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In Defense of Contemporary

Electronic Music

By Steve Wilson

Wichita State University

December 2006

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1.0 Introduction

Today, composers of electronic music have two options: they can choose academia,

which will relegate them to the laboratory to create esoteric music that is as much about

scientific research as it is about art, or they can choose the popular route finding a much wider

audience, but alienating themselves from critics and the theories of judgment they employ. The

strong technical components and experimental nature of academic electronic music are its main

features of legitimization, but the necessity to maintain this complexity renders much of the

music impenetrable to the common, unsophisticated listener. This is the state of electronic music

determined to be quality by the traditional structure of artistic value. Meanwhile, there is a

thriving movement of electronic composers creating a new style of electronic music typically

referred to as “intelligent dance music”, or IDM for short. Although this music has roots in the

techno tradition, it is conceptually far removed from the familiar “dance” music heard in clubs

and discos. Unfortunately, critics and academics virtually ignore this music simply because of its

heritage. One of the most problematic aspects of this style of music is the presence of a groove.

This fact, perhaps more than any other, causes critics to associate it with techno music without

actually bothering to examine the differences between the two.

This new style of electronic music can be, and frequently is, as artistically legitimate as

anything preceding it and it is deserving of critical acceptance and closer academic study. A

philosophical examination into the nature of this music using a synthesis of precedented models

from many important figures from Kant and Hegel to Barthes and Deleuze, will show that the

composers of this style of electronic music are admissible to the canon of Western art music and

can compare favorably with a great deal of more traditional music already accepted as art.

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I will begin by conducting a survey of pertinent philosophers and their aesthetic theories

to evaluate their efficacy to the problem at hand. I will then synthesize their views into a new

aesthetic theory to show that contemporary electronic composers meet the standards of artistic

excellence. From there, I will apply my aesthetic theory to a selection of important electronic

works to show that the music does in fact constitute high art.

Background on Aesthetic Theory

2.0 Introduction to general aesthetics

Many philosophers, over the course of time, have endeavored to provide a definition of

art. Plato claimed that art was imitation or representation; Kant attempted to separate artistic

quality from a necessary connection to beauty; Hegel spoke of art as cognition, but claimed it

had lost the ability to fulfill that function in the middle ages; Goodman describes aesthetic

experience as “cognitive experience distinguished by the dominance of certain symbolic

characteristics”1; finally in 1996 Jean Baudrillard proclaimed art null.

From here, it would appear that some sort of concrete definition, a definition acceptable

to any and everyone, is impossible. More importantly, a single definitive statement of the

characteristics of art is not even desirable as one of the beauties of art is that it can mean many

different things to many different people regardless of race, background, or education. Why force

one of the truly mutable things in the world into a box? As much as the market-driven culture

industry that Adorno fought against would love to find a hard and fast rule to define art so that

they can figure out how to mass-produce and commodify it, artists and aestheticians will

continue to resist, to elevate art beyond what can be easily understood and easily consumed.

1 Nelson Goodman, Languages of Art: An Approach to a Theory of Symbols (New York: Bobbs-Merrill Co., 1968), p. 262.

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An effort to define accurately and succinctly the characteristics of music, as with all the

fine arts, is equally futile. Music presents something of a conundrum for aesthetics because it has

many inherent traits that pose special problems when compared with works of art that exist in

what is easily defined as physical space (although, as we will see, some music theorists challenge

this notion). Where it is possible to critique a painting or a piece of sculpture through prolonged

static observation, music is transitory by nature. As Dahlhaus puts it, “[music] goes by, instead

of holding still for inspection”2. Besides the transitory nature of music, there is the issue of

representation. Philosophers and music theorists have long debated whether music has the ability

to symbolize, and if so, to what extent is it useful for this purpose? Certainly, a painting or

photograph has the ability to be representational (whether it chooses to be is another matter

entirely). Finally, there is the question of the necessity of the aural experience of music. Does the

music exist primarily in the notated score, does it exist primarily (or only) during performance,

or is it some mixture of each? Certainly, once created, a photograph exists in a steady physical

state regardless of whether or not one views it at any given point in time. The recent arrival of

recordable media further complicates the issue. Once one records a work, does it contain the

totality of the work’s essence, and if so, does this render subsequent live realizations

superfluous? And what of the electronic music that has only ever existed as a recording?

This background will provide a conspectus of the work done on aesthetics, musical and

otherwise, and will then follow with a synthesis to provide a cogent aesthetic model with which

to fully appreciate contemporary electronic music. Although I may not choose to use all of the

elements of each theory examined, it is important to present a comprehensive overview so that

we can see the relationship between the respective theories and so that we can understand which

elements are left out of the hybrid theory and why. I beg the reader’s indulgence in a few key 2 Carl Dahlhaus, Esthetics of Music (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1967), p. 11.

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places, such as the rather strong philosophical aspect of the postmodernism section. Some of

these concepts are difficult, but they are also extremely useful if understood correctly.

2.1.1 Plato

One of the earliest accounts of aesthetics comes from Plato in the Republic3. His view

represents the time when art still had a function outside of itself, that is, before the autonomy of

art. For Plato, anything that did nothing to rationally explain the ethical and metaphysical world

was inherently worthless. His central criticism of the arts dealt with the issue of mimesis,

claiming not only that pretending to be someone that one is not is deceitful, but that the very

process of attempting to resemble someone causes the person to become that person in real life, a

criticism akin to the popular debate concerning whether or not violence in the media leads to

violence in real life. Christopher Janaway summarizes Plato’s criticism of art as the promise of

cognitive gain, but the delivery of psychological and ethical damage to individual and

community.4 Plato felt that the arts appealed to an “inferior part of the soul and thereby helped to

subvert the rule of intellect and reason.”5 Thus, he banished all forms of mimetic art from his

Republic.

2.1.2 Kant

Following Plato, Kant was the next major philosopher to write on aesthetics. His Critique

of Judgment6 seeks to differentiate between the notion of “art”, which he defines as concerned

primarily with formal and technical qualities in a work (i.e. its craftsmanship), and “beauty”,

which is a judgment of taste (i.e. an aesthetic judgment). Where one can judge art only by the

degree of perfection in its form (i.e. how well it serves to explicate its object), one can judge

3 Plato, Republic, 2nd ed., trans G.M.A. Grube (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Co., 1992). 4 Christopher Janaway, “Plato,” in The Routledge Companion to Aesthetics, ed. Berys Gaut and Dominic McIver Lopes (New York: Routledge, 2005), 3-14; see p. 5. 5 Ibid, 3-14; see p. 5. 6 Immanuel Kant, Critique of Judgment, trans. J. H. Bernard (New York: Hafner Publishing Co., 1951).

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beauty only by its perception. Aristotle’s notion of art as production informs Kant’s view that

“Art is distinguished from nature as doing (facere), is distinguished from acting or working

generally (agere), and as the product of result of the former is distinguished as work (opus) from

the working (effectus) of the latter.”7 While Kant only allows objective judgments on the

technical craftsmanship of a work, he also requires the elements of technique and construction to

be hidden from view, as if they evolved from nature. Kant believes that if a work of art is organic

in appearance, the work will be necessarily beautiful because the beauty of nature (Kant’s artistic

ideal) will be inherent in the subject. “It can only be that in the subject which is nature and

cannot be brought under rules of concepts, i.e. the super-sensible substrate of all his faculties (to

which no concept of the understanding extends).”8 However, Kant specifies, “if we call anything

absolutely a work of art, in order to distinguish it from a natural effect, we always understand by

that a work of man.”9

From Kant’s distinction between technical and aesthetic features, it is evident that beauty

is not a necessary condition for fine art and vice versa. This distinction allows Kant to make

objective judgments on the technical and formal aspects of a work of art while leaving aesthetic

judgments to necessarily subjective opinions as there can be no universal standard defining what

type of objects will be pleasing to any given perceiver. “Though these judgments have a

universal validity, they still concern only feelings of pleasure that refer to no qualities in the

object itself.”10

7 Immanuel Kant, Critique of Judgment, trans. J. H. Bernard (New York: Hafner Publishing Co., 1951), p. 234. 8 Ibid, p. 189. 9 Ibid, p. 146. 10 Frederick Beiser, Hegel (New York: Routledge, 2005), p. 292.

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2.1.3 Hegel

Aesthetics received its next major analysis from Hegel, whose multi-volume Aesthetics

spans more than 1200 pages, making it his largest work. In fact, Hegel touches on the arts in

many of his works, assigning them great importance. Hegel sees art as being one of the three

elements of absolute truth, “three media by which spirit attains self-awareness.”11 The other two

elements are religion and philosophy, and though art is ranked the lowest of the three, it is

significant that it is at the foundation, supporting both religion and philosophy.

Hegel’s concept of art differs drastically from Kant’s concept. Hegel sees art and beauty

as necessarily linked, and because he sees art as cognitive, his definition of beauty logically

follows. “The beautiful is characterized as the pure appearance of the Idea to sense.”12 It is

important to note that when Hegel speaks of art as cognitive, he is not referring to the limited

technical definition of “the act of knowing”, but to an enhanced cognitive power unique to art.

This enhanced definition of cognition is special because whereas “the act of knowing” is limited

to the mundane; the cognitive power of art can see the eternal and spiritual that escape from the

bounds of science and history. Because Hegel is the most prominent philosopher to describe

musical cognition, any reference to the term in the remainder of this paper will follow Hegel’s

definition. From here we see that one of the main differences between Hegel and Kant is that

where Kant sees the aesthetic experience in a realm beyond the reach of the terrestrial world,

Hegel sees it as a mode of intuitive communication, albeit not as clear and exact as philosophy.

Hegel also differs from Plato in that he does not share Plato’s distrust of art’s supposed

devious predilection to the false and illusory, saying instead, “art is significant, precisely because

11 Frederick Beiser, Hegel (New York: Routledge, 2005), p. 285. 12 G.W.F. Hegel, Aesthetics: Lectures on Fine Art Vol. I, trans. T.M. Knox (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1975), 111.

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its sensible forms indicate a more substantial reality lying behind them.”13 Though Hegel fights

against the romantic ideal that art is a superior mode of communication to philosophy, he still

maintains that where the finite world must confine science and history, art can find the infinite

within the passing events of the former. If anything, this shows that Hegel is not immune from

the paradox of the philosopher who values art, but seeks to make it subordinate as is seen in

Plato and Rousseau.

It is now apparent that Hegel views art as not only cognitive, but truthful. Hegel says that

“art [can] grasp the concrete universal and reconcile understanding with sensibility.”14 Because

the insights that art provides are “irreducible to what we can know or explain discursively,”15 art

is in a unique position to, as Leonard Bernstein would say, “communicate the unknowable”.

Finally, Hegel views artists not as the producers of facsimiles as observed from some external

position, but as the “manifestation or expression of these powers, their highest organization and

development.”16

If Hegel gave such importance to the arts, he also did much to take it away. In his

Aesthetics, he proclaims the end of art—not the end of all artistic activity, but of art in the sense

that it had the ability to be a useful mode of communication for society. Hegel contends that art

achieved its height of perfection and beauty in ancient Greece because it was a perfect tool to

explain their anthropomorphic religion, whereas in the middle-ages with the growing popularity

of Christianity, art ceased to be able to explain the Christian God, a purely spiritual being, and

thus ceased to be useful for religion.

13 G.W.F. Hegel in Frederick Beiser, Hegel (New York: Routledge, 2005), p. 293. 14 Ibid, p. 291 15 Ibid, p. 292. 16 Ibid, p. 298.

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Beyond the religious aspect, art was formerly a good medium for expressing ethics and

worldview. In Hegel’s time, he was convinced that society had become too rational for art to

maintain this function because while art can appeal to the senses and feelings, it cannot provide

disinterested critical rationality. He felt that society would benefit more from philosophical

answers than from another symphony. At the end of his lifetime, Hegel saw art becoming

increasingly inward as the artist became alienated from society. This began to lead art away from

its powers of cognition and towards simplistic, romantic, self-expression—a great tragedy in

Hegel’s eyes.

2.1.4 Transition to the autonomy of art

The ideas of autonomy and interiority in art led, in part, to the romantic era, and marked a

major shift from previous aesthetic views. This shift to romantic idealism is largely a reaction

against an increasingly rationalistic society that some saw as a threat to the ideas of emotion and

self-expression, ironically the very ideas that Hegel claims will kill art. Music did not achieve the

level of autonomy that some other artistic disciplines were able to because there was no radical

break from external influences. Rather, those external influences, whether generic or otherwise,

became interior to the works.17 Although it was something of a return to Kant’s transcendental

aesthetics, art became self-sufficient. Therefore, we see that art did not end, but merely changed

direction. Few today would argue that art did in fact lose its ability to communicate with any

sizable portion of society. One needs only to look at Barber’s Adagio to find a work that can

speak to the greater part of society. This break from art as necessarily cognitive effectively

17 Carl Dahlhaus, Esthetics of Music, trans. William Austin (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1967), pp. 14-15.

