Electronic Dance Music: An Analysis of

Live Performance, Authenticity & Audience

Alisdair MorrisonS1115751

Submitted in part fulfilment of therequirements for

BA (Hons) Media and Communication

Glasgow Caledonian University

April 2015

This dissertation is my original work and has not been submitted elsewhere in fulfilment of the requirements of this or any other award. Inaccordance with academic referencing conventions, due acknowledgement has been givento the work of others.

Word count: 11,994

Signature_____________________________________________ Date ____________

AcknowledgementsI would like to sincerely thank my supervisor Dr Catriona

Miller for her guidance and consistent help and support

throughout the construction of this dissertation. I could not

have been the easiest supervisee, but Dr Miller expressed

support and willingness to provide assistance without fail. I

would also like to thank my friend Iain Montgomery, co-founder

of Team Smash, for being the wall that I bounced many a

fruitless idea off of throughout university.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction Page 3

Chapter One Page 5

Chapter Two Page 14

Chapter Three Page 23

Conclusion Page 36

Bibliography Page 38

2

Introduction

This introduction provides an account of the motivations –

both personal and academic – which led me to decide to analyse

the Electronic Dance Music (EDM) scene and the role of the

audience in live performance. Bogdanovic and Longhurst state

that “it is significant that, despite the importance of

performance to music… it is only relatively recently that it

has come under sustained academic scrutiny” (Bogdanovic &

Longhurst, 2014: 190). Although EDM is a relatively new genre

in the world of music, it has grown and evolved exponentially

since its birth in the late 1970s and the establishment of its

foundations throughout the 1980s, so much so that there are

now innumerable subgenres and sub-subgenres within the sphere

of EDM. The genre is subject to constant evolution and as

such, there is always the need for updated analysis.

Lofland (1971: 3) states the need for proximity to the culture

under examination. The researcher should be “close in the

physical sense… over some significant period of time and

variety of circumstances”. I have personally been involved as

an audience member at EDM concerts and performances for the

last six or seven years now, and have often considered how

drastically different the structure of live EDM performances

are to traditional models of performer and audience. My

hometown of Glasgow has a wonderful affiliation with live

music, with an abundance of EDM clubs and globally-recognised

institutions such as The Arches and Sub Club. I have spent

many nights in these dark, sweaty and stifling clubs, and

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taken from them experiences and memories which will always

live with me. Often, the music itself is secondary in these

performances. The real performances come from the interactions

between myself and other clubbers, peers and friends, and it

is those memories that always stick out most vividly.

The following paper will argue that it is those social

relations which define the events more so than any other

factor. This report was constructed as a piece of desk-based

research, undertaking the methodology of theoretical analysis

which involves selection and discussion of theoretical and

descriptive material, and detailed comparison and reference to

relevant theories.

Chapter one is focussed on defining the concept of genre,

before outlining the genre of EDM in the modern musical

landscape, and with it all those subgenres and sub-subgenres

which come under the umbrella term of EDM. Chapter two

focusses on the concept of live musical performance, with

detailed explanation of the research of Christopher Small and

his theories of ‘musicking’ and the role of the audience,

before outlining Walter Benjamin’s arguments of authenticity

and ‘aura’ in media reproduction. Finally, chapter three

applies these theories to the EDM genre, arguing for the

importance of the audience in and human interactions in live

EDM performances. Constant reference is made in every chapter,

and throughout the report, to the theories of Theodor Adorno

and his work On Popular Music (1941). EDM definitely falls into

4

the category of ‘popular music’ as outlined by Adorno, but

rather than his theories being a hindrance like in many other

aspects of popular music research, this paper argues for a

celebration of the inherent standardisation of EDM.

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Chapter One

In order to study any form of popular music one must initially

consider Theodor Adorno’s (1941) highly influential but

controversial work On Popular Music. Many contemporary academics

and musicologists agree that Adorno’s work must be taken into

consideration and Middleton for one states that “Adorno’s

general position opened up new ground, in ways which often

remain of value” (Middleton, 1990: 35). Adorno breaks down

music into what he calls the ‘two spheres of music’ which he

labels as serious music and popular music (1941: 301).

Speaking on popular music, Adorno gives a damning verdict on

what he perceives as the ‘standardisation’ of musical form.

“The whole structure of popular music is standardised, even

when the attempt is made to circumvent standardisation”

(Adorno, 1941: 302). He argues that popular music differs from

serious music in that serious music “require[s] demanding

intellectual processes that encourage independent thought,

rather than conformity” (Wall, 2013: 182).

Adorno’s work has often come in for heavy criticism and is

seen by many as a rather simplified, high-brow or elitist view

of the musical landscape. Wall argues that to accept Adorno’s

theory would be to “accept that the music we invest with

significance in our lives could simply be a standardised form

full of elements to make us think it is different, and that

the artists we favour are just part of a music culture which

seeks to exploit us” (Wall, 2013: 182). Paddison’s critique of

Adorno’s work furthers the problem when he states that

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“Adorno’s complex and maddening prose… does not offer answers,

but contradictions, formulated with such extreme density that

they become inescapable” (Paddison, 1982: 201). And Frith

furthers this critique, stating that Adorno’s theory of

consumption reduces “a complex social process to a simple

psychological effect” (Frith, 1983: 57). Yet On Popular Music

still remains a work which must be tackled head-on by anyone

with anything to offer on the study of popular music.

Electronic Dance Music certainly falls under the category of

‘popular music’ as defined by Adorno, thought there are some

contradictions that will be discussed throughout the paper.

Before outlining the definition of Electronic Dance Music as a

genre, the concept of genre must also be considered and

outlined. The concept of genre was first introduced in

Aristotle’s (1961) Poetics which was written in the 4th century

BC and is arguably the philosopher’s most influential piece of

work. Poetics is Aristotle’s study of poetry, in which he

outlines recurring themes and forms found within different

works. By studying these recurring elements within different

texts, Aristotle was able to arrange these texts under the

categories or ‘genres’ of the epic, the lyric, the drama, the

tragedy and the comedy (Aristotle, 1961).

Aristotle set out to define and categorise differing works of

poetry and recognised the need for systems of classification

based on form or style, and that is why he went to great

lengths to try and pin down the definition of genre. Although

Aristotle labours slightly in his attempts to effectively

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summarise the notion of genre, it is because genre isn’t

something tangible, isn’t something which we can

systematically detect and recognise. For example, there are no

rules or anything concrete to say that a certain film,

literary text or piece of music will invoke in all mankind a

similar or mutual feeling or emotion. Standardisation as

Adorno defines it may be one way of telling between ‘popular

music’ and ‘serious music’ as genres; however, Adorno is

defining only two categories in music, of which there are now

innumerable different styles. In categorising or labelling

different works under certain genres, there is a reliance on

the audience being able to interpret and make sense of a text

in the originally intended manner e.g. a film may be labelled

as a horror because it is intended to scare the viewer, or a

comedy because it is intended to make them laugh. Therefore,

categorising and labelling genres is based on expectations,

and specifically the expectation of the text being interpreted

in the ‘correct’ manner. In Anatomy of Criticism (1957), Frye

outlines why he feels genre must be present in media: “We have

to adopt the hypothesis, then, that just as there is an order

of nature behind the natural sciences, so literature is not a

piled aggregate of ‘works’, but an order of words” (Frye,

1957: 17).

