: block; width: 100%; height: 120px;\" src=\"\/\/bandcamp.com\/EmbeddedPlayer\/v=2\/album=255462196\/size=large\/bgcol=fefbf5\/linkcol=0687f5\/tracklist=false\/artwork=small\/\" allowtransparency=\"true\" frameborder=\"0\"><\/iframe>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"1-ben-seretan-cicada-waves\"> <strong>1.<\/strong>&nbsp; <strong>Ben Seretan \u2013 <em>Cicada Waves<\/em><\/strong> <\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\">I think I giggled a little, the first time I heard a song from Ben Seretan\u2019s Cicada Waves. \u2018Fog Rolls Out Rabun Gap\u2019 it was called, and I found myself mesmerized soon after by how something could be so straightforward and mystical at the same time. What I was witnessing, albeit in an aural form, was, indeed, fog rolling out of Rabun Gap, Georgia, accompanied by a natural orchestra of cicadas, birds and rain, and some guy playing the piano in a very precious but almost absent-minded manner. It was the kind of ambient I had dipped my toes in before \u2013 I\u2019m very fond of Yuichiro Fujimoto\u2019s Mountain Record, a mostly acoustic record with the sounds of birds, trains and kids in playgrounds sprinkled throughout \u2013 but the utter simplicity and the emphasis on nature of Cicada Waves startled me. A piece like \u201811pm Sudden Thunderstorm\u2019 is so sparse, you could almost replicate the experience by going to a nearby forest on sultry summer night yourself, waiting for the weather to turn. But the word \u2018almost\u2019 does a lot of heavy lifting there; it\u2019s precisely the fact that Seretan captured these moments \u2013 all of them improvised \u2013 the way he did, that makes them so remarkable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\">&lt;emCicada Waves<\/em> is very much a lockdown record, recorded in a time of immense anxiety and isolation, wherein the all-encompassing gravity of the situation worldwide formed a stark contrast with the vacancy that had taken hold of the daily lives of so many people. The moments on this album that resonate with me most, are those quiet moments where you can hear Seretan taking his place behind his piano; a brief instance of intent and purpose that dissipates as soon as the first notes are played and the choir of cicadas becomes an ever louder presence<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\">It\u2019s exactly how many of those initial lockdown days felt; plans and ideas swallowed up, reduced to an elusive state of mind, entirely in the moment and simultaneously nowhere at all. When Cicada Waves came out, in late April of this year, the Netherlands was still very much in lockdown, with a 10pm curfew having just been lifted. That blissful purposelessness of the first lockdown had slowly passed over time, and the inherent societal pressure to do, to be productive had creeped its way into my consciousness once again, haunting me, even though the state of things was all but stimulating any creativity. Walking through my neighbourhood at night, for the first time in forever, listening to <em>Cicada Waves<\/em>, I felt more present than I had felt in months. I was just somewhere, with nothing on my mind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\"><strong>Can you take me to the place where <em>Cicada Waves<\/em>was recorded? What was the setting like and how do you think it may have seeped into your music?<\/strong><br>\n\u201cI recorded Cicada Waves almost accidentally while I had the lucky opportunity to stay in a dance studio without any internet connection at the foot of the Appalachian Mountains at the north end of Georgia. It was both the quietest place I had been in years and one of the loudest. Quiet in that there were no trains going by, hardly any cars, none of the anthropocentric bustle of New York City where I had been living for the ten years previous to making this record. And loud in the sense that there were just so many other, unfamiliar noises, the biblical buzzing of cicadas among them. I think the tension between peace, quiet, and the calamity of a less human-centred place is really present in the music. That tension is also there in the recording setup - how the 100-year-old baby grand piano got to that remote corner of the world in perfect playing condition I don't think I'll ever fully understand. It was such a beautiful, pristine, man-made instrument out among these rolling thunderstorms and hooting wrens. Didn't take much to find something wonderful in that poetic juxtaposition - I simply pointed my field recorder at the windows and let the chords unfurl.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\"><strong>You deliberately isolated yourself completely for two weeks. What were you hoping to achieve in these two weeks, going into this? And were you surprised by the outcome?