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Chill factor

Matthew S. Dillon2 Comments

Digital radio station SBS Chill offers a soothing balm for your ears, psyche and soul.

Sometimes when listening to digital radio station SBS Chill, you enter a fugue state of sonic bliss. It’s like taking an aural bath, as keyboards, beats and bass combine into a perfect mellow synthesis.

There is no past during such an experience, no anxiety-producing future. Only the mellifluously relaxing present exists. It’s akin to a brief mental excursion to a bucolic idyll, a foot rub for the harried mind. A day spa for one’s ears.

As the name suggests, SBS Chill, available in Australia on digital radio, online and on digital TV, is designed to relax its listeners.

“Chill out with an eclectic mix of downtempo, electronic, ambient and low-fi tunes from around the world,” says the channel’s promo blurb. “Music for working, studying and relaxing.”

It is, of course, background music. And that’s perhaps a point worth making. Were you to attend a live concert of regularly played SBS Chill artists, it might be advisable to bring along something to read or to doodle on, or your work laptop. It’s possible to do other things while SBS Chill hums and soothes.

As a DJ-less station, mellow music emanates from SBS continuously, 24/7. Each day is divided into different blocks. Because I have started writing this piece early in the day, it’s time for Morning Chill, which will segue into Afternoon Chill, followed by Unwind Chill and Wind Down Chill, which slides seamlessly into Night Chill, Overnight Chill, Gentle Rise, Mindfulness Chill and Breakfast Chill, wherein the virtuous circle continues.

Apart from perhaps a slightly more propulsive feel to Morning Chill, I haven’t detected much difference in the music played in the other time blocks that I’ve heard. Mind you, I haven’t yet tried to immerse myself in a continuous 24-hour loop.

Now playing is “Focus” by Thomas Lerner, which sounds like the poignant accompaniment to a montage sequence of a science fiction film set in the near future. It shifts nicely into “Sakura” by Living Room – low-fi beats over layers of synth strings.

Add “Kindred Spirit” by Sizzlebird and “Un jour comme un au tre” by Degiheugi, which has some muted brass folded in, to the morning list.

Earlier in the session we were privy to “Sweet Tides” by Thievery Corporation, “It’s Good to Hear Your Voice” by dj poolboi (note the lowercase, with unconventional treatment of capitalisation something of a convention among low-fi ensembles), and “Frozen” (Extended Mix) by Nivlem. I’ve already forgotten what these tunes sounded like. They have all melded into one continuous, amorphous sonic soup.

At some point in my SBS Chill listening, I began to look up artists and songs. You can listen and not notice an hour or two has passed, but occasionally a tune will stick out.

Now, where were we … while my mood has been sonically moderated and the coffee percolating, a bunch of tunes have filled the space. “The State We’re In” by the Chemical Brothers is one of those. Another four recent tracks have been by artists or bands with one-words names: Empea, Duga, Sayana and Yasuma. It fits the vibe.

My research leads me to believe that the Golden Age of downtempo tunes was the late 1990s/early 2000s, with seminal tracks produced mainly by European DJs and producers such as Air, St Germain, Nightmares on Wax (a somewhat incongruous sobriquet for a remarkably mellow artist), the aforementioned Thievery Corporation, DJ Max, Bonobo, Lemonjelly and Tycho, whose tunes are all different from one another, but all sound like the soundtrack from a surfing documentary.

These are your legendary chill artists – those purveyors of tunes so soft and soothing they surely create a mental state of relaxation inspiring either astonishing productivity, or, conversely, one that requires no other sustenance apart from continuous mellow music.

I have purchased several albums from artists discovered on SBS Chill. Those mentioned here, including all four from St Germain, which despite the name suggesting a collective is in fact a solo artist, a reclusive French DJ and producer who seems to have gone into semi-retirement.

“Happy Hour at the Gene Pool” by Evolve is described by one listener as “a delightful blend of lounge pop, subtle beats, found sound, and mellow jazz influences” and another as “a mingling mélange of smooth grooves and chilled tracks from beginning to end.” It’s a good one to play in the car.

In fact, you encounter a lot of found sounds on SBS Chill – snatches of dialogue from old and obscure films, news reels, documentaries and interviews.

Sometimes too, you might hear a local artist, which is how I discovered self-styled Melbourne musicians Surprise Chef, Sinj Clarke and Mildlife.

One should not confuse or miscategorise the music featured on SBS Chill with muzak or the “middle of the road” or “adult contemporary” categories.  Although some tunes harken back to an earlier calmer time, the music on SBS is not so easily filed. It crosses aural boundaries. Most might accurately be described as electronic soundscapes, but other tunes are more traditional analogue fare. I recently heard “Summer Nights” by Lonnie Liston Smith & the Cosmic Echoes, from 1975.

Perhaps there is only a limited audience for the kind of low-fi downbeat ambient music broadcast by SBS Chill. A few years ago, private station Buddha explored similar sonic territory, but eventually ceased operation. Though the blocks of advertising it inserted were obviously necessary for the running of the station, they messed with the music flow. There’s nothing chill about the hard call to action of an advertisement.

“Playlist” is a nicer and more accurate word than “algorithm” for what we hear on SBS Chill, since I believe the list is curated by human expertise rather than bought into existence by AI. And it evolves.

For instance, I can’t recall the last time I heard “Sweet Fantastic” by troubled erstwhile Stone Roses frontman Ian Brown. And Hungarian musician Yonderboi’s instrumental version of the Doors’ “Riders on the Storm” could come around a bit more often, if I’m honest.

