Yeka Yeka

Re re re

Lately, I’ve been going through something like an artistic refreshment. Not a rebirth — more a kind of invigoration born from revisiting what I’d left behind. I’m pretty sure this was triggered by moving to a new computer over the winter, which forced me to archive old projects and, inevitably, take stock. Surprisingly, that process turned out to be more generative than I expected. Not just because I found a few half-finished tunes that I thought worth finishing. Listening back to things I’d long forgotten, I found myself inspired by the animating spirit behind them—something energizing, rejuvenating, refreshing. Re re re.

I’ve written before about how, in my early years of making music seriously, I was pretty intentional about the tools I used and the reasons I used them. The results may not have had the fully-formed identity I was aiming for, but looking back, the process was, bit by bit, working. I knew limitations were good for getting stuff done, and that microscopic creative decisions could open up unpredictable paths forward. “If I try to make dance music only out of drums sampled from this neo-soul record, at least I won’t be using the same Roland machine sounds on a million other records.” Minor acts, but still.

I think that attitude was shaped by the indie-electronic landscape of the late 2000s and early 2010s. It was a fertile time—blogs ruled, genre boundaries were collapsing, and music seemed full of possibility. Obviously, these were my formative years as a participant in music scenes, so I’m never sure how much of that perspective is just the infatuation and enthusiasm of youth. But I’m not entirely convinced it’s all nostalgia. Even Jon Hopkins, who’s a decade older than me and therefore less likely to have been ‘formed’ by that moment, has expressed similar thoughts.

It seemed like the point was to, as much as possible, transcend genre, to stamp personality on the work. Even in the comically codified world of dance music, there was plenty of cross-pollination, with critics reaching for new genre names (until many just landed on things like ‘bass music,’ which kind of makes no sense, but hey). By the mid-2010s, that seemed to break down.¹

While I don’t find chill-bro Mac DeMarco-style indie,² post-punk revivalism, or straight techno especially interesting, I do know a lot of that boredom is just age. In general, I’m not as moved these days by taking an old genre’s tropes and turning them up to 100, or making them more distorted. But once upon a time, that felt like a genuine thrill. And the reasons why still hold up: excitement, optimism, participation, openness. All good things.

In this recent piece that asks if pop culture is declining, Kieran Press-Reynolds³ mentioned a recent Soundcloud hit, fragged aht as evidence that music is still mutating and fresh.⁴ Musically, I sort of see it. It also sounds like everything that’s been going on for the past decade: woozy, autotuned, trancey. With my critic’s hat on, I’m unpersuaded. But there’s no denying the personality and spirit. Tunes like that remind me of 2010-era bands like Gobble Gobble. Lawn Knives is a long-standing favorite. Maybe it’s not the deepest music, but they were so freaking fun live. I can easily see fragged aht playing a similar role for the yoofs of today as Gobble Gobble or Tonstartssbandht did for me and my friends.

It’s good to let your tastes grow as you age. Sticking with the listening habits you had as a 20-year-old is shit. But it’s also rejuvenating and refreshing to remember what was so exciting about music when you were young. Yes, Gobble Gobble isn’t exactly an immaculately recorded and mixed album of kora and ngoni duets, but the spirit and directness are refreshing and feel vital. There’s plenty to be learned from the youths, even if they don’t quite know what makes their music interesting, and even if the youth in question is yourself.

1. I suspect two larger forces accelerated this collapse (beyond the usual ‘things change’ explanation): the rise of streaming and the dominance of public social media platforms. Algorithmic consumption. Platform capitalism. Platform populism? It’s out with editorial and in with algorithmic continuity.

2. Sidenote, but I think indie music—understood broadly as independent music made by basically ordinary people—is best when it’s at its most magpie-like. It’s not a space that’s usually distinguished by technical skill or harmonic virtuosity, but by idiosyncrasy and openness. The Smiths are best when Johnny Marr sounds like he’s been listening to King Sunny Ade non-stop for the past year. Clearly, many disagree. But many are also wrong.

3. Son of Simon, who’s been granted the honour of a mention in this very publication before.

4. This is obviously true, and it always will be. But I think the bigger shift is happening at the broader cultural level, more than within any single discipline. As this tweet says: “the top 3 mediums used to be music, film, and TV. now it's social video, video games, and memes.”