In order for genres to work as a tool for marketing or simply

a means of categorisation, there must also be expectancy on

the part of the viewer or potential consumer. Someone will buy

a comedy film because they expect to find the text funny, a

romance novel because they expect the text to be about love, or

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an Electronic Dance Music single because they expect that the

text will provide music to dance to; and importantly, similar

to that which they have heard and come to assume from the

genre. Negus (1999) states that “genres are used by record

companies as a way of integrating a conception of music (what

does it sound like?) with a notion of the market (who will buy

it?)” (Negus, 1999: 28). Frith also argues that both musician

and audience are considered concurrently as a method for

“defining music in its market” and “the market in its music”

(Frith, 1996: 76). Matheson states that “part of people’s

communicative competence is to know what genres are

appropriate to what situations, and thus describing genre

helps analysts to describe how people are orienting to social

rules about language use, and what social groups people belong

to” (Matheson, 2005: 178). This quote is also useful when

attempting to figure out how and why individuals are capable

of understanding and interpreting the subtle differences

between genres, subgenres and even sub-subgenres, though due

to its very nature these differences are constantly pored over

and debated amongst fans and musicians alike. It also

highlight the inherent subjectivity of genre theory and the

fact that although there may be widely accepted

characterisations of certain genres, definitions and

characteristics may still differ between people on an entirely

personal level.

Linking this argument into the medium of music, Wall agrees

that the concept of genre is something abstract, stating that

“they are not clear cut; it is not a technical process to

9

allocate music to one category rather than another” (Wall,

2013: 201). Although Fabbri (1982) acknowledges this dynamic

approach to genre classification, he attempts to define genres

and argue that contraventions of genre parameters could lead

to the systematic organisation of new genres. However, Negus

believes Fabbri’s work to be an “overtly deterministic work in

which he has sought to identify and delineate the semiotic

rules, behavioural rules, economic rules and social rules

which produce the codes and conventions that guide the

activity of musicians and their audiences” (Negus, 1999: 25).

He also states that Fabbri’s work “implies a very restricted,

rule-bound and regulated process” and that “the picture he

presents is rather static” (Negus, 1999: 26).

Frith (1996) states that musical categorisation is central to

the corporate structure and strategy of the music industry and

is used by record companies to aid the creation, marketing,

distribution and consumption of music. In Performing Rites, Frith

states that “genre is a way of defining music in its market

or, alternatively, the market in its music” (1996: 76). From

this statement we can assume that Frith is indicating that

genre within music is as much a way for record companies to

organise and delegate marketing strategies as it is for fans

to identify between particular styles of music. Wall agrees

with Frith’s statement and drawing from Toynbee’s (2000) work,

argues that “[genre cultures] are formed around the activities

of the media industry, the text itself and the individuals who

produce and those who consume the texts” (2013: 201). Wall

also believes that genre within the world of music can be

10

classified as twofold, stating that “first, it is a means by

which music is categorised – or codified – and, second, this

process of categorisation sets the rules by which popular

music is produced, distributed and consumed” (Wall, 2013:

200).

The rise of commercial radio throughout the second half of the

20th Century may also have been a huge factor in the creation

and dissemination of genres, and perhaps not in a positive

manner: “Radio is often felt to be a constraint by musicians

and industry staff working with various genres” (Negus, 1999:

110-111). Radio was seen by many as a strain on musical

creativity as artists who sought fame through radio coverage

found that they had to fit with a certain style or format in

order to be played by the top radio stations in America.

However, the platform of digital radio that we have today has

allowed for innumerable radio stations worldwide, many of

which are genre and even subgenre-specific. While discussing

disk jockeys specifically, Simon Frith offers the opinion that

“genre origins remain a matter of elaborate and unresolvable

debate… the genre labelling process is better understood as

something collusive than as something invented individually,

as the result of a loose agreement among musicians and fan,

writers and disc jockeys” (Frith, 1996: 88). In the same

chapter Frith goes on to stress the importance of genres to

the medium of music, stating that “it is through genres that

we experience music and musical relations, that we bring

together the aesthetic and the ethical” (Frith, 1996: 95).

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EDM falls under the category of ‘meta-genre’ as outline by

Shuker (2001: 150) and McLeod (2001: 60) and which can then be

subsequently broken down into ‘purer’ genres and subgenres.

For all the intents and purposes of this research, EDM can be

defined as a genre here as music which is generally above 120

BPM (beats per minute) created with the use of electronic

synthesisers. Synthesisers in this context are “electronic

music controllers” (Paradiso, 1997: 19) which are capable of

producing original sound in the form of “spectral content”

(Paradiso, 1997: 20). Many are controlled in the form of a

traditional piano keyboard although others such as the

theramin are controlled by physical movements and even “the

simplest gestures of musicians without classical training can

be translated into wonderfully complex musical events”

(Paradiso, 1997: 20). The most iconic of these instruments are

noted by Ishkur’s Guide to Electronic Music, a thorough and popular

online guide to the scene. It notes the ‘Roland TB-303

Bassline’, the ‘Roland TR-808 Drum Machine’ and the ‘Roland

TR-909 Drum Machine’ as having had massive influence and use

throughout the genre’s development and evolution (Taylor,

2013). Importantly, Butler (2003: 6) states that “in EDM, a

traditional instrument or a live vocal is the exception rather

than the rule”. Ishkur’s Guide to Electronic Music also provides a

possible taxonomy of the EDM genre and subgenre structure and

progression, though it should be noted that the author himself

states that the guide is “a non-technical, irreverent critique

of electronic music” (Taylor, 2013).

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In his analysis of the innumerable different subgenres and

indeed sub-subgenres, McLeod describes EDM as “a heterogeneous

group of musics made with computers and electronic instruments

—often for the purpose of dancing” (McLeod, 2001: 60). EDM

here then, is an umbrella term that within it hosts a range of

differing and often disparate sub-categories. McLeod states

that “despite the fact that many of these subgenres have

emerged from distinct evolutionary trajectories, they are

nonetheless connected in many ways” (2001: 61). Ishkur’s Guide to

Electronic Music supports this idea of an interconnected tangle of

influences and distinct forms, as seen in Figure 1 on the

following page. The interactive page breaks down EDM into the

seven subgenres of ‘House’, ‘Trance’, ‘Techno’, ‘Breakbeat’,

‘Jungle’, ‘Hardcore’ and ‘Downtempo’. It then allows the

viewer to select between these subgenres and follow how sub-

subgenres have emerged from these base forms. The guide also

provides fairly detailed descriptions of each and every genre,

subgenre and sub-subgenre including examples of the most

prominent artists or DJs in each category. From this and

McLeod’s (2001) analysis of EDM we can accept that many forms

of EDM may not sound completely similar, for example Reynolds

(1998) describes the ‘hardcore’ subgenre as “ultra-fast,

breakbeat-driven drug-noise” (1998: xvii) while ‘intelligent

techno’ is labelled as “dance music for the sedentary and

stay-at-home” (1998: 156). However, these highly contrastable

styles can still be grouped together under the term EDM due to

the culturally and socially accepted norms within the EDM

scene, and as will be discussed further on the roots of most

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EDM styles can be traced back to similar foundations (Taylor,

2013).

Figure 1: Ishkur’s Guide to Electronic Music on Techno.org (Taylor,

2013).

Although many musical genres can be broken down into many

different subgenres and sub-subgenres, EDM is particularly

complex and has produced seemingly endless and innumerable

different strains of the form. Ishkur’s Guide to Electronic Music alone

names and describes over 100 subgenres and sub-subgenres

(Taylor, 2013), and McLeod’s (2001: 60) study of EDM found “a

list of more than 300 names” for unique sub-types within the

EDM scene including such abstract descriptors as “aquatic-

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house”, “intelligent jungle” and “mutant-techno”. One recent

study from Hungarian Botond Vitos (2014) claims that the

reason for the proliferation of so many different labels and

categories is due to the actual methods of producing the music

itself:

In EDM the music-making processes are, if not

immune, less affected by corporate strategies

because electronic music production requires

relatively accessible tools and therefore is often

carried out entirely by the artist/producer, and,

moreover, the prominent artists are often running

their own recording labels… It will be revealed

that in this case the music industry is only one

of several influential sources contributing to the

crystallisation of (sub)genres (Vitos, 2014: 4).

