Out of the Comfort
Zone
Text: Stefan Goldmann
Originally published in Groove Magazine
Contemporary Classical and electronic music are starting to take
interest in one another. About time, says the man who grew up with
contemporary classical and now produces electronic music.
Atonal art music as developed in the 20th century is a learned
pleasure. Like dark chocolate, cigarettes or hard alcohol: at first
glance, unpalatable. Most only gain access slowly, enjoyment comes
later, if at all. As the child of two activists of “new
music”, I had to grow up with these strange sounds. Although I
later grew more interested in techno than contemporary classical, this
music has always remained a sort of mother tongue to me. Rarely spoken,
but mostly understood. I wasn't given the settling-in-period that so
many require to access it. Instead, I had to grin and bear it, right
from the start. In contrast, techno is ever-present today and thus it
has become the mother tongue of at least one generation. It's hard to
believe now how much resistance music focussed on strict repetition
once provoked. Steve Reich tells of his experiences in 1972: “We
came to Europe, played Drumming and numerous concert critics used words
such as 'fascist' and 'assembly line'.“ Adorno made similar
reproaches against Stravinsky. It didn’t even need techno to make
clear what the two antagonist movements of modernist music would
become: expressive individualism and the pleasures of
machine-structured time.
Those who put the most faith in cultural progress also often wear the
biggest blinders. Contemporary classical music struggled against
repetition while electronic club music developed the corresponding
anti-dogma of dance floor functionality. Maybe that's necessary to find
the essentials in the first place. Many similarities exist though:
techno in essence is atonal, so is contemporary classical. Both turned
their backs on tradition and dared to face the new. However a great
chasm remained. Thus, separate parallel cultures developed and for the
most part specifications were only questioned internally: from Autechre
to Hudson Mohawke, from Reich's minimal music to Ligeti's rhythmical
layerings – the exceptions prove the rule.
Both spheres could only begin to show interest in one another once they
had been stretched to their own limits. The anthropologist Arnold
Gehlen introduced the term “cultural crystallisation“ in
1961: that condition in any cultural area which sets in when the
possibilities laid out therein are fully developed. Changes of
the basic sets of rules become increasingly improbable: “activity
and movement reign, individual innovations and surprises
occur“...“but only within the already marked-out boundaries
and on the basis of already established rules“. The field itself
is never left. It “crystallizes“. Changes affect ever
smaller aspects and distinctions. Every wheel of the musical machine
rotates, but the whole thing doesn’t move forward anymore. Both
contemporary classical and electronic music appear to have reached this
condition.
Contemporary classical used to strive for big ideas – the
twelve-tone-row, serialism, conquest of the sphere of noise, silence.
Since the 70s however, ideas have become markedly less impressive and a
fragmentation of individual approaches without greater consequences
dominates the picture. In contrast, electronic music always experienced
bouts of creativity when new technology met upon a cultural need that
was ready to express itself within it. Techno, house, hip hop,
drum'n'bass and so on can all be explained by means of specific
equipment, but also by a cultural 'breeding ground' that could find
relevance in even the earliest stages of development.
This relevance to cultural practice is what has given electronic music
a basis in society which is often missing in the field of contemporary
classical. However technological developments are stagnating, too
– instead of new algorithms, replenishment through better
computer performance is the result. It is as if a painter simply works
with larger and larger canvases instead of developing their content. If
a truly new technology comes along, a leap in content would follow.
Till then one slaves away at marginal details or revisits the past
– that’s what brought us slowhouse and disco-edits. When
this kind of activity begins to bore, external alternatives grow more
attractive. The respective crystalline field can be overcome by merging
it with other fields.
To avoid stagnation, techno and its relatives feed on new influences.
Everywhere that electronic equipment is available, new fusions emerge
– from Baile Funk to Kwaito, from Chalga to Thaitech –
local developments that slowly trickle back into the techno mainstream.
The cultural basis, however, is missing in order for something like
Kwaito to truly become relevant in the centers of techno. Being based
in Europe or North America, the nearest and most logical step is
therefore the convergence of the two great, aesthetically opposing
genres of the modern era: techno and contemporary classical.
The most radical thing that was left for us to do was to expose techno
(its chief feature being the loop) to long-term developments of form,
whilst at the same time breathing new life into rhythmically stunted
contemporary classical, with the rhythmical possibilities which only
become possible through a clear metric structure. Beyond overcoming
dogma the central problem remains: one always has too little expertise
in the opposing area. That is why the inclusion of classical musicians
in electronic music yields results often just as embarrassing as that
which composers deem to be “techno.“ A difficult one to
resolve. And so, understandably, most attempts as yet haven't managed
to be more than a flirtation with the other side. To fail according to
the criteria of at least one side (if not both) is truly hard to avoid.
Smuggled into the clubs
This problem has caused me some worries, too. On the one hand I have
always wanted to adapt the sound universe of contemporary classical to
electronic music. On the other hand I only have partial competence in
the former area. For example I lack the skills to competently write a
string quartet – nevertheless if I hear one, I believe I can
recognise its quality (or lack thereof). I managed to overcome this
deficit by plundering the demo tapes piled on my father's desk, the
composer and conductor Friedrich Goldmann. I was also fascinated by the
exclusivity – a recording of an obscure composer from Minnesota
was effectively “mine” for all time. Sampling shifts the
focus from creation to selection. The stonemason doesn't create the
stone, but the stone has meaning for the outcome of his work.
Later the samples became larger. It became a competition to see who
could let them run the longest and still create something meaningful.
That's how a lot of contradictory sounds, proliferated in parallel
currents, have been smuggled into the world of clubs. From Ricardo
Villalobos, Wolfgang Voigt, Raudive, Agoria or lately Robag Wruhme. I
also allowed myself some excesses in this discipline, with
“Lunatic Fringe“ or most recently with “The Grand
Hemiola“ - here an orchestra pushes against the beat for five
minutes – it is an exercise in taking the hands off the wheel and
watching what happens. This method can be expanded – swap the
sample for original composed material, bundle competencies. A composer
writes for the ensemble, a producer creates the electronic scaffolding
– and everyone dares to leave their comfort zone.
Academic composers haven’t been lazy altogether, too. With Paul
Frick we see for the first time since Cristian Vogel someone who
emerged from the conservatory to succeed in a club context: Brandt
Brauer Frick perform techno with the means of a classically staffed
ensemble. Elektro Guzzi also survived their conservatory studies
“without visible damage“, as they once admitted.
Up till now we have seen mostly gentle approaches. It takes time to
learn a new musical language from the other side of the fence. The need
is there. The emptiness of the eternal stream of contemporary classical
first performances increasingly loses attractiveness due to positive
experiences with the opposite camp. The fact that non-academic
electronic music with all its many facets is the true art music of the
rhythmic domain is being increasingly recognised. No dogma has survived
against the persuasiveness developed via qualitative evidence.
Likewise alternatives to the endlessly repetitive, functional
sound of the clubs is in demand as it never has been before. One
doesn't have to set every ballet to Jeff Mills – however barriers
can confidently be removed. Thereby one will hopefully find things of
which we haven't yet dreamed.
Stefan
Goldmann is a DJ, producer, and co-owner of the label Macro. He is
currently working for the BASF Culture Program on a commission for a
joint concert with the Casal Quartet at the Jetztmusikfestival 2012 in
Ludwigshafen. The article above was originally published in Groove
Magazine, Issue 8/9 2011.
www.stefangoldmann.com