In Walter Benjamin’s seminal essay “Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction”, he posits that the aura of art objects is destroyed by the ability to photographically reproduce them. When you had to make a pilgrimage to a work it remained elusive, charged, ever distant; but when you can easily see a reproduction, such aura dissipates. What Benjamin did not anticipate is that in the age of AI and the frictionless fount of digital content, we have imbued mechanical and analog means of media production with aura. Film cameras from the last 100 years are in high demand (the point and shoot Olympus Mju I featured in Wim Wenders film Perfect Days still sells for $200), vinyl sales continue to grow year by year, 35mm and 70mm film screenings have become aura-drenched events people travel across country for, and as to the world of vintage and analog synthesizers, when a friend asked for the price on the Yamaha CS-80 synth used on Toto’s “Africa”, the answer was a cool $60,000.

Despite the ability to simulate almost any synthesizer on a computer, the original physical units retain their mystique. Perhaps this lies in the physical process, many of these synths are temperamental and difficult to fully utilize, and the effort and ingenuity can be felt in ways that will always be absent from easy digital simulacra. Perhaps there is an aura in their imperfection, as Brian Eno wrote: “Whatever you now find weird, ugly, uncomfortable and nasty about a new medium will surely become its signature. CD distortion, the jitteriness of digital video, the crap sound of 8-bit - all of these will be cherished and emulated as soon as they can be avoided.” Some may call this nostalgia, but such sonic imperfections are the sounds of humans interacting with the physical world, and it is understandable to feel a pang of emotion and attachment in a time of exponential alienation.

Marche 22 was recorded over a week at the Museo Del Synth Marchigiano in Macerata, Italy. The museum is filled with rare and obscure synths (especially CRB, GEM & Elka) as well as salvaged materials from a nearby shuttered Farfisa organ factory, including MARS, an unfinished realtime audio processing application developed by IRIS - similar to the now well known MAX/MSP. Kyle Dixon and Michael Stein play a suite of pieces that encompasses the last sixty years of synthesizer music—there are nods to Cluster, Tangerine Dream, Jean Michel Jarre, and Morton Subotnick. Dixon and Stein are like jazz masters playing the American songbook with their own riffs and quotations. What shines through in these varied works that are sometimes rhythmic, sometimes melancholic, and sometimes both, is a soul, a spirit, an emotion vibrating through the tones like the charge of coming rain or the thrum of a distant train on the tracks. - Neil Fauerso