Vitos expands on this point a little drawing from Lindop

(2010: 116) who “notes that the main reason for this excessive

taxonomy is that DJs, the central figures of EDM cultures, in

most cases need as exact a categorisation as possible in order

to string together similar tracks in their performances”

(Vitos, 2014: 5). Standardisation as Adorno defines it will be

applied to EDM in the findings of this paper, as

standardisation is actually an integral part of EDM and has

had a huge impact on the evolution of the genre. Although

there is constant debate about the make-up of modern EDM

genres and subgenres, there is at least some general consensus

on the origins of the genre.

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Most research on the field of EDM agrees that the genre finds

its roots in disco music: “The 1970s disco is the most

appropriate place to start to begin drafting a rough history

of contemporary electronic/dance music” (McLeod, 2001: 62).

This notion is also supported by Reitveld (1998), Reynolds

(1998), Brewster & Broughton (1999), McLeod (2001) and Butler

(2003). Butler (2003: 12) states that “the disco era is of

tremendous significance for today’s electronic dance music. It

was in this era that the idea of spending an evening dancing

in a club was first popularized across the world”. This is

incredibly important to this study as the report later looks

at dancing and attending such modern equivalents as being an

inherent part of the overall performance. The genre of ‘House’

music - which Butler claims was the catch-all for EDM in the

1980s (Butler, 2003: 6) - derives from the original ‘Chicago

House’ genre which grew in popularity after the apparent

demise of disco and the homophobic “disco sucks” campaign of

the 1980s by rock audiences who held it in low regard (McLeod,

2001: 62). The iconic Frankie Knuckles was a resident DJ at

Chicago’s Warehouse Club and it “became commonplace for DJs to

mix and overlap records to produce a continuous flow of sound,

rather than allowing a record to die down before moving on to

the next one” (Butler, 2003: 12). Similarly, Rietveld states

that Knuckles used “old and new disco favourites to make it

fit his ‘dance floor’, his audience. He would use his own

rhythm makers and drum machines and would totally re-edit a

song” (Rietveld, 1998: 108). Reynolds conceptualises this to

be as he puts it, ‘disco’s revenge’ (Reynolds, 1998: 14). And

16

Butler sums up this connection between DJ, music and audience

succinctly when he states that “like almost every style of

dance music to come after it, disco first developed into a

genre on the dance floor, with studio production following

behind” (2003: 13). Genres here were borne out of a mutual

interaction between the DJs selecting tracks, audiences

responding and DJs reflexively selecting the next tracks

according to that audience’s response. This is again important

to keep in mind when looking towards the findings and analysis

of this report.

Reynolds (1998: 2) also highlights the importance of the

differing scenes which were gaining ever-growing audiences in

other cities in the USA around the same time, namely Detroit

techno and New York garage. New York garage developed with the

help of Frankie Knuckles as his influence and contact with

Larry Levan in New York helped shape the newest, most extreme

edges of music (Butler, 2003: 15). However Reynolds goes one

step further, and claims that Detroit techno finds its roots

in Germany, with the emergence of the critically-acclaimed and

undeniably influential Kraftwerk:

Kraftwerk invented the pristine, post-human pop

phuture we now inhabit. The story of techno begins

not in early eighties Detroit, as is so often

claimed, but in early seventies Dusseldorf, where

Kraftwerk built their KlingKlang sound-factory…

replacing guitars and drums with synthesizer

pulses and programmed beats (Reynolds, 1998: 2).

17

The influence of the African-American and gay communities

cannot be overstated in this context either, as the majority

of the clubs which held house, techno and garage nights - such

as Chicago’s Warehouse and Paradise Garage in New York –

catered to such clientele (Butler, 2003: 15). As styles began

to diverge and develop, the feature which is now very much

present in modern EDM of self-abandonment and revelry became

inherent: “As house music evolved, this idea – freedom

achieved by abandoning subjectivity and self-will, the ecstasy

of being enthralled by the beat – became more explicit”

(Reynolds, 1998: 20). This shedding of sexual undertones in

place of pure physical and mental delirium is a key feature of

modern dance floor activity, as will be discussed later in the

report.

As technology and synthesisers improved, new sounds developed

and evolved but just as importantly, “by 1989, then, Black

America had generated four distinct and full-formed genres of

electronic dance music: Detroit techno; the deep house/garage

sound of Chicago and New York; acid house and minimal jack

tracks; breakbeat-and-sample based hip house” (Reynolds, 1998:

33). But if the USA gave birth to the EDM metagenre, it was

Europe and Britain that transformed the sounds and styles so

fully: “transplanted to the other side of the Atlantic, each

of these sounds would mutate – beyond all recognition”

(Reynolds, 1998: 33). And from there, literally hundreds of

genres were developed, borrowing influences and samples from a

cannibalisation of different genres under the umbrella of EDM,

18

leaving us with the modern landscape of EDM that Ishkur’s Guide to

Electronic Music attempts to map out (Taylor, 2013).

This chapter has defined the genre of EDM in relation to its

categorisation as ‘popular music’ under Adorno’s

classification. As discussed, modern EDM comes in countless

different forms and styles due to the fragmentation and

subsequent proliferation of its roots in underground American

dance club culture. This has been in no small part due to the

standardised nature of EDM that Adorno labels ‘popular music’

with. But this inherent standardisation is in fact one of the

main reasons why EDM has flourished and been able to

constantly evolve since its arrival in Europe and the UK. As

this chapter highlighted the importance of genre construction,

debate and elaboration in the consumption of popular music, so

the following chapter will focus on consumption of music in

another form: live performance. The chapter outlines the

theoretical terms necessary to this paper’s argument and will

contrast Christopher Small’s theories on traditional live

performance with the theories of Adorno, before exploring

Walter Benjamin’s theory of authenticity and the shifting

interpretation of what authenticity in music really

constitutes.

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Chapter Two

Live performance is a hugely important aspect of the modern

popular music industry. A total remodelling of the music

industry was required with the advent and rise of illegitimate

redistribution - commonly known as piracy – and meant that as

record sales declined, there has been an increasing focus on

live concert tours as a stream of revenue; so much so that

record labels have recently started including clauses in

contract agreements to earn a share of artists touring

revenues (Mortimer, Nosko & Sorensen, 2012: 3). Due to the

abundance of musical recordings available to the general

populace, this chapter will argue that live musical

performance is now as important as it ever has been; not only

to the performers but to the audiences as well: “digital

personal music systems today offer conveniences where

listeners can carry their whole music collections with them at

all times” (Tanaka, 2006: 267). Anyone can hear a pre-recorded

song at any given time; therefore, to be able to hear and see

the artist performing in a particular space and time gains

gravity in its value. This will be argued in contrast with

traditional models of live musical performance with particular

focus on the theories of Christopher Small and Simon Frith.

Initially though, there is a requirement to briefly define the

theories of discourse and ideology as there will be mention of

these terms in the following sections. Roger Fowler provides a

useful and succinct definition which attempts to marry both

theories neatly:

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Discourse is a speech or writing seen from the

point of view of the beliefs, values and

categories which it embodies; these beliefs etc.

constitute a way of looking at the world, an

organisation or representation of experience –

‘ideology’ in the neutral non-pejorative sense.

Different modes of discourse encode different

representations of experience; and the source of

these representations is the communicative context

within which the discourse is embedded (cited in

Hawthorn, 1992: 48).

Discourse then, is the means by which an ideology is enforced.

Michel Foucault’s work on the idea of discourse has been

hugely important to the contemporary study of cultural theory.

But instead of streamlining the definition, Foucault stated

that he had “in fact added to its meanings: treating it

sometimes as the general domain of statements, sometimes as an

individualizable group of statements, and sometimes as a

regulated practice that accounts for a number of statements”

(Foucault, 1972: 80). This regulated practice that Foucault

mentions will be explored in connection with Small’s musings

on classical symphony performance.

