Philip Tagg's piece on 'rave' (in Popular Music, 13:2) will be helpful in furthering debates about dance music culture. It is a highly entertaining polemic, which is principally directed against an outdated 'rockology' in popular music studies. Tagg provides a musicological analysis of rave/dance music which offers some speculations on the relationship between the music and the social groups who make it and dance to it. He identifies a number of innovative musical-structural features of rave, including its intentional artificiality (p. 216), its ability to include traditionally non-musical sounds within a popular form (p. 214), and, for Euro-American popular music, an unusually frequent use of the Phrygian mode (p. 215). The main thrust of his discussion, though, is that, in certain rave sub-genres, there is much less emphasis on 'figure' (the musical foreground of melodic line) and greater emphasis on 'ground' (background, accompaniment) than in previous western music (pp. 216-7). Tagg asks whether such musical innovations express 'a radically new socialisation strategy amongst young people in our society' (p. 219). My hunch is that the answer to Tagg's question is no. It is clear, in spite of some notes of doubt, that Tagg is leaning towards a conception of rave as encoding a rejection of 'degenerate, hegemonic notions of the individual' (p. 219) - manifested in particular in the rise of ground and the decline of figure. This analysis is extended, again with some carefully expressed doubts, to the institutional politics of rave and dance music culture: the cooperative, semi-legal basis of some dance events and the prevalence of 'white labels' (12 inch vinyl singles which do not provide the name of the performer or the track) are offered as potential evidence of a refusal of individualism amongst (some) young people. Tagg's view that rave represents a new collectivism amongst youth is commonly heard amongst house and techno clubbers, and amongst journalistic proponents of the (sub) culture. But Tagg's interpretation is a significant addition to arguments for the radicalism of dance music culture because it adds another dimension, one which sees this collectivism as manifested in the lack of big, cohesive melodic foreground figures in the music (p. 218). This may be so, but listeners and dancers are still aware of the idea of a musician: the locus of virtuosic individuality is transferred to the musician programming the technology. There are individual ways of programming synthesised harmonic-rhythmic riffs and rhythms, just as there are individual ways of singing, or playing a guitar. Of course, it may be that techno audiences do not know, or do not care to know, who that musician/programmer is. But this fact could not sustain a claim for a new rejection of figure and individualism: people have been dancing for many years to recorded music, and have often paid little attention to the individuals who produced it, or their techniques. In addition, it is worth noting that the listening focus in techno is often directed not towards ground, but towards effects not dissimilar, perhaps, to what Hennion (1983, p. 172), in his study of the production of French pop songs, calls gimmicks.
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