I can now be found on http://tendenzroman.tumblr.com/ as the free WP blogs have very low customisability and a few people moaned that the black of this site was hurting their eyes. I think the new home looks a bit better
Every sound in the beginning of Sam Sparro’s Black & Gold – pulsing and then distorted bass, swirling wind, reverberating, ticking piston drum, pops, swelling synth, the muted screeches of machines – Every sound represents a negativity, an absence, a space. Every part is introduced individually as it reaches its crescendo, so much that it seems that the silence which precedes and follows the act of actually listening to the song is as much an integral part of it as its contents.
’cause if you’re not really here
then the stars don’t even matter
now i’m filled to the top with fear
that it’s all just a bunch of matter
If this appears on first glance to be another iteration of the old ‘Without You I’m Nothing’ love song then its opposite is also true: ‘Without you I’m afraid there is nothing’, these two views represented here by the first two and last two lines of the chorus respectively. First, the universe is rendered a vacuum by unrequited love, followed by straight existential angst divorced from that love.
The addressee acts as a distraction from the vacuum, the issue by which the validity of existence is adjudged by the contingency of whether or not the addressee returns love. But the song is generally dominated by fear of the void, such that love seems more like a desperate grasp at temporary distraction against a universe which is always already uninterested in the individual’s wellbeing, rather than having the authority to decide whether to break the existential deadlock or leave an individual to face it.
i looked up into the night sky
and see a thousand eyes staring back
and all around these golden beacons
i see nothing but black
Here the universe is acting as the void which the Psychoanalyst would fill, opening up spaces in the patient’s psyche so that they fill this space with meaning, drawing out the unconscious. Presence (of stars) brings no more comfort to Sparro than does absence: pins of light, objects gaze back at him and reinforce isolation amongst the black absence of space. If dialectics is always tending towards incorporating the totality of existence, then this for Sparro is a totality of nothingness. Zizek: By one view physicists measure that the presence of matter amongst space is so sparse that the entire universe’s electrical charge is neutral. It is nothing as against out apparent observation that there are at least some things.
i feel a weight of something beyond them
i don’t see what i can feel
if vision is the only validation
then most of my life isn’t real
Love and nothingness are the same thing, have the same characteristic of resistance to empirical observation. This is a song obsessed by that which cannot be seen, either literally by the eyes or figuratively as the unrecordable visions of the psyche. Enlightenment science offers no answers to these questions:
If the fish swam out of the ocean
and grew legs and they started walking
and the apes climbed down from the trees
and grew tall and they started talking
and the stars fell out of the sky
and my tears rolled into the ocean
now i’m looking for a reason why
you even set my world into motion
These are the two first two verses offered as a given to later be dismissed: These might be facts, but they offer explanations of aspects of reality which lie out of the realm of the psyche which dominates humanity, they are trivia.
Black and Gold as colours within the song deliver perfectly fitting symbols of this dialectical negativity which always meets its end point in nothingness: Black as absence, Gold as the height of presence, the most valuable of presences, the colour of luxury, decadent materiality. But gold’s value is purely that of exchange value rather than use value, it is a fantasy constitutive of economic reality. If everyone ceased to fantasise reality into gold, it becomes another metal with very little use except, in practice, in minute quantities as part of electrical components. Behind the fantasy, Gold is Black.
Where the song does reach its crescendo and indulges in a short, bright melody and some singerly masturbation on Sparro’s part, it is bookended by the same sonic negativity at the end as at the beginning, outlined above. In this structure, presence is transitory where absence is eternal, the beginning and the end.
What’s really heartening about the song is that it tackles the same themes as Dub: millenial dread, existential angst, the triviality of actuality, without being a straight copy either in its discourse or its sound.
Skip to 5:20, Dubmood – Introchip #14
In my email conversation with Simon Reynolds posted here I mentioned 8-bit and he said it was just another nostalgic genre amongst others, (them all?) but I think there’s more to it than that.
Another thing that cropped up in our conversation was my argument that nothing is created ex nihilo, that the ‘anxiety of influence’ was a concern running as far back as the Romantic poets and further and that while music has become more backward-looking, a sea of backwash with the odd tentative wave forward every now and then, I’d argue that this is a matter of degrees rather than absolutes.
What makes 8 Bit more than the sum of its parts or just another retromaniac genre? The change in context from a utilitarian purpose (background/atmosphere for games) to the forefront as ‘art’ or music-in-itself changes its aspect significantly so that possibilities open up within the genre, whether have been exploited so far is another matter and up for debate. But this fits perfectly with the methodology of Ambient, of ‘found sounds’, without aping its specific sounds or just calling back to Ambient of the past.