Live performance in media comes in many different forms,

dependant on the medium in question. Whether it is theatre, a

poetry reading or indeed live musical performance, two factors

are a constant and inherent feature of performance: the

performer and the audience. Negus (1996: 7) highlights the

21

innumerable ways in which a musical performance can take form,

from “the thousands of people who gather in stadiums to

witness performances by well-known bands and singers… to those

dancing to music at a wedding or birthday party”. Christopher

Small has written a great deal of academic literature on

musical performance and the importance of these events to our

understanding of human nature (see Small, 1987a, 1987b &

1999). He highlights in Music of the Common Tongue that

“classical musicians and listeners alike today view music as

things” (1987a: 50) and that “objects can be duplicated, while

every performance is unique, if only because it takes place in

a particular time at a particular place” (1987a: 51). Here,

Small is criticising traditional models of classical music:

A musical work, in fact, is assumed to have a

platonic ideal existence over and above any

possible performance of it. And as for musical

performance, it seems that that is nothing more

than the medium through which the isolated, self-

contained work has to pass if it is to reach its

goal, the listener. Performance may either clarify

or obscure it for the listener, but it has nothing

to contribute to it (Small, 1995: 1-2).

He also states that “it is never suggested that either

performers of listeners have a creative role to play in

proceedings” (1987a: 50-51). These models are conservative in

the extreme in terms of the performance of music; not even the

performers themselves are credited with having a role to play

22

other than transforming the static composition into sonic

text. These structures of performativity are highly contrary

to Small’s theories and also to the findings of this report,

as will be argued in the following chapter.

In describing these traditional models of Western ‘classical’

performance, Small sees that “the function of a symphony

concert, then, is primarily ritualistic” (1987b: 27). He

states that for the audience, “the seats, in their orderly

rows, do not facilitate socializing; this is clearly not a

place for conversation, or for communication between the

audience” (1987a: 59). Furthermore, Small states that “the

relationship of performers to audience is thus that of

producers to consumers” (1987a: 60), which again is highly

oppositional to the arguments put forth by this report. It

also brings about a contradiction in terms of Adorno’s theory

of ‘serious music’. Classical symphonic performances would

without doubt come under the category of ‘serious music’ in

Adorno’s view; “in Beethoven and in good serious music in

general… the detail virtually contains the whole and leads to

the exposition of the whole, while, at the same time, it is

produced out of the conception of the whole” (Adorno, 1941:

303). Negus highlights that “popular music, argued Adorno, was

indeed responsible for contributing to social passivity”

(1996: 10). However, the passivity in consumption which Adorno

brands ‘popular music’ with is seen explicitly in Small’s

depiction of a traditional classical performance. EDM would

clearly fall under Adorno’s description of ‘popular music’,

due to the standardisation and other facets of the genre which

23

were discussed in the previous chapter. Yet the pre-ordained

factors which Small discusses and the rigidity of the

performance in classical concerts allows only for the audience

to quite literally do as they’re told.

Adorno also stresses the “concrete totality” (Adorno, 1941:

303) of ‘serious music’ and Small highlights the importance of

the interval at a classical concert, stating: “the truth is

that the interval is not a break in the event at all but an

essential part of it, providing opportunity for social

intercourse with members of one’s own reference group, to

crystallize one’s response to the event by discussion” (1987b:

12). This is important to bear in mind when regarding the

findings of this report, as social interaction is stressed as

an incredibly important aspect of live musical events in

modern EDM. However Adorno would probably disagree with the

inclusion of an interval at a symphony performance due to his

obsession with seeing a piece of serious music as a whole;

“only through the whole does it acquire its particular lyrical

and expressive quality” (Adorno, 1941: 303). The interval may

be seen in this context as an inclusion of a ‘social cement’

element; a “socio-psychological function (Adorno, 1941: 311).

Adorno also brands ‘popular music’ as “repressive” (1941:

312), however surely the conditions under which classical

music is traditionally listened to as Small outlines is

perhaps the most repressive mode of consumption available to

concert attendees today.

24

Adorno insists that the process by which ‘popular music’ is

“mass produc[ed]… conforms perfectly to that necessity which

is essential from the viewpoint of cultural big business”

(1941: 308). However, Small argues that “the modern

professional symphony orchestra is in fact a very model of a

modern industrial enterprise” that is “under the direction of

a dominant tycoon-figure, the conductor” (1987a: 60). This

juxtaposition of theories proves counter to Adorno’s

philosophies of ‘popular music’ and ‘serious music’, at least

as applied to the performance aspect of music. However, it has

been discussed a little in the previous chapter - but will be

expanded on in the findings of this report – that there are

many aspects of EDM which without doubt fall in line with

Adorno’s categorisation of ‘popular music’.

As previously mentioned, Small believes this symphonic music

to be ritualistic and goes so far as to say that “to be

unaware of the ritual nature of the act of performing and

listening to symphonic music is to be entrapped by the

mythology of a culture whose time is fast running out”

(Small, 1987b: 30). Here, we can see the theories of discourse

and ideology exemplified in a live musical performance. Small

argues that the rules which govern that these performances are

so rigidly fixed in their structure and form - and the actual

structure and form itself – exist because they are the

embodiment of “the modern state and wealthy business and

industrial organizations, who have an interest in keeping

society as it is” (Small, 1987a: 73). The discourse

surrounding these events – the rules, the layout of the hall,

25

front facing seats which discourage conversation – are a

physical and metaphorical embodiment of the ideology which the

wealthy wish to propagate.

However, Small does not belittle the symphony in any way, and

indeed states that it is a “social ritual of profound

importance to its participants” (1987b: 19). Musical

performance as ritual though, is not limited in Small’s

theories to only classical or symphony concerts. The rituals

or ‘mythologies’ that Small labels these particular types of

musical events with are the “mythology, of the middle classes

in western industrial society” (1987b: 26). They serve a

function to the middle classes in the west in the same way

that other classes and groups in society perform and act out

rituals of their own particular function; “other mythologies,

other shared visions and other social relationships can be

celebrated than those of symphonic music, in rituals of a

different kind” (1987b: 31). Small argues that attendance of

musical performances and concerts are a way for social groups

to transcend the monotony of everyday life and to live out the

most explicit fantasies of their ascribed identities. This

report will later discuss how these rituals and mythologies

are acted out in live EDM performance.

With the act of attending and listening to a concert as ritual

in mind, it is here that we should introduce Small’s concept

of ‘musicking’. Small (1987a: 50) states: “I define the word

to include not only performing and composing… but also

listening and even dancing to music; all those involved in any

26

way in a musical performance can be thought of as musicking”.

Small also does not discriminate between diffing types of

‘musicking’, and asserts that “all musicking is serious

musicking, and no one style of musicking can be said to be

more serious than any other style”, before exemplifying this

with “not just of formal concert performances, but also of the

man in the bus with his Walkman clamped over his ears” (Small,

1999: 20). ‘Musicking’ as Small defines it will be applied to

the genre of EDM further on in the findings of this paper. And

Frith seems to agree with this sentiment -at least to a

certain extent - stating that his argument in Performing Rites

“is not just that in listening to popular music we are

listening to a performance, but, further, that “listening”

itself is a performance” (Frith, 1996: 203). The crucial point

here - which will be further exemplified later on in the

findings - is that the audience can be seen as having as much

a role in the performance of musical concerts as the

performers, artists or DJs themselves.

