"Der Mussolini"

"Der Mussolini" by D.A.F. (Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft)

I quite like this song. It’s grim, straightforward dance-pop with a simple synth bassline that doubles as the main melody. “Dance the Mussolini” is just a phrase that rolls off the tongue - if you didn’t know it, you’d think it was just another silly dance name à la “The Macarena”. It’s sarcastic aloofness that’s very nearly gone too far, and purposely so. How many young Germans at the time still thought that Hitler was primarily responsible for the Autobahn? And now thirty years later, how many contemporary Westerners don’t quite know who that Mussolini guy was? Doesn't "den Kommunismus" sound like an awesome version of the Charleston? And how comfortable are you simply doing what the voice over the speakers is telling you to do?

Geht in die knie (Get up)
Und klatscht in die hände (Clap your hands)
Beweg deine hüften (Move your hips)
Und tanz den Mussolini (And dance the Mussolini)
Tanz den Mussolini (Dance the Mussolini)

Dreh dich nacho rechts (Turn to the right)
Und klatsch in die hände (And clap your hands)
Und mach den Adolf Hitler (And carry the Adolf Hitler)
Und jetzt den Mussolini (And now the Mussolini)
Beweg deinen hintern (Move your ass)
Klatscht in die hände (Clap your hands)
Tanz den Jesus Christus (Dance the Jesus Christ)

Geh in die knie (Get up)
Und dreh dich nach rechts (Spin to the right)
Und dreh dich nach links (Spin to the left)
Klatsch in die hände (Clap your hands)
Und tanzt den Adolf Hitler (And dance the Adolf Hitler)
Und tanzt den Mussolini (And dance the Mussolini)
Und jetzt den Jesus Christus (And now the Jesus Christ)

Klatscht in die hände (Clap your hands)
Und tanz den Kommunismus (And dance the Communism)
Und jetzt den Mussolini (And now the Mussolini)
Und jetzt nach rechts (And now to the right)
Und jetzt nach links (And now to the left)

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