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allowed art to broaden and paved the way for concepts such as absolute music, or as Dahlhaus

puts it, music without a “concept, object, and purpose”.18

From here, we can narrow the focus to music and the various critical theories proposed

over the last 300 years. Much in the way that an ontological definition of art may be impossible,

music proves equally elusive to all that attempt a definition. Plato describes music, like art, as

mimesis; Kant sees music as “merely agreeable”, more about pleasure than high culture,

especially with instrumental music; Hegel places music among the lowest forms of art because

its inherently abstract nature makes it, in his view, rather limited in its ability to communicate

concepts; Hanslick and Dahlhaus both allow music to become autonomous with their proposition

of absolute music, thus escaping the conceptual bonds placed on it by Hegel; Langer and

Goodman each propose semiotic approaches to musical understanding; Hanslick, Dahlhaus,

Lerdahl, and Lackendoff all argue in favor of formalism; Adorno combines many of these

methodologies with sociology to offer his critiques of music and society; finally, the

postmodernists such as Deleuze, Derrida, and Barthes find many completely new ways of

describing music.

The debate as to the nature of music has never been more varied as in the twenty-first

century, and it is apparent that many of these views are incommensurable. Mark DeBellis points

out that the use of a hybrid approach borrowing from many different methods to find an inclusive

synthesis has been successful in recent years.19 The idea of a hybrid aesthetic theory seems like

the most logical choice for an analysis of contemporary electronic music because, for one thing,

the medium of electronic music poses many problems not considered by the philosophers who

18 Carl Dahlhaus, The Idea of Absolute Music, trans. Roger Lustig (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1978). 19 Mark DeBellis, “Music,” in The Routledge Companion to Aesthetics, ed. Berys Gaut and Domini McIver Lopes (New York: Routledge, 2005).

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wrote before its advent. To find a hybrid aesthetic theory, an overview of previous aesthetic and

critical theories is necessary.

The following section will cover the topics of formalism, referentialism,

representationalism, and sociological perspectives of music. It includes a comprehensive review

of the virtues and faults of common musical critical theories for the purpose of deciding which

theories should be adapted into the final hybrid theory. If I take time to examine a certain theory

that ultimately doesn’t make it into the final theory, it is to explain why there is little or nothing

to salvage rather so as not to risk appearing incomplete. Because postmodernism is such a large

topic in itself, I am devoting an entire section to exploring the various critical theories found in

postmodern aesthetics.

Critical Theories in Music

2.2.1 Formalism

Looking first to formalism, it is apparent that it isn’t necessarily in conflict with a

cognitive view of music. We can safely assume that there is, at least sometimes, a cognitive

aspect to music. “The question is rather what role the explicit awareness and description of

formal relationships has to play.”20 The question central to any formalism debate is that of the

difference in musical understanding between the average listener and the informed music

theorist. The average listener is typically at a disadvantage because certain advanced formal

concepts, such as serialism, are nearly impossible to perceive without extensive training, whereas

the theorist possesses the training necessary both to hear in a different manner and to analyze

musical scores. The average listener rarely gets the chance to examine a score, and when they do,

20 Mark DeBellis, “Music,” in The Routledge Companion to Aesthetics, ed. Berys Gaut and Domini McIver Lopes (New York: Routledge, 2005) p. 680.

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the amount of information they can glean from it is modest at best. In fact, many music

performers do not train themselves to hear musical forms above a certain level of complexity.

While a musician can identify forms such as binary, rondo, and sonata aurally with relative ease,

they would typically have much more difficulty identifying the tone row and its subsequent

derivations in a work by Webern, if they could do it at all. It would appear that once a musical

form exceeds a certain threshold—let us again think of serialism—it ceases to communicate (the

form, not the music itself) to anyone, save for the theorists and the performers themselves, and

becomes perceptively equivalent to a random succession of pitches. Therefore, the question is

inevitable: does the form still hold intrinsic meaning if it is imperceptible to its recipient?

Many musicologists and philosophers have experimented with various qualified

interpretations of the idea of formalism. Levinson questions the assumption that knowledge of

large-scale form is absolutely necessary on the grounds that, though formal knowledge can add

to one’s appreciation of a work, music works more frequently in smaller, moment-to-moment,

connections of real-time listening.21 Scruton offers an interesting and advantageous view of

formalism in music by saying that music provides something of an “intentional understanding”

instead of a more scientific explanation. In Scruton’s words, musical experience is “not a

window but a picture”.22 Musical form cannot speak in the exact, precise words that one uses to

describe the material world, but rather it speaks in hazy, metaphorical terms that allow the

communication of ideas with an inherent meaning beyond the material world. From here it can

be seen that a flexible, rather than dogmatic, usage of formalism can yield useful results.

However, when carried to its logical conclusion, it must fail on the inability to reconcile the

variance in musical understanding between the educated and uneducated listener. Kuhns feels,

21 Jerrold Levinson, Music in the Moment (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1997). 22 Roger Scruton, The Aesthetics of Music (New York: Clarendon Press, 1997), pp. 220-1.

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“music may be the art most immediately pleasurable and the most difficult to learn to respond to

adequately; while painting and poetry may require more exposure for pleasure and yet lie closer

to sensitivities cultivated in common education.”23 This supports my theory that formalism only

works to a point, after which it stops functioning as a useful approach to music.

2.2.2 Referentialism (Symbolic)

Philosophers and musicologists differ on the utility of semiotic explanations of music.

Philosophers, on the one hand, argue that reference without assertion has no purpose. “In order

for aboutness to matter in music, the music must say something interesting or useful or in some

other way valuable about what it is about. Naked aboutness is nothing at all.”24 If music does not

assert anything, semantic notions are, for the most part, irrelevant. Musicologists, on the other

hand, find the various forms of signification to be extremely useful in describing music,

especially that of the 20th century, if for no other reason than the purely symbolic (graphic)

notation of certain avant-garde composers such as Feldman, Brown, and Stockhausen.

Goodman explores the usage of semiotics in Languages of Art25 in opposition to others

such as Kivy who promote resemblance over reference. According to Goodman, works of art

perform one or more referential functions including representation, description, exemplification,

and expression. Furthermore, Goodman focuses on exemplification and the various types found

within: literal, metaphorical, and contrastive, showing that each are central to musical

signification and figure prominently in intramusical reference. If music does utilize symbols,

then one can judge it by how well the symbolism serves its cognitive purpose, or to borrow

Goodman’s wording, the ‘excellence’ with which it communicates. This excellence can be

23 Richard Kuhns, “Music as a Representational Art,” British Journal of Aesthetics 18 (1978): 120-125; see p. 121. 24 Peter Kivy, Philosophies of Arts: An Essay in Differences (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), p. 175. 25 Nelson Goodman, Languages of Art: An Approach to a Theory of Symbols (New York: Bobbs-Merrill Co., 1968).

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measured “by the delicacy of its discriminations and the aptness of its allusions; by the way it

works in grasping, exploring, and informing the world; by how it analyzes, sorts, orders, and

organizes; by how it participates in the making, manipulation, retention, and transformation of

knowledge.”26 This semantic excellence, though not intrinsically aesthetic, “becomes aesthetic

when exhibited by aesthetic objects”.27 Still, Goodman’s semiotic system is unable to improve

on Kant’s distinction between technical features and taste. Goodman can judge whether a symbol

is effective or ineffective in symbolizing its object, but this has nothing to do with whether a

work of art is beautiful or ugly. Indeed, Goodman has little use for a definitive judgment of taste,

claiming, “to say that a work of art is good or even to say how good it is does not after all

provide much information, does not tell us wither the work is evocative, robust, vibrant, or

exquisitely designed, and still less what are its salient specific qualities of color, shape, or

sound.”28 Rather, aesthetic value is more useful as a way to discover particular characteristics

found within the work.

Before moving on to the next section on representationalism, we must attempt to

differentiate between referentialism and representation, a distinction hazy at best. The largest

difference between the two is that referential art uses signs to point to ideas while representation

art seeks to mimic the ideas. At this level, the distinction seems clear enough, but if one looks

closer, isn’t the act of a musical work attempting to mimic, say, a galloping horse the same as a

musical work pointing the listener to the idea of that galloping horse? For the purpose of this

paper, I will not pursue this issue further as it is beyond the scope of a general overview of

aesthetics.

26 Nelson Goodman, Languages of Art: An Approach to a Theory of Symbols (New York: Bobbs-Merrill Co., 1968), p. 258. 27 Ibid, p. 259. 28 Ibid, p. 261.

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2.2.3 Representationalism

Most of the fine arts have the possibility, realized or not, to be representational: poetry

and prose with words; painting, sculpture, and photography with images; and cinema with both

words and images. As Hanslick sees it, “music cannot represent ‘definite’ feelings because it is

incapable of conveying conceptual content that individuates a specific emotional state.”29 This

ties into the expressionism question of how music communicates emotional content. Kivy claims

that a listener’s response to music is cognitive rather than affective. “It is quite compatible”, he

writes, “with my perceiving the most intense and disquieting emotions in a work of art, that I not

myself be moved in the least.”30

Some argue that music does in fact have the ability to be representational, but that it is

more limited in its ability than the other arts. Scruton contends that music can be representational

in a limited manner if the listener can distinguish between the medium and the concept and have

an awareness of the subject, and if the work’s thoughts on the subject are presented in a way that

the listener can understand. This idea of representational music does not require apprehending

thoughts about the subject. Walton points out that each type of representation requires an amount

of imagination on the part of the consumer, and that this type of imagination is what differs

amongst the artistic disciplines. A painting requires a very explicit type of imagination where the

viewer must imagine that they see the object while music requires a much less explicit type of

imagination because the listener is not required to hear the subject of representation. One can

imagine that they are seeing a chair represented in a painting, but what sound does a chair make

and how can music represent this? So far, in this debate, no one has provided an answer for that

question.

29 Eduard Hanslick, On the Musically Beautiful (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing, 1989), p. 9. 30 Peter Kivy, Sound Sentiment: An Essay on the Musical Emotions (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1989), p. 23.

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The debate of music as a representational art has further implications: Without conveying

meaning, music does not have the ability to be profound about something therefore making it

inferior, in some thinkers eyes, to other representational arts such as painting and literature. Kivy

makes an interesting case for music’s inability to be profound by comparing it to literature,

which, he claims, “must (1) have a profound subject matter and (2) treat this profound subject

matter in a way adequate to its profundity – which is to say, (a) say profound things about this

subject matter and (b) do it at a very high level or artistic or aesthetic excellence.”31 He does

propose an alternate avenue for finding profundity in music by suggesting that while music

cannot be profound about extramusical matters, it can still be profound about itself. However,

Kivy rejects the Goodman-Beardsley theory of exemplification, which, in essence, claims that if

the work is a sonata, it exemplifies “sonataness” and is therefore “about” sonatas. This “hollow

logical victory”, as Kivy states, is not convincing because a musical work about a sonata is not in

itself interesting or something we should care about. Kuhns provides a similar, but more

sophisticated theory showing that because a musical work can refer to another musical work,

music can represent music. Kuhns has a valid argument because intramusical reference is used to

great effect by postmodern composers thus making Kivy’s flimsy proposition, compared to

Kuhns’, seem a bit like a straw man.

Deleuze offers a rather novel idea concerning representation with his concept of

“becoming”, inextricably linked to his central philosophical concepts of difference and

repetition. Becoming (by which Deleuze means, becoming different), is the period between the

beginning and ending of a change during a re-presentation (i.e. a subsequent presentation). As a

simplified example, consider someone wishing to put together a cat costume for Halloween.

31 Peter Kivy, Philosophies of Arts: An Essay in Differences (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), p. 145.

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Dressing in a large, fuzzy “cat suit” doesn’t really resemble anything found in nature, thus

making it difficult for people to perceive the costume as something other than a human in a cat

suit. However, if the costume consists of a tail, some whiskers, and some pointy ears, the person

begins to exhibit cat-like features, what Deleuze would call a “becoming-cat”. The feline

elements blend more seamlessly with the human form suggesting that the human is becoming a

cat, creating a more effective costume in the process. This perspective on representation is quite

different from traditional thought and some background in postmodern philosophy (provided in

section 2.3) is necessary to adequately understand the context of Deleuze’s work. If the musical

application of becoming seems unclear at this point, the analysis of Aphex Twin’s Ventolin, will

serve to further explicate the connection.

