Beijing’s Pauline Mu and Jonathan Zeitlin of Alpine Decline; press photo courtesy of the artists.

Extoling a self-prescribed/defined methodology of "bunker-to-summit" praxis of creativity during lockdown and arguably a motif and mantra of the group themselves — the Beijing duo of Alpine Decline’s Pauline Mu and Jonathan Zeitlin share a saucerful of curiosities to coincide with the release of their experiential album of enlightened proportions titled For the Betterment of Well People. With a generous assist from Matthew “Linny” Linesch along with a creative ensemble; Alpine Decline create a grand cycle of mind expanding electric anthems to bring perceptions of universes to be enjoyed within the confines of our collective, locked down be-in.

The record rocks with the art damaged tune-in/turn-on/drop ethos of the MC5 by way of "Sister Ray" strutting, spitting cool; "I Got Up (Just Like John Sinclair Told Us To)", before Alpine Decline leads you into the multi-dimensional portal "Through Waterfalls", that arrives with the high dramatic fist clenched ballad of purpose and poise, "No Turning Around". The eight miles high aerospace trajectory of "Flight Instructions" takes off like a perfect 60s psych facsimile, the enchanted head expansion abandon into the abyss on "Losing Control", lifting off into the ecstatic heights of the "Get Out of My Way" astral plane, before journeying deep into the recesses of the mind's catacombs on "Inside My Head". Battling and battering open the gates of dawn on "Cowards" — Alpine Decline showcases diamond studded cacophony facets of "Life in Prism", jangling with the celestial light of "Gem" that coasts into the pristine pop about panaceas with "The Remedy", before “Too Long Away” closes the album’s red velvet curtain with the departing gestures of fuzzy nostalgia and fried memories.

Alpine Decline's Jonathan Zeitlin and Pauline Mu; press photo courtesy of the artists.

And now without further ado we present:

Alpine Decline’s Week in Pop

From left; Alpine Decline’s Jonathan Zeitlin and Pauline Mu; press photo courtesy of the artists.

The High Mountains and the High Desert

In late spring when the snow began to clear in the high Sierra Nevada we adjusted our lives vertically and started spending all our time up in the Range of Light. We ran to the Cottonwood Lakes and up to New Army Pass, summited Whitney, took our son over Kearsarge Pass, scrambled to and dozed off beside obscure glacial lakes.

In late fall when the higher places grew further out of reach we adjusted again and started spending all our time in Joshua Tree. We crawled over 38 miles of the California Riding & Hiking Trail, clambered up boulders crusted with crystals, gazed gaping at the Milky Way in canyonland campsites.

The simplicity of nature, the simplicity of the tasks demanded in nature, the impermanence of life against the permanence of rock and sand and the firmament — it sets our minds to an appropriate sense of time and scale.

Pauline Mu enraptured in rhythm & light; press photo courtesy of Alpine Decline.

The Copendium by Julian Cope

Who better than The Drude himself to not only curate the songs in our bubble but also ramble on about them in his own psilo-silly prose? So many good album reviews in these pages — we treated it like a book of spells that we could pull off the shelf when we needed to hear something new and magical.

We would literally pick an album at random — through-the-mirror 60’s slabs, bong bleary blasters, fried jazz — and read St. Julian’s review. His writing always crackles and pops, but waaaay more impressive is his ability to identify in each record exactly what element ties the music to the pagan cosmic wellspring of inspired vision. So if the album doesn’t have a thread to the infinite, you can be sure it isn’t included in this book.

Pauline Mu on the ones & twos; press photo courtesy of Alpine Decline.

The Waldorf Blofeld

When COVID first came down and separated us from our band, I found my musical energy split between writing relatively traditional stuff at our piano and patching infinite shifting stratospheres on our modular synths. The two spaces felt too separate — it felt almost schizophrenic — so we bought the Waldorf as a polyphonic synth (with an actual keyboard!) that could bring these worlds together.

Keyboard accompaniment; press photo courtesy of Alpine Decline.

As COVID stretched on and time grew fuzzier, we imagined up a new band we started calling Today’s Kids and writing and recording songs for them — entirely on the Waldorf — for an imaginary album called Where’s Waldorf? I guess it’s real now, since the recordings exist on our hard drive, but to what end I’m still not sure. We are pretty patient about our music.

Synth worlds; press photo courtesy of Alpine Decline.

Guitar Army: Street Writings / Prison Writings by John Sinclair

john sinclair guitar army week in pop.jpg

We first read this book while writing our new album For the Betterment of Well People and even name-checked it in the memoir-ish opening track “I Got Up (Just Like John Sinclair Told Us To)”. There’s just endless inspiration here — from the blown-out battle cries of his street writing to his laser-tight prison writing after having been given a 10 year stint for a single (planted) joint.

Progressions of percussion; press photo courtesy of Alpine Decline.

The 1st time around I connected most with the brazenness of his visions and his absolute conviction we would be an unstoppable force if we could just come together and fully commit to the most radical future we can imagine. But when COVID hit and our world snapped shut, I came back to this book with a different sensitivity to how he was shut off from his community when imprisoned. Even his street writings took on a shadow of alienation — a person trying to will a community into reality by naming it and defining its values, but seeing it never quite manifest as grandly as he needed it to.

Jonathan Zeitlin in session; press photo courtesy of Alpine Decline.

Bob Ross, “The Joy of Painting”

When I was a kid I watched Bob Ross on PBS with my dad. I guess most people have a general idea of Bob Ross primarily based on his hair and his mellow hippie ad libs about happy trees, but when I was a little kid it was 100% about the optical illusion magic when my eyes would suddenly flip and start to reinterpret his brush strokes as the objects they represented. When dabs of blue and white marbled paint became in an instant, inarguably, snow in shadows on a mountain ridge. When an inelegant slash of Vandyke Brown and Midnight Black on his beautiful grassy hillside somehow shifts and becomes, indisputably, an old plank cabin.

In an ensemblée with Alpine Decline; press photo appears courtesy of the artists.

We don’t ever seem to have enough time for movies or to get into a series, but through the pandemic we’ve made a semi-regular habit of watching Bob Ross Paints with our son, who is now seven years old. It’s on Amazon free with commercials. There are 31 seasons. Enjoy!

Alpine Decline's For the Betterment of Well People is available now via Maybe Mars / Taihe Music Group.

Beyond the gaze of reflections with Jonathan Zeitlin and Pauline Mu; press photo courtesy of Alpine Decline.

Ascending the inclines & steep slopes with Alpine Decline