#23: "Untitled #3 (Rhubarb)" - Aphex Twin

It was bound to happen - there are titles on my list of favorite songs that happen to be instrumentals. And now the daunting task of trying to figure out how to write about a song with no lyrics. A repetitive one at that but certainly a track that changed my life since it was easily the first ambient song I had ever heard. Not to mention the fact that it helped me sleep a little better and I would leave it on repeat in hopes that it would bring forth peaceful dreams. I am talking about “Untitled #3 (Rhubarb)” from Selected Ambient Works Volume II by Aphex Twin. 

Of course, there was plenty of ambient music before this record came out, most notably the work of Brian Eno which I also discovered shortly thereafter hearing this collection. An ex-girlfriend described a couple of tracks as being haunting, like “an ice cream truck in a horror movie.” Track #9 is a strong example of creepy vibes becoming unnerving that wouldn’t be out of place on an A24 soundtrack. The majority of the tracks here are soothing, meditative and transcendent in ways that do defy description. When I heard this record, I of course thought to myself, I have a keyboard and I could do this too. But of course, I never could replicate this sound entirely. I just know that it is an instant mood elevator to the highest degree. 

Richard D. James is an enigma. Some of his music and certainly one of his most memorable music videos actually gives me anxiety as opposed to taking it away. His techno tracks can be brash and abrasive. Which is why his second collection of ambient songs really stood out and connected to me. I’ve always been an anxious person, so hearing “Rhubarb” was akin to a pure injection of valium. But other work he’s done is intense. The Aphex Twin universe itself can be particularly daunting. This is partially because of the sheer volume of music James has released under his various pseudonyms; wading through the hours and hours of music can seem to be an insurmountable task. AT is like the GBV of electronica.

The second volume of Selected Ambient Works strays drastically from its predecessor where the emphasis was more on beats. The songs of SAW 85-92 stand on their own foundation: they each hold their own narrative arc and, to some degree, different thematic elements. There is still rhythm here but it’s not drum based. SAW II is a testament to the power of the album format. “Rhubarb” is also the album’s most popular track building from a warm hum to a soft implosion with masterful pacing most producers could only dream of achieving.

This rhythmically shapeless epic is based around a beautiful-sounding chord progression that is repeated throughout the entire song, without getting monotonous. It’s because James keeps adding layers every so often including a low droning bass that isn’t necessarily playing the root notes of the chords. I know it’s a funny way to describe the experience of listening to this song, but I think of cats purring and looking extremely at ease. Maybe that’s why I find it so soothing.

If I were to close my eyes and think of a warm place this song exists in, I could only imagine an atmosphere that’s completely devoid of distraction. Perhaps a forest or farm country or even an isolated cabin overlooking a lake or nearby stream. It complements every climate too: the smell of summer air, the cold quiet morning after plentiful snow has fallen overnight, crisp autumnal breezes as the leaves begin to change. There’s just something universally meditative about this song and yet it can also fit the world of what Brian Eno did for his “Music for Films (etc.)” series. It’s probably why I emotionally respond so strongly to both this track and “An Ending,” both of which have been used in films. 

In 1994, James described the album as “like standing in a power station on acid, if you just stand in the middle of a really massive one, you get a really weird presence and you’ve got that hum. You just feel electricity around you. That’s totally dreamlike for me. It’s just like a strange dimension.” Hard not to think of something like the very last episode from Season 3 of David Lynch’s Twin Peaks. The whir of electricity in the air that does have a pulse and a lingering vibration. 

Apparently, the majority if not all of the songs were written and performed on one particularly type of synth. A Yamaha CS-5 SN 10044 (pictured below). This model came out the year I was born so maybe the universe has dictated that I’d find some kind of connection to what comes out of here. Perhaps James was having trouble sleeping, experiencing restlessness and surreal dreamscapes. Out came a variety of sounds ranging from beautiful to haunting to bewildering. It's been used by Siouxsie and the Banshees, Depeche Mode, Richard Barbieri and the Sneaker Pimps.

James also makes each note melodic to where this is a song that’s easy to get stuck inside of and vice versa. There are chords of course but single notes that sound like ocean waves reverberating. There is a melody that comes in later on that I think is when the song fully takes shape to where if this did last longer than seven minutes, I’d never find it dull. Since every so often, something new comes into play that realigns your attention. 

“Rhubarb” does warrant the slightly overused adjective of “dreamlike.” I often can’t help but want to rename the song, “Silent Lucidity” even if Queensryche used that title already. It feels like the state of being half away and half asleep, a feeling of floating in limbo only to land on a cloud. Be forewarned though, this particular song isn’t a template, it’s more of an outlier on the record. The majority of the tracks are obtuse and experimental. There’s really only a couple of others that could be thought of as meditative, though James doesn’t necessarily neglect melodic undertones. 

"Rhubarb" astonishes me with how a simple, sorrowful repeated chord progression can just make me feel like floating. It does feel like the perfect ‘high’ you find if you get that dosage just precisely right without going over or under. It also manages to capture a sense of outer space and timelessness when I was first becoming obsessed with all kinds of music genres. 

As much as I loved traditional power pop and alternative rock, my brain felt ready for this song. I was every bit as into my keyboard/synth as I was into loud grunge guitars. When people are talking about the atmosphere of the time just before the turn of the century, the bubbling undercurrent will be this album. For me, it all goes back to the feeling I continue to feel with “Rhubarb,” one of the all-time perfect instrumentals that can still bring a tear to my eye and goosebumps all over.

This is the pure definition of light at the end of the tunnel - an ascension - a track I’d be happy to hear when I’m taking my last breath. I know my all-time favorite instrumental by Max Richter will be written about eventually but this one is right up there and I’m glad it came up at a time when there’s been more anxiety than usual (why does warmer weather cause that trepidation as opposed to make me look forward to summer?). 

I have always listened to this track in times of great sadness, in times of fear and chaos, in times of wanting comfort or a hug or a hand to hold, in times of just wanting someone to understand you and truly get you, in times where you wish someone could be one with you. This song is that hug, it is that hand I want to hold, it is that comforter, and it is a track that is one with you. No hyperbole, I’m happy with placing this in the top 20 all-time favorite pieces of music ever written for the sheer solace it continues to provide.