[Philip Jeck, Jean Baudrillard / Spool, Le Xerox et l’Infini / photo via: Hard Format] Nostalgia for a certain point on the brief timeline of the machine age is a relatively new phenomenon; or at least it is a condition that is being more explicitly integrated into audio artists' public statements than before. Past music subcultures with a nostalgic component to them have hewn as closely as possible to an organic presentation (although the suspicion of insincerity is rightly aroused when 'folksy' and 'organic' acts insist on ultra-modern promotional machinery to aid them in their projection of such an image.) This is less evident in revivals of the kind abetted by labels like Tapeworm, where there is no hint that mechanization is an automatic disqualification for a work's being considered "authentic." Cassette culture stalwart Hal McGee has even referred to the post-industrial music released during the prior "cassette culture" as a kind of "folk" music in and of itself: in both cases, the locus of authenticity shifts away from the implementation tools and towards the overall attitudes of the artists to both creative process and end result. The need to further the expressive life of a small tribe of individuals, and the precedence this takes over commercial concerns, is a common feature of folk music and of self-released electronic music. In fact, with the history of electronic music being much more open to examination now than in any previous era, it seems more and more naïve to believe this music has been made entirely in the service of futurism. For example, the enveloping two-note synth drones and primal vocal whoops of the ur-electropunk duo, Suicide, had much more to say about the time in which they were composed than about any future utopia or dystopia1. Also, much has already been written about electronic music's attempts at providing a shamanic 'trans-temporal' continuity not excluding the present, as in the trance states encouraged by all-night raves. Certainly, the attachment of utopian hope to machinery and circuitry is far from dead, although it must compete more strongly than ever against the critique of constant technological novelty. For every Wired reviewer who lauds the "liberating" potential of the latest generation of iPods and their ability to serve a number of functions with no movable parts, there is a skeptic like Tapeworm's creative director Philip Marshall, who denounces the widening rift in the producer-consumer relationship that these devices create. Over the past several years, cultural theorist Alexei Monroe has been one of the more reliable commentators on the phenomenon of "tech-nostalgia," and it seems logical to turn to him at this point in the discussion. When discussing this phenomenon, Monroe uses the metaphor of the "sleeper agent" for a cultural flashpoint that "will activate at some point in the future when they themselves are re-discovered and/or re-invented, destabilizing their own time and potentially releasing a further set of unintended consequences in another two to three decades."2 It is a colorful analogy, and one that probably springs from Monroe's own interest in Cold War Europe and the history of espionage and subterfuge that accompanied that era. Currently recording electro artists like Franz Falckenhaus also romanticize the period's heightened suspense in the design schemes and track titles of their albums (Falckenhaus' Stories From My Cold War features tracks such as "Surveillance In The Hotel Lobby," "Escape From KGB Agents In The Old Town," and "A Tupolev Disappears In The Darkness.") Yet, despite the potentially ominous overtones of the term "sleeper agent," Monroe contends that their creating an explosion of unintended consequences is a positive scenario where "tech-nostalgia" is concerned. He also proposes a negative scenario involving the exploitation of consumers who seek out authenticity and inspiration in re-discovered "sleeper cell" artifacts, which could certainly include rarities from the early days of the underground cassette network. Considering how that culture relied so heavily on minimal recording and reproductive techniques, it is easy for a savvy rip-off artist to emulate their model with today's powerful microprocessors: "pre-stressed" graphic design and simulated "lo-fi" audio can very easily be confused for legitimate "period" pieces, especially when prospective buyers have convinced themselves that there was far more clandestine audio activity from the previous generation than has already been documented. When such items are being sold through the digital marketplace rather than in physical retail shops, the con is that much easier to pull off on hopeful "tech-nostalgics" before they realize the extent to which they've been duped. Monroe likens this process of falsification to the production of bogus relics by the pre-Reformation Catholic Church, one aspect of the "barter in spiritual things" which became known as the crime of simony: As in the present, this was partly based on people’s genuine and continued need to possess what they believed to be lost relics, that might reduce the time spent in purgatory or show their devotion to the community (as the fan demonstrates their devotion by possessing a rare artifact such as a “lost” album.)3 While Monroe casts a wary eye on modern-day producers of fake cultural relics, he also suggests that there will always be a portion of the listening audience that enjoys these fakes and the spiritual rewards that they may confer in spite of their dubious origins- even if they are fakes, they may still comfort the "tech-nostalgic" listenership by reassuring them that yesteryear's ideals of truth and beauty can survive in the present. With this in mind, he also warns against "zealots" that may narrow the range of "acceptable" listening to certifiable originals, despite the fact that the carefully constructed fakes may have some redeeming value. Monroe's insights in the following conversation, though informed by his personal tastes, are applicable to the broad spectrum of "tech-nostalgic" thinking. Thomas Bey William Bailey: One thing I was thinking of the other day- some of the quirky ‘retro-futurist’ trends we see now, such as people selling hand-crafted fashion items made to resemble vintage synthesizers, seem unique to me- I think this is because most 'traditionally' nostalgic cultural manifestations