From Deleuze, Kivy, Kuhns, and Walton’s views on representationalism in music, we

can create a hybrid theory that is useful for looking at music. The theory that Kuhns provides is

the most immediately useful and can provide the basis for examining representation in music.

Walton’s differentiation between various methods of representation found in the different artistic

disciplines is also quite useful. Kivy succeeds in showing that an analogy between cognitive

profundity in literature and music is worthless, but does not really provide many answers beyond

his conclusion. Finally, Deleuze gives us a way to explain a certain type of highly effective

representation with his idea of becoming.

2.2.4 Sociological

The sociological aspect of music, which Adorno has written about at length, deals

directly with the reception, comprehension, and utility (or lack thereof) of music. As we have

seen with Plato, Kant, and Hegel, the supposed role of music, if indeed one can state such a

thing, has changed over time, not as an evolution, but rather as an oscillation between the poles

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of autonomy, immanent in its alienation from the mass consciousness of society; and utility,

created to fulfill a purpose as determined by the market-driven culture industry. However, since

the music that we are concerned with is very current, appearing at the very end of the twentieth

century and continuing into the twenty-first century, it seems appropriate to restrict the

examination of sociological criticism to that of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries.

Though Adorno did not live to see the advent of contemporary electronic music, his

views on the sociology of music are as applicable today as ever. In 1932 his essay, On the Social

Situation of Music,32 he saw the majority of music being subordinated, commodified, and

produced for a specific use by the culture industry on the one hand; and the minority of music

retreating to a hermetic existence, losing any sense of cultural relevancy, by its refusal to submit

on the other. However, because music at the time of the essay was still somewhat ingenuous

where society was concerned, music erroneously placed the blame on itself and attempted to

reform itself leading not back to a situation where music and society co-existed in a meaningful

relationship, but to a new form of ridiculous music that attempted to both satisfy commercially

and artistically while doing neither.

Sociology is important in an examination of contemporary electronic music because it

deals with the recording industry in a much different way than what one typically considers art

music. Many critics dismiss the music out of hand simply because the composers are willing to

work within the culture industry machine, but this is unfair because it assumes that they are

actually caving to the demands of commerce. If Adorno provides cogent arguments against the

culture industry in 1932, it is time to re-examine his findings. In some ways, his predictions hold

true with the cultural inundation of glossy, throw-away pop music, but the situation is no longer

32 Theodor Adorno, “On the Social Situation of Music,” in Essays on Music: Theodor W. Adorno, ed. Richard Leppert, trans. Susan H. Gillespie (Berkeley: University of California University Press, 2002), pp. 391-436.

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as black-and-white as he saw it because there are now artists who, facilitated by their large

record-buying audience, can and do use the commercial system to their advantage. Adorno’s

thought is still relevant today, but we can no longer accept it unconditionally.

Postmodernism

2.3.1 Introduction

Before discussing postmodernism, some substantial background is necessary to gain a

more comprehensive understanding of its features. Whereas the previous critical theories

operated on the positivistic notion that there are definitive answers that one can find, postmodern

critical theories are skeptical of any system claiming to provide such absolute answers. As we

have seen, each of the critical theories discussed above have been convincingly disputed when

they hold the indefensible position that not only are they correct, but the others are incorrect.

Inasmuch as postmodern critical theories are so radically different than the theories previously

described, it is my hope that the reader will indulge some background in postmodern philosophy,

as this foundation will surely benefit the reader’s understanding of ideas discussed below.

Postmodernism is a frequently misunderstood concept with many specious notions

masquerading under the guise of thoughtful scholarship, but with the glut of material published

on postmodernism, how is one to successfully evaluate its value as a theory and a philosophy

without a clear understanding? One must propose a definition before any meaningful discussion

of postmodern aesthetics can commence. Jean-Francois Lyotard supplied the most succinct

definition when he described it as, “an incredulity toward meta-narratives”.33 He’s not talking

about a meta-narrative in the narratological sense of a reflexive story, but as a general hegemonic

33 Jean-Francois Lyotard, The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge, trans. Geoff Bennington and Brian Massumi (Minneapolis: Minnesota University Press, 1984).

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force—something that rules basically unquestioned. While postmodern philosophy seems to

stand for many things for many people, there are a number of common traits present in most

definitions including the distrust of hegemonies (or meta-narratives); the deconstruction of the

text (including abjuration of logocentricity, the presence of writerly and readerly texts,

intertextuality, reflexivity and mise-en-abyme); reaching back in history both deferentially and

ironically; the mixture of high art and low art; quotation and borrowing; eclecticism and

pluralism; and an awareness of the Other.

Although it is a philosophy, it can be used with equal success as a meta-historical tool for

looking at the past as can been seen in the reflexive artistic movements of the late twentieth

century, starting in the seventies. Some will say that it’s a reaction against modernism (and

insofar as modernism is equated with structuralism, perhaps this is sometimes true), but it’s not

seeking to discard the past – it’s simply questioning the past, the privileged binary oppositions,

and our intricate system of hegemonies, artistic, political, scientific, and social.

2.3.2 Incredulity toward meta-narratives

Many of postmodernism’s critics interpret “an incredulity toward meta-narratives” as

anti-essentialism. Lyotard isn’t saying that we should summarily destroy and discard the past—

simply that we must question our intricate system of hegemonies, artistic, political, scientific,

and social, or as Derrida would say, the privileged binary oppositions. These hegemonies are

wide reaching not just in aesthetics, but also in philosophy in general. One of the largest meta-

narratives involved in artistic criticism is the unassailable signifier/signified relationship to

which post-structuralists such as Derrida, Barthes, and Deleuze do massive damage—a point that

we will cover later on with a discussion of deconstructionism.

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The distrust of hegemonies applies directly to art, our history of criticism, and our ancient

standard of quality that dates back to the dawn of humanism. Thus far, an elite group of highly

educated critics determines the standard of true excellence. If we can overthrow their dominance,

we will be free to experience a number of smaller narratives.

2.3.3 Post-structuralism/Deconstructionism

Deconstructionism, and area pioneered by Derrida, is central to the philosophy of

postmodernism giving us many new techniques both analytical and creative. In a sense, it is an

attempt to separate language from ideas. Derrida also attacks the notion of logocentricity that is

prevalent in Western discourse. The idea that the author can unproblematically transmit his

intended meaning to the reader is, to Derrida, a metaphysical conjecture that one cannot

reasonably assume. He sees no inextricable link between the signifier and signified because the

author has no guarantee that the full meaning of a word is present in the reader’s mind. A word

can carry a trace of another word or even suggest other similar sounding words. Derrida and

Barthes argue that words point only to other words, not ideas and that sentences are nothing

more than long chains of signifiers capable of generating endless meanings, or of negating

meaning altogether.

2.3.4 Intertextuality

With regard to music, deconstruction takes many forms. Among the most common is

intertextuality—a reference to another work from within a work. This usually shows up in the

form of a quotation and though it is used in a much more provocative way in the postmodern era,

composers have been using parts of other works for centuries (the frequent appearances of the

Dies Irae is an excellent example). Beyond this, many late twentieth century works find the

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composers exercising an acute knowledge of the past, some with serious art music, and some

with the so-called “low” arts of jazz and popular music.

In its simplest form, intertextuality is similar to the practice of double coding in which

generates a ‘surplus’ of meaning by way of a witty allusion for the perceptive listener. It doesn’t

much matter whether one understands the reference or not as the basic intent on the part of the

author does not hinge upon the listener’s comprehension of the hidden meaning.

A more sophisticated use of intertextuality involves the de-contextualization of musical

material to impose new meaning through, for example, ironic juxtaposition. A few bars of

America the Beautiful has very different meaning if instead of being inserted into a patriotic

medley, it’s re-contextualized in an angry, confrontationally political work.

2.3.5 Historical versus A-historical postmodernism

When a postmodern work revisits the past, whether through intertextuality, double

coding, or de-contextualization, it can do so in two ways: Deferentially or ironically.

Additionally, deferentially and ironically historical postmodernism can be further divided into

historical postmodernism, which is has a knowledge and understanding of the history that it is

borrowing; and a-historical postmodernism, which borrows rather indiscriminately without

regard to cultural or historical meaning.

2.3.6 Reflexivity

Reflexivity is a technique familiar to the cinema, especially in the films of Jean-Luc

Godard, and can be found in many of the experimental works of the 1960s such as Cage’s 4’33”

or the theatrical work of Mauricio Kagel. In cinema, reflexivity introduces elements that remind

the audience that they are watching a film, usually by directly addressing the camera or

providing a view of the mechanics of filmmaking. In music, this translates into works that draw

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attention to their mechanics and construction. Cage’s 4’33” poses philosophical questions on the

nature of music to all who experience it: what is music? What is noise? Where is the line

between the two? Must music be intentional, or can it originate organically from the

environment? Other works such as Kagel’s Auftakte, Sechshändig (1996) expose certain

elements of the act of musical realization that typically remain hidden. One of the percussionists

spends the entire work playing with one black and one white mallet while searching for the

matching white mallet thereby allowing the audience to see “behind the scenes” of a musical

performance.

2.3.7 “High” art versus “Low” art

One of the most controversial aspects of artistic postmodernism is the erasure of dividing

lines between the so-called “high” art and “low” art. Critics such as Hal Foster claim this will

lead of a mess of mediocrity while others such as Alicia Craig Faxon contend that it’s high time

we dethroned the hegemony of traditional artistic criticism. Does the inclusion of popular styles

within a serious orchestral work actually devalue it, or could it possibly enhance it? Perhaps just

as much thought, care, and creativity goes into, say, a jazz composition as a piano sonata.

The debate of “high” art versus “low” art is particularly relevant to the discussion of

contemporary electronic music as it is frequently described in terms of popular music. Musician,

composer, and idealist, John Zorn rails on the prejudice and elitism often found in musicological

scholarship seeing the distinction between “high” art and “low” art as nonsense. He sees all

styles of music as ultimately being the same thing because, in the end, “there’s good music and

great music and phony music in every genre”.34 Just because one composer chooses to study

classically at a university; to study Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven; and, perhaps most importantly,

34 Cole Gagne, Soundpieces 2: Interviews with American Composers (Metuchen: Scarecrow Press, Inc., 1993), 128-9.

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to pay a vast sum for his education, it doesn’t make the music inherently better than the self-

taught composer who learns everything he or she knows from listening to recordings and reading

books, or who decides to go as far as to invent an original compositional methodology. Although

this sparks cries of relativism (i.e. how can we express value judgments if anyone’s opinion is as

good as the next?), Zorn chooses to endorse music that moves him spiritually—he excludes

nothing as long as it’s sincere and has decent craftsmanship. In Zorn’s music, each style and

genre is treated with equal respect whether it’s “art” music, jazz, a film score, grindcore, or even

one of his major orchestra commissions—every style gets the same care and attention.

2.3.8 Eclecticism

The one can attribute the growth of eclecticism in music in part to the availability of

recordable media. Before the twentieth century, it was not possible to hear the same variety of

music. A composer would either have to travel to a different country, as Mozart did, or try to

hear a touring ensemble and even then, they would most likely hear only the current repertoire.

Around the sixties and seventies, when postmodernism was starting to become influential, the

presence of recordings was beginning to grow rapidly. Postmodern composers, for the first time,

were able to listen to music both current from around the world and from history. One could

easily listen to a Mozart symphony, a Bach fugue, a Duke Ellington tune, a Bartok string quartet,

and a Beatles song all in the same sitting. Since aural experiences frequently influence

composers, it is only natural that they would begin to incorporate elements from all of their

influences.

Although critics of eclecticism in music cite many issues, the issue of purity of form and

stylistic consistency is among the most frequently heard debates with the critics claiming that

postmodern composers are compensating for not having a unique voice. Eclectic composer are

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not merely mashing disparate musical styles together, but are in fact using these juxtapositions to

exploit the slippage of signification, to change and rearrange music signifiers, to form new

connections and to take on new meaning.

Perhaps the most interesting issue to arise from the postmodern eclecticism debate is that

of the critical methodology. Previously, it was possible to compare a standard genre, such as a

symphony, to other similar works. Critics often used comparative evaluation as well as the

presence, absence, or manipulation of expectations. With eclectic works, the critic cannot fall

back on his bag-of-tricks and is required to actually listen to a work; simply hearing is not

sufficient any more. Far too often, critics don’t evaluate a work thoroughly because there is

already an easy critical methodology in place. If the work in question is, say, minimalist, critics

are temped to bring their preexisting judgments on minimalism into play. They can apply a

prefabricated criticism to the work without trying to understand the artist’s complex personal

vision. However, with such stylistically unique works as eclecticism creates, each work must be

met on its own terms. This is one of the greatest results of eclecticism in music. On can hardly

consider anything that forces the critic and listener alike to become more open and thoughtful to

be a negative result.