Frith also insists that “the term ‘performance’ defines a

social – or communicative – process. It requires an audience

and is dependant, in this sense, on interpretation; it is

about meanings” (Frith, 1996: 205). This is crucial to

understanding the role of audiences at musical concerts. On

the subject of live performance, Frith states that:

In live music: it must involve a combination of

improvisation and note-following, with the

extremes being a well-drilled orchestra (in which

27

each player still has to will each note, just so)

and a free-form solo invention (which must make a

gesture at musical expectations even in flouting

them) (Frith, 1996: 207).

However Frith allows us the freedom of interpretation in

ascribing what we call performance when he states that

“whatever the material basis for contemporary performance, it

is clearly culturally based” (Frith, 1996: 206). What is

important here is that what defines a performance is down to

those who are interpreting and making sense of it. This would

always include the audience; “the performance artist depends

on an audience which can interpret her work through its own

experience of performance” (Frith, 1996: 205).

Just as regular attendees of symphonic concerts may argue that

the audience clapping at the end is not a part of the

performance, so too could a rock fan “moshing while listening

to live metal bands” (Bogdanovic & Longhurst, 2014: 195)

insist that they are an inherent part of the overall

performance. It is this reliance on the interpretations of the

audience and performer which forms the basis for this paper’s

argument concerning EDM, and also in attributing authenticity

to ‘live’ performance. Authenticity in performance is a highly

contextual notion, and as previously mentioned is reliant on

the personal or collective interpretations of audiences and

performers. The concept of authenticity must be discussed here

due to the very nature of EDM music and the way it is created,

consumed and indeed performed; it is often a struggle to

28

attribute authenticity to performances of this nature due to

the mechanical and now digital methods of production, though

this paper disputes that argument at least in the performance

aspect of EDM. The next section of this report will outline

the theory of authenticity as argued by Walter Benjamin

(1968), before attempting to clear up why meanings and

understandings of authenticity may have evolved since the

birth of MTV.

Walter Benjamin’s (1968) work on authenticity and ‘aura’ in

music lends a very interesting debate to the subject. Benjamin

was a Marxist and was highly critical of the idea of mass

reproduction of any form of art. He spoke of the importance of

‘aura’ and in particular the attribution of a specific time

and place to a work of art, or in this case a piece of music.

“Even the most perfect reproduction of a work of art is

lacking in one element: its presence in time and space, its

unique existence at the place where it happens to be.”

(Benjamin, 1968: 220). He also argues that the original

artwork or performance should be treated independently from

the copy and that “that which withers in the age of mechanical

reproduction is the aura of the work of art” (Benjamin, 1968:

221). Essentially, the ‘aura’ of the text is lost in its

reproduction. EDM could be considered a special case according

to this theory, as the methods of production are different to

traditional procedures of recording live music and converting

said recordings into an analogue or digital reproduction.

29

Whatever the methods of reproduction, the emphasis of live

musical performance has shifted in the last few decades from

genuine live musical instrumentation, to the visual aspect of

performance and subsequently – as will be argued in the

following chapter – the social aspect of live performance.

With the launch of the MTV channel in 1981in the USA – MTV

launched MTV Europe in 1987 and subsequently MTV UK in 1997 -

the landscape of the music industry would change rapidly and

dramatically. By streaming popular music songs accompanied by

their music videos 24-hours a day, MTV greatly increased the

importance of the visual aspect of musical performance. As

Kooijman states:

MTV’s 24-hour rotation of music videos, seven days

a week, dramatically increased their impact on the

promotion of pop music and pop stars. Their

increased significance also raised the question of

whether the music video was best seen as a

commercial for the pop song and its star, or if

the pop song had been reduced to the soundtrack of

the video (Kooijman, 2006: 125-126).

The music video had of course been around for a few years

before the launch of MTV, but the fact that there was now a

cable channel dedicated specifically to streaming music videos

meant that viewers and listeners began to associate the sound

of the songs themselves with their partnered visual

accompaniment. Along with helping increase the presumption

that music is accompanied by some form of visual

30

entertainment, the increasing abundance of music videos (MVs)

brought with it a shift in the way people listen to music.

Shuker argues that “MV consumption is characterised by more

active viewing, often in a peer group, whose reasons for

viewing go beyond simply the appeal of the MVs to more social

considerations.” (Shuker, 2001: 187). Already here we see the

focus of music and performance shifting away from purely

musical concerns to visual and social aspects. But some

academics have cited one particular ‘live’ performance as

perfectly exemplifying this shift, and that particular

performance involved lip-synching.

Lip-synching is when an artist performs a song ‘live’, but

instead of actually singing the artist merely makes the

correct lip movements while a pre-recorded – and usually note-

for-note perfect – rendition of the song is played in place of

real live vocals. Lip-synching is a notoriously controversial

performance tool, and artists often come under heavy scrutiny

and indeed criticism for employing such a technique. Artists

such as Milli Vanilli, Ashlee Simpson and even renowned opera

singer Luciano Pavarotti have come under heavy condemnation

after being found to have lip-synched ‘live’ performances

(Wakin, 2009). Parallels will be drawn in the following

chapter between the practice of lip-synching and the notion

that a DJ can simply press ‘play’ on their electronic device

at a concert, and there would be no evidence of actual live

instrumentation or ‘live’ performance. But even with this

general negative attitude towards the practice, there is one

lip-synched performance in particular which has been lauded as

31

one of the greatest, or at least most important ‘live’

performances of the modern era.

Michael Jackson’s performance of his hit single ‘Billie Jean’

at the Motown 25 television special is “widely considered as a

groundbreaking moment in the history of pop music” (Kooijman,

2006: 119). The fact that a performance which is well

documented as having been lip-synched is regarded by many as

such a significant moment in musical history speaks volumes

for the importance of the visual aspect of Jackson’s routine.

Jackson’s dance performance was so irresistibly arresting to

viewers and attendees that his non-performance of any kind of

live music was completely overlooked. “Jackson performed to a

pre-recorded soundtrack, lip-synching to his multi-layered

pre-recorded voice, thus indicating that the visual re-

enactment of music video imagery had become an integral, and

perhaps dominant, part of live performance” (Koooijman, 2006:

119). Considering the backlash that so many artists have faced

after being found to have lip-synched, it can be difficult to

comprehend why Jackson’s performance has escaped similar

criticism. Jackson’s overall worldwide popularity compared to

the aforementioned examples no doubt helped, and perhaps the

dance routine and visual performance was simply so good and

clearly so challenging that the public and press were happy to

forgive the lack of a live musical performance.

Regardless, it is a wonderful example of the shifting

preferences for music and mixed media consumption. As Kooijman

states: “It was a pivotal transition in that it marked the

32

shift of emphasis from musical performance to visual

representation” (Kooijman, 2006): 119). The shift of emphasis

away from musical performance alone is an important point to

take into consideration in itself. But it will be shown in the

final chapter that in EDM culture - dependant on the scale of

the performance - the importance of the visual aspect varies,

and this in turn may affect the social aspect of live musical

performances.

33

Chapter Three

The first chapter of this paper outlined Adorno’s

categorisation of music into ‘serious music’ and ‘popular

music’. According to Adorno, “standardization and

nonstandardization are the key contrasting terms for the

difference” (Adorno, 1941: 305). Standardisation is an

integral part of EDM and this was one of the theories applied

in this report to the genre in order to categorise it as

‘popular music’ in line with Adorno’s definitions. Adorno

states that “no such mechanical substitution by stereotyped

patterns is possible in serious music” (1941: 305), whereas

“popular music, however, is composed in such a way that the

process of translation of the unique into the norm is already

planned and, to a certain extent, achieved within the

composition itself” (1941: 305-6). EDM is perhaps the single

most standardised form of music; however, it is a necessary

element of the genre and without standardisation the

performance aspect of it would be entirely different. As

discussed in the first chapter, the roots of EDM lies in

chopping and changing different records in order to allow a

continuous flow of music. This was done with great skill by

pioneering DJs such as Frankie Knuckles, but vast improvements

in technology have simplified this process.

