A Closer Listen
A few years ago, Dominik Eulberg released the magnificent Mannigfaltig, a celebration of fauna available with a boxed memory game. This year the artist ups the ante significantly. Lepidoptera began with the study and breeding of butterflies, and the choice of twelve subjects to represent the 3700 known species in Germany. Then the LP and CD, with divine liner notes, soon to be joined by videos and interactive games. Finally, the project will go on tour, but not a traditional tour; instead; Eulberg hopes to join artists and scientists on an educational tour, melding music, science and art, an original and laudable concept.
Sadness and wonder mingle as the album begins. The first subject, the small emperor moth, is born without a mouth and lives only on the reserves earlier stored as a caterpillar. It emerges, flies, mates and dies in only a few days. The early percussion sounds like the munching of a caterpillar gathering its stores, the late percussion like a ticking clock.
“Grosser Schillerfalter” (an early single) is cheerful and upbeat, reflecting the iridescence of the male purple emperor butterfly. The mood shifts in “Brauner Bär”, whose dark synth patterns and mysterious atmosphere honor a butterfly that flies only after midnight. Brighter notes surface in the sixth minute, but only temporarily.
The large emerald is a master of camouflage both as caterpillar (when it resembles a twig) and as moth (when it resembles a leaf). In “Grünes Blatt,”the synth patterns blend and mesh like green on green. One can hear the danger in the low march of the drums, and the relief of being passed over in the slowly-rising scales. The swallowtail tricks pursuers into eating its detachable parts while it flies away. “Schwalbenschwanz” seems playful, as if the butterfly is laughing at its pursuers. The breakdown at the four-minute mark is like the moment it breaks free, having shed part of its body, its spirit intact.
In contrast to the emperor moth, the morning cloak butterfly can live up to a year. “Trauermantel” starts slowly and takes its time, an uncommon respite, as if the creature is the turtle of butterflies; but eventually, and literally, creature and the track get their wings. If “Wundklee-Bläuling” seems like one of the warmer tracks, it’s because the piece honors the surprising relationship between the turquoise blue butterfly in its caterpillar stage and certain colonies of ants. If ants and caterpillars can get along, why can’t we? The ambient touches at the beginning and end connote interspecies peace. With Halloween approaching, it’s no surprise that the death’s head moth is included; yet “Totenkopfschwärmer” is not a scary track, quite the opposite. The catchy rhythms and subtle breakdowns suggest the long flight the moth makes, often traversing the Alps.
Lepidoptera is an album of stories turned into song. The final piece, which honors the peacock butterfly, sounds like a music box, connecting it with the wonder of childhood. Through Eulberg’s writings, we learn of butterflies who emit hisses and whistles, caterpillars who retract their eyes, species who can smell potential mates from kilometers away. We gain an appreciation for this remarkable family of creatures, formerly known only for their transformation; as a result, our lives are enriched as well. (Richard Allen)
Tue Nov 04 00:01:24 GMT 2025