Originally published on It Is Happening Again on February 27, 2014
I really shouldn’t let it bother me, I know, but I can’t
stay silent any longer. I’m not a hateful person, you see, but it’s difficult
to feel anything other than utter contempt when it comes to EDM.
That’s EDM as in ‘electronic dance music’, just in case
anyone confuses it with non-electronic forms of dance music such as… uh… you
know… polka or flamenco or something.
Ah, EDM, let me count the ways in which I despise thee.
Firstly, no one seems to be putting in the effort anymore.
Producers such as David Guetta, Avicii and Hardwell (the latter officially the
best DJ in the world according to DJ Magazine’s Top 100 DJs poll) are churning
out the same tired sound over and over again. The last single sold well so why change
a winning formula? If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.
But herein lies the problem. The original source material
for EDM (disco, house and garage) was born from the predominantly gay clubs of 1970s
New York. It created an escape; a sense of belonging in a society which didn’t
yet readily accept the rights of people it deemed to be ‘different’. By
contrast, it’s difficult to listen to EDM and hear anything other than someone
trying to make as much money as possible. This is music stripped of all
emotion, all humanity… this isn’t music being made because someone feels a
compelling need to express themselves creatively, this is music being made
because someone has worked out that people are stupid enough to buy the same
thing over and over again. This is the point where music stops being art and
becomes just another brand. All style, no substance.
This brings me to my next point: EDM DJs. We now live in a
world where people will swarm in their droves to see Keith Lemon lookalike David
Guetta bouncing around, pumping his fist in the air and generally ticking all
the twat boxes while doing absolutely bugger all behind the decks. He may be
wearing Beats By Dre headphones (which I’m convinced were designed to help us
identify those who shouldn’t be allowed out unaccompanied) but what’s that? A
pre-recorded set? Really? Swedish House Mafia were just the same, only it took THREE
of them to slot a USB stick into a CD player and push a button while their
fans paid ludicrous money for the pleasure of watching them do sweet FA.
What’s the big deal, you ask? Well, if you paid good money
to see a band play live only to find they were miming to a backing track, you’d
feel pretty ripped off, right? Yeah, okay, DJs are playing recorded music (and
no one has ever pretended otherwise), but it’s how you play that recorded music
that makes the DJ. The real skill lies not just in mixing two records (or CDs
or whatever) together, it’s all about reading the crowd and connecting with
them via the music you play. If you turn up with a pre-mixed CD and then do
nothing for the next hour then aren’t you actually showing a complete lack of
respect for your fans by effectively ignoring them? If you’re going to make
money out of being a DJ then the least anyone can expect from you is that you actually
BE A DJ. That means more than a beard and a low-cut T-shirt, chumps.
It gets worse. We also live in a world where the likes of
Paris Hilton and Pauly D (from Jersey Shore, a so-called ‘reality’ show that I’d
rather sandpaper my scrotum than watch) are headline DJs. Paris, whose greatest
contribution to mankind will be the oxygen someone else is able to use once she
finally shuffles off this mortal coil, knows all the tricks. She can jump
around behind the decks. She can point and pump her fist. She has sparkly
headphones. But she can’t mix. She has some bloke who CAN mix hiding behind the
decks, bobbing up every now and then to, y’know, actually DO HER JOB FOR HER. She
probably has someone to wipe her arse too.
Pauly D, who looks like he was grown in a petri-dish, has a
sparkly laptop. He pumps his fist. He points. He plays ‘Levels’ by Avicii A LOT.
Artistic integrity isn’t in his vocabulary, along with, I imagine, much of the
rest of the English language. Depressingly, people are willing to watch him do
this in public, in the way that people used to go and watch executions (which,
admittedly, would be more enjoyable to listen to).
What do Pauly D or Paris actually know about the music they
play and where its roots lie? Do they actively seek out new music to champion
out of a relentless passion for their art? Are they pushing boundaries? Or do
they (or, most likely, their management) simply understand that being even
slightly famous is enough to part people with their hard-earned cash, even if
you have no discernible talent to speak of?
EDM celebrates the fact that you no longer need to make the
effort as long as you have a brand that suckers will buy into. It’s like that
person who turns up to the party empty-handed and demands to know where all the
alcohol is. That irritating work colleague who offers to help with a project
then wants to take all the credit for your success.
EDM asks the question ‘will this do?’
No. No, it won’t do at all.
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