2.3.9 The Other

As postmodernism seeks to dethrone hegemonies, it brings with it an increased interest in

the Other, or as Lyotard would say, little narratives. In postmodern discourse, “the Other” often

carries a racial connotation due mainly to Edward Said’s works such as Orientalism, but the idea

of the Other can also be applied to, say, the “high” art/”low” art debate where “low” art is the

Other who’s voice has been suppressed by the hegemony of the ancient standard of artistic

excellence. The idea of the Other is very useful for many aspects of music and criticism as there

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are many applications: tonality and atonality, high art and low art, academic electronic music and

electronic music with beats, and many more.

2.4.1 Towards a Hybrid Aesthetic Theory

At this point, the idea of a single “correct” aesthetic theory is clearly unattainable

because, as we have seen, no single theory is perfect or useful all of the time—each theory can

only describe a portion of music, not all music. We cannot use them unequivocally—certain

limitations are necessary to allow them to complement and not compete with one another.

Furthermore, the music itself must dictate when and to what extent these theories are used. They

may be good for certain types of music, as formalism is an excellent way to critique romantic

and twelve-tone music; or they may be good for certain historical periods, as is the case with

postmodernism, which, if applied to pre-twentieth century music would work in some cases (e.g.

the abjuration of logocentricity, questioning the supremacy of the author), but not in others (e.g.

the rise of eclecticism in the twentieth century, the mixture of “high” and “low” art); or they may

be useful for describing certain features of music such as the way referentialism and

representationalism can show how music is able to convey emotional content; but they don’t

work in every case. Therefore, in place of outlining exactly how I plan to implement each critical

theory, I will leave it to the critic to apply them on a case-by-case basis, as it will most definitely

change with each new work under consideration.

This leaves me the option of creating an entirely new critical theory or mixing parts of

existing ideas. Inventing an entirely new critical theory would be to deny the utility of existing

theories and creating a massive amount of work for myself in the process. Since I can see no

reason to reinvent the wheel, my approach will be to combine elements of existing theories

because I believe them to be complementary, not exclusive. These theories complement each

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other in various combinations and configurations, so I will leave it to the music itself to

determine the ideal mixture. Some works already have a viable aesthetic theory in place—

formalism works well with serial music. Some will require a different approach—a formalist

reading of a Baroque dance suite won’t yield much useful information beyond that fact that the

generic form remains largely the same throughout most of the works thus making it appear

unoriginal and artistically trivial, but a sociological approach will bring up issues of artistic

intent as well as its relationship to other forms of purposive music.

As far as each of the existing critical theories are concerned, I will use them in the limited

form described above, again, allowing the music to dictate which theory or theories are applied,

where they are used, and to what extend they are used. For the reason that no existing critical

theory is perfect

I am adopting Kant’s distinction between judgment of technical features and judgment of

beauty, but I am also adding a third category concerning the effectiveness of a work. Kant’s

distinction is wise, but it also limits what aesthetic inquiries can accomplish. Much is lost if

aesthetics can only comment with any authority on matters of the technical, while judgments of

taste are left to unbounded relativism. From a purely technical stand-point, Webern’s most

compact, formally perfect work should be counted amongst the greatest of all art and should be

treasured and enjoyed by everyone. However, its technique (serialism), while perfect in its

realization, is not necessarily an effective way to convey artistic intent inasmuch as the form is

complex to the point of impenetrability for the average uniformed listener. Because of this, I feel

it necessary to expand Kant’s two-fold view of aesthetics.

There is, of course, no objective method to determine the effectiveness of a work in

achieving its goal (whether cognitive in the Hegelian sense, absolute as Dahlhaus speaks of, or

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otherwise), and so this third category will be historically informed, building on the tradition of

what is generally agreed to be artistic excellence. This runs the risk of maintaining the critical

prejudices already in place, but the only alternative is to avoid the question of artistic quality and

validity, which defeats the purpose of the paper. To ignore history is as foolish as to follow it

blindly, unquestioning and unchanging.

2.4.2 Hybrid Aesthetic Theory

For the purpose of critiquing a musical work, I propose a set of features that one can

attempt to find and judge based on their successful (or unsuccessful) implementation. Important

features include:

• Form and scope (Formalism)

• Originality (Kant and Hegel)

• Novel use of generic conventions (Postmodernism)

• Departure from generic conventions

• Creative use of existing material (Postmodernism)

• Complexity of conceptual development (Formalism, Hegel)

• Use of symbols (Referentialism)

• Complexity of signification (Post-structuralism)

• Effective representation (Representationalism)

• Satisfying synthesis of autonomy and utility (Sociologic)

• Natural, organic beauty (Kant)

• Transparency of technical features (Kant)

• Eclecticism and intertextuality (Postmodernism)

• Successful implementation of the artist’s intent

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Not all of these features need to be present in a work and there will often be certain features that

are either necessary to add, or not applicable. In the case of electronic music, some additional

features include:

• Inventive combinations of electronic and acoustic instruments

• Imaginative application of conventions from tradition acoustic music

• Creative use of found material

• Novel use of digital signal processing

• New and interesting sounds

All of these features carry a degree of subjectivity with them. Who is to say that a

departure from a certain generic convention is “interesting”? Similarly, who can say that the

artist’s intent is realized “effectively”? This is, as it has always been, up to the critic and the

listener as criticism was always already incapable of stating anything other than a personal

opinion. However, that is not to say that this opinion is not respected and useful to others.

Taxonomy of Electronic Music

3.1.1 Pioneers

Before we begin to test our hybrid aesthetic theory, some background on electronic music

is necessary because artists such as Aphex Twin and Squarepusher didn’t just show up and start

making music. Their music, like most other music, was the product of hundreds of years of

musical development. While one could argue that the stochastic music of Xenakis or the chance

music of Cage managed to create something truly original, uninfluenced by history, the music of

Kraftwerk has definite connections to the past, even if the instruments themselves are new and

radically different from what came before. The roots of electronic music are easy to trace until

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the advent of popular electronic music where the recording industry named a myriad of styles, all

with ambiguous boundaries. Since it is especially difficult for an electronic music neophyte to

sort out terms such as house, techno, and trance, this taxonomy will serve to acquaint the reader

with them as well as to show their history, development, and interrelationships.

3.1.2 The beginning of electronic music

One of the most important early contributors to the field of electronic music was Max

Mathews who, along with his group at Bell Telephone Laboratories, developed Music 1, the first

electronic music programming language, in the late 1950s and continued through Music V in the

late 1960s. Not only does this mark the first occurrence of digital sound synthesis, but it also

paved the way for musical programming languages such as Csound35 and Max/MSP36, both

favored by many electronic artists. A musical programming language is significantly different

from playing a ready-made synthesizer: Although a synthesizer has many parameters to tweak, it

doesn’t come anywhere close to the amount of freedom offered by these programming

environments mainly because the languages allow the user to build literally anything they can

conceive. Where a synthesizer might allow the user to select between, say, eight different

waveforms, a programming language such as Max can create any type of waveform. Electronic

artists favor these tools because they can design their own unique instruments and sculpt their

own personal sound worlds.

Edgar Varese, along with Pierre Schaeffer, developed a type of electronic music called

musique concrete where compositions are made of found sounds as opposed to synthesized

sounds. Significantly, this is the first instance of sampling, a technique that figures prominently

in contemporary electronic music. Varese’s Poeme Electronique, composed for the 1958

35 Created by Barry Vercoe, Massachusetts Institute of Technology Media Lab. 36 Created by Miller Puckette, University of California, San Diego.

31

Brussels World’s Fair, is one of the most important works of this style and made possible the

work of artists such as DJ Shadow whose CD Entroducing (1996) was the first CD to be

completely composed of pre-existing material. Musique concrete typically favored the sounds of

the bustling metropolis, the modern factory, and the machines within. In this way, it also

influenced industrial and experimental artists such as the group Throbbing Gristle who produced

many works based on tape loops of found sounds.

Karlheinz Stockhausen is a major innovator in many areas of electronic music including

tape manipulation, electronic sound synthesis, and the implementation of higher math in his

compositional methodology. He is a direct influence on Kraftwerk and many experimental

electronic composers such as Merzbow and Pan Sonic. Of course Stockhausen isn’t the only

twentieth-century avant-garde composer to influence contemporary electronic composers,

certainly Xenakis, Cage, Earle Brown, Alvin Lucier, and others are worthy of mention, but

Stockhausen is definitely the most prominent influence on many electronic composers working

today.

3.1.3 Kraftwerk

In 1970 Ralf Hütter and Florian Schneider formed Kraftwerk. It was initially an

experimental project combining electronic music with acoustic performance, very similar to

areas that Stockhausen had pioneered in the early 60s. Following two albums in this style, the

released Ralf und Florian (1973), which is notable for the use of a homemade drum machine

(which they titled a rhythimusimachine). The synthetic sounds began to overwhelm the acoustic

sounds and by the time they released their first internationally recognized hit, Autobahn (1974),

the synthetic sounds accounted for one hundred percent of the music. Between 1975 and 1981

Kraftwerk released four inspired albums of electronic music that forever changed popular music

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including Radio Activity (1975), Trans-Europe Express (1977), The Man Machine (1978), and

Computer World (1981). It is impossible to overstate their importance to not only electronic

music, but to all forms of popular music. The pop music of the late twentieth century is marked

by extensive production, synthesized sounds, copious amounts of digital signal processing, drum

machines, and many other studio techniques that, for better or worse, allow producers to create

albums that are literally flawless (musically worthy is another matter entirely, however). All of

these elements exist because of Kraftwerk’s wide-reaching influence.

However, Kraftwerk was not simply an influential pop group. Although they may favor

syncopated beats in 4/4 time with standard verse/chorus song structures, their music also

includes an important conceptual element: each album has a theme that comments on a certain

aspect of technology beginning with the freeways, radio-activity, mass transit, robotics and

mechanization, and finally computers. Kraftwerk’s minimal music is deceptive inasmuch as it

can speak volumes with only a few lyrics. Interestingly, many of their ideas and predictions

eventually came to be: Computer World, released in 1981 the same year that IBM introduced the

first PC, deals with the saturation of our society with computers and predicted the ubiquity of the

personal computer with the song Homecomputer. Kraftwerk was able to achieve a level of

musical and conceptual sophistication that is rarely equaled by a group that finds success with a

popular audience and is thusly included among nearly all contemporary electronic music

composer’s most important influences.

3.1.4 Experimental Electronic Artists

While Kraftwerk was experiencing world-wide almost mainstream appeal, electronic

music was also developing in a more underground setting with groups such as Throbbing Gristle

and Coil: two highly provocative and confrontational groups that have as much to do with

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performance art as electronic music. Throbbing Gristle grew out of a performance art project

called Coum Transmissions, a controversial performance art group that combines intellectualism

with some extremely depraved acts. Coum Transmissions was the project of Genesis P-Orridge

and Cossi Fanni Tutti who went on to form Throbbing Gristle with Peter “Sleazy”

Christopherson and Chris Carter. Throbbing Gristle, like Coum Transmissions before it,

concerned itself with the breaking of boundaries—boundaries of aesthetics and boundaries of

decency. However, that is not to say that it was tantamount to shock rockers such as Alice

Cooper or Marilyn Manson. These are intelligent, forward-thinking groups, drawing influence

from Dadaism and surrealism as well as the electro-acoustic music of Stockhausen. Their themes

deal with death, fascism, degradation, and anti-conformism in general. While these topics are

now exceedingly obvious performance art topics, Throbbing Gristle was amongst the first to

venture into this territory.

The strictly musical parts of their performance works owe a large debt to Varese,

Schaeffer, and their work with musique concrete, albeit in a much more abrasive manner. Very

Friendly (1979) combines tape loops of found industrial sounds with synthesizer outbursts that

serve to punctuate P-Orridge’s monologue describing in lurid detail the 1965 murder and

dismemberment of Edward Evans at the hands of Ian Brady and Myra Hindley, the infamous

Moors Murderers of Manchester. It is precisely when Throbbing Gristle is its most provocative

that it is most powerful.