There is one particular facet of EDM which vastly simplifies

the process of mixing any number of separate tracks together

to create a continuous flow of music. The majority of EDM

tracks contain sections of what Butler labels as

34

“undetermin[ed] passages” (2003: 146). These are usually

simply percussive in nature and do not associate with any

particular melody; “this quality relates to the music’s

tendency to foreground beats apart from meter” (Butler, 2003:

146). These passages allow DJs to mix into and out of

individual tracks more easily It is far easier to utilise a

“sync function” (Sheridan, 2013) - which is an automated

process to match up the beat and BPM of any two tracks – if

there is no melody present. Butler supports this, stating that

“when they [undetermined passages] occur at the beginning or

the ending of a track, they allow for smoother transitions

between records, since stripping records down to their beats

alone makes it much easier” (2003: 147). This is now a

standardised feature of modern EDM – which fits neatly in with

Adorno’s theories - and could be views as a courtesy from the

DJs originally producing the material to allow their tracks to

be mixed into a set more easily. However, they may also feel

that their track will have a better chance of being featured

in a more popular DJ’s set if the process of mixing is heavily

simplified. This focus on the beat alone also allows for

easier “substitution” (Adorno, 1941: 305-6) of the harmonic

elements. Adorno would argue that this process of simplifying

the substitution of certain aspects is evidence of the

“pseudo-individualization” of differing tracks (1941: 307-8).

As Adorno states: “the relation to the ground meter is

preserved”(1941: 312), therefore they are not inherently

different tracks if the beat remains the exact same and the

only difference is the harmony.

35

This focus on the ‘beat’ of EDM songs brings up Adorno’s

theories on the “rhythmically obedient” (1941: 312) listener.

Butler states that “it is true that almost all EDM is in 4/4 –

eventually” (Butler, 2003: 144). A 4/4 time signature in music

is the most common and straightforward rhythm, and is used in

marching songs. Adorno would without doubt categorise EDM

listeners as the ‘obedient’ type as opposed to the ‘emotional’

type. Butler states that “fans of electronic dance music

commonly refer to the music simply as “beats”” (2003: 144),

while Adorno highlights that “the obedient type is the

rhythmical type… any musical experience of this type is based

on the underlying, unabating time unit of the music – its

“beat”” (1941: 312). Furthermore, Adorno comments on this type

of listener, stating that “to be musical means to them to be

capable of following given rhythmical patterns… this is the

way in which their response to music immediately expresses

their desire to obey” (1941: 312). However this notion of the

EDM fan as the obedient type contrasts with many academic’s

accounts of the genre and its culture, as will be discussed

further on in this chapter.

The integral standardisation of EDM not only allows DJs to mix

between different tracks more easily, but, further, has made

the actual creative thought-process of composing an EDM song

much more simple. This is due to the “mechanical substitution”

(Adorno, 1941: 305) process mentioned in the previous

paragraph and the fact that there are “standard patterns”

(1941: 306) which many aspiring EDM artists can – and perhaps

are encouraged to - follow. The other reason is the

36

accessibility of the instruments and synthesisers which it

takes to actually produce the music. The continual

disintegration of subgenres and sub-subgenres is the product

of DJs constantly trying to stay ahead of the curve and

produce a new sound from the countless roots of their

influences.

Standardisation is not only an important feature for the

production of EDM, but also in the performance and the culture

surrounding the genre. Many clubs have recurring event nights

where it can be expected that the music will be in a certain

form or subgenre of EDM. For example Sub Club in Glasgow –

voted 14th best club in the world by EDM magazine DJ Mag in

2009 (DJ Mag, 2009) – runs a weekly event night called

‘Subculture’, which “serve[s] up the most upfront and relevant

selections of all that’s good in house and techno” (Sub Club,

2015). Adorno states that popular music must simultaneously

meet two demands; one is that the music must be “the sum total

of all the conventions and material formulas in music to which

he is accustomed and which he regards as the inherent” (1941:

307). To apply Adorno’s theory, promoters understand that by

running recurring club nights over a long period of time,

audiences come to expect certain standardised forms and

subgenres of EDM. They can then decide to attend based not on

whatever particular DJ is playing, but because they know that

they will hear performance of exactly the type of music that

they expect.

37

Negus and Frith’s constructs of genre as a tool for marketing

(Negus, 1999: 28 & Frith, 1996: 76) can be seen as being

utilised here. The Sub Club promoters know that they can book

an artist or DJ for ‘Subculture’ who may not be well known to

their prospective audience, yet many of that prospective

audience will attend regardless because they know from past

experiences that any DJs who play that particular event night

will categorically play a mixture of the house and techno

subgenres. There are not many other genres of music – if any –

where audiences can be attracted to live performances simply

on the basis that they will hear a certain type of rock music,

for example, and not a particular artist which know, or more

importantly know that they like. There is not particular focus

on the music – because the audience simply anticipates that

their musical taste will be catered to – and therefore the

focus of the performance shifts to the social aspect of live

musical performance.

This shift was highlighted in the previous chapter, which

outlined Walter Benjamin’s theory of authenticity and ‘aura’

in popular music, before arguing how our understanding and

perception of authenticity has altered since the advent of

MTV. We are so used to repeatedly hearing the perfect studio

version - whether on the radio, on television, in shopping

centres and indeed on our own devices - that anything that

diverges from the path of what we are used to hearing seems

jarring and out of place. “For an increasing portion of the

pop music audience, perfection is more desirable than

authenticity” (Nelson, 2004). This paper argues that the focus

38

of live musical performance – and particularly in EDM

performance - has shifted away from ‘authentic’ live

instrumentation and musicality to a combination of musical,

visual and social aspects. The popular EDM magazine Mixmag

supports this theory, stating that “people describe going to

‘see’ a DJ. Not hear” (Sheridan, 2003). The argument was made

in the previous chapter with a focus on the practice of lip-

synching in musical performance, and parallels can be drawn

here between lip-syncing and a DJ simply pressing ‘play’ on

their electronic device at a concert. Both are attempting to

pass off pre-recorded music as something which is a unique

performance at a specific place and time, which one could

argue is the whole point of organising, playing or attending a

music concert.

Cascone states that “historically, the unfamiliar codes used

in electronic music performance have prevented audiences from

attributing “presence” and “authenticity” to the performer”

(Cascone, 2003: 102). This problem may stem from the simple

fact that onstage, it does not look traditionally as if the

artist is performing musically. There is generally a complete

lack of analogue or acoustic instruments present onstage and

this may lead to questioning of the ‘authenticity’ of the

performance. But as Frith (1996) states, “the term

‘performance’ defines a social – or communicative – process.

It requires an audience and is dependant, in this sense, on

interpretation; it is about meanings” (Frith, 1996: 205).

39

The popular DJ Deadmau5 (real name Joel Zimmerman) has been

very outspoken over the last few years about his and his

fellow DJ’s trade and what really goes on on-stage. In an

interview with Rolling Stone, Zimmerman claimed that “there’s

still button-pushers getting paid half a million” (Rolling

Stone, 2012). This is a reference to just pushing play on a

pre-recorded set, and Zimmerman goes on to point the finger at

fellow world-famous DJs David Guetta and Skrillex. He also

posted a blog entry on his own personal Tumblr page titled ‘we

all hit play’ in which he states that “it’s not about

performance art, it’s not about talent either” (Zimmerman,

2013). Furthermore, Zimmerman then goes on to state that “I

don’t really have any shame admitting that for ‘unhooked’

sets, I just roll up with a laptop and a midi controller and

‘select’ tracks [and] hit a spacebar” (Zimmerman, 2013). In

this context, ‘hitting a spacebar’ implies simply pressing

play on the laptop for a pre-recorded song or set.

