Echoes of a Fractured Hologram

There’s been a curious development in modern music characterised by the offset retro leanings of vaporwave and its multiple offshoots. A very specific sense of wistful melancholy is distilled into a particular musical form, a single line from a piece of 80s Musak slowed down, distorted and repeated until it forms something redolent of a suspended, repeated mutation of the past. You might find yourself wandering into a computer generated representation of an 80s shopping mall, or what we imagine such a place would be like, empty and inhuman save for the same line of cheesy pop music repeating itself infinitely, digitally enshrined, protected from degradation but degrading through the very act of repetition into an audible rhythm indistinguishable from your own heartbeat. It is the music of a suspended degraded future, where the spectres of gothic fiction are replaced by flickering holograms, and, in the words of David Byrne, nothing ever happens.

Clarence Clarity’s music explores similar territory, insomuch as he re-appropriates the sounds of pop, R&B, soul, electronic music and everything in between and repeats it, fractures it and builds it into a digital cathedral of maximalism and broken down realities. His last album, No Now encapsulated this fever dream of images appropriated again and again before being twisted and distorted, a portrait of the postmodern condition as a sense that there is No Now. The multilayered production and strange glitched mutations of pop music found there presented however a distinctly futurist statement amid a time where the mainstream places all its bets on the industry of nostalgia and recreation. The version of pop music found here was a thrillingly unique and bold fusing of multiplicities that pushed beyond the hologram, fracturing it and hacking the mall systems to play all music at the same time. 

On Think:Peace , his new album, CC runs further with this while at the same time distilling the maximalist ambitions down to a series of often more contained pop tunes. The climax of the album in many ways is a piece called Same?. If through the course of the album we find ourselves wandering through the empty shopping mall, finding it breaking apar around us, trying to reach somewhere beyond a sense of digitised ironic detachment, this track ties directly into an earlier one, titled Naysayer, Magick Obeyer, on which notably he sings “make me feel like you feel good” [the implications of this, that the reality of the situation no longer matter, the illusion is more important, a line about the maintaining of illusion in lieu of the resignation of searching for real experience]. This exploration of the importance of illusion returns on Same? a mind-bending piece of music that starts in a different place but quickly morphs over its run-time to become a repeat of the earlier song, the album becoming a circular repetition of appeals to illusion.

Think:Peace is one of the most current, cutting-edge and thought-provoking pop albums from one of its most unique underground voices. It is no longer a digital cathedral, but the fractured memories of a hologram compiled into a new form, something that rather than simply repeating the sounds of he past creates a hyper-realised image of them and mutates them into new forms, echoes from the shopping mall of the past gathering into a symphony of mechanised harmony, warped, spiralling into an uncertain future. This is a journey into the tenuous links between illusions, a demonstration that pop music can be anything but shallow, indeed can be an exploration of shallowness in the most interesting way possible. 

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