Coil is another group similar in theme, tone, and presentation, but one that focused more

on the music and less on the message. In 1983, John Balance and Peter Christopherson, formerly

of Throbbing Gristle, formed Coil and released the seminal electro-acoustic work, How to

Destroy Angels (1984) followed by the equally important, Scatology (1984). How to Destroy

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Angels is an avant-garde electro acoustic work combining percussion with live synthesis to

create a disturbingly dark ambient soundscape. The obvious influence to works such as this is

Stockhausen’s Kontakte (1958-60), which combines piano, percussion, and pre-recorded tape.

However, Kraftwerk’s early albums were also very influential as both Coil and Throbbing

Gristle influenced not only the more experimental contemporary electronic composers, but also

more mainstream electronic groups.

3.2.1 Electronic music styles

A large number of styles grew out of the techno scene, each more specific than the last.

While most of the more serious artists never concerned themselves with a label to easily identify

their style, the recording industry, and more specifically, the marketing divisions did concern

themselves with this task. The differences between stylistic labels are sometimes very tenebrous

and one is sure to disagree at least some of the time. However, for the purpose of clarity, I am

providing working definitions so that it is clear how I am using words such as “microhouse” in

the paper.

Techno initially split into seven main styles: house, trance, drum and bass, down tempo,

turntablism, break beat, and experimental. From there, the labels get increasingly specific. House

music divides further into deep house, hard house, micro house, New York house, and others that

are probably invented everyday. Different features define each of the sub-styles: some simply

differentiate between musical styles (deep house for instance is a more mellow style than

“regular” house), some are related to technical aspects (gabba is defined by its use of a bass drum

sample with an amplitude overdriven to the point that it becomes a square wave), others are

defined by the drugs used during both the recording process and during the listening (trance

music is nearly synonymous with Ecstasy), some are named after the dances they accompany

35

(two-step is a groove named after a style of dancing). Additionally, there are some labels put in

place by the recording industry for the sole purpose of making electronic music easier to

classify—what is one to do when the music ranges from simple 4/4 techno tunes, to ambient

soundscapes without any groove whatsoever, to enormous washes of pure white noise, to

incredibly fast, intricately rhythmical music? The “electronica” label is perhaps the most visible

and is the worst offender. It’s about as useful in describing the varied styles of electronic music

as “classical” (also an industry term, in its present use) is in describing the whole of Western art

music from medieval to baroque to classical to romantic to modern to postmodern. Its history is

simple enough. When the Chemical Brothers had a series of hits in the late 90s with songs such

as Hey Boy, Hey Girl (1999) and Block Rockin’ Beats (1997), the industry realized that

electronic music might become very popular in the mainstream and therefore required a blanket

term so that consumers wouldn’t become confused. It’s the same logic that leads the music

industry to believe that consumers would have difficulty differentiating between a Bach fugue

and a Stockhausen work for three separate orchestras.

At first glance, these definitions seem to further the idea that these types of music have

no place in the world of serious art—any style defined by illegal drug use or the dance it’s meant

to accompany must be dubious at best. However, these defining characteristics are not entirely

unprecedented in the world of serious art. Some define, at least in part, the French symbolists by

their drug use—Baudelaire with opium, Verlane with absinthe, and many others. Similarly, the

dances define the movements of the baroque dance suites including the minuet, courante,

sarabande, and gigue.

It is also important to note that although each of these styles and sub-styles have different

intents and purposes, and although some of the styles command more respect from critics than

36

others, once the idea of intelligent dance music enters the picture, it crosses all the boundaries.

There can be drum and bass flavored IDM, house flavored IDM, even trance, adulterated to the

point of worthlessness, can still find redemption with a sufficiently competent composer working

from the IDM ideology.

3.2.2 House

House music is a direct descendent of disco and owes a large debt to techno. It began in

Chicago with DJ Frankie Knuckles mixing disco with European electronic music, namely

Kraftwerk. Its purpose is dance music, as evidenced by the constant bass drum on all beat. This

feature dates back to the jazz dance bands of the late 1920s where the drummer would keep a

constant “four-on-the-floor” as the rhythmic guide. It also features repetitive bass and melodic

content similar to techno. When compared to other electronic styles, house is one of the most

basic and therefore least respected styles.

As stated before, house split into a number of sub-styles, two of which are important:

deep house and microhouse. Deep house features the four-on-the-floor rhythmical sense of

traditional house music, but is more relaxed and mellow featuring jazzy chord progressions,

female vocals, uplifting thematic content, and more advanced song structure in general. One

typically finds deep house music on compilations as there are few deep house artists releasing

full-length albums. There are two main record labels releasing the majority of deep house music:

Naked Music in the United States and Hed Kandi in the U.K.

Microhouse has a very sparse aesthetic taking small sounds (e.g. clicks, snaps, pings) as

its main rhythmic sonorities. The melodies remain simple in the tradition of regular house music,

but of features have more to do with the aesthetics of intelligent dance music. Thus, we see

another example of a style widely considered to be of questionable quality elevated by the

37

presence of skilled artists. While there are many microhouse artists releasing 12” singles, there

are also a growing number who are releasing full-length albums such as Herbert (Mathew

Herbert) and Ellen Allien.

3.2.3 Trance

Trance is the least respected of all the electronic styles, a stance which has not changed

much as there have been virtually no artists making any sort of interesting, original music in the

trance style. That is not to say that here isn’t a periodic track or two that stands out, but the

majority of the trance output is fairly generic. Trance combines the faster tempos of techno with

the repetitive melodic elements of house. With tempos ranging from 130 to 160 beats per minute,

it is very energetic dance music.

Trance has its roots in the industrial music of Psychic TV, a more dance oriented project

of Genesis P-Orridge and Peter Christopherson, specifically the album, Towards Thee Infinite

Beat (1989). The drug ecstasy, popular with the rave scene, was also central to the formation of

trance, which some artists produce with the intention of enhancing ecstasy trips. A series of

peaks and valleys typify the music, which builds in a slow repetitive fashion over a long period

of time, finally unleashing a massive, loud section thus enabling the ravers to “freak out”.

There are many sub-styles of trance with the most prominent including progressive

trance, which concentrates on song structure, melody, and chord progressions; Euro trance,

which uses simple, characteristically upbeat vocals; and Goa trance, unique in its use of the

Indian raga, which is uniformly dark and altogether more hard-edged than other trance styles.

These, however, are just a few of the many varieties of trance music—a search of Wikipedia

returns eleven additional sub-styles.

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There are a number of reasons that critics often see trance as having equivocal musical

quality, but none as important as the saturation of the music world by a glut of unoriginal,

uninspired, derivative tracks by “artists” who create one track for a compilation and then

disappear. This is due partially to the rather straightforward requirements of trance music

(common tempo, melodic style, and beats, peaks and valleys, and more), but it is also due to the

audience of trance music—typically people at clubs concentrating on dancing and getting high

rather than listening with a critical ear. In addition, there are few examples of trance done in an

original, musically interesting manner. Few trance composers attempt to defy the generic

conventions by producing something innovative or experimental, although BT (Brian Transeau)

and Paul Van Dyk, both examples of what trance as a style could be, put much effort into this

cause.

3.2.4 Breakbeat

Breakbeat is a style of music that builds upon grooves (or breaks) sampled from other

records, usually of the funk and soul variety. The break of a record refers to a section in the

middle of the song where all the instruments drop out except for the drums leaving the drummer

to groove solo for typically four bars before the rest of the musicians reenter. Although these

breaks last only four bars, DJs found that the stripped down grooves were excellent for dancing

and began to extend them by using two copies of the same record, a technique called beat

juggling. While the break plays on one turntable, the DJ cues up the same break on a different

turntable, going back and forth as many times as desired. DJs also found that these breaks,

devoid of any melodic content, are also excellent for mixing with other tracks. DJs began using

the break from one record with the vocals and melody of a different record to create different

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versions of songs, a technique DJ Shadow (Josh Davis) would take and expand to the extreme

with his album, Entroducing (1996).

Eventually composers began chopping up well-known breaks into segments (referred to

as slices), rearranging them, changing pitch and tempo, and using them in their work. Software

tools such as Propellerhead ReCycle greatly facilitated this and helped give the classic breaks

new life.

Breakbeat music led to big beat and jungle, two important electronic styles. Big beat

differs from the styles discussed thus far in that it replaces the standard four-on-the-floor dance

beat with syncopated funk grooves, as well as its generally slower tempos. Big Beat tends to be

jazzier and looser than the sometimes-stiff programming involved in music such as trance

because a human drummer performs the source material (i.e. the breaks), making them slightly

inaccurate, but with the certain je ne sais qua of a funky drummer. The Propellerheads’ 1998

album, Deskanddrumsandrockandroll, is perhaps the definitive statement of this style.

Jungle involves sampling a breakbeat and then speeding it up to the 160-180 beats per

minute range, raising the pitch of the sample in the process. Of course, current technology allows

one to change pitch and time independent of each other, but the high-pitched drums are central to

jungle’s sound. I will discuss jungle at length in the drum and bass section.

3.2.5 Turntablism

Turntablism is very similar to the technique of breakbeat music. Turntablists take ideas

like beat juggling to a new level of complexity by mixing not only beats, but also melodic

material, sometimes from three or more turntables. One of the biggest differences between the

other electronic music discussed thus far is that turntable music is often performed live,

sometimes in ensembles of six or more people each armed with two turntables, a mixer, and a

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stack of records. These turntable groups, such as the Invisible Scratch Piklz or the X-ecutioners,

create new works entirely from extant material. One can easily trace turntablism back to John

Cage with works such as Imaginary Landscape 1 (1939), which calls for four turntables, a set of

constant pitched records, and some percussion. To go back even further, the art of creating

something new from found sounds is essentially musique concrete in the style of Varese’s

Deserts (1950-54).

Turntablism is also unique in that it won acceptance by the art music community due to

its direct connections to composers such as Cage, Varese, and Schaeffer and due to the efforts of

contemporary composers such as DJ Spooky (Paul Miller) to legitimize the art. DJ Spooky is

particularly successful in this endeavor because he speaks directly to the public about what he

and his colleagues are doing, an activity all contemporary composers should be doing if they

wish audiences to not only hear them, but to understand them as well.

3.2.6 Down tempo

Down tempo is a broad term covering slower electronic styles such as trip hop, chill out,

and ambient, amongst others. Because a great deal of IDM (Intelligent Dance Music) can also

fall under the down tempo banner and because slower tempos don’t lend themselves well to

dancing (and are thus used for listening), down tempo has developed as electronic music made

for critical listening. That’s not to say down tempo doesn’t have its share of unoriginal artists (as

with any artistic movement), but it does tend to encompass a great deal of the most interesting

and creative electronic music being made today.

Trip hop is an important part of down tempo music. Artists such as Massive Attack,

Tricky (Adrian Thaws), and Portishead borrow elements from breakbeat, dark ambient, and hip-

hop to create an intense, gloomy, and in Tricky’s case paranoiac, atmosphere. Many consider

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these artists and groups to be part of IDM, but choose to classify them as trip hop because it is

more evocative of their sound.

3.2.7 Drum and Bass

Drum and bass has its roots in hardcore techno from the U.K. It began with

straightforward techno rhythms, but soon the beats per minute range increased to 160-180 and

the beat changed to include a strong backbeat37 in place of the quarter note driven dance

rhythms. Soon, a sub-style called jungle broke out and drum and bass, previously an

underground phenomenon, began to gain public recognition. Few can agree on the difference

between drum and bass and jungle, but for the purpose of this paper, the following distinction

will be adequate: Drum and bass typically features a more conventional style of drum

programming, relying on a constant, strong backbeat, while jungle features grooves of increased

complexity, often in very syncopated patterns without a standard backbeat. In addition, drum and

bass relies heavily on the Roland TR-808 for both its drum sounds and its bass sounds, whereas

jungle tends to use speeded up breakbeats cut up, rearranged, and pitch/time shifted.

Jungle crosses over into IDM with the music of artists such as Goldie (Clifford Price),

Roni Size (Ryan Williams), and A Guy Called Gerald (Gerald Simpson), artists who expand and

enhance the foundation of drum and bass with a greater level of conceptual complexity. Goldie’s

Mother (1998) is a massive, fifty-minute work of near symphonic ambition featuring a

complicated formal structure, melodic and harmonic progression, and a true sense of formal

development. Roni Size and A Guy Called Gerald both produce inventive, jazzy jungle, but are

still closely connected to jungles dance roots, where some of Goldie’s works such as Timeless

(1995) have long sections with no beat at all. However, a number of important artists remained

37 The backbeat refers to beats two and four played on the snare drum in virtually every style of Western popular music.

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more or less true to the drum and bass form such as Dillinja (Karl Francis) and Lemon D (Kevin

King) who both continue to create inspired drum and bass music that is still as much about

dancing as it is about listening.

