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Sometimes I wonder what goes on in the mind of a visionary genius like Richard David James, what kind of life he has lived, and how he manages to alternate, in his vast musical output, tracks endowed with infinite sweetness with others that are disturbing, obsessive, full of an inexpressible unease and vibrations that stem from isolation, restlessness, or the declared use of psychotropic substances (his involvement in the early '90s rave movement is well-known).
At other times, I have a doubt: that his undeniable (self-)ironic vein pushes him to mock the listener and to favor the prank, the parody. An attitude halfway between self-satisfaction and mockery, which in my opinion prevented him, on some occasions, from fully expressing his potential.
These and other thoughts crossed my mind while revisiting Come to Daddy, an EP released in 1997, a year after the previous Richard D. James Album.
Once again, the Limerick producer enjoys playing with his own face, distorting it, characterizing it with a devilish grin and staring straight into the eyes of whoever observes the cover. However, after the hellish puppets of Donkey Rhubarb, the face of Aphex Twin becomes embedded on children's bodies, aiming to outline a disturbing childhood tableau.
It is to those years that the mad Richard wants to return, a period for which he feels, needless to say, mixed emotions: from tenderness to paranoia, passing through nostalgia, sadness, turmoil.
Only this jumble of sensations can explain the presence of tracks with such varied registers, placed in a sequence that generates surprise and disorientation in those who listen.
Here comes the anguishing drill and bass of "Come to Daddy (Pappy Mix)" (indeed, I would say demonic: what kind of relationship did he have with his father?) preceding the touching piano of the splendid "Flim", characterized by slower bpm and leaning towards breakbeat.
The atmospheres become evocative in the subsequent mix of the title track, and it almost feels like seeing that "dirty little boy" who, solitary and somewhat absorbed, lets himself be "carried" by the canal current, among swimming swans and whistling birds (these are the phrases repeated by the voices that punctuate the delightful counter-tempo rhythms).
On the way, strange objects and characters are encountered: bouncing balls that become frenzied drum and bass drumming ("Bucephalus Bouncing Ball", apparently a humorous response to "Drane" by Autechre); lullabies sung by wiry children over nervous beats and complex synthesizer interplays (the remix of "To Cure a Weakling Child"); a mother amazed by her little one's equipment, ready to vent his schizophrenia, amidst assorted noises and beats crumpling on themselves (the "Mummy Mix" of "Come to Daddy", where Mrs. James exclaims: "You got so many machines, Richard"); and finally, hi-hats, ambient layers, and melancholic Fender Rhodes (the beautiful "IZ-US").
At the end of the playback, one risks being slightly dazed, both for the brevity of it all (a little over thirty minutes) and for the protagonist's evident mental instability. However, overcoming these hurdles, one will understand how Come to Daddy is an important work not only for the evolution of the sound branded Aphex Twin but also for electronic music at large.
Genres like drum and bass in its more intense variants and breakbeat (supported by creative sampling and a horrific aesthetic, like that of the famous video directed by Chris Cunningham) owe much to the EP by the enigmatic Irish musician, always ready to provoke and astonish his large fan base.
For this reason, my advice is to dive at least once into the unbalanced brain of Richard David James and try to be carried away by his delusions, his obsessions, his sudden changes of mood.
Perhaps just to shout at him, like the kid in the last track: "Stop making that big face!".
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