In an interview with lifestyle magazine GQ, another hugely

successful DJ, Avicii (real name Tim Bergling), states that

“thanks to computers, these days, DJing is mostly ‘before

work’” and that “most of the set list and transitions are

worked out before he gets onstage” (Pressler, 2013). Small

argues that “the preformed material will determine the

relationships that are established between the participants;

the more predetermined it is, the lesser will be the intimacy

that is sought and attained between them” (Small, 1987a: 59).

However, the popularity of Avicii’s ‘live’ shows proves

contrary to that notion with DJ having played to crowds of

40

thousands including one show in Glasgow’s Bellahouston Park in

August 2013, which attracted upwards of 35,000 attendees

(Daily Record, 2013).

The interviewer Jane Pressler goes on to ask the question

“since so much of it is predetermined… what is he doing

onstage?... but after watching his show a few times, the only

real difference I notice when he twists a button or pushes a

knob is that sometimes it gets a little louder or quieter”

(Pressler, 2013). Avicii then replies that “yeah, it’s mostly

volume… or the faders” (Pressler, 2013). In Last Night a DJ

Saved My Life (1999) Brewster and Broughton seem to disagree

with Zimmerman’s view that anyone with basic computing skills

and an hour of tuition can be a DJ (Zimmerman, 2013), and that

in fact there is much skill required to be a successful DJ.

“Today’s star DJ uses records as building blocks, stringing

them together in an improvised narrative to create a ‘set’ – a

performance – of his own… and thanks to the power of music,

this kind of patchwork performance, when done well, can be

very much greater than the sum of its parts” (Brewster &

Broughton, 1999: 14). However, this book was written at a time

when it would not have been possible to fit an entire two or

three hour-plus long set onto a portable device such as a

memory card or a USB stick, or at least the facilities to do

so would not have been as accessible as it is today. In his

blog, Zimmerman tells us where he believes his and other DJ’s

talent is properly utilised: “my ‘skills’ and other producers

skills shine where it needs to shine… in the goddamned studio”

(Zimmerman, 2013).

41

Zimmerman’s argument is that it does not matter how the music

is delivered to the audience; whether it is pre-arranged or

mixed live is not important. Thornton supports this idea when

stating that “club cultures embrace their own hierarchies of

what is authentic and legitimate popular culture” (Thornton,

1995: 3). Thornton defines what is meant by ‘club culture’ in

this context: “Club culture’ is the colloquial expression

given to youth cultures to whom dance clubs and their eighties

offshoot, raves, are the symbolic axis and working social hub”

(Thornton, 1995: 3). The crucial point here is that regardless

of the method of exposure – be it entirely pre-ordained or

mixed live – it is up to the audience to attribute

authenticity or ‘aura’ as outlined by Benjamin, based on their

own interpretations. The ‘live’ music may be a reproduction of

a pre-formed set and Benjamin argues that “even the most

perfect reproduction of a work of art is lacking in one

element: its presence in time and space, its unique existence

at the place where it happens to be” (Benjamin, 1968: 220).

Yet Frith states that “music, in other words, is defined by

its performance, only exists as it is performed” (1996: 137).

To many attendees of EDM concerts, regardless that the set may

have been pre-arranged, the important thing is that they are

there in that specific time and place when the music, the

visual and the social aspects come together; as an individual,

they are present as the event exists ‘live’, and this makes

the experience of the event entirely unique to their frame of

reference. This paper argues then, that worries of

authenticity in live EDM are unfounded; a perfect reproduction

42

of the combined experience of musical, visual and social

aspects is impossible.

The final section of this chapter aims to highlight the

relationship of the DJ and the audience, and the importance of

the social aspect of attending EDM concerts. Zimmerman

provides an insight into what he believes is the true role of

the DJ in a performance environment. He asks then answers the

question of what makes an EDM show the experience that it is:

You know what makes the EDM show the crazy amazing

show it is? You guys do, the fans, the people who

came to appreciate the music, the lights… we just

facilitate the means and the pretty lights and the

draw of more awesome people like you by our studio

productions. Which is exactly what it is. But to

stand up and say you’re doing something special

outside of a studio environment, when you’re not

just plain fuckin annoys me (Zimmerman, 2013).

Zimmerman clearly believes that the role of the DJ in a

performance environment is hinged on a sort of symbiotic

relationship between the performer and audience, that the DJ

is a sort of agent through which the audience can experience

and enjoy the music. Dave Haslam – a former and thoroughly

experienced DJ - agrees, stating that “the important chemistry

is the reaction between the music and the crowd; and the DJ is

43

somewhere at the centre of it all, a catalyst” (Haslam, 1998:

160).

Traditional models of performer and audience in analogue

musical performance would have one believe that the artist is

generally the centre of attention and the audience, though not

entirely passive, are merely there in order to respond to the

event of the artist’s performance. Small’s model of

traditional musical performance was outlined in the previous

chapter, and the setup and configuration of the show revolves

around audiences all facing towards and paying homage to the

artist. Live EDM performances seem to present a very different

sociological structure. EDM performances seem to provide a

sort of social environment for communication and interaction

through dance and mutual enjoyment of the music. Drawing on

Ben Neill’s (2002) article from the Leonardo Music Journal 12,

Ferreira supports this theory stating:

One of the key ideas to come out of recent

electronic pop culture was the way traditional

notions of performer and audience were “completely

erased and redefined” by a new “rave sensibility”

in which the artist is not the centre of

attention, only the channeler of the dance floor’s

energy… and the provider of a backdrop for social

interaction (Ferreira, 2008: 17).

Ferreira also provides an interesting diagram – seen in Figure

2 - of how he perceives the model of EDM performance to be

structured.

44

Figure 2, (Ferreira, 2008: 17).

In this diagram we can see that Ferreira envisions the setting

of a club or concert hall in a cyclical fashion. The DJ sends

‘machine sound’ towards the dance floor, and the people on the

dance floor reciprocate by responding to those sounds with

bodily movement, or dancing. The nature of electronic music

culture has strong connotations with the act of dancing

itself. Christopher Small (1999) argues that this almost-side-

effect of musical performance is central to the performance

itself; the ‘musicking’ that is outlined in the previous

chapter. ‘To music’ is “to take part in any activity that can

affect the nature of that style of human encounter which is a

musical performance. We should certainly include dancing”

(Small, 1999: 12). Contrary to the traditional settings of

live musical performance highlighted in chapter two, “an EDM

audience is not expected to be polite; if they do not like

what the DJ is doing, they will leave the dance floor” (Butler

45

2003: 312). This puts significant influence in the hands of

the audience, and one could argue that this power to stop the

performance by simply leaving the dance floor is as powerful

as anything the DJ can do.

As well as relationships with the music and DJ, live EDM

performances are also defined by the relationships and

interactions that the audience develops with each other. The

previous chapter outlined how audiences have shifted their

focus away from musical performance, thereby allowing the

social aspects of live musical concerts to increase in

significance. As previously mentioned, modern models of live

EDM performance differ greatly from Small’s (1987a) structure

of traditional live musical performance. Where Small

exemplified the importance of everyone being seated facing

away from each other, concentrated on the musical aspect

(1987a: 59), dance clubs do not follow the same arrangement.

In order to illustrate this, photographs from the social media

websites of three of Glasgow’s most popular EDM clubs – Sub

Club, The Arches and 69 Below - were looked at in order to

demonstrate the importance of social interaction at EDM

performances. The following photographs were permitted for use

in this report by the club’s social media representatives, and

are taken during live EDM performances at various club nights.

46

Figure 3 is taken at 69 Below, at a club night called ‘GBXL’

which features EDM from the subgenre of ‘hardcore’.

Figure 3: ‘GBXL’ at 69 Below (69 Below, 2015).