have tended to champion pre-industrial, ‘organic’ modes of living as being the most ‘authentic’ ones. Do you feel the pop culture from, say, the ‘90s to the present is really the first to have such a penchant for ‘tech-nostalgia,’ or for seeing previous eras of as electronic development as being more sincere? Alexei Monroe: From a historical perspective, it seems unlikely that any pattern is totally unprecedented, and as I began to write this I was struck by the most obvious 1970s example of tech-nostalgia, which in some ways has structured the sonic and visual manifestations of all tech-nostalgia in electronic music. Kraftwerk – "Radioactivity" [embedded above] in particular, the way they used the romantic aura surrounding the early days of radio. Firstly there's the image of the Volksempfanger (Third Reich-era radio set) on the cover. They could have chosen a contemporary shortwave set of the type which now has a nostalgic aura around it, but they chose a 1930s set (and were criticised for using this icon of Nazi technological modernism.) "Radioland" is the best example of their technostalgia, but also "Airwaves" and "Radio Stars". There's a pervasive technostalgic romanticism at work in the album, even if it's also ambivalent and ironic. In the aftermath of Punk, there was a kind of Denkverbot (mental/conceptual prohibition) against anything associated with the '70s and this included (for instance) Moog synthesisers and analogue generally. Cubase, the Atari, and sequencing were making it possible to create electronic music without using expensive units that were tainted by association with the hippie and prog eras. If we look at pop culture from the '90s, then one of the dominant forces from about '92 to maybe 2000 was techno, and techno carries the influence of Kraftwerk's retro-futurism in its DNA (even if it's not always apparent on the surface). It's interesting that almost simultaneously with the vanguard era of techno, you also had producers like Sven Vath straying into '70s- influenced synthesiser motifs and starting to discuss the devices of the period. My (sketchy) theory is that the techno and rave movements met with repression just as the previous Denkverbot wore off. Techno either went underground (into specialist forms like minimal techno or gabber - both of which fetishise vinyl as a technology) or went closer to the mainstream. In both cases, this is maybe symptomatic of a loss of faith in explicit futurism, and/or a belief that past futurism was more powerful and authentic. I think another reason for this loss of faith was that just as music became more explicitly post-human and futuristic, music technologies became ever blander and utilitarian as objects. This led people back to boxes with wires, and to the unpredictability of analogue technology. It's as if when the (aesthetic) future finally arrived, it was so anti-climactic and instantly quotidian that people needed to search for it in the past. Other factors might be the general rehabilitation of the '70s that began in the mid-'90s, first as irony and then as unapologetic fetishism (I have another theory about how '70s revivalism was a symptom of increasing populism and reactionary politics in Britain.) This was very much a market-driven process as is much of technostalgia (for instance limited edition reproduction synths and mixing desks with walnut veneers etc.) This is not to say that analogue technology doesn't have some real sonic virtues, which are hard to replicate with contemporary gear, but this kind of technostalgia can't be considered in isolation from market and cultural trends (in my own project we're moving away from laptops to physical devices, although nothing older than a [Roland] TB-303). In summary, you could say that digital is banal and omnipresent, and this only adds to the lost futuristic aura surrounding analogue (which of course is very important to the (re)-production of '80s electronic and industrial sounds). Perhaps there's even something culturally positive in this rejection of perfection in favour of rawer and less stable technologies. Do you feel that, as you've mentioned here with people’s love of analogue technology, these period-specific references are being used because they provide a convenient metaphor for the geopolitical anxiety and utopian hope we now deal with (and perhaps are intended to offer us a bit of comfort as well, by hinting that the early 21st century is not the only age to have experienced its ‘unique’ shocks?) Or do you feel this re-appropriation is being done on a more naïve level- that is to say, cultural flashpoints as diverse as the DeLorean DMC-12 or Soviet MiG fighters just look and sound “cool’? The Cold War is a very rich and evocative period, particularly the period of ‘New Cold War’ from 1980-1985, which I remember clearly. I think that the general cultural awareness of the proximity to mass annihilation did directly influence the aesthetics of the period, and even that there is a type of ‘Cold War poetics’. Perceived mortality and ongoing crisis tend to generate deep and even sublime cultural responses. A track like Test Dept’s "Comrade Enver Hoxha" transports you back to that time instantly (and helps those too young to remember it experience it vicariously.) I would even say this period is so intense (and far from fully processed) that there is as much legitimacy in contemporary producers addressing as there was at the time. The only question is whether those with no lived experience of the period can do more than replicate the style or aura of the period. One comparison might the be the explosion (literally) of interest in World War Two, and all the films made on it during the sixties and seventies. Certainly it was a cultural obsession for my generation (born 1969.) By this cyclical logic, a fascination with the New Cold War seems unsurprising. It may also be a way of relativising the current real and imaginary threats the West faces, as these (currently) do not include mass global annihilation. I can partly relate to the fascination among with the period among younger people because although I remember the news and general atmosphere of the period, I was about 5 years too young to be directly involved in the industrial culture of the early '80s. However, I like to think I can re-imagine myself in the culture of that time better than someone 5,10 or 15 years younger.
