Singer/songwriter Patcee Francis argues that music should transcend technology, not be circumscribed by it.
I recently had the pleasure of attending the Nottingham Music Seminar (24th and 25th September) which offered the chance for those involved in the music industry, both locally and nationally, to exchange opinion and information concerning its state and direction. Amongst the ingeniously‑titled, exciting seminars was 'Has Every Note Been Played?', a look at retro, the position it occupies within contemporary music and whether it's simply the consequence of musicians and the music industry as a whole running out of new and challenging ideas.
The discussion motored along, raising issues concerning the acceptability of the whole '70s disco revival. The debate looked at the popularity of revival club nights such as the popular Midlands bash 'Car Wash', and other similar nights, and asked whether this genre could be regarded as playing an active role in the progression of music as an art form. Can, for example, Donna Summer's 'Love to Love you Baby' (1976) or Aretha Franklin's 'Respect' (1967) really have the same social impact today that they created when they were originally released? More to the point, does their '90s audience truly value and appreciate the greatness of these pieces of original art?
And speeding swiftly on, are the purveyors of this enjoyment — the promoters and DJs — champions of a cause, educating those too young to have been involved the first time around? (A tough job but someone's got to do it!) Or, playing the cynical card, has the industry found yet another way of recycling the old, to lucrative ends? Will the exploitation ever cease? I think not.
But back to the original question. Has every note been played? Is this a solemn rave to the tune of the death march? Could it really be that in the 1990s the creative human mind has fallen foul of the machine (they've taken over our worktops, our jobs, and now our minds!)? What's more, the invasion seems to be welcomed. Mine was the lone voice at the seminar bemoaning the idea that technology is now seen as a major part of the recording process. Prevalent belief was that every note will never be played while technology continues to improve. But what about musical inventiveness? What about having an idea and then transforming it? What about those old‑fashioned days when musicians used instruments? I shiver on behalf of musicians down the ages, both male and female, as bands of computers are marched heartlessly across their graves!
Would creative juices really cease to flow with the demise of the omnipotent sampler? And what of the live band? Are the likes of Oasis, Living Colour and others simply a '90s remake of a '60s phenomenon?
I'm not suggesting that technology has no place in the positive progression of music. Indeed, as a singer/songwriter, my voice has often fallen under the sampling knife. It goes without saying that these machines are impressive, but let us not forget that that is all they are. Technology should exist to enhance the creative process, not replace it.
It struck me as I walked out of the seminar that there is now a new age of musicians. Musicians who wouldn't refer to themselves as such. And as I pondered on that, I wondered if musicians today shouldn't be called something else — Music Technicians, perhaps? This in itself raises yet another question: what truly defines a musician? Is it someone who can boast that they have attended the best school of music, who can score a 20‑piece string arrangement without turning a hair? Or is it someone who can turn out a Kylie Minogue‑esque pop hit every day before breakfast? Or are musicians quite simply those who have the ability to create brilliant pieces of music that capture a moment and move the listener? Maybe it's all of these?
I'm not being precious or high‑brow in any way. It's just that I have so much more faith in human ability and imagination. I would argue that those who claim that technology is their driving force will, if they're not careful, find themselves spinning out of control and crashing into a wall of broken dreams. Every note has not been played and never will be. Technology, however, may become old hat, just like the abacus did.