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.
5
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
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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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