<\/strong><br>\n\u201cIt was funny to me at the time to go from a period of nearly total social isolation during COVID into a period of time where I was even more isolated. What a foolish thing to do while I was bemoaning not being able to hug my friends! But I found that I was able to be much more present with my fondness for those people, and for my desire to be close to them. I really felt how badly I missed the world, which is hard to do when the Internet is full of cheap imitations of the real thing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cI had big plans for those two weeks - I wanted to write a ton of new songs, I wanted to finish a second series of 24-hour recordings, I wanted to run five miles every day. But instead I spent a lot of my time hypnotizing myself with the piano and reading science fiction and swimming with my buddy Jeff. Almost as an afterthought I captured these sleepy piano improvisations, thinking that I could edit or \u2018do something\u2019 with them later. But when I listened back a few weeks after getting home I knew the work was already done!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\"><strong>Was it a healing or therapeutic experience for you as well, making the album?<\/strong><br>\n\u201cPlaying the piano has always been a therapeutic exercise for me. Or I should say: it's soothing for me anytime I let myself play the piano intuitively, without sheet music or \u2018trying too hard\u2019 to do anything. I hated learning finger positions and sight reading and things of that nature all through the time in my life when I was being taught the right way to do things.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cThe type of playing I do on this record really started years ago when I had a job managing a fancy movie theater in NYC. There'd be classical music performances on the weekends and for those they'd roll out this gorgeous and enormous grand piano from behind the screen - the rest of the time it sat dormant, and I learned to sneak back there during screenings and play quietly so as to not disturb the movies. I was always listening to what was happening beyond the double doors of the piano room, making sure to notice when the quiet parts might bring attention to what I was playing. Listening beyond the projector-lit screen of the theater, playing soft lines in the dark.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cBut I do think this album was particularly therapeutic. I lived my life at an aggressively maxed out pace before COVID, always doing the most and cramming everything I possibly could into every single day. The pandemic changed all that, of course, and I never really let myself sit with the weight of it until I made these recordings.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\"><strong>You went to the Appalachian Mountains thinking you\u2019d be playing the piano, but the piano ended up just being one artificial instrument in an orchestra of mostly natural sounds. Making <em>Cicada Waves<\/em>, what did you learn about composing and the relation between your playing and the environment?<\/strong><br>\n\u201cFor a moment I really thought you were going to say \"but the piano ended up playing you.\" Which is funny, but also surprisingly accurate. Playing and recording in that really extraordinary setting was a really effective demonstration of a simple concept: if something wonderful is already happening, it's okay to have nothing to add. My tendency in general is to do too much - I play too many notes, I invite too many people on stage to play in the band, I overshare, I send too many emails. There can be so much power in doing less.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\"><strong>You\u2019re also a singer-songwriter. What does (making) ambient music give you that more structured, more conventional and lyrical forms of music don\u2019t?<\/strong>\n\u201cIt really comes down to freedom, surprise, and room to spread out. I've always been interested in figuring out exactly just how little a song needs to hold together as a song - a lot of my songs have lyrics that are one phrase repeated ad nauseum, or even one word (\u2018Ticonderoga\u2019 off of my first solo LP has a lyric exactly one word long and runs over seven minutes in length).\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\u201cBy most definitions a song requires a series of changes - chords need to change, words need to progress or tell a story, there needs to be a verse and a chorus and maybe a bridge. Even the most outr\u00e9 definitions of what qualifies as a song would seemingly require some change. But ambient music - and I sometimes struggle to use that term - gives you permission to not change, to hold stasis, to feel yourself changing in relation to something that is constant. That's really what I love about it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\"><strong>Are there specific moments in which you are drawn more to ambient and moments in which you are drawn more to songwriting? (Whether you\u2019re making it yourself or just listening to it.)