Mind you, it’s my own fault, I’m not completely loyal to SBS Chill. I listen to other radio stations and to albums too. Silence is also pleasing, on occasions (And truth be told, you might go a little loco listening exclusively to chill music. Sometimes I need listening material that has some soul or bite, some grit, groove and narrative rather than simply a mellow mood.)

There are few regular events on the station’s calendar. On Friday evening there’s a slot for soundtracks. And annually on New Year’s Day SBS Chill hosts the Chillest 100. That particular day makes a kind of sense, since downtempo, low-fi and trip-hop have an association as “recovery” music. They are tunes to have trilling away while you replenish energy expended at a club, bar or dance party the night before.

And yet the very idea of competition among chill tunes seems a little distasteful, in the manner of competitive yoga or rock climbing.

Does it matter which tune was the most popular among listeners last year? Not really, and the 100 tunes or 100 others could have been played in any order and still been credible.

Many of the usual suspects featured in last year’s list: Moby, Massive Attack, Morcheeba, Rufus Du Sol, Groove Armada and Portishead were all there. Alongside these are plenty of artists whose names I don’t recognise, and only a few whose monikers accurately reflect the soft and plaintive soundscapes most of these groups produce, enshrouding listeners in a pleasant sonic cocoon.

“Slip into something more Comfortable” by Kinobe and “Soothed by Summer” by Liminal Drifter are a couple that do, and two that receive a regular airing on SBS Chill.

The winner of the coveted No.1 slot in the 2024 lists was – soft percussion drumroll please (bongo perhaps) – “La Femme d’argent” by groundbreaking French duo Air, who toured Australia recently, (and are not to be confused with Airstream, who came in at #36 with “Indigo” (Daydream mix).

At the conclusion of the SBS Chill 100, regular programming continued. I had it on in the background.

Enquiring minds

Matthew S. DillonLeave a comment

What makes a good question? The answer depends very much on context and objectives.

At sustainability-related events over the past two decades or so, one thing could be predicted with a rather high degree of probability. If he were present, consultant Jeff Robinson would almost certainly pose the first enquiry of a presenter following a talk.

This was might you might call a welcome inevitability. It’s so often the case that even the most engaging and informative of speakers face a silent void when questions are called for following a talk. Yet with Jeff in the house, you knew there would be at least one intelligent, robust enquiry, and often this would prompt further comments and queries from those present. The conversation would continue, which means the original presentation would resonate more.

“Judge a man by his questions,” says Voltaire, “rather than by his answers.”

In Jeff’s case the questions were often issued in two parts. The first component took the form of a statement, with some context-setting exposition. The second part was usually more probing. Together, the double-pronged enquiry demonstrated an understanding of the issue at hand, and an appetite for further exploration. It was also an opening up: an invitation to converse.

The questions were prepared in advance, and carefully thought about, which obviously required some research and preparation.

Jeff tragically passed away earlier this year, but incredibly (although perhaps not surprisingly), one of his questions was posed posthumously some weeks later at a MECLA* event he had been helping to organise before his demise. Jeff, of course, had prepared the question well in advance.

Just what constitutes a good question was something to which Jeff dedicated no small amount of consideration, even discussing it at length with Aurecon colleague Jamali Kigotho.

“I don’t think there is a definitive answer,” says Jamali when asked what makes a decent enquiry. “Jeff and I were similar in the fact we both love questions without a certain answer, but for slightly different reasons.

“My main reason for liking these sorts of questions is that it allows me to let my curiosity and creativity free to see what I can come up with. I think for Jeff those sorts of questions meant an opportunity to collaborate to try and find the answer.”

For a journalist – a professional inquisitor, in other words – a good question is one that elicits an interesting response. It’s about the answer more than the process.

Working as a sportswriter long ago, I learned on the job that one can prepare thoroughly for events such as press conference or interviews, but that sometimes it’s a bad, lazy or spontaneous question that draws the best response.

I can recall simply asking a coach for his thoughts after his team lost a hard-fought contest, only to be met with anger and contempt.

“I have many thoughts,” he grumbled. “Be specific.”

And there was the gift: I had been granted a glimpse behind the curtain of this carefully constructed professional façade.

One of the most important lessons a journalist will absorb is to learn to listen, and to do so without interrupting.

“You have two ears and one mouth,” according to the old maxim, “and they should be used in that order.”

“When people talk, listen completely,” advised writer Ernest Hemingway. “Most people never listen.”

I made some critical mistakes as a nascent professional, such as interrupting just when someone was about to say something interesting, not asking pertinent follow-up questions, or perhaps not recognising when a conversation had either veered off track or ventured down a path worth exploring. These mistakes nearly all relate to not listening.

Sometimes the best way of drawing an answer is not to pose a question, but to pause. To know when to remain silent, and create space for a response to emerge.

It’s something practised by UK journalist Kirsty Young, perhaps best known for the often intensely personal Desert Island Discs BBC radio program, which delves deeply into its subjects’ lives.

“Sometimes there is that moment,” she says of remaining silent during an interview. “I hope it’s not a glib trick, but I use it when I think there’s more. If I must sit, maybe you’ll go there. Sometimes people don’t; they just look right back at you.”

There is always the chance that an enquiry will elicit an unsatisfactory response, a bumbling answer, or silence. That’s the danger. Yet there exists, too, the tantalising possibility that something else results: a startling revelation, a hitherto unimagined pathway, or the simple pleasure of a considered conversation.

It all starts with a question.

*MECLA is the Materials and Embodied Carbon Leaders Alliance