Melancholy Loops: "Phoenix"

You know how it works.

You start off with a simple sonic phrase, and you loop it maybe two or four times. A four-on-the-floor kick comes in, and your head starts to bounce. A minute later, you have a flurry of drum programming going on, as the snares and claps smack on the second and fourth beats and a hi-hat or two hit on the off-beats. Add in a few other synth loops -- a deep bass, maybe a few string chords -- and voilà! The recipe of layering is underway.

It all seems so simple, and we've all heard the flippant criticism "it's so repetitive". For fans of techno, it's one we've heard a million time before. So why do we like it so much? I'm sure there are many reasons people will give, but for me, it's the same reason why I listen to modernist classical, minimalism and its descendants, and some varieties of ambient: the immersing quality of looping. As we hear the same phrase over and over, we begin to become hyper-aware of any variations. When a new layer emerges, the elements that we've been listening to before become contextually transformed. And with the steady algorithm of layering common to so much modern electronic dance music, we begin to anticipate when these new layers will emerge.

So it all becomes a remarkably active form of listening. Certainly, many audiences don't quite take it to the level of immersion that I do, perhaps instead using the patterns as a way to simply groove along at a happy, steady rhythm without much thought. But this minimalist impulse behind electronica is something I find quite fascinating, and I'm particularly keen on artists and tracks that readily use the conventions to create melancholy aural environments that are built on a kind of suspense.

This series of postings, which I'm calling Melancholy Loops, will be a review of some of my favourite electronic recordings that draw game listeners into an insular, solitary and aurally-aware frame of mind. But to begin, perhaps a not particularly melancholy track, but one that I think expertly illustrates how an active listener can pick apart and anticipate layering, resulting in a remarkably satisfying experience from so few elements.

Daft Punk - Phoenix

Daft Punk's full-length debut Homework has rightfully become a classic of the genre. Although I suspect most people immediately think of the retro-soaked nu-disco followup Discovery when Daft Punk is mentioned, I usually have Homework on the front of my memory: maybe this is because it's one of the first CDs I bought as a twelve year old in 1997. (Although, I swear being aware of "Da Funk" in grade 6, which would have been 1996.) I remember being enthralled with much of the album --"Around the World", "Burnin'", "Da Funk" and "Revolution 909" being my favourites then-- but some of the tracks I would routinely skip. "Phoenix" was one of those tracks.

But fifteen years later, I would consider the track to be one of the indispensable cuts of the album.

The structure, like most house and techno tracks, is based off of phrases of 4 beats each, in common time. "Phoenix"s structure may be described as such:
a. 8 phrases of steady kick drum on the beat (0:00)
b. 8 phrases of the same kick, with a simple off-beat hi-hat and a subtle tambourine on the beat (0:15)
c. 8 kick with delayed claps and snares (0:30)
d. 20 (8+8+4) kick, delayed claps, additional snare, and an increasing number of off-beat hi-hats (as they become longer and layered on top of one another) (0:46)
e. 8 of a "gospel phrase" added on top of the drum work: an 8 beat (so two 4-beat phrases) synth loop that has a bright, euphoric chord striking on the first of every four beats, followed by three harsher stabs in the first phrase and two stabs in the second; shakers also appear (1:23)
f. 8 of "gospel phrase", kick, hats and shaker; no snares or claps (1:38)
g. 8 of "gospel phrase" and kick, no snares or hats (1:54)
h. 8 of "gospel phrase", kick, hats, snares/claps and shakers, (2:08) but with final two phrases having fewer hats and no shaker (2:20)
i. 16 of "gospel phrase", bass organ line, kick, hats, snares/claps, shaker (2:24)
j. 8 of organ bass line, kick, hats, snares, shuffle, no "gospel phrase" (2:54)
k. 8 of organ bass line, kicks, hats, snares/claps, shaker, no "gospel phrase" (3:09)
l. 8 of organ bass line, hats, snares/claps, shaker - no kick or "gospel phrase" (3:24)
m. 8 of "gospel phrase", kick, hats, snares/claps, shaker, bass line (3:40)
n. 8 of muted kick, gospel phrase (only first half, with three stabs) and maybe the bass line (3:54)
o. 16 full: gospel phrase, kick, hi-hats, snares/claps, shaker, bass line (4:10)
p. 8 of kick, hi-hat, snares/claps (4:40)

Another way to view this would be:

a. k-----
b. kh----
c. k-c---
d. khc---
e. khcsg-
f. kh-sg-
g. khcsg-
g.2 khc-g-
h. khcsgb
i. khcs-b
j. -hcs-b
k. khcsgb
l. k---g(b)
m. khcsgb
n. khc---

with k (kick), h (hi-hats), c (claps/snares), s (shakers), g ("gospel phrase), b (organ bass line)

There are other elements to the track that an acute ear will be able to pick up on, but these are the major components. As we can see, it's all a rather straightforward job of slowly adding in and taking away, creating new combinations out of a mere six components. There's only one section (l) that uses a significant alteration, that being a muted EQ to thin out the track into a narrow band of frequency, creating a calm before the storm. There are four climaxes in the song: the first pair being sections e and g. The final two climaxes --k and m-- are identical in their combinations of all the song's elements, the only difference being in length.

The pleasure I get from this song is being aware of the manipulation of this basic formula, which is a very common one to find in the genre. How many house, techno or other electronica songs are you aware of that use this pattern?

Tthe standard pop formula of ababcb doesn't apply here as well, but it is vaguely familiar. We can reduce the structure above to:
a. rhythm (drums)
b. chorus (drums+melody)
c. verse? (variations of drums+melody)
d. chorus (drums, melody and bass)
e. bridge? (variations of drums, melody and bass)
f. ryhthm (drums)

So this track essentially becomes a very knowing near-parody of the structures of both electronic dance music and pop songwriting. Because we intuitively know this structure, we are not taken too much by surprise when the structure changes -- and because we have a familiarity with the structure and are not placing too much focus on following it, we are able to pay very much attention to the small details of the song. By hearing the same synth-gospel loop over again, we begin to pick it apart: does that bright chord remind me of a flock of angels singing joyously? Or what about that hissing bit in the same loop, is that a voice? (To me, it's always sounded a bit like a manipulated "so fine!") When that bass enters in late in the song, it changes how we hear the rest of the elements: without it, I find the song almost chilly in its starkness, but the friendly Hammond bass (at least that's what it reminds me of!) adds an additional cheerful edge, allowing me to really grasp hold of the bright elements of the synth loop.

"Phoenix" is an appropriate name for the song, then, as it rises from the basic elements of all songwriting and becomes a joyful ode to synthpop, gospel, techno and house -- and all from only six elements.