<\/strong><br>\n\u201cI've noticed a funny thing about my listening habits over the last year, which is that my appetite for lyrics and songs in general increases as the day goes by - in the morning, I'm obsessed with this idea of keeping the day full of possibilities, which means that I refuse to look at my phone for at least an hour or two for fear that an email or a text will force me to think too specifically about what the day might hold. And I think songs and music with lyrics are a part of that - words feel very \u2018locked in\u2019 to at least a set of meanings. But by the time dinner rolls around I am usually hungry for conversation and communion with others so I am more than happy to throw on hokey country or Sade, et cetera. That's when I want to hear words. It used to be that I could also listen to ambient music while I was writing but now I find that totally impossible<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\">\"I can only write in total musical silence, like I'm doing right now, haha!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\"><strong>For me, my love for ambient music was enhanced by the first lockdown last year, when the lack of structure, the quiet intensity and the spaciousness of it all suddenly aligned with my day-to-day life. I\u2019m curious as to whether you experienced ambient music differently this last year; and also, if there was a specific moment or experience you remember that made you fall in love with ambient music?<\/strong>\n\u201cI think I experienced all media differently this year - certainly watched more TV than I have since I was a kid (Star Trek, mostly), I've been reading constantly and at a wild clip, and my listening habits have changed tremendously. When I was really scared and anxious living in NYC I found ambient-type music to be actually really difficult to listen to - washy, instrumental music can be heard in a lot of different ways and while I was freaking out about this plague descending on my life anything too bleary just sounded like the fog of fear in the air.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\">\u201cI've been interested in ambient music for a long time, but one moment really sticks out to me as a possible origin for wanting to make it: one summer in college I stayed on campus and got a gig mowing a professor's back lawn while she was away. The second or third time I mowed her lawn I put on <em>Four Violins<\/em> by Tony Conrad which, if you haven't heard it, is just this huge stack of noisy, scratching, sometimes in tune violins totally bleached out and blasted to maximum volume. It's certainly not gentle ambient music, but it is one sustained chord for at least a half an hour, and listening to that on my headphones mixed with the smell of gasoline and cut grass and the two-stroke violence of the lawn mower and the sweat of the Connecticut sun... it totally stirred my brain around, just stuck it in the paint mixer and left me feeling like I had seen behind the veil of reality, like I had stepped in God's chewing gum.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\"><strong>Finally: are there any ambient records that have impacted you or have had a healing effect on you, that you would like to recommend?<\/strong><br>\n\u201cWell, I just recommended <em>Four Violins<\/em>, but here are some faves from this year: <em>Potential Landscapes <\/em>by Tristan Kasten-Krause, <em>Futurangelics<\/em> by Brin, Dntel, More Eaze; <em>Royal Blue<\/em> by Rhucle. Also I think <em>A Rainbow in Curved Air<\/em> (by Terry Riley, ed.) might be one of my favorite instrumental \/ ambient records of all time.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-large\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"1200\" height=\"1200\" data-attachment-id=\"2353\" data-permalink=\"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/en\/elor\/\" data-orig-file=\"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/elor.jpg\" data-orig-size=\"1200,1200\" data-comments-opened=\"1\" data-image-meta=\"{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;0&quot;}\" data-image-title=\"elor\" data-image-description=\"\" data-image-caption=\"\" data-large-file=\"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/elor.jpg\" src=\"data:image\/png;base64,iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAAAEAAAABAQMAAAAl21bKAAAAA1BMVEUAAP+KeNJXAAAAAXRSTlMAQObYZgAAAAlwSFlzAAAOxAAADsQBlSsOGwAAAApJREFUCNdjYAAAAAIAAeIhvDMAAAAASUVORK5CYII=\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-2353 nebotheme-lazyload lazyload\" data-sizes=\"auto\" data-ls-sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\" data-src=\"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/elor.jpg?w=740\" data-srcset=\"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/elor.jpg 1200w, https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/elor-300x300.jpg?crop=1 300w, https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/elor-100x100.jpg 100w, https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/elor-600x600.jpg?crop=1 600w\"><\/figure>\n\n\n<iframe loading=\"lazy\" width=\"100%\" height=\"120\" style=\"position: relative; display: block; width: 100%; height: 120px;\" src=\"\/\/bandcamp.com\/EmbeddedPlayer\/v=2\/album=3338853972\/size=large\/bgcol=fefbf5\/linkcol=0687f5\/tracklist=false\/artwork=small\/\" allowtransparency=\"true\" frameborder=\"0\"><\/iframe>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"2-elori-saxl-the-blue-of-distance\"><strong>2.