[DeLorean DMC 12 / photo: Michael Smith] Regarding the DeLorean example, that can be seen in directly political terms as part of what I term the kleptocratisation of culture that’s been ongoing since the mid-1970s and accelerated massively in the '90s. What we have now is an unashamed klepto-culture and it’s entirely natural and absolutely functional for those in line with the klepto-culture to celebrate the icons of the first ‘Greed is Good’ era. Even after the sub-prime crisis and the recession, I think there are many who would fight or even kill to preserve the klepto-culture and the economic relations it celebrates and fetishises. This has penetrated so deep into the social and cultural subconscious that many producers are not even aware of the extremity of the ideological statements they are making in this way. Of course some present these references as irony, but that serves the status quo just as well as those that unashamedly celebrate these references. Given what you’ve said here, do you feel the current wave of retro-futurism would be possible (or, at least, as enthusiastic as it is now) without the fact that many of its original progenitors are still alive (and, in many cases, artistically active?) After all, I seem to remember a lot of the more acclaimed retrospectives of the second World War –like the 1973-1974 ‘World At War’ TV series- got their credibility from the participation, as interview subjects, of people who had been frontline combatants. A feat that obviously can’t be replicated now, 35 odd years later. So, in short, how valuable is the present-day input of ‘elder statesmen’ for the culture we’ve been discussing, especially since access to records of their work is fairly simple for anyone with an Internet connection and a will to parse a good deal of information? Yes, I think this presence is important, perhaps especially as a 'corrosive comparator' - with veteran performers still active/present (assuming they're still artistically effective) then it's much harder (though not impossible) for younger producers to pass off sub-standard replicas. It's also important that the old guard is present in the clubs, passing on knowledge and (sometimes) adding authenticity. That said, my experience of the Reeperbahn club night was that I was the oldest person there (at 39.) The average age was mid to late twenties but they were playing records I bought or danced to between '89 and '92. It was also clear that for 99% of the audience it was simply a style statement: they had no awareness of, or interest in, the social or political contexts that generated these sounds. On the other hand, there are many veteran '80s artists now touring, re-releasing and issuing new material almost exclusively because of the neo-'80s trend that began around 2000. One thing I find interesting about the revival of home-taping, which is happening to a significant degree in the various Industrial or esoteric underground sectors, is that it is often being done for the opposite reason that people once again pick up analogue synths- while the latter confer ‘authenticity’ along with a sound that people argue is superior to digital emulation, the former is seen as ‘authentic’ because of its inferior qualities- e.g., the cassette’s surface noise is more audible and adds somewhat to the intimate drama of listening. So this makes me wonder, is the ‘scene’ really as paradoxical as it seems here, or can these different takes on the concept of authenticity be logically reconciled somehow? I think the confusion here is that authenticity and superior sound are not always the same thing (or not perceived to be.) Vintage Russian synthesisers are much in demand now, not because they sound better but because they sound 'other' and (arguably) 'worse' compared to Western models. I don't think the cassette revival is purely due to what we can call inverted sonic snobbery. More significant is that it's an attempt to connect with the eighties tape underground which is enjoying an afterlife, both through official re-releases (on Vinyl on Demand etc.) and through the ever-growing number of blogs dedicated to obscure cassette culture (there's even one on Yugoslav experimental music now.) As ever we can't wholly ignore the market factor - when buyers make purchases now they want something collectible - a standard CD digipak is insufficient. These cassettes are instant collector's items and symbolically connect the producers with their predecessors. Currently they also confer an 'underground' aura that isn't necessarily plausible – Touch Records are releasing a series called Tapeworm, but it's many years since they were an underground tape label, and for me doesn't quite ring true. That said, I will buy new tape releases if they're unavailable otherwise. It's also worth mentioning my favourite cassette album (Laibach's Kapital) contains different and better versions than those on the CD and vinyl (which also differ from each other). Alexei Monroe is an independent cultural theorist currently based in London. He holds a PhD in Communication and Image Studies from the University of Kent. He is author of the books Pluralni Monolit (Plural Monolith, MASKA 2003) and Interrogation Machine (MIT Press 2005). These books deal with the Slovene arts movement Neue Slowenische Kunst (NSK). Interrogation Machine was reviewed in publications including Frieze, Radical Philosophy and The Wire. Besides his work on NSK, he writes widely on the aesthetics and politics of electronic music and wider issues of cultural theory, including an ongoing project on the cultural history of the Stag as a symbol. His work has been published in Contemporary Music Review, Central Europe Review, Kinoeye, New Moment, AS and other publications in Britain, Serbia, Slovenia, Brazil, Belgium and America. He is a founder member of the Industrialised Culture Research Network and also active as a DJ. Notes: 1. This is to say nothing of the lyrical content on the record, which deals with very of-its-time |
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