This shift from utility to art also mirrors the methodology of bringing art from elsewhere into pop music as so much of the Modernist Pop period did: The Fall and modernist poetry, Human League and Science Fiction, Art of Noise and mordernist composition. In the first two instances a form of art is harvested in another mode and transformed into something new by its interplay. With the Art of Noise pop culture is brought to High and this too is a transformative move. To make something absolutely clear: by saying this I don’t mean to drag previous innovative pop music down to my own time’s retromaniac level. These were legitimately innovative processes but to not state these facts is to delve into the area of mystification.
Similar to these three examples, the movement from utility to art represents the same sort of transformation. Now it might be said that these songs aren’t actually much different from the ones that are actually used on old games, or that these old games in the first instance were only alluding to ‘real’ music but lacked the technology to make it. But the context in which it is listened to is, if not everything, very important. There’s a reversion from its original use, this technologically restricted allusion to orchestral music now becomes a return to that restriction when the ability to just tack on the orchestral music games always aspired to is available. Halo does this and it’s boring.
An idea that I really don’t have the expertise of games to fully develop: If the gaming world had realised that its musical/graphical restrictions were what gave it a charge of the new it would have developed in a much more interesting way than the current movement towards becoming mere interactive films. When cinema first appeared, in its silent era it was in a period of similar potentiality to games in the 1980’s that required years of theorising before cinema could properly release itself from the shackles of literature and become a medium in its own right with its own character. Developing in the postmodern anti-theory period of the ’80’s, this thinking about what made games new and gaming in general has fallen into the trap of Film-indebtedness.
It would be impossible, not to mention retromaniacal, to argue that everyone got their Ataris out and threw out their PS3s and 360s because the ’80’s represented a ‘golden age’ of gaming. I’d argue, though, that a move towards 8-Bit music is another iteration of ‘nostalgia for the future’ whereby dissatisfaction with the path that gaming took leads to a return to its infant stage so that a different path might be followed. Indie gaming, by virtue of its lower budgets, is now working alongside mainstream ‘Triple A’ gaming at less technologically advanced levels, (re. Marx’s ‘Uneven development of history’) carving out artistic space in areas of previous technology that had been overlooked. In association with the Chiptune movement, this represents a legitimate and popular resistance to Film-indebted Gaming.
As music, though, Chiptune represents a certain asceticism as against the omnivorous character of the retro time bandits who pilfer in time where I would argue Modernist Pop raided space, be that the virtual space of other art forms or the literal space in World music. Under an incredibly restrictive generic methodology (A range of 9 phone tones on 3 tracks), producers are able to make music which stands on its own two feet where 8 Bit music of its time suffered an inferiority complex as ‘the best we can do at the time’.
While it’s true that on purely technological terms 8 Bit is most definitely retro, can innovation be reduced to nothing more than its position in technology? As an example, does the technology of time stretching which enabled the move from Hardcore to Jungle immediately invalidate all use of a high-pitched vocal as retro? Far from making the point of that technique as a timeless pleasure-giver to be conservatively preserved, a purely technological view of the forward movement of music misses something Technology over the course of pop music’s history has enabled ideas that had long since been imagined to be properly implemented, as expressed by members of Visage in the brilliant (and brilliantly named) BBC6 Synth documentary The Great Bleep Forward.
If technology is the means by which producers implement ideas, its reverse is the view of music whereby technologically retro music is also artistically retro, which seems to be a case of the tail wagging the dog. If new sounds, combinations, ideas can be found in redundant technology, is this retro? This reliance on new technologies seems to now be failing us: electronic music techniques are boundless, music can now be produced entirely on an Ipad with zero investment, and over the course of a few decades their mode of storage rapidly got smaller and smaller, and eventually completely immaterial (and in practice free). Where exactly can technology go now?
It might be said that this argument is a submission to the view that nothing more can be done in music, but in separating technology and art we might come to a view wherein we are not so reliant on technology to hand us musical innovations, to judge music on its own terms. If this is a submission, it’s a compartmentalised one that demands different value judgements from previous journalism and offers a materialistic argument beyond the fogeyist ‘These kids today just aren’t as creative as they once were’.
Can’t for the life of me get links to work on here so I’ve just been copy-pasting them for the moment. Will have a tinker with them, I’m sure it’s me being an idiot.
Lest someone was thinking about giving me a job based on my stellar previous posts and thought better of it having seen the massive gap since my last post, I can assure you that that can be half-attributed to me not having an internet connection for a long while. I used the time to read a bit, though not as much as I’d like, and I’m sure I’m not the first ‘writer’ to present this conundrum: The more you read, the less you write, and vice versa.
Building the motivation up to actually start writing again is difficult. Partly because writing for me is a painful process, like lancing a boil: incredibly painful at the time, followed by a short period of serenity, and the boil begins to grow again after a day or two.