<\/strong>   <strong>Elori Saxl \u2013 <em>The Blue of Distance<\/em><\/strong> <\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\">For a long time, and often still, I tend to seek out ambient records that soothe me, make me feel more comfortable, relax the mind rather than trigger it. So when I caught myself coming back to The Blue of Distance by American composer Elori Saxl, it piqued my curiosity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\">The compositions on <em>The Blue of Distance<\/em> are hard to classify; arranged parts for the violin, the clarinet and the oboe are merged into throbbing modular synths and warped field recordings of the water underneath a frozen Lake Superior. Saxl herself, as you will read below, isn\u2019t too sure about the ambient label herself either. What is evident is that this music derives from the abstract, from very primal emotions that could be expressed only in this most unconventional structure. It\u2019s a pulsating and restless album, one that, even though it\u2019s so meticulously arranged, seems to hardly have a clue where it is going.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\">It\u2019s an album in a crossfire of dreams, memories and everyday thoughts, where nostalgia is more distressing than it is joyful; the product of a bleak and lonely winter that followed a warm and worriless summer. The deep water underneath the ice that Saxl recorded for this album may as well be her memory \u2013 accessible, sure, but covered with 30 centimetres of solid ice; colder and darker than she had left it. Trying to regain some sense of the ecstasy she felt during what was one of the happiest times of her life, became an exercise that led to <em>The Blue of Distance<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\">It\u2019s no lockdown record, like <em>Cicada Waves<\/em>, but came together mostly before the pandemic hit. Its underlying sentiments \u2013 feeling far away from what once brought you happiness, unsure how to get it back \u2013 are universal, and I could have related to them to an extent in any other year. Yet the distance had never felt so large as it felt in the first five months of 2021, having been in lockdown for an eternity and with hardly an end in sight. For me, listening to <em>The Blue of Distance<\/em> meant acknowledging that and, through Saxl\u2019s beautifully textured compositions, seeking some sort of solace. \u2018Wave II\u2019 stands out especially, with the first thirty seconds sounding like someone submerged in a frozen lake desperately clawing for an opening. All over, there\u2019s glimpses of beauty and joy, but they are faint and hard to catch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\">Describing how dark and distressing an album is and turning that into a positive \u2013 it\u2019s incredibly difficult. But I have come to realize that just playing sounds and hearing your own exact feelings in them, however depressed they are, is a source of tremendous comfort as well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\"><strong>Can you take me to the places where <em>The Blue of Distance<\/em> came together? How do you think those places may have seeped into the music?<\/strong><br>\n\u201cThe album was written over a year in two distinct places: I wrote the first half in the Adirondack Mountains in northern New York state. I was in a place called Blue Mountain, it was summer, everything was green and wet, I was surrounded by people who made me feel loved, and I felt quite ecstatic. I wrote the second half many months later in the middle of winter on Madeline Island, an island in Lake Superior off the coast of northern Wisconsin. I was surrounded by ice and snow, I was in a pretty low place, and I felt quite lonely. The album ended up being a record of my attempts to access the feeling of being in a place and time that you are not in currently. I looked at photographs and videos of my summer and tried to remember what it felt like to be there. It didn\u2019t work. It increased the longing. Eventually I made friends with the longing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\">So the places very much influenced the sounds, but also the failed attempts to access another place influenced the sounds. Also, the album is built around processed recordings of wind and water from both places, so on a very literal and physical level, the places are in the music.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\"><strong>Was it a healing process, or a form of therapy, making this album?<\/strong><br>\n\u201cYes, definitely. A lot of making the album was quite painful and not very enjoyable because I was trying so desperately to get back to a place, time, and feeling that had passed. I was also very confused about where I wanted to be (in many senses), and that confusion was total agony. Eventually, through the process of making the music, I realized that tension between places and identities just is who I am, and that the way to soften the pain was to become friends with the tension and longing and fully feel and accept its shape and form.