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Running on empty

Mark Fisher

Published 30 April 2009

The lack of innovation in pop music suggests that we are experiencing an energy crisis in culture at large

In 2006, James Kirby, the man behind the V/Vm record label and The Caretaker, began a download project called The Death of Rave. The tracks have a thin, almost translucent quality, as if they are figments or phantoms of the original, exhilarating sound of rave. When I interviewed Kirby recently, he explained that the project had been initiated to commemorate a certain energy that he believes has disappeared from dance music. (Energy Flash was, of course, the title the critic Simon Reynolds gave to his compendious study of rave music and its progeny.) The question is: were rave and its offshoots jungle and garage just that – a sudden flash of energy that has since dissipated? More worryingly, is the death of rave only one symptom of an overall energy crisis in culture? Are cultural resources running out in the same way as natural resources are?

Those of us who grew up in the decades between the 1960s and the 1990s became accustomed to rapid changes in popular culture. Theorists of future shock such as Alvin Toffler and Marshall McLuhan plausibly claimed that our nervous systems were themselves sped up by these developments, which were driven by the development and proliferation of technologies. Popular artefacts were marked with a technological signature that dated them quite precisely: new technology was clearly audible and visible, so that it would be practically impossible, say, to confuse a film or a record from the early 1960s with one from even half a decade later.

The current decade, however, has been characterised by an abrupt sense of deceleration. A thought experiment makes the point. Imagine going back 15 years in time to play records from the latest dance genres – dubstep, or funky, for example – to a fan of jungle. One can only conclude that they would have been stunned – not by how much things had changed, but by how little things have moved on. Something like jungle was scarcely imaginable in 1989, but dubstep or funky, while by no means pastiches, sound like extrapolations from the matrix of sounds established a decade and a half ago.

Needless to say, it is not that technology has ceased developing. What has happened, however, is that technology has been decalibrated from cultural form. The present moment might in fact be best haracterised by a discrepancy between the onward march of technology and the stalling, stagnation and retardation of culture. We can’t hear technology any more. There has been a gradual disappearance of the sound of technological rupture – such as the irruption of Brian Eno’s analogue synth in the middle of Roxy Music’s “Virginia Plain”, or the cut-and-paste angular alienness of early rave – that pop music once taught us to expect. We still see technology, perhaps, in cinema CGI, but CGI’s role is somewhat paradoxical: its aim is precisely to make itself invisible, and it has been used to finesse an already established model of reality. High-definition television is another example of the same syndrome: we see the same old things, but brighter and glossier.

The principal way in which technology now makes itself felt in culture is of course in the areas of distribution and consumption. Downloading and Web 2.0 have famously led to new ways of accessing culture. But these have tended to be parasitic on old media. The law of Web 2.0 is that everything comes back, whether it be adverts, public information films or long-forgotten TV serials: history happens first as tragedy, then as YouTube. The pop artists who supposedly became successful because of web clamour (Sandi Thom, Arctic Monkeys) turned out to be quaintly archaic in form; in any case, they were pushed through the familiar promotional machinery of big record companies and PR firms. There is peer-to-peer distribution of culture, but little sign of peer-to-peer production.

The best blogs are one exception; they have bypassed the mainstream media, which, for the reasons described by Nick Davies in last year’s Flat Earth News, has become increasingly conservative, dominated by press releases and PR. In general, however, Web 2.0 encourages us to behave like spectators. This is not only because of the endless temptations to look back offered by burgeoning online archives, it is also because, thanks to the ubiquity of recording devices, we find ourselves becoming archivists of our own lives: we never experience live events, because we are too busy recording them.

Yet instantaneous exposure deprives cultures of the time and space in which they can grow. There is as yet no Web 2.0 equivalent of the circuit that sustained UK dance music in the 1990s: the assemblage of dubplates, pirate radio and the dance floor which acted as a laboratory for the development of new sounds. This circuit was still punctuated by particular moments (the club night, the radio broadcast), but, because anything in Web 2.0 can be replayed at any time, its temporality is more diffuse. The tendency seems to be for a kind of networked solipsism, a global system of individuals consuming an increasingly homogeneous culture alone in front of the computer screen or plugged in to iPod headphones.