Photographers in clubs often take the audience members out of

context by arranging for them to pose for a photograph, so in

the selection of these photographs, importance was placed on

images where the audience members appear to be behaving

naturally, unaware of the photographer’s presence. In figure

3, various audience members can be seen in conversation,

interacting with each other. All the while, the DJ can be seen

in the background with his arm in the air in the middle of his

performance. Many of the audience members are facing away from

the stage, contrasting with Small’s (1987a: 59) model of

traditional musical performance.

47

Figures 4 and 5 are taken at the aforementioned Sub Club, and

show similar traits to the event from 69 Below, although these

pictures were taken at a night called ‘Sensu’ which features

music from the subgenres of ‘minimal techno’ and ‘house’.

Figure 4: ‘Sensu’ at Sub Club (Sub Club, 2015).

Figure 5: ‘Sensu’ at Sub Club (Sub Club, 2015).

Similar social situations to those shown in Figure 3 can be

identified in these photographs. In both images, the DJ - or

performer - is situated in the background of the right hand

side. Figure 4 is particularly interesting as a literal social

48

circle can be seen in the centre of the image, with many

audience members choosing to focus their attentions on their

peers rather than the musical performance. Figure 5 again

highlights the importance of socialising in this context,

portraying two female audience members in the middle of social

performance, smiling and interacting with each other while the

musical performance goes on behind them.

Figure 6 is was taken at The Arches - one of Glasgow’s most

beloved EDM clubs – at the ‘Space Ibiza 25th Anniversary

Tour’, a celebration of the Space dance club in Ibiza, and

featured a mix of the EDM subgenres ‘house’ and ‘electro’.

49

Figure 6: ‘Space Ibiza 25th Anniversary Tour’ at The Arches

(The Arches, 2015).

Again we can see the DJ in the background, raised up on a

stage as though to draw the attention of the audience. Yet in

the foreground we can see another group of audience members

all facing each other instead of facing the stage, interacting

with one another. Importantly, they are giving as much or more

attention to each other as they are to the musical

performance. Club culture does not put major significance on

the musical aspect of the performance, so long as the music

which is almost a backdrop to the social function of the event

is in line with their expectations. Thornton states:

Club cultures are taste cultures. Club crowds

generally congregate on the basis of their shared

taste in music, their consumption of common media

50

and, most importantly, their preference for people

with similar tastes to themselves. Taking part in

club cultures builds, in turn, further affinities,

socializing participants into a knowledge of (and

frequently a belief in) the likes, dislikes,

meanings and values of the culture (Thornton,

1995: 3).

This again highlights the importance of the social aspect

surrounding live EDM events, and falls in line with Small’s

(1987a: 31) theories of performance as ritual and the living

out of the mythologies of their culture. If the mythologies

lived out by Small’s audience in symphonic performance is that

of the “western industrial society” (1987b: 26), then in EDM

Tomlinson offers one possibility: “Rave has remained almost

exclusively within youth culture, providing an atmosphere in

which participants can temporarily forget the harsh realities

of coming of age” (Tomlinson, 2002: 196). Rave can be read

here, as was previously highlighted in this paper, as another

term for dance club culture.

This brings us back to Adorno’s theory of obedience as he

states that “individuals of the rhythmically obedient type are

mainly found among the youth” (1941: 312).Negus comments on

Adorno’s theories in a manner that can be applied to EDM

culture: “more socially amorous, but just as manipulated by

the products of the music media, are the amorphous crowds of

ravers who gather in fields and large warehouses and who lose

individuality in a sea of waving arms and trance-like swaying

51

bodies” (Negus, 1996: 11).However Negus disagrees with

Adorno’s labelling of particular cultures and goes on to state

that “these are rather despairing and quite condescending

views of the social activities that accompany the reception of

popular music” (Negus, 1996: 12). Adorno also states that “the

language that is music is transformed… into a language which

they think is their own – into a language which serves as a

receptacle for their institutionalised wants” (Adorno, 1941:

311). With this in mind, Small offers a more positive answer,

stating that “all musical performances partake of the nature

of ritual, the acting-out of desired relationships and thus of

identity” (Small, 1987a: 77).

Indeed, it is in the dark, claustrophobic and intensely noisy

spaces of dance clubs which audiences can live out the rituals

and mythologies of their adopted culture. Adorno states that

“[popular] music today is largely a social cement” (1941: 311)

and in the genre of EDM, this paper argues that this is not

only inherently true, but that the social aspect of the live

musical performance in EDM is integral to the success of the

genre. This final chapter applied the theories outlined in

chapter two to the musical genre of Electronic Dance Music

defined in chapter one in order to argue that in EDM

performance, social aspects are a deeply important factor.

Furthermore, ‘musicking’ as outlined by Small is a hugely

significant factor. An EDM performance can be musically

replicated effortlessly. But the performance of the audience

that includes the dancing, applause, cheering and especially

the interactions between audience members are experiences

52

which cannot be repeated out with that particular time and

place.

Conclusion

Electronic Dance Music conforms to most of the criteria

theorised by Theodor Adorno as ‘popular music’. The

standardisation found in EDM is an integral part of every

aspect of the genre: in production, consumption and

performance. Adorno may have been something of a prophet,

predicting that music was becoming more and more standardised,

with the result being the genre of EDM which is perhaps the

single most standardised form of music ever to exist. Adorno

views this standardisation as a dumbing down of music produced

for popular consumption, and indeed this standardisation of

form in EDM sets boundaries for creativity in the conception

and production of ‘new’ tracks. Yet this paper argues that

without standardisation, EDM would not have been able to

flourish and proliferate at the exceptional rate it did

throughout the 1990s and 2000s. Although standard forms may

hinder the creativity of DJs, it also facilitates the creation

of ideas to a rough template. This in turn opens the door to

those who may not be as ingeniously gifted as the purveyors of

‘serious music’ which Adorno holds in high regard.

When Benjamin wrote The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,

he may not have fathomed that there would ever be questions

regarding the authenticity of a live musical performance. Yet

the authenticity of EDM concerts has been questioned by many,

as highlighted in this report. A musical genre which is 53

founded on the adoption, imitation and subsequent reproduction

of previously recorded material will always be subject to the

inquisitions of musical purists. Only the DJ or perhaps

members of the concert’s crew can truthfully answer whether an

EDM performance is authentic or not. This paper argues that it

matters not whether the performance is entirely pre-recorded

or spontaneous. Performance of EDM means so much more than

simply live musicality, and the audience is a crucial aspect

of the overall event. On performance, Frith, drawing on Alfred

Schutz’s (1951) study, states that “it is now happening, in a

single time and space: it is thus a performance and I hear it

as one, imagine the performers performing even when this just

means a deejay mixing a track, an engineer pulling knobs”

(Frith, 1996: 211).

The synergetic relationship between DJ, audience, music and

visuals is the performance. Regardless of the authenticity of

the music itself, the experiences and memories gained from

interacting and socialising with other audience members are

certainly authentic, and as real as the individuals are

themselves. To exemplify, one may attend a live EDM

performance with a group of friends and comes away with a

specific set of memories, none of which can be perfectly

reproduced. That same person then attends another performance

of the exact same set – both musically and visually – but this

time alone. The experiences, memories and interpretations

attained from this second performance will be entirely

different, simply due to the differing social situations.

54

The limitations of this study are that no primary research was

involved. However, the study does the theoretical groundwork

that may be the basis for further investigation. Any follow-up

to this report would benefit from the use of interviews or

focus groups including those who are regularly involved with

live EDM performances. This may offer more humane

clarifications as to the importance of social interactions at

EDM concerts.

But Adorno’s theory of ‘popular music’ as social cement

certainly ties in with the findings of this report. Blackwin

states that “the chief function of music is to involve people

in shared experiences within the framework of their cultural

experience” (1976: 48). Although EDM is inherently

standardised music, its live performance is clearly anything

but.

55

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