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\"><strong>You\u2019re interested in \u201chumanity\u2019s changing relationship with land through new technology\u201d; to what extent did making this album, and the technology you applied (warped field recordings, modular synths, etc.) with nature?<\/strong><br>\n\u201cIt highlighted for me just how impossible it is to ever fully reach a distant place, person, or feeling. We can get increasingly closer through improvements in technology, but we don\u2019t seem to be able to ever actually get there. It made me more aware and accepting of how specific my generation\u2019s experience with land and technology is. I think there\u2019s like a 5-year window of people who really came of age at the exact same time as the internet, and that\u2019s a strange place to be. We\u2019re young enough to be comfortable having all this technology fully integrated into our lives, but we\u2019re also old enough to hold onto a fair amount of scepticism. We have memories of both worlds, and that creates a certain tension in us.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\"><strong>You went into this album with a concept in mind; to what extent did the presence and the fickleness of nature alter the course you had set out for this album\u2019s creation process?<\/strong><br>\n\u201cI\u2019d say the album changed more as a result of my own life getting in the way. I started with an abstract conceptual idea, and then I was overcome with real events in my life and emotions that I couldn\u2019t just push aside. But I think the epiphany was realizing that the issues in my own life inherently mirrored the larger concepts I\u2019d wanted to think about because I am a human living through this specific time and grappling with how technology is changing me. So maybe the lesson was that no matter how abstract you think you\u2019re going, it will always be personal.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\"><strong>For me, my love for ambient music was enhanced by the first lockdown last year, when the lack of structure, the quiet intensity and the spaciousness of it all suddenly aligned with my day-to-day life. I\u2019m curious as to whether you experienced ambient music differently this last year; and also, if there was a specific moment or experience you remember that made you fall in love with ambient music?<\/strong><br>\n\u201cTo be honest, I don\u2019t really listen to much ambient music. I\u2019m actually not entirely certain I even know what it is! This past year, I\u2019ve found I really crave things with easy access points: groove, hooks, melodies. Been listening to a lot of Dua Lipa, Haim, Christine and the Queens, Amber Mark, Tyler, The Creator, and Rosal\u00eda. I don\u2019t know why that is \u2013 maybe life has felt challenging enough as is, that I just needed some easy music. I do have a very specific memory of the first time I felt overcome by repeating and slowly shifting music, and that was listening to \u2018Music for Mallet Instruments, Voices and Organ\u2019 by Steve Reich. It was a completely physical and sensual experience. I had never felt that with music before.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\"><strong>Finally: are there any ambient records that have impacted you or have had a healing effect on you, that you would like to recommend?<\/strong><br>\n\u201cI\u2019m not sure if these are ambient, but <em>The Wind in High Places<\/em> by John Luther Adams, \u2018Almost All the Time\u2019 by David Lang, \u2018Pushpulling\u2019 by Donnacha Dennehy, \u2018Panorama\u2019 by Big Dog Little Dog, and \u2018Entr\u2019acte\u2019 and \u2018Ritornello\u2019 by Caroline Shaw are all somewhat slow moving, deep groove pieces that have made me feel some very big things. Lately, I\u2019ve been really loving <em>The Sacrificial Code<\/em> by Kali Malone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-large\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"1200\" height=\"1200\" data-attachment-id=\"2356\" data-permalink=\"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/en\/musicforlivingspaces-1\/\" data-orig-file=\"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/musicforlivingspaces-1.jpeg\" data-orig-size=\"1200,1200\" data-comments-opened=\"1\" data-image-meta=\"{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;0&quot;}\" data-image-title=\"musicforlivingspaces-1\" data-image-description=\"\" data-image-caption=\"\" data-large-file=\"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/musicforlivingspaces-1.jpeg\" src=\"data:image\/png;base64,iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAAAEAAAABAQMAAAAl21bKAAAAA1BMVEUAAP+KeNJXAAAAAXRSTlMAQObYZgAAAAlwSFlzAAAOxAAADsQBlSsOGwAAAApJREFUCNdjYAAAAAIAAeIhvDMAAAAASUVORK5CYII=\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-2356 nebotheme-lazyload lazyload\" data-sizes=\"auto\" data-ls-sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1200px) 100vw, 1200px\" data-src=\"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/musicforlivingspaces-1.jpeg?w=740\" data-srcset=\"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/musicforlivingspaces-1.jpeg 