A new review on the stunning new
Broadcast and the Focus Group album, with words on hauntology and the unknowing
Re:
Ian's comments in the previous post regarding the above album.
I actually quite like the Avalanches album and don't even really dislike the others mentioned
per se, but I meant to convey that there's an entirely different design at work in examining potential worlds forbidden by the betrayal of utopian ideals, as opposed to exploring the potential of hidden sonics that are completely possible within the existing model, but which have been swept aside by the rush of the marketplace. I'd say the Avalanches, unlike others working in pastiche, are more concerned with sublimation than recontextualization. Judging by their nearly complete absence over the past eight years, I think it's also safe to assume that egotism is far from their highest concern. That their one return I know of- a remix of a Belle and Sebastian song- saw fit to include no samples, dance beats, or electronics at all (and in fact foresaw the current vogue for ethnotourism of developing world folk sounds) seems proof positive that they're unconcerned with simply peddling cheap tricks to win clever points.
I'm glad Ian found me here though. I was actually saving in queue a link to his
Resident Advisor review of Brock Van Wey's album to run in tandem with my upcoming review of the same album at PM. But since it runs parellel to an axis touched upon in the Broadcast article, it may be worth mentioning here. I thought Ian was spot on his observation of Clouds Drift On and On as the anti-Untrue, contemplating how Van Wey and Burial both share a nostalgia for rave in its 90s incarnation. As Ian points out, Burial carved out a city and left only the sense of loss of ennui for what had been carved out to externalize his sense of devastation at the unfulfilled heterotopian promises of rave. Van Wey, on the other hand, obliterated any connection to the community or even internal connections and aimed straight for the clouds, the heavens.
It's interesting to think of these two reactions biographically, as well. Burial, like Zomby and many other prominent artists after him, was far too young to experience rave first hand, but nevertheless found the hardcore and jungle of the time undeniable and inspired. "I see so much hope in those tunes, even the darkest of those tunes, jungle tunes and all that. In the UK – ‘cos that’s all I know – those tunes tried to unite people. I want to let those people know that they didn’t fail. Because to some people, those tunes mean everything," Bevan said in his
interview with Emmy Hennings.
Van Wey, on the other hand, was in the very middle of the scene, as a partier and a deejay, and became totally disenchanted to the point where he sold all his records and moved to China. This dismissal makes the subsequent denial of rave in obliterative textural pieces seem fitting. It's also interesting to note the cultural disconnect- Burial being British and Van Wey being American. In America, rave was never legitimated by either the mainstream or within the counterculture, whereas it became a crucial part of British pub/club life, fueling a revolt against the failures of New Labour, becoming a topic of constant (and non-esoteric) concern for scared parents, finding occassional appearances on the charts, and maintaining a presence through pirate radio. Van Wey's disavowal presupposed that American communities were autonomous and had thereby betrayed themselves by the turn of the millenium, but as Simon Reynolds rightly pointed out in Energy Flash/Generation Ecstasy, the communities were anarcho-capitalist. It was only a matter of time before an unguarded sublimated space was consumed by nu-capitalists with no need for the "Anarcho". American rave had no powerful defense team, nobody infiltrating both sides of the isle to avoid hostile takeover. It was plagued by infighting and exclusivism. And hence it died in a car commercial somewhere near the turn of the millenium.
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