Over these past few months, I’ve been exploring many different topics that relate to perceived imperfection within music. Let’s briefly cover; why do some producers like to mix in tape hiss into their mixes, or add vinyl clicks? These were all things that were considered flaws in various mediums not that long ago, but now we deliberately smear dirt and flaws over our productions… why?
Well; we’ve reached an obscenely technologically capable period, in which music has the ability to be recorded and listened to with no unintentional aspects inserting themselves into the music; as was once unavoidable in the days of vinyl, tape or cassette.
Now that the medium music occupies completely lacks character and is entirely transparent, we’re suddenly harking back to the days of analogue (as discussed in my Analogue Emulation post). Analogicity (a word I’ve coined to mean “the property of being analogue”) is something many producers try to evoke in their works, even though we all know there’s barely anyone recording on analogue mediums anymore.
But now, having written about analogue imperfections for weeks on end – something has changed. A thought strikes me. Should I consider analogicity as something more than a denotation of physicality? Perhaps, through exploring my thoughts I might find a more reasonable justification of our heavy semiotic referencing, rather than just “tape make brain go brrr”.
It is my belief that when we are artificially inserting things like tape hiss, vinyl clicks or machine hums into our music – we’re attempting to cue and stimulate our audience in their association of nostalgic memories. Tape hiss is unlikely to directly be in someone’s memories, but the aesthetic association is enough to trigger thoughts or connotations that would positively enhance the listening experience of our audience. Tape hiss nor vinyl clicks improve the fidelity of our music, so this semiotic referencing is clearly about something other than good production choices.
I have a hunch, and it might take analogicity beyond its current positing. In Bon Iver’s re:stacks, Justin Vernon (composer/lead singer) concludes the final track of the album with a very subtle silence; you can hear clothes rustle, guitar movement, a seat creak. Why? ASMR? No! Art, duh. However, beneath that answer there’s perhaps something of deeper meaning. His song happened, existed, interacted with the world before it was digitised and streamed; it wasn’t just recorded in a booth (it was actually recorded in a cabin in Wisconsin).
This is something that I believe analogicity might share, or even be; the attempt to stake a claim in the physical world. Hearing Vernon’s clothes rustle helps you visualise him, sitting, perhaps even in a cabin (if you knew that’s where he was). Analogicity might be about something more than simply referencing a tape machine, it might be about making a statement that - this music - intrinsically exists, and not just in a backhanded way – but specifically in a meaningful way. In our world, music (and art generally) now exists digitally more than physically, we all can understand the rarity and sacrosanctity of physical art (in music’s case this would be CD’s, Vinyl, Cassettes and such). Does this mean that analogicity benefits from the reverence of physicality? – that’d certainly make this body of words feel more philosophical if it were the case.
I’d like to try something with you, the reader. I’m going to share a song with you, and I want you to promise to listen to it only after you’ve read this paragraph - and then once you’ve listened to it, please do continue reading the remainder of this body of thoughts. You’ll only get one chance at this though, because if you read on it might spoil the result.
Tareena, a friend and Melburnian, wrote an EP entitled TIDES; largely influenced by an old relationship while she was studying at Victoria University. Thunder In The Rain, the introductory song, is emphatic in its delivery. Tareena’s vocals were recorded alone in her own house, with nothing more than a battered SM58. The final section, from 03:00 onward is truly a sound to behold. Have a listen to the full thing here;
What did you think? Emotive? Personal? Try and capture the words.
Okay… so, I’m going to claim that I’ve casted a little analogicity over the track mentioned above. Admittedly, some of the things I told you about Tareena and her track might not actually be true (I’ll leave that judgement to the lyrically enabled). I’m hoping that I just preconditioned you into having a more positive listening experience – which you can be the judge of.
It’s all related; visualising Tareena in her house, alone, singing her heart out; thinking of Vernon wearing a tartan shirt, sitting in a cabin; hearing some vinyl clicks, clothes rustle, tape hiss. It’s about physicality. Surely it’s not so strange to believe that we, physical creatures, can connect on a level more intimately if the connection is one based on a physical parameter or the presupposition of physicality? Our emotions largely manifest in physical ways - if we’re sad or angry, we frown or cry; If we’re happy or cosy, we’re warm and relaxed. Hearing the noises of a tape machine makes us associate certain qualities to what we’re listening – importantly though, associations of these types are in some amount societally driven; changing dependant on the cultural and societal background of those that you poll. In the same way that you might visualise Vernon’s clothes rustling or his seat creaking, you, I, we are often unable to avoid visualising that which we hear. If I’m right – does this bring new meaning to communicating music to your audience?
With these closing thoughts, I will continue to explore my new term analogicity, and the implications it may have to the physical realm. Alongside this, I hope this journey has provided you with something interesting to contemplate.
This will be my final post for some time, and I hope you’ve enjoyed the journey.
Best,
Jamie
Many thanks to Tareena Rose for approving me to use an unfinished song from her upcoming debut EP.