1200w, https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/musicforlivingspaces-1-300x300.jpeg?crop=1 300w, https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/musicforlivingspaces-1-100x100.jpeg 100w, https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/musicforlivingspaces-1-600x600.jpeg?crop=1 600w\"><\/figure>\n\n\n<iframe loading=\"lazy\" width=\"100%\" height=\"120\" style=\"position: relative; display: block; width: 100%; height: 120px;\" src=\"\/\/bandcamp.com\/EmbeddedPlayer\/v=2\/album=1169230806\/size=large\/bgcol=fefbf5\/linkcol=0687f5\/tracklist=false\/artwork=small\/\" allowtransparency=\"true\" frameborder=\"0\"><\/iframe>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"3-green-house-music-for-living-spaces\"><strong>3.    Green-House \u2013 <em>Music for Living Spaces<\/em><\/strong><\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\">The last year and a half brought me onto a lot of existential questions and deeply ingrained mental issues that required solving urgently \u2013 or so I would often think. Because what I also learned is that I have the tendency to be overly rigorous and dramatic, and that perhaps I should be setting more achievable goals, making only minor changes in my day-to-day life, and gradually working towards a healthier state of living.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\">Believe it or not, it\u2019s albums like Green-House\u2019s <em>Music for Living Spaces<\/em> that made that possible, as well as their EP that preceded it, <em>Six Songs for Invisible Gardens<\/em>. I would listen to them alongside genre classics like Mort Garson\u2019s Mother Earth\u2019s <em>Plantasia<\/em>, Hiroshi Yoshimura\u2019s <em>GREEN<\/em> and a compilation issued by Light in the Attic a few years ago called <em>Kanky\u014d Ongaku: Japanese Ambient, Environmental &amp; New Age Music 1980-1990<\/em>. All of them perpetuated this conception of music as something to \u201csupplement the environment in which it exists and bring out more of its latent character\u201d. Or in the words of Satoshi Ashikawa, one of the earliest flagbearers for ambient music in Japan, it\u2019s \u201cmusic that should drift like smoke\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\">There was a time where said music, preoccupied as it was with the metaphysical, the act of blending in, rather than standing out, would be easily ignored, filed under \u2018new age\u2019, \u2018muzak\u2019 or whatever denotation would deny their merit. But that\u2019s not the time of Olive Ardizoni, or Green-House, whose music is not only immensely joyous and comforting, but also builds on the same auditory environmental awareness pioneered by Garson, Yoshimura and others. <em>Music for Living Spaces<\/em>, especially, stimulates an increased awareness of one\u2019s surroundings (natural or not) and uses it as a path towards self-betterment. Self-betterment, in turn, will only further enrich the world around you, is Ardizoni\u2019s thinking.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\">There\u2019s a sense of homeliness and childlike wonder to many of these compositions that make improving oneself and one\u2019s surroundings so much more attainable. Here, nature is not all that dramatic and health and happiness can simply be drawn from the \u2018Nocturnal Bloom\u2019 of a flower in your back garden or the \u2018Royal Fern\u2019 by your neighbourhood pond. It\u2019s an album that sounds small too, serving as an antithesis to any laid out guidance or grand solutions one might seek. Perhaps it doesn\u2019t so much \u201cdrift like smoke\u201d but flurry like a first hint of spring through an open window, a modest foundation for better times.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\"><strong>Can you take me to the place where <em>Music for Living Spaces came together?<\/em> What was the setting like, and how do you think it may have seeped into the music?<\/strong><br>\n\u201cI wrote, recorded, and mixed the album in my small apartment in Los Angeles. I gathered inspiration from taking walks in the park near my house to interact with plant and animal life. The album is very much a reflection of living in a city.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\"><strong>Part of this album is about relating to nature even when we\u2019re separated from it, like within the confines of our own homes. What are ways in which you guarantee that connection to nature \u2013 in your personal life and in your music?<\/strong><br>\n\u201cI do not believe that we are ever separated from nature. That\u2019s not possible because we are nature. I think that the more some of us realize that, the more we will focus on acting in ways that are less damaging to the rest of the environment. I wrote this album in hopes to facilitate meditation on our own nature. Having said that, I definitely keep houseplants and go hiking as often as I can to stay grounded, happy, and connected. If I can\u2019t go outside I listen to nature sounds at home while I do movement based practices.