Eventually artists such as Aphex Twin, µ-ziq, and Squarepusher (all prominent IDM

artists) pushed jungle to its limits creating a style called drill and bass, thusly named for its

lightening fast drum programming. Drill and bass is even faster than jungle with tempos

sometimes exceeding 200 beats per minute, making it a poor choice for dancers, but a great

choice for listeners. Aphex Twin and µ-ziq tend to juxtapose extremely fast rhythms with

melodic material, often moving at half tempo, while Squarepusher, on the other hand, tends to

extend the fast, intricate programming to the melodic and harmonic realm. In recent years,

Venetian Snares (Aaron Funk) is exploring the upper limits of drill and bass both in terms of

speed and complexity of programming.

3.2.8 Experimental

While styles such as house, trance, breakbeat, and drum and bass were developing, a

group of electronic artists began creating a radically different style of music, some of which left

its roots in dance music far behind. Merzbow (Masami Akita) is one such artist who takes

electronic music in completely new directions and, in fact, questions the very distinctions

between music and noise. He is the most important figure in the burgeoning Japanese noise

(Japanoise) movement releasing a handful of recordings every year. His current discography

contains over 200 albums including the 50 CD Merzbox. Merzbow experiments with every type

of noise from musique concrete to analogue feedback to pure digital noise. He uses a number of

instruments and common recording tools “incorrectly” to create new and interesting sounds far

removed from anything that has come before. Sounds that one typically avoids at all costs such

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as the noise produced by damaged audio cables, interference from the mixture of power and

signal cables, and loose cable connections are used to great effect in Merzbow’s music. Pulse

Demon (1996) is an excellent example of his brutal aural assaults consisting of one hour of some

of the most intense sonic experimentation in the history of electronic music. Other works such as

Music for Bondage Performance (1995) show a more gentle side to Merzbow with dark, ambient

soundscapes coupled with some rather perverse programmatic material. One cannot consider his

compositions to be dance music or popular music by any definition. His compositions are highly

theoretical and experimental having more to do with free jazz than techno. However, that is not

to say that his music is totally devoid of history. His influences include experimental electronic

arts such as Nurse with Wound (Steve Stapleton), Stockhausen, and the Dadaist movement in

general (his name is taken from the title of a Kurt Schwitters collage).

Other experimental artists maintain minimal connections with their techno roots while

returning to a more experimental mentality going back to Throbbing Gristle, Coil, and even

Stockhausen. Pan Sonic is a Finnish duo producing experimental and theoretical works similar in

concept to Merzbow, but not as frequently noise and usually with beats. They also work in a

jazz-like style creating works out of coordinated, controlled improvisations as opposed to a more

rigid compositional style.

3.3.1 The Dawn of Intelligent Dance Music

In 1992, Warp Records released a compilation album called Artificial Intelligence,

featuring a number of their artists including, among others, Aphex Twin, Autechre, and Speedy

J. These artists exhibited a different conceptual approach to the dance music of the Detroit

Techno artists such as Jeff Mills, Kevin Saunderson, and Derek May. Early Detroit techno had a

definite function: it was to get people on the dance floor. It consisted of the simplest melodies

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with minimal, repetitive arrangements. The tracks could go on for ten minutes without changing

much at all because the audience was busy dancing, not listening for the subtleties and nuance of

fine art. However, the Warp Records artists began to create detailed music with intricate

construction, not strictly for dancing, but for listening. This distinction led journalists to coin the

term Intelligent Dance Music, or IDM for short, but they never offered any sort of uniform

definition and thus people use it rather indiscriminately. From here, Warp Records became the

preeminent IDM label having already signed most all the artists involved. Soon after Warp

Record’s success, a number of small labels began to spring up catering to the burgeoning IDM

audience.

The term IDM is troubling to many because a) it seems to imply that other related artists

are making “stupid dance music”, b) quite a lot of IDM doesn’t have any beat at all, making the

“dance” part of the title false, and c) because it carries an elitist connotation making the

composers into snobs, whether they choose to adopt the term or not. Additionally, because a

journalist coined the term IDM, it seems to be a tool of the recording industry—yet another way

for the market driven culture industry to commodify an artist’s personal vision. Perhaps is it as

simple as this: techno music had failed to gain critical respect based on its simplistic dance

function and its minimal formal content, so the marketing division of some of the record labels

decided to create a new label to impose on the new trend of listening music for the purpose of

making the consumers feel better about themselves—the dubious techno music was not very

respectable but this new “intelligent dance music” was. Regardless, the term IDM was, at this

point, here to stay.

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Composers from IDM’s incunabula such as Aphex Twin, µ-ziq, Autechre and LFO38

defined the sound across a wide range with Aphex Twin and µ-ziq exploring extremely fast,

intricately programmed rhythms; Autechre concentrating on alien soundscapes featuring bizarre,

“undanceable” rhythms and lots of original DSP tools; and LFO bridging the space between

straight Detroit techno and the more experimental groups. LFO’s example shows that IDM does

indeed have strong connections to the syncopated dance rhythms of Kraftwerk and Jeff Mills

with tracks such as Tied Up (1996), while Autechre shows that rhythm need not be present at all,

especially in tracks such as Bronchusevenmx24 (1996).

IDM is a difficult style to describe because it is as much a philosophy and an ideology as

it is a musical style. Stereotypical IDM usually features highly processed sounds, often produced

with custom-made hardware and software, set to intricately programmed grooves. While tempos

may vary, IDM tends to be moderate around 95 to 130 beats per minute. Of course, there are

prominent exceptions such as the drill and bass of Squarepusher and µ-ziq. Overall, there is

considerably less repetition in IDM as it often features grooves that constantly vary or expansive

forms that wander across many colors and textures, especially when compared to the minimalist

aesthetic of techno composers like Plastikman.

While most electronic music involves a substantial amount of digital signal processing,

IDM composers are particularly creative in this department, often taking sounds previously

thought to be undesirable (such as the sonic result of a CD skipping) and making them

interesting and expressive. Austrian duo Fünkstorung were among the first composers to explore

38 LFO (Low Frequency Oscillator) is the project of Mark Bell and Gez Varley and should not be confused with the pop group of the late 90s that bear the same initials.

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stutter edits39 giving rise to a sub-category of IDM called “glitch” that imitates skipping CDs and

damaged audio files.

These glitchy beats have significance beyond their novel aural quality: they break the

bonds that held previous electronic music to a steady 4/4 pulse by showing that almost any beat

pattern, no matter how complex, syncopated, or asymmetrical, could fulfill the functions of a

groove if repeated in a periodic manner. Although Tricky is primarily associated with the trip

hop style, he makes effective use of a groove that, over the coarse of two measures, speeds up

and slows down on “Talk to Me” from his album, Angels with Dirty Faces (1998). The groove

takes on an irregular breath-like quality adding to the thick atmosphere of stygian dread that

Tricky cultivates so effectively. IDM is important as a style, concept, and ideology because it

fosters this creativity, this lack of generic restriction, and this freedom to explore that which

certain other electronic styles will not.

3.3.2 Music today

Many artists from the beginning of IDM remain active and continue to push the

boundaries of electronic music. However, since the introduction of the phrase “intelligent dance

music” in 1992, a number of other labels for this style of music are beginning to gain

prominence. Labels such as “headphone music” and “electronic listening music” are preferable

to most composers and listeners because they don’t comment in a negative way on other forms of

electronic music and because they more accurately describe the intent of the music (i.e. they

explain that the music is made for listening to rather for dancing).

This leads to my proposed label of “contemporary electronic music”. This term serves to

differentiate between music created for the sole purpose of dancing and music created for

listening critically, it replaces the problematic IDM label, and it brings the music closer to what 39 Edits created by slicing an audio file and removing tiny sections to produce a stutter effect.

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the critics and academics refer to as “electronic art music”. Labeling something “contemporary”

has some obvious flaws as it could easily fall into a trap similar to the term “new music”, which

is commonly used to refer to music ranging from early twentieth-century Schoenberg to the early

twenty-first century minimalist triadism of Philip Glass. Something labeled “contemporary” is

entirely relative to its position in history and so music that one labels contemporary today will

not be contemporary in twenty years. This is by design: the term is a stepping-stone between

popular music and art music. Its relative temporal quality will force it to expire fairly quickly at

which time it is my goal that scholars and critics will simply drop the “contemporary” part of the

label and allow it to integrate into the class of electronic art music.

Rather than definitively dictating what constitutes contemporary electronic music, I am

choosing to provide a list of characteristic features that may or may not be present in any given

electronic composition for the reason that an immutable ontological description of anything

relating to the arts is simply not possible. A term covering artists as varied as Autechre,

Merzbow, Pan Sonic, and Squarepusher must have room for the artists to explore music in very

different ways.

Much like my proposed hybrid aesthetic theory, the following list of characteristic

features is not a set of requirements—many works will possess a selection. Additionally, I am

choosing to define contemporary electronic music according to the existing styles described

above, as this style did not materialize in a vacuum. Contemporary electronic music can take the

form of any existing electronic style (e.g. house, techno, breakbeat); it can include a prominent

groove typically, of increased complexity compared to that of other styles; it can feature a greater

complexity of form and scope comparable to that of traditional and experimental Western art

music; it can feature advanced and original digital signal processing and, consequently, original

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and distinctive sounds; it can combine electronic and acoustic music in performance and

composition; it can borrow from the vast tradition of Western art music; it can exploit its

electronic medium and its typical reliance on pre-recording and extensive editing; and above all,

it must, in every case, necessitate its electronic medium by striving to provide something

unrealizable through acoustic means. If contemporary electronic music can meet sets of these

features, and much of it already does, it will categorically make a valuable contribution to our

fine history of art music.

Now that we have a sense of the general familial resemblance of contemporary electronic

music, it’s time to test my aesthetic theory. This application will show how contemporary

electronic music can satiate the rigors of aesthetic criticism with ease. I selected three works

from a variety of styles including Aphex Twin’s Ventolin, Venetian Snare’s Szerencsétlen, and

Pan Sonic’s Kesto. Additionally, I selected a very poor example of electronic music to show that

my aesthetic theory, though inclusive by nature, is sufficiently exclusory so as to filter out

undesirable material.

Analysis

4.1 Example No. 1 – Aphex Twin: Ventolin

It is fitting to begin with the artist most associated with the Intelligent Dance Music style,

Richard D. James, or as he is better known, Aphex Twin. With five major albums, four

compilation albums of remixes and singles, and countless EPs, released over the course of a

nearly twenty-year career, selecting a standout work is rather difficult. I would undoubtedly

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select a different work to introduce first-time listeners, but for the purposes of this analysis,

Ventolin40 (1994) will provide an excellent example.

To label Ventolin abrasive or caustic is to do it an injustice as it surpasses both of those

terms. It’s an excruciating work marked by a prominent high-pitched tone that pierces the

listener’s ears for most of the 4:29 duration. The title of the work refers to the drug Ventolin, an

albuterol-based asthma medicine, pointing the listener to the program: an asthma attack. One

could assume that Aphex Twin himself has asthma and was thusly inspired to compose this

work, although this is difficult to substantiate.

Ventolin begins with the aforementioned piercing tone, quickly adding a strong beat built

from drum sounds layered with high-frequency noise. These two elements remain strong

throughout the work, save for a brief section in the middle where the beat drops out. A one-bar

bass pattern, a one-bar melody, and a two-bar counter melody appear in various configurations

throughout, as is typical with this style of music.

If the intent of the work is to simulate, or mimic the experience of an asthma attack,

representationalism is the obvious critical theory to serve as the basis for the analysis. However,

Ventolin provides something beyond a representation and actually produces similar feelings of

claustrophobia and desperation in the listener making it, as Deleuze would describe, becoming-

asthma. The listener does not actually suffer an asthma attack, but physically experiences

musical representations of some of its symptoms. In this sense, Ventolin is extremely effective in

the realization of its intent, one of the most important critical features of this work.

Creating an effective work is good to a point, but now it is important to ask if this is a

creative and artistically worthy way to produce this representation for simply producing aural

discomfort for a length of time is well within the grasp of any amateur guitarist, provided they 40 Richard D. James, Ventolin; digital disc (Warp Records, 61790-2, 1995).

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have a sufficiently loud amplifier. Aphex Twin doesn’t simply provide a painful cacophony, but

rather uses his electronic instruments to produce a constant, focused, inescapable noise, which

would be impossible to recreate on an acoustic instrument. In that sense, electronic composition

is the ideal medium for communicating such a concept.