All of this makes Fredric Jameson’s theories about postmodern culture’s inability to image the present more compelling than ever. As the gap between cultural breaks becomes ever longer and the breaks themselves become ever more modest and slight, it is beginning to look as if the situation might be terminal. Alex Williams, who runs the Splintering Bone Ashes blog, goes so far as to claim that “what we have experienced is merely a blip, perhaps never to be again repeated – 150 or so years of extreme resource bingeing, the equivalent of an epic amphetamine session. What we are already experiencing is little more than the undoubtedly grim ‘comedown’ of the great deceleration.” This might be too bleak. What is certainly clear, however, is that technology will not deliver new forms of culture all on its own.

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11 comments from readers

stylesniper
30 April 2009 at 14:42

Thought provoking post, but I find the sweeping dismissal of current musical developments a tad uncomfortable. Sure, technology has enabled a wider group to access and master the ground breaking techniques and skills championed in those earlier years of dance music culture, but as those skills are more readily available and easier to implement in real time their application and intergration can be quite remarkable. There is a young chap out there named Dorian Concept that can do things on the fly that will get you thinking. Then there are guys like James Zabiela who have mastered the latest DJ technologies to serious acclaim. Having said this, there is some weight to your comment on there being no time for serious indulgence, immersion and subsequent wondering about where we are heading next because of the rapid pummeling we receive from digital feeds, forums and platforms about what is 'next'... there could well be some fatigue setting in. Maybe there is about to be a dormant period before a return to revolutionary form or maybe the downturn will actually fuela creative boom as some have predicted.

blipster_grifter
02 May 2009 at 18:17

"There is as yet no Web 2.0 equivalent of the circuit that sustained UK dance music in the 1990s: the assemblage of dubplates, pirate radio and the dance floor which acted as a laboratory for the development of new sounds. This circuit was still punctuated by particular moments (the club night, the radio broadcast), but, because anything in Web 2.0 can be replayed at any time, its temporality is more diffuse."

This doesn't follow, unless club nights have been abolished as a result of the internet. And you have to buy into the utopian version of the ’ardkore continuum in order to believe in this notion of the "laboratory", a perfect feedback loop between listeners and producers.

Fisher doesn't provide any evidence that existed at all, and his writing is so bloodless you have to wonder whether even he likes it, whether he has experienced the desired for “rupture” at all. Are fans of modern dance music concerned about temporality becoming more diffuse, or have we just invented a problem where there isn’t one?

You’re left wondering: why *should* there be a Web 2.0 reconstruction of the "assemblage" (odd choice of word) that sustained, not UK dance music, but a tiny and over-discussed part of it in the 90s?

Getting closer to it, do many NS readers even like the kind of music Fisher is talking about? Does he? Interesting that the only record he names in an article purportedly about the state of things today is almost four decades old.

caninolash
05 May 2009 at 11:51

"What is certainly clear, however, is that technology will not deliver new forms of culture all on its own."

when has technology EVER done this?!

chilee
07 May 2009 at 03:57

There's no greater cure from genre fatigue than a return of the essences and elements of music, e.g. using rhythms not beats, harmonies of voices and instruments, not collages of sound files. Looking back 100 years we find the same rapid pace of invention and experimentation in music, all the while thinking we just made up something new.

The analogy of an 'energy crisis' in art assumes that creative energy is a finite resource, or that it may ossify over time and turn to stone. I disagree. The current is always there--you just need to turn it on.

It's too easy to blame technology for not delivering as advertised, but it's really not all it's cracked up to be. It doesn't necessarily mean art grinds to a halt. I fear that our over-reliance on technology to solve our problems, environmental, economic and otherwise will result in similar spiritual bankruptcies, leaving us wondering what to do next. The answer: back to basics.

mcb
09 May 2009 at 22:20

Energy Flash is also the title of a banging track by Joey Beltran that Reynolds borrowed for his book title.

http://www.discogs.com/release/2084

The web has enabled a massive collective musical community - versionist.com, acidplanet.com, hobnox.com (where you can play with virtualized 808s, 909s and 303s) - sure most of the tracks are cack, but there are some gems too.

Technology doesn't make people creative or boring, they were like that when they got there.

kingfelix
10 May 2009 at 09:11

Nice comments. I feel that the issue is that the underground is no longer so easily located in a particular place - a record shop, a certain club, etc. This means that journalists such as this one can no longer engage with it, ergo: it has ceased to exist. I have gone through the same process, as I am 36 now, and the solution is to review your own methods for tracking / discovering new material. You have to know where 16-21 year olds, whose energy must never be doubted (this finite resource of cultural energy - totally bogus, there is always the same amount of energy, you are just closer or further away from its source - youth), are congregating, physically, virtually. Then it becomes clear again that IT is out there, it's just that the way of looking for it has changed.