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph\"><strong>What do you think is so important about maintaining that connection to nature? And how did you experience that connection over the last year, as we were forced to stay within our homes for so long?<\/strong><br>\n\u201cMaintaining that connection to nature is staying connected to ourselves. Anything that we do to prioritize our own physical and mental well-being often ends up being in alignment with the health of the planet. Being forced to stay within my home last year gave me the opportunity to reflect on my own health and how to utilize my own gifts to spread empathy and kindness to my community.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\"><strong>The title of the album implies that it\u2019s intended to enrich people\u2019s everyday environments; in what way do you hope this album can add value to people\u2019s lives or direct environment?<\/strong><br>\n\u201cI hope that this music is useful for people when they want something soothing in the background or when they want to engage in deep listening for meditation. I also hope that it brings people joy!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\"><strong>For me, my love for ambient music was enhanced by the first lockdown last year, when the lack of structure, the quiet intensity and the spaciousness of it all suddenly aligned with my day-to-day life. I\u2019m curious as to whether you experienced ambient music differently this last year; and also, if there was a specific moment or experience you remember that made you fall in love with ambient music?<\/strong><br>\n\u201cI fell in love with ambient music years ago when I was introduced to Brian Eno\u2019s <em>Music for Airports<\/em>. It really changed the way that I think about music and it felt very much in alignment with how I experience gender and wanting to live as a person without the constraints of hierarchical structures. Ambient as a medium feels unencumbered by any particular structure so there\u2019s a sense of freedom in composing this type of music.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\">During the pandemic I did find myself craving songs with a bit more of a traditional structure. My aim on <em>Music for Living Spaces<\/em> was to combine ambient style with songs that have also more of a story arch. This is still heavily inspired by Japanese environmental music and Erik Satie. I also felt very inspired by Beverly Glenn-Copeland this past year.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\"><strong>Finally: are there any ambient records that have impacted you or have had a healing effect on you, that you would like to recommend?<\/strong><br>\n\u201cBeverly Glenn-Copeland\u2019s <em>Keyboard Fantasies<\/em>, David Casper\u2019s <em>Hear and be Yonder<\/em>, David Hyke and the Harmonic Choir\u2019s <em>Hearing Solar Winds<\/em>, obviously Hiroshi Yoshimura\u2019s <em>Green<\/em> and <em>Music for Nine Postcards<\/em>, Midori Takada\u2019s <em>Through the Looking Glass<\/em>, INOYAMALAND\u2019s <em>DANZINDAN-POJIDON<\/em>, Anything Enya has done, anything Laraaji has done, and lastly my favourite: Haruomi Hosono! <em>Particularly Watering a Flower, Paradise View,<\/em> and <em>Pacific<\/em> even though I love all of his work. I also highly recommend listening to just nature sounds.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<h3 class=\"wp-block-heading\" id=\"slotwoord\"><strong>Epilogue<\/strong><\/h3>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"wp-block-paragraph translation-block\">As I\u2019m writing these closing words, it\u2019s mid-August. Daily life is slowly inching towards a state of relative normalcy. Normalcy meaning: less and less lockdown measures in place, less anxiety in public places, something of a perspective. Other than that, I can hardly remember normalcy - it's been so long. And I don\u2019t think I want to go back to whatever that was either. The last year and a half have been hell, but has also given me things, shown me new insights, very much aided by the aforementioned sounds. And even though I\u2019ve recently found myself longing for the melodious joy of country music, the immediacy of pop music more so than quiet contemplation and blissful nothingness of ambient, I am keen to take these new sounds with me going forward, and more. Gia Margaret\u2019s <em>Mia Gargaret<\/em>, J.T. Boogaard &amp; R.M. van der Meulen\u2019s <em>PLACE<\/em>, iu takahashi\u2019s <em>Depthscape<\/em>, Claire Rousay\u2019s <em>a softer focus<\/em>, Karima Walker\u2019s <em>Waking the Dreaming Body<\/em>, Pauline Anne Strom\u2019s Angel Tears in Sunlight, Sarah Davachi\u2019s Cantus, Descant - I can\u2019t end this messy but genuinely very cathartic exploration of my newfound love of ambient music without acknowledging all these new releases and their impact on me. Go listen to their music and support them; they might just do the same for you<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>A year and a half ago, as the world came to a sudden standstill and daily life turned into a slow and uneventful ordeal, Front editor Ruben van Dijk found himself looking for music that captured exactly that. Now, as life is slowly inching towards relative normalcy, he reflects on the sounds that helped him reconcile with all-encompassing nothingness and mind-numbing isolation by highlighting the artists responsible: Green-House, Ben Seretan and Elori Saxl.