However, the benefits of electronic composition don’t stop with the piercing tone. Aphex

Twin manipulates all the other sounds to provide maximum agitation as well. He increased the

amplitude of the drums to the point of distortion and then layers an extremely distorted, crunchy,

high-pitched screech with the percussive attack transients. Where most grooves have a strong

sense of forward momentum without forcing too much emphasis on any single beat, Ventolin’s

drums lack this forward momentum, which lends itself to the sense of stasis within the work—

the inescapable panic accompanying the struggle to breathe. Rather, each percussive sound is

like an assault, emotionally (from the sense of stasis) and physically (from the piercing attack).

The melodic sounds also benefit from Aphex Twin’s creative sound design. There is

decent spectral separation between the bass, melody, and counter melody, but a low-pass filter

muffles each line, removing the highs and creating the feeling that they are suffocating. Selective

use of reverberation further heightens this effect by placing the harmonic material at a distance in

a simulated diffuse space in stark contrast to the drums and high frequency howl, which

dominate the foreground. This filtering and reverb also allows the upper audible spectrum to

remain free so as not to encroach on the harmonic space of the constant howl. Where frequencies

occupying the same spectrum would compete with the howl for amplitude, they are not present,

leaving the howl to monopolize. The filter used on the bass synthesizer is set with an extremely

resonant peak to create a high-pitched, crackling distortion that further grates on the listener’s

ears. This exemplary use of sound synthesis and signal processing shows that this work would

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lose much of its effectiveness if transferred to traditional acoustic instruments, and thus suggests

that this work is only possible through electronic means.

If one were to apply, say, formalism to Ventolin, they would justifiably conclude that the

form is simplistic, repetitive, and generally unimpressive. A formalist analysis would also

completely miss the point of Ventolin because it would fail to highlight the special aural qualities

that allow the work to fulfill its intention.

Ventolin features evocative sound design and excellent use of electronic instruments to

create a work unrealizable with acoustic means. More importantly however, it uses electronic

means to provide the listener not simply with an extraordinary musical representation, but a

genuine Deluzian becoming-asthma attack. For these reasons, it qualifies as thoughtful,

intelligent, and interesting music.

4.2 Example No. 2 – Venetian Snares: Szerencsétlen

Venetian Snares is the project of Aaron Funk, a Canadian composer, who is creating

some of the most original drill and bass music today. Since his career began in 2001, Funk has

released eleven major albums, five EPs, and many other projects under different names such as

Snares Man! and Senetian Vnares.41 Funk belongs to a new generation of electronic composers

arriving well after the beginning of IDM.

During a trip to Hungary, Funk was inspired to create the CD Rossz Csillag Alatt

Született42 (Born Under a Bad Star) featuring the work Szerencsétlen (unlucky), a frantic

combination of drill and bass and Bartokian orchestra strings. Szerencsétlen has some interesting

features including a referentialist use of symbols to deconstruct a binary opposition, a quotation

41 The purpose of the pseudonyms is to allow Funk to release music on different labels without breaking his contract. This is a common practice amongst the most prolific electronic composers. Similarly, Richard D. James records under Aphex Twin, AFX, Polygon Window, Caustic Window, GAK, Powerpill, Q-Chastic, and many others. 42 Aaron Funk, Rossz Csillage Alatt Született; digital disc (Planet Mu Records Ltd., ZIQ111CD, 2005).

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to form a sophisticated intertextual reference, creative use of existing material, and novel digital

signal processing, but the work is most interesting in the way that it combines electronic and

acoustic instruments in such a complementary manner. Most previous attempts at blending

strings and electronic music either put the two at odds with each other, or relegated one or the

other to a supporting role, but this is not the case here—they play off each other, sometimes in

opposition, sometimes in unison.

Before commenting on the electro/acoustic relationship of Szerencsétlen, I must explain

that Funk actually uses an electronic violin with sampled strings in place of a real string

orchestra. This brings up an interesting point because while the strings are not entirely authentic,

Funk did learn to play a stringed instrument in order to create this recording. This is

commendable because electronic composers tend to work with the samples themselves without

bothering to find a more convincing way to perform with them. Rossz Csillage Alatt Született

contains the most convincing sampled strings ever to appear on a recording of this type, thus

rewarding Funk’s effort in learning to play a stringed instrument. There is no doubt that some

purists will object to the very idea of sampled strings, but I firmly believe that the rigid views of

a few luddites are inconsequential when one assesses the situation of the realization of the

recording. There is no doubt that Funk would prefer a real orchestra, but the cost of this far

exceeds the budget of all but a few electronic composers. It is not a question of which method is

best, but a question of realizing the work at all.

To facilitate an examination of the electro/acoustic elements as well as the implications

of their union, I will treat the strings as if they were traditional acoustic instruments because,

after all, they are substitutes for acoustic instruments. They are substitutes insofar as they take

the place of traditional acoustic stringed instruments and do not use their electronic form to do

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anything other than reproduce the string sounds as accurately as possible. If Funk used an

electronic violin for the purpose of expanding or changing the characteristics of the violin, this

would be an entirely different matter.

Stringed instruments have a very deep connection to the tradition of Western art music:

they are present in all orchestral music, much chamber music, and most operas, but beyond this,

they are a signifier of refined art music. Similarly, breakbeats are signifiers of urban and

electronic music, present in all DJ driven styles (e.g. hip hop, rap) and most electronic styles (e.g.

breakbeat, big beat, drum and bass), and in particular, the “Amen” break is one of the most

ubiquitous samples in the history of breakbeats. The break is part of a drum solo by Gregory

“Cylvester” Coleman from the song “Amen, Brother” by The Winstons, a 60s funk band.

Virtually every electronic composer samples the Amen break at some point in his or her career

regardless of the tempo, style, or meter of the composition in question. NWA uses it in Straight

Outta Compton, Dillinja uses it in The Angels Fell, Aphex Twin uses it in Girl/Boy Song, Roni

Size uses it in Brown Paper Bag, and these are just a few of the most famous works based on this

influential break. Because it is so present throughout electronic music, its importance and power

of signification is analogous to that of the violin and the string orchestra.

In essence, Szerencsétlen is the collision of the structuralist binary opposition of high art

signifier versus low art signifier to produce a deconstruction of considerable power. Post-

structuralism predicts value in the abjuration of these binary oppositions, whereas structuralism

would never have one attempt to combine these two supposedly disparate elements. The reason

this works is that the symbols themselves are so powerful.

In a very general sense, this fits within Goodman’s idea of referentialism in art, although

Goodman’s system also works well for a more subtle style of symbolic use that generates

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considerably less friction. These are powerful symbols, one signifying the whole of Western art

music and one signifying the core of every breakbeat derivative. In addition to symbolic power,

referentialism also requires a judgment as to the effectiveness of the chosen symbols. Funk

avoids the obvious direction of contrastive exemplification and instead centers on a careful

fusion, a difficult task because of the necessity of avoiding one overpowering the other. During

the middle of the track, there is a section where the electronics take over, totally dominating the

strings, but immediately following, the strings get a chance to respond during a solo section.

While it is tempting to focus on the drums, a close listen reveals that neither the drums nor the

strings dominate the music.

Now let us return to the binary opposition of high art and low art. There are still many

critics who would have us uphold the ancient universal standard of quality, but just how

“universal” is this standard of quality? Alicia Craig Faxon writes, “as we enter the condition of

postmodernism, an era of multiculturalism, global vision, and an awareness of a multiplicity of

standards, it is important to evaluate the basis of aesthetic judgment itself.”43 Szerencsétlen is the

product of just such multiplicity of standards: it pays tribute to the history of Western art music

while simultaneously fusing it with what is arguably the highest development of this particular

style of contemporary electronic music.

In addition to this deconstruction, Szerencsétlen exhibits another interesting postmodern

trait in its quotation of the opening gesture of the first movement of Bartok’s fourth string quartet

(1928). This quotation occurs early in the work before the drums enter, almost as if to

acknowledge what Funk surely views as the height of Western art music (Bartok and other such

twentieth-century composers) before going on to add his contribution to the future of music. This

43 Alicia Craig Faxon, “Intersections of Art and Science to Create Aesthetic Perception: The Problem of Postmodernism,” in The Elusive Synthesis: Aesthetics and Science, ed. Alfred I. Tauber, (Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1996), p. 252.

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intertextual reference also points to Funk’s visit to Bartok’s native Hungary where he found

inspiration for this album. The act of historical quotation becomes problematic when used

indiscriminately, without regard to history, context, or any meaning the quote may have acquired

over time. Fortunately, it appears that Funk understands the power and meaning of this segment

of music. The brief opening segment of music is one of the key identifying features of Bartok’s

work and is thus an effective signpost for the listener as well as a subtle tribute to one of Funk’s

chief inspirations for this album.

This quotation is also a clue to the form of Szerencsétlen. Bartok’s 4th string quartet is

formally different from most string quartets in that it has a fifth movement, thus making the work

symmetrical. “Such symmetrical thinking about form had been evident in Bartok’s works since

the 1910s, but had never been expressed by him as clearly, either in the music or in his own

analysis44”. Szerencsétlen mirrors this symmetry with a rondo form of ABACA including a

substantial introduction and coda. The coda references the introduction, also mimicking Bartok’s

Finale, which contains a coda that borrows from the first movement. These features are not only

formally interesting, but also show that Funk is not quoting indiscriminately, but rather

thoughtfully, effectively using the perceptive listener’s knowledge of twentieth-century music to

gain insight into the work.

Finally, Szerencsétlen exhibits two features of excellence specific to electronic music:

creative use of existing material (sampling the Amen break) and novel use of digital signal

processing. With all of its appearances in contemporary electronic music, both in thoughtful

works and in unoriginal, generic works, one could reasonably assume that the Amen break is

tired and that the breakbeat community is ready for something new. Funk manages to find new

44 http://www.grovemusic.com.proxy.wichita.edu/shared/views/article.html?section=music.40686.5#musi c.40686.5.

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life in this ubiquitous break thanks to sophisticated programming and a considerable amount of

digital signal processing. Funk, known for creating some of the most fast-paced, complex beats

in contemporary electronic music, displays his finest and most highly developed effort in

Szerencsétlen. The sound has a unity thanks to the single source, but Funk’s programming

proficiency allows him to find a world of percussive sounds within a five-second sample. Of the

identifiable signal processing, there are all of the standard sample manipulations including time

compression/expansion, pitch shifting, sample reversing, filtering, extensive amplitude envelope

modulation, and some granular synthesis techniques, all done at a virtuosic pace. It is likely that

Funk supplements these techniques with original signal processing software such as Max/MSP, a

common tool among contemporary electronic composers that allows the user to program literally

anything they can conceive.

Much like Ventolin, Szerencsétlen is a work that could not exist outside the realm of

electronic music—the level of speed and sonic manipulation would be impossible to achieve

through traditional acoustic means. The issue of amplitude envelope control alone would render

the percussion part impossible for the simple reason that one cannot control the decay and

resonance of a drum playing 32nd notes at 180 beats per minute.

Szerencsétlen is a creative example of contemporary electronic music, but it is also an

important attempt at breaking down the barriers between the antiquated class distinction of high

art and low art. It succeeds in creating new and interesting sounds, but more importantly, it is

formally interesting using the intertextual power of quotation, it poses serious philosophical

questions to the listener, and it’s quite spirited and fun in the process. Thus, it should qualify as

excellent music.

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4.3 Example 3 - Pan Sonic: Kesto

Pan Sonic,45 a duo from Finland featuring Mika Vainio and Ilpo Väisänen, create a style

of electronic music differing from the vast majority of electronic composers today. Many

contemporary electronic composers produce rhythmically charged works with short percussive

sounds, whereas Pan Sonic favors long, sustained sounds that can go unbroken for minutes (or in

the case of Säteily, over an hour). In any one song, Venetian Snares easily has five times as many

attack transients of anything Pan Sonic has ever done. If the rapid programming of, say, drill and

bass or jungle sounds interesting, but humanly impossible, Pan Sonic sounds positively organic

with phrasing that has more in common with a wind player than a computer.

Another important factor contributing to their “human” sound is that they realize all of

their works in real time with no edits, overdubs, or samples—a working method virtually

unheard of in a style of music renown for its complicated signal processing and editing

procedures. When one hears Squarepusher there can be no question: it would be impossible for a

human to perform the music live not just because there are too many parts, but also because each

sound is manipulated in such a detailed way that a cluster of CPUs would be necessary to handle

the processor load.

This sound is a defining feature of Pan Sonic’s music that separates them stylistically

from many other electronic composers, but how does it compare to music in general? Pan

Sonic’s main strengths are form, representation, scope, and unique digital signal processing

techniques to produce interesting sounds.

