plantitas

Everyone’s got their quirks when it comes to being a plant parent. I like to throw in miniature plastic toys right on top of my plants’ soil to for scenic pleasure. My beloved fly trap was at once transformed into a towering green stalk among a squabble of equally carnivorous prehistoric creatures, while my fern became home to a toilet with a threatening aura (a mini plastic one of course). Others might have a leaf massaging ritual or maybe feed their plants coffee grounds among other quirks that vary in practicality. Whether or not these acts hold any measurable value for you or your plant, they carry the most value in a deeply personal sense. The same can be said for music, whose performativity grants it the power to “contribute heavily (if surreptitiously) to the shaping of individual identities […]. [It] teaches us how to explore our own emotions, our own desires, and even (especially in dance) our own bodies” (McClary, 53).  

The early to mid-70’s were a big era if you were a plant. The Secret Life of Plants was published in 1973 and in just a year it became one of the New York Times bestsellers. This book by Peter Tompkins and Christopher Bird is a scientific exploration of the sentient capabilities of plants. It’s famously known for originating the claim that all plants are music critics whose growth capabilities increased if you played the right kind of tunes. Even though The Secret Life of Plants has since been regarded as pseudoscience for hippies, plant loving was on the public consciousness as indoor woodgrain hellscapes were now populated by splashes of green.

Among other musicians, Mort Garson was inspired by the botanical boom and as a result the public was quietly gifted with his 1976 cult classic, Mother Earth’s Plantasia. Plantasia is an ambient electronic album that contains ten songs that were specially composed and then played on a Moog just for plants. The album’s subtitle says it all: “warm earth music for plants… and the people who love them”. It even came with a booklet containing poetic descriptions of each song as well as a plant remedy chart. Much like the plants I neglected at college after being under my dad’s care back home, the album was a flop upon release. This of course was due to Mort marketing his work exactly like an artist would. This album was bundled for consumers in two ways: either you got it with any houseplant of your choosing at the Mother Earth plant shop in Los Angeles, or you got it with your Simmons mattress at a Sears outlet.

In the decades following its release, the album grew to become a favorite in niche circles found on Discogs and YouTube. People are drawn by its kitsch in the way it was intended for plants, but upon listening to it they are drifted into a 30-minute trip to a sonic atmosphere that carries a bit of grandeur while also blanketing its audience in a welcoming caress of warmth. It creates a sense of nostalgia for the days I wasn’t alive for. The days where the world was enthralled with wanting to be more in tune with our fellow organisms on this dirt ball of an Earth.

The album’s introductory track “Plantasia” creates a musical conversation between its electronic renditions of harp and brass, and the theremin-esque whistle that plays throughout. I interpret this as a unification between the familiar human language of musical symphony and the unfamiliar plant language represented by the theremin. This track creates a universally-understood conversation of care by uniting plants and humans through music that they can both comprehend (if they believe).