This article kind of proves that, because we have a guy writing in a very Old Media mindset, (writing what, a 1500 word article! in this day and age) about stuff that he no longer truly understands, and who uses an absence of evidence as evidence of absence (clearly not a legal brain). I live in Taiwan, and the youth culture here is as vibrant as anything I saw growing up in the UK, you just need to be plugged into 'real life' rather than expecting to learn anything from books or ahem, writers who don't know what they're talking about.

In terms of the sound of records now, it has folded back in upon itself, so there's retro-rave stuff slavishly recreating the early hardcore sounds, sounds that now sound more archaic than Robert Johnson's blues (why that is would be a more interesting thing to write about).

In short - culture is fine, this writer is OLD

Stephen Burrows
11 May 2009 at 11:14

Just read this excellent, thought provoking piece.

I disagree with 50% of what he's saying. Sampling and synthesizing technology is becoming unbelievably cheap. Equipment that wouldn't normally leave the studio because it was too big or valuable is now so small and cheap you can put it in a backpack. Artists can create electronic music in front you, really play it live like Animal Collective are currently doing, without relying on sequencers to control what is being played, leaving scope for real improvisation that was previously limited. I think we are currently on the cusp of something very exciting due to the fact that music technology is becoming so accessible.

What I absolutely agree with is the idea "of networked solipsism, a global system of individuals consuming an increasingly homogeneous culture alone in front of the computer screen or plugged in to iPod headphones." It seems that at music's root level, the fact that a gig may be empty is inconsequential as long as it is filmed and put on youtube. I was recently at a gig of a local band, attended by roughly 6 paying customers who weren't friends of the band or freeloaders. About half-way through the concert, I was told by a girl with a camcorder that I needed to move because she wanted to film the band from the particular angle at which I was enjoying the show. The venue was completely empty, yet I had to move (the video predictably appeared on youtube a few days later). Rock and Roll values are currently slightly eschewed methinks.

Meestar Jay
11 May 2009 at 14:36

expecting culture to 'progress' relentlessly simply because technology does (which is for economic reasons and nothing else, unlike culture) shows that the author has no understanding of human beings, who are, after all, the makers and users of culture. the point of being creative is to reflect the moment of creativity itself - maybe the creators are merely saying that the forward march of technology has no content that they feel is worthy of expressing. you can make music with sticks and stones and voices at the end of the day, and it will always be just as vital as any other form if it's done with the right attitude. its not the means thats important, its the motivation, and this applies equally to the listener.

nabeel
14 May 2009 at 10:20

You're telling us pop hasn't moved on but at the same time looking backwards to say that. The future ain't like it used to be. Though I like much of the music, the hauntological impulse and critics who write about it often fail to reflect on their own nostalgia while they condemn people for liking old or old-style music. The death of rave argument ain't that big a distinction from the death of rock argument we've heard again and again. Mourning and melancholia.

mwd
15 May 2009 at 19:47

I remember being informed, years ago, maybe 15 years or thereabouts, that techno and house and the rave were the new punk.

I believed it then, and to this day I believe it was true, despite how anti-intuitive it sounded at the time — given that music made on machines to sound like it was made by machines seemed, at a very surface level, about as un-punk as one might get.

Thing is, this article supports the idea primarily because the author sounds like an aging punk complaining about how there hasn't been anything as good as punk since punk, and so forth.

There's simply no support in the piece for the supposition that culture, in particular music, is uninspired at the moment. Only support that there's no music exciting the author at the moment. Those are two different things.

Rick Tuss
07 September 2009 at 14:49

Useless and uncertain, the article is anything but written 'sub specie aeternitatis'. It is impossible to

read clearly the patterns of today, you are always judging after your self-centered vision and present. For an underground mentor, I find it so rusty cliché to stress on the idea of stunning old times and darkening contemporary situation... wow.

And by the way, 'new' does not mean much to me, it's not interesting per se.

"Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations,

architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things

to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic.

Authenticity is invaluable; originality is nonexistent.”

(Jim Jarmusch)

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