Kesto46 (Strength, or Duration) is Pan Sonic’s first attempt at a large-scale form, although

that is not to say that it is in any way related to the classic forms such as the symphony. The

45 Formerly Panasonic before legal threats from the electronics giant of the same name. 46 Mika Vainio and Ilpo Väisänen, Kesto; digital disc (Mute Records, BFFP 180BX, 2004).

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work’s duration is 234 minutes and 48 seconds, but differs from other works of this length, such

as Morton Feldman’s String Quartet No. 2 (approximately 360 minutes), in that the intention was

always to listen to it on the temporally limited CD format (80 minutes maximum) and thus uses

the pause between discs to highlight and delineate its four main sections. When one listens to

Feldman’s String Quartet No. 2, the time it takes to get up and change the CD is always a

distraction interrupting the flow of the music. When one listens to Kesto, the time it takes to

swap CDs serves a function similar to the space between movements of a classical symphony.

At its simplest, Kesto is a four-section, through-composed form with 33 individual tracks

and a quasi-programmatic style. Each disc has a uniform energy level decreasing gradually as

Kesto progresses. The first disc features the most aggressive material, the second disc is more

relaxed, the third disc is very quiet with expansive ambient soundscapes, and the fourth disc is

essentially motionless with long drones that seem to have no beginning or end, as if the listener

is caught within a single sonic instant, infinite in its simplicity.

Programmatically speaking, Kesto is the journey from the center of a bustling city, alive

with the frenzied commotion of its machines and inhabitants, to the isolation of the frozen tundra

of Finland in the winter. Kesto begins with the noisy, abrasive Rähinä I (Mayhem I), appearing

three times in variation and serving as the main theme of the first section, which is suggestive of

the noise and chaos of urban city life. From here, the music gradually wanders away from the

busy inner city as the music becomes more stable and less frantic in the second section.

However, there are still references to the previous material, such as Sykkivä (Throbbing), a nod

to Throbbing Gristle, a major influence on Pan Sonic. Just as much of Throbbing Gristle’s music

is evocative of industry and giant factories, Sykkivä is both similarly evocative and

programmatically placed near the point where the music is on the very outskirts of the city where

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one would expect to find the industrial parks. Arktinen (Arctic), at the end of section two, finds

the music outside the city limits wandering into the cold night. The third section opens with

Viemärimaailma (Sewageworld), the last vestige of civilization with it’s very deliberate sound of

a toilet flush. Pakkasen Holvit (Arches of Frost) reflects the wintry landscape with its icy,

crystalline surfaces reflecting the light of the moon. By this third section, the music is very

representational from the cold winds of Ilma (Air), to the watery Koljan Uni (Sleep of Haddock),

to the distant, flat horizon lines of Linjat (Lines). The music comes to rest in section four,

consisting solely of the metaphysical Säteily (Radiation), as it blends into the frozen earth of the

Finnish tundra.

The scope of Kesto is massive, not just in comparison to typical electronic music, but also

to acoustic music. Even Mahler’s Third Symphony, generally thought to be the longest

symphony by a major composer, is less than half the length of Kesto. Is this length necessary,

and if so, is it well used, or simply long for the sake of being long? Kesto is really a special

achievement because most composers don’t afford themselves the luxury of slowly developing

works of these dimensions, Morton Feldman notwithstanding. The temporal aspect of the work is

especially important in the third and fourth sections where the music is at its most

representational. Säteily really does need to be 61 minutes because anything less wouldn’t

adequately convey the total isolation of standing out on the frozen earth surrounded by nothing

but blank horizon and darkness. Ilma needs its ten minutes to immerse the listener in the cold

winter air just as the 18-minute Linjat would not be about to show the listener the distant, never-

ending horizon lines if Pan Sonic were to drastically reduce it.

Kesto features some interesting intertextual references to other composers most notably,

Alvin Lucier in Linjat and Charlemagne Palestine in Säteily. As mentioned previously, Lucier is

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an important innovator of the more academic style of electronic music influencing a wide range

of contemporary electronic composers. The lengthy sustained tones of Linjat are reminiscent of

the length of wire Lucier used for his seminal work, Music on a Long Thin Wire (1980). This is a

felicitous intertextual connection because at this point in Kesto, Pan Sonic is primarily concerned

with the aural representation of nature thus echoing Lucier’s concept of organic, self-generated

music controlling its own dynamics, rhythm, and harmonic structure according to natural sonic

phenomena.

Säteily also benefits from an apt reference to confrontational, minimalist composer

Charlemagne Palestine, renown for his lengthy drone works with constantly shifting overtones.

This reference provides the key to unlocking the mystery of Säteily. In many ways, it is the

antithesis of the Western insistence upon teleologic music with its directionless drone leading the

listener nowhere over the course of its 61-minute duration. At this point in the program, the

music, absolved from the pressures of the urban environment (and consequently, the rigorous

requirements of Western music convention), is free to explore the void of winter night from a

static point of observation. The nod to Palestine is about more than any similarity to his music—

his aesthetics and his resistance to the Western musical status quo are the real key here. In a

sense, Pan Sonic is calling upon the precedented aesthetic model of Palestine for support, not in

the sense of artistic justification, but for the aid of interpretation on the part of the listener.

In addition to the interesting formal features, the scope, and the intertextuality of Kesto,

there are important features relating to its electronic form. Beyond the aforementioned real-time

realization and the preference of long sustained sounds over the short, percussive sounds that

typify most electronic music, Pan Sonic adds another responsibility to the role of the composer:

instrument maker. There are a small number of important twentieth-century composers who

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dared to take on this added responsibility, namely Harry Partch and John Cage. To a lesser

extent, there are a number of composers such as Iannis Xenakis who didn’t so much create an

original array of instruments, but built ad hoc instruments for certain works (such as the Sixxen

instrument Xenakis designed for his percussion work Pléïades [1978]). An urge to realize music

beyond the scope of traditional instruments drove these composers to experiment with original

designs. Similarly, Pan Sonic must create original electronic instruments to achieve their very

personal and unique sounds.

Pan Sonic has created a masterpiece with Kesto. All the elements including large-scale

form with massive scope; vivid, evocative representation; intertextual reference; original

electronic instruments; a unique creative procedure devoid of any sampling or overdubs; and

their unique, beautiful sound add up to a very special work. This should be counted amongst the

best electronic works—works that take full advantage of the electronic medium creating

otherworldly sonic landscapes limited only by the human imagination. For these reasons, Kesto

should also be included amongst the best early 21st century musical works.

4.4 Example 4 – Exis 01: Music Non Stop

One of the ultimate tests of an inclusive system is its ability to remain open, but without

sacrificing all standards—it must be able to filter out that which is undesirable. An analysis of

Exis 01’s cover47 of Kraftwerk’s Musique Non Stop48 will test my critical theory in just this

manner as it is a piece of “music” with precious little artistic merit, if it has any at all. It is

lacking in all the possible features that my theory values.

47 “Cover” is a popular music term for an artist playing another artist’s work, or “covering” it. 48 The title of Kraftwerk’s original is Musique Non Stop, while Exis 01 elects to change the spelling to Music Non Stop.

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This particular selection comes from the album “Trancewerk Express Vol. 1: A Tribute to

Kraftwerk”, 49 thus it is an album of covers of Kraftwerk’s music in the trance style. As

previously stated, trance is one of the electronic styles most susceptible to thoughtless, generic,

mediocrity because its conventions are very straightforward and thus easily created without any

artistic ability. Although one can find trance music that is artistically defensible, one almost

never finds it on compilations because an artist dedicated to his or her craft will tend to release

an album of material rather than an individual work for a compilation. An Internet search for

Exis 01 yields no references to the artist save for the “Trancewerk” compilation—it is very

possible that this is the only track Exis 01 ever produced. This fact doesn’t necessarily guarantee

that the single existing work is of poor quality, but it does indicate a lack of artistic commitment

to music and possibly a lack of ideas.

Exis 01 provides a formally simplistic take on Kraftwerk’s original composition bring

nothing new to their new version and, in fact, goes as far as to simplify Kraftwerk’s form to a

single one-measure loop that repeats for the entire eight-minute duration. Where Musique Non

Stop formerly featured multiple sections, development, and introductory material, this new

version reduces the form to a single bar that strangely borrows nothing from the original. It is a

practice in thoughtless stasis without development or any means to generate musical interest. The

cliché literally holds true because if you’ve heard virtually any single measure, you’ve heard

them all. Had the producer simply copied Kraftwerk’s original form, it would still be much more

engaging than what he came up with.

This leads to the issue of scope, also an interesting feature with a variety of uses.

Symphonies by Mahler, for example, feature an enormous scope that seem to encompass whole

worlds of music, while certain minimalist works such as Steve Reich’s Come Out, provide an 49 Exis 01, Trancewerk Express Vol. I: A Tribute to Kraftwerk; digital disc (Hypnotic, Cleo 9605-2, 1995).

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acute examination of the microscopic events of a one-second tape loop. These examples show

the wide range of interesting uses of scope—large, small, and many sizes in between can be

effective. Exis 01 obviously chooses a small scope, but fails to focus its small scope on anything

interesting. Even though Reich’s Come Out features only one second of source material, it

doesn’t remain static for the duration of the work—that would be intensely boring. The two

identical tape loops moving gradually in and out of phase provide constant development;

whereas Exis 01 provides no development save for layering a few additional one-measure loops

on top of each other.

The fact that this track is a cover of an existing work complicates the idea of originality.

While the idea is not to present something entirely new, there is ample room for originality in

other areas: nine years in the future, Exis 01 could provide a new perspective on Kraftwerk’s

1986 original idea. Forward-thinking conceptual work is a defining feature of Kraftwerk, so

wouldn’t a current (as of 1995) examination of Kraftwerk’s ideas on technology be a rich area

for exploration for a producer revisiting this material? Unfortunately this not present in any

way—this track leaves the listener no interesting ideas whatsoever. If the producer prefers to

avoid any commentary on Kraftwerk’s vision of the future in 1986, he could have at least tried to

expand on the generic conventions of trance music in a compelling way, perhaps finding a

connection between Kraftwerk’s sparse, minimalist aesthetic and the flashy, glossy style of

modern trance music.

Complexity of conceptual development is another potential feature that could add value

to Music Non Stop, but instead, there is an absence of concept altogether. In fact, there is nothing

going on beyond the aural stimulation—a hollow shell devoid of any creativity, ideas, and

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purpose. One could manufacture “music” of this nature in great quantity with a simple

compositional algorithm.

Having failed on every point of traditional Western art music criticism, the only

redeeming qualities must exist in the more specific set of features relevant to electronic music

such as an novel use of digital signal processing or the creation of new and intriguing sounds.

Creating new sounds is what electronic music does best: finding a personal, unique sound on a

traditional acoustic instrument is what musicians spend a career striving for, whereas electronic

musicians and composers can, with sufficient programming skill, create any sound imaginable.

The sounds of classic synthesizers such as the Moog Modular and drum machines such as the

Roland 808 notwithstanding, it’s almost a requirement that electronic works constantly explore

new sonic worlds. The use of bland sounds indicates that there was virtually no effort put into a

work’s creation. For these reasons, I find this work to be without any artistic merit.

After the utter failure of Exis 01, its selection may seem, at first glance, to be something

of a straw man. However, the track is actually very representative of the surfeit of banal,

formulaic sound masquerading as music. One could substitute most any artist involved in the

generic musical style and find the same results. While there may be a number of borderline

cases, it is actually very easy to differentiate between artistic electronic music and manufactured

sound and once critics realize this, perhaps they will be more likely to evaluate contemporary

electronic music on its own terms without relating it to thoughtless electronic music such as the

present example.

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5.0 Conclusion

Contemporary electronic music is a vital part of twenty-first century art music. Ventolin,

Szerencsétlen and Kesto are just three selections from a rapidly expanding body of work, a body

of work that critics and academics can no longer afford to ignore. These works demonstrate that

there is real depth and substance to this music and they are palpable indicators of the potential of

this style of music to develop and mature. By that time, critics must be prepared to re-evaluate

the music free from preconceived notions and prejudices. My suggested hybrid aesthetic theory

is not an iconoclastic maneuver designed to discredit any theories that preceded it, but an attempt

to find a way to build on the strong foundation of aesthetic criticism and to ensure that these

ideas remain applicable, at least in part, to new directions that music is taking. The preservation

of tradition is extremely important, but it is also important to understand that new ideas do not

threaten tradition—they can coexist in harmony. I make no claim to completion or perfection

with my aesthetic theory and I hope that others will continue exploration in this area, to

champion this music, and to see that it receives the recognition that it deserves. These are steps

worth taking.

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