This is my contribution to The Book of Guilty
Pleasures (2011): a collection of
100 contributions from different artists, curators, musicians, and writers on
their aural guilty pleasures, initiated by Song-Ming ANG and co-edited with Kim
Cascone.
A guilty pleasure for me, guilty because I have
rejected minimalist formalism, is Datamatics [ver 2.0], the electronic audio/visual creation of Japanese
composer Ryoji Ikeda where he mines data mania for both the material and the
theme of his work. IkedaÕs rapid techno music is created from slight electronic
hums and pops that build into gargantuan sonic textures, sometimes reaching the
noise intensity of Merzbow. The intention is a meditation on the feral
relationship between the sound of data and the data of sound today. The effect
is a furious formalism that effectively entices, but flattens and thins out the
longer it goes on. That said, the macabre grandeur of Datamatics2, with its repetitive super-coded/anti-coded rigor, is
stunningly beautiful on dˇbut. A furious rhythm of inscrutable data discord is
established from the beginning, necessarily entailing a process of
attraction/repulsion that intimidated me while spawning some sublime ideas.
IkedaÕs evocation of data time is riding high on
speed, and tempo here took on the implication of a dark temporal pop-cultural
product pit into which my accurate perceptions were poured - even as I resisted
fragmentation and remained fixed in the logocentric seat of Renaissance
three-point-perspective. This principle of hyper speed coupled to visual
overload makes inoperable the usefulness of the term ŌminimalÕ in association
with Ikeda; as Datamatics2
animates a crumbling of the normal monuments to human difference we construct
daily. IkedaÕs mixture of technical precision with perceptual overload
presented a significant challenge to experiencing interior time. Perhaps it
would have been possible had I been able to divorce the musical experience from
the visual torrent.
Ryoji IkedaÕs Datamatics2 is a stuttering in a hygienic but deranged tongue
within the vernacular of shattered techno signs and computer music clichˇs. In
that way Datamatics2 is
anti-automatismic. We are forced to think creatively and distinctively if we
hope to un-pack and self-interpret itÕs quintessentially dancing chaotic vision
par excellence. And when we do: we finally come - enigmatic-lithe jouissance.
But the jolt as been sadly self-inflicted, lacking, as it does, the
tragic/emphatic psychic dimensions of artificial life (I saw or felt no field
of intensities invoking the inchoate and the savage) and the open multiple
model of atmospheric free associations. Thus the event went a bit lacking, for
me.
So are these subsequent revelations an abiding
labyrinthian form of abject nothingness? Yes, Datamatics2 is a blustering, bursting, blatant banality, but even
so I saw/heard in Datamatics2 the
melancholy monstrous traces and dissimilative Dionysian mannerisms of Novalis,
Chateaubriand, Nerval, Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Aragon, Bataille, Lautrˇamont, and
Roussel. That is hardly farcical nothing (albeit by way of negation folded upon
negation / instrumentalization upon instrumentalization). In piercing clouds of
cacophony I heard traces of Xenakis, La Monte Young, Boulez, and Aphex Twin.
The attraction to such an adjoining structure is
strong, but it wanes quickly. I suppose it must be like doing business with a
rather spectacular whore.
Joseph Nechvatal