How Techno Can Make You Cry

Fig 1. Screenshot of Kiasmos performing at KEXP Studios taken by author from YouTube, retrieved April 8, 2019. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5lzQlpjj7sA

When we think of techno music, emotional and heartstring-tugging performances are typically the last thing that would come to mind. Techno is mechanical, and when looking at the circumstances around which techno was started, this makes sense. In the 1980s, Detroit’s manufacturing industries were becoming increasingly mechanized, and new highways divided the city. Early pioneers of techno music responded by creating music that reflected this mechanization and lack of humanity (Tsitsos, 2018). This sound has carried forward in the genre since, but nowadays the mechanical sound is being challenged by artists such as Kiasmos. The duo, comprised of Ólafur Arnalds, known for his evocative piano and string compositions and Janus Rasmussen from the band Bloodgroup, (Erased Tapes) blend the heavy, mechanical drum patterns with ethereal electroacoustic textures that mix together into a raw, emotionally powerful sound. While techno may have roots in mechanization, it has since evolved into a full body emotional experience.

My first experience with this new take on techno was through a performance by Kiasmos on KEXP radio. I came across the YouTube video of their 2015 performance of “Swept,” “Gaunt,” and “Bent” while I was in the garage working on my car, and while listening to the three tracks they performed, I found myself on an emotional roller coaster; one minute I was up on my feet dancing along with the beat, the next I was in tears, and before long I was an emotional wreck, dancing and crying, and laughing in amazement and disbelief at the fact that music could have that effect on me. I had wondered if the music had just triggered an emotional response to something else that was happening in my life, but after going back and listening to these same tracks again several years later, I still have the same visceral, messy response.

So why do these pieces invoke such a response? Annemiek Vink (2001) argues that emotions in music are not necessarily the same as ordinary emotional responses, and are rather a response to the tension and release found in music. This idea is often used in the analysis of chord progressions, and can certainly be applied to the emotional potency of these tracks. While all three tracks affected me quite deeply, “Bent” had the strongest impact. The track starts off with a soft, slow pad holding a D sharp (the fifth note in the song’s key of G sharp minor) while chords swell underneath it, creating tension through dissonance with the held note and setting up the expectation of a resolution to the root harmony (G sharp minor) but not resolving it. It resolves to this chord once, but only for a second before the bass comes in and establishes the harmonic pattern of i, v, VI, VI. This chord progression continues through most of the piece, occasionally hanging on the VI chord for a few extra bars to create further tension.

Fig 2. Screenshot of Janus Rasmussen adjusting his drum
sequencer. Ibid.

I could go on with this dry theoretical approach to analysis, but theory often serves only to scratch the surface of why a piece is so emotional. After all, this is a fairly common chord progression for songs written in minor keys, and not all songs in minor keys elicit such a strong response. As a result, it may be more effective to tackle this question through other means. Herbert Schwartz (1985) proposes comparing a musical emotion with a single musical “tone,” making the range of emotions as diverse as the number of ways notes can be arranged. This certainly deepens the level to which we can analyze the music for its emotional elements, but I argue that looking at notes alone still only skims the surface of music’s emotional power over us.

The texture and timbre of a note can have a much greater impact on emotional response than the note itself. A violinist can play a note in different ways to invoke a different listener response. They can vary the bowing speed, pressure, angle, position on the string, and much more to get completely different sounds out of the exact same note. Even the volume at which a note is played changes its emotional affect. In this performance of “Bent,” we can hear these differences quite clearly. Through the first build and the breakdown, the violins play soft, long sustained notes that continue through chord changes and serve to provide some tension and create an airy sadness in conjunction with the pads. In contrast, near the end of the piece, the violins furiously saw out a fast, repeating ostinato that surges the energy forward into the final drop.

These characteristics of music often seem to be missed in musical analysis. When composing music for my undergraduate studies, my professors focused primarily on what the notes were doing, but my own compositional approach has always been a textural one. I like to create beautiful textures, and push their volume to the point of distortion and even physical pain. This last point is guaranteed to elicit an emotional response, whether positive or negative. But I can say that this is likely the biggest reason for my own visceral response to “Bent;” Kiasmos does this twice in their performance and it is both beautiful and painful.

While tones and harmonies do guide our feelings through a musical work, it is the way the notes are played and the quality of the notes that provides the strongest emotional foundation. Many of these connections between music and emotions are still being researched, but it is clear that even in the techno genre, music has a power over us and can bring a manly man doing manly things* to tears. In an interview with Cheryl Waters on KEXP, Rasmussen talked about the creative process within Kiasmos, and finished off with what is essentially my point in this review: “Our shows are kind of designed to dance with your heart, you know. Crying on the dance floor, that’s what we want people to do” (Rasmussen, 2015). This performance captured that goal perfectly.

*Yes this is a bit of a tired cliche but for some context, I am 6’4” tall, 300 pounds, have a big bushy beard, and was shoulder deep in a greasy engine bay when I first discovered Kiasmos. I am not exactly the type of guy most people would expect to see bawling his eyes out over a piece of music (I really am though, I often find myself in tears listening to music).

References:

KEXP. “Kiasmos - Full Performance (Live on KEXP).” YouTube, YouTube, 9 Feb. 2016, www.youtube.com/watch?v=5lzQlpjj7sA.

“Kiasmos - Artists.” Erased Tapes, www.erasedtapes.com/artist/kiasmos.

Schwartz, Herbert. “Music and Emotion.” Perspectives of New Music, vol. 24, no. 1, 1985, pp. 98–101. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/832760.

Tsitsos, William (2018). “Race, Class, and Place in the Origins of Techno and Rap Music.” Popular Music and Society, 41:3, 270-282,DOI: 10.1080/03007766.2018.1519098

Vink, Annemiek. “Music and Emotion.” Nordic Journal of Music Therapy, vol. 10, no. 2, 2001, pp. 144–158., doi:10.1080/08098130109478028.