With that in mind, I present a list of posts that have been festering recently that will hopefully materialise soon:
-A Two-Part History/Ideological study of Professional Wrestling over the 80s and 90s forhttp://facesonposters.blogspot.com/ and http://upclosemaspersonal.blogspot.com/
-On Retromania: Influence, Nostalgia, Retro – would be greatly improved if I had any money to actually buy the book. Donations accepted.
-Henry Rollins as an improvement on Nick Cave
-Sam Sparro’s Black and Gold as Dub
-Pixar/Dreamworks CGI and the Erosion of Radical Form/Content: A Bug’s Life, Antz, Bee Movie, Hop
‘Man has, as it were, become a kind of prosthetic God. When he puts on all his auxiliary organs he is truly magnificent; but those organs have not grown on to him and they still give him much trouble at times. … Future ages will bring with them new and possibly unimaginably great advances in this field of civilization and will increase man’s likeness to God still more. But in the interests of our present investigation, we will not forget that present-day man does not feel happy in his God-like character’
-Freud, Civilisation and its Discontents.
This is something I suppose I’ve been wanting to write for quite a long time now, but for various reasons haven’t gotten round to until now. I realise it’s not the most timely topic for analysis.
“http://theimpostume.blogspot.com/2010/07/inception- itakes-long-time-get-going-and.html, Carl the Impostume put forward this argument a couple of years ago on Inception, in which the film can be reduced to its essential component, identified as basically a chocolate-box love story between Dicaprio and Cotillard. And while it’s broadly convincing there is one scene that undercuts it.
About halfway through the film, after traversing Cobb’s subconscious and learning of the film’s conception of ‘limbo’, she comes to understand that Cobb has been there, and this is what is dredging up symbolic traces in the form of a speeding train which invade the territory of Robert Fischer’s subconscious space as the team work in it.
When stuck in limbo for around 50 years, Cobb is always aware of the un-reality of his situation, longs to get back to waking life, (I hesitate to call this ‘reality’) whereas Mol (Cotillard) locks away the totem which indicates the ontological status of the space she is currently in, in a literalisation of repression. As a result of this repression, carried out as a short-term coping strategy while she inhabits limbo-space, she loses her bearings as to which side is authentic, and becomes convinced once awake that that space is the dream, limbo is reality.
‘Individuals are dealt with only in so far as they are the personifications of economic categories, embodiments of particular class-relations and class-interests. My standpoint, from which the evolution of the economic formation of society is viewed as a process of natural history, can less than any other make the individual responsible for relations whose creature he socially remains, however much he may subjectively raise himself above them.’
In limbo-space, Cobb and Mol are subjective Gods; they can build any scene that they like and shift to another at a time of their choosing, but this does not grant the happiness it would seem to promise. ‘It wasn’t so bad at first, feeling like Gods. The problem was we knew none of it was real.’ Given that Mol comes to confuse the two worlds, this explanation of Cobb’s is inadequate. The essential character which differentiates the two worlds is subjectivity: limbo-space lacks the operation of subjective power within it. They can create people if they want, but these are merely ciphers, projections from their own mind which exhibit no life of their own. Tellingly, Cobb and Mol don’t create any other people to inhabit their world, not even their children. This flies in the face of sentimentality.
Freud’s quote here confronts the next stage of subsumption to technology: the organs have grown onto them. But this presents Freud’s as an immanent critique of humanity’s striving to become Gods, as well as Film’s inability to depict the unconscious. It’s worth mentioning here that the visual technology of Inception is utterly stunning: the special effects open the opportunity for an entirely new depiction of the subconscious hitherto unimaginable.
Where the film fails to really create an uncanny image to be held up against the unconscious that really strikes has been held up its weakness, and certainly Nolan seems to be missing the point when he says that he wanted to do away with the surreal, (‘The unconscious without the surreal’ as Mark Fisher put it) so that its depiction of dream states was more immersive, more ‘real’. But it’s no coincidence that film’s combination of narrative and visual has never really been able to present such an uncanny reflection as successfully as these two components alone have: visual (Dali) and narrative (Joyce). The combination presents too much at one time, for something to qualify as Uncanny it must leave something out or distort the original. A Dopperganger is never an exact copy, a mirror image is not a duplication but a reversion. Where films have been more successful than Inception here have been when they obstruct narrative, leave things out.
Inception’s limbo-space love affair between Cobb and Mol presents an exploration of the point where two distinct but related ideological figures, the cyberspace consumer and soul-mates meet. TV on demand, a saturated market of culture available at the click of a button and short waits on downloads, cyberspace eyes seeing vastly more than pre-modern eyes could ever imagine. A person in the world for everyone, who will complete the other and bring heavenly contentment on earth.
This is the goal we have been set in our age, the thing we’re all supposed to want. And yet Cobb rejects it, despite being more or less immortal/omnipotent and with his ‘soul mate’ in limbo-space. He rejects it for the actual world in which dynamic subjectivities of people, that is the social character of life, interplays.