<\/p>","protected":false},"author":94092194,"featured_media":2358,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_coblocks_attr":"","_coblocks_dimensions":"","_coblocks_responsive_height":"","_coblocks_accordion_ie_support":"","_uag_custom_page_level_css":"","advanced_seo_description":"","jetpack_seo_html_title":"","jetpack_seo_noindex":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[20799],"tags":[20505,18353853,707354212,337553,11788],"class_list":["post-2361","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-feature","tag-ambient","tag-ben-seretan","tag-elori-saxl","tag-green-house","tag-interview"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg","uagb_featured_image_src":{"full":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",5070,3379,false],"thumbnail":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",150,100,false],"medium":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",300,200,false],"medium_large":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",768,512,false],"large":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",1024,682,false],"1536x1536":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",1536,1024,false],"2048x2048":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",2048,1365,false],"trp-custom-language-flag":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",18,12,false],"newspack-article-block-landscape-large":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",1200,800,false],"newspack-article-block-portrait-large":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",900,600,false],"newspack-article-block-square-large":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",1200,800,false],"newspack-article-block-landscape-medium":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",800,533,false],"newspack-article-block-portrait-medium":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",600,400,false],"newspack-article-block-square-medium":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",800,533,false],"newspack-article-block-landscape-intermediate":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",600,400,false],"newspack-article-block-portrait-intermediate":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",450,300,false],"newspack-article-block-square-intermediate":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",600,400,false],"newspack-article-block-landscape-small":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",400,267,false],"newspack-article-block-portrait-small":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",300,200,false],"newspack-article-block-square-small":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",400,267,false],"newspack-article-block-landscape-tiny":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",200,133,false],"newspack-article-block-portrait-tiny":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",150,100,false],"newspack-article-block-square-tiny":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",200,133,false],"newspack-article-block-uncropped":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",1200,800,false],"yaffo-small-square":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",90,60,false],"yaffo-grid":["https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/08\/illustratie-linde-helene-x-front.jpg",580,387,false],"yaffo-square":["https:\/\/fr-n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van Dijk","author_link":"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/en\/author\/dijkvanruben\/"},"uagb_comment_info":0,"uagb_excerpt":"Anderhalf jaar geleden, toen de wereld tot een plotse stilstand kwam en het dagelijks leven in een slome, onbewogen aangelegenheid veranderde, begon Front-redacteur Ruben van Dijk een zoektocht naar bijpassende muziek. Nu een relatief normaal steeds een beetje dichterbij komt, blikt hij terug op de klanken die hem het allesomvattende niets hielpen omarmen door de&hellip;","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pay7cI-C5","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2361","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/94092194"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2361"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2361\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3014,"href":"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2361\/revisions\/3014"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2358"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2361"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2361"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/fr-nt.nl\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2361"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}