Rock & Roll Fantasies
Picture this: Mick Jagger’s feet up on your coffee table. Tiny feet at that, about as big as sticks of gum, supporting a lifelike, doll-size replica of Jagger that sings and prances its way through “Beast of Burden.” What it is, really, is a kinetic hologram—a three-dimensional image produced with a laser beam and photographic plate—and the antics are programmed by a holographic video cassette player plugged into your stereo system. Plus, you can play with the little video doll in ways you never could with the real Jagger. If, for example, you don’t like the way Mick is singing, just boo and he’ll scowl and wag a sassy tongue back at you. But if you applaud his bluesy spiel, Mick will bow graciously and blow a dreamy holographic kiss your way.
Or, for an even grander sense of control, consider this: It’s 1989. Jackson Browne has a lingering case of Malibu malaise and hasn’t recorded any new music since 1985. So, with Browne’s consent, Elektra/Asylum releases a Jackson Browne synthesis cassette (sample title: Running on Memories) that contains the key elements of Browne’s traits as a songwriter, including lyrical vocabulary, vocal style and rhythmic flavor. Put it in your artist-simulator cassette player, select a theme (Romance or Apocalypse, for instance), a vocal range (midtenor or high midtenor) and a tempo, and the machine starts to generate fresh Jackson Browne music, utilizing his favorite arrangements and chord progressions.
When the machine hits a particular lyrical tangent or vocal turn you like, press the Memory button and the recorder will remember your input, incorporating similar ingredients in the next song. Later, if you trade your tape with another Jackson aficionado, your machine will continue to incorporate your predilections on the new tape. Or, finally, imagine this spooky scenario: You go to see the latest art-rock cause célèbre at New York’s Bottom Line and discover that the concert consists entirely of biofeedback-generated music. The performers have linked themselves, via electrodes, to a bevy of synthesizers that translate the rhythms and impulses of the body into percussive, melodic and harmonic sounds, with only the singer allowed to improvise with his natural voice. It gets off to a rough start—the “musician” playing brain waves (melody lines) has a tough time keeping pace with the Jamaican on heartbeat (rhythm section)—but by midconcert the crowd is going nuts. The New York Times calls it a “heroic apotheosis of Kraftwerk-like disco mesmerisms.”
These pipe dreams could be outtakes from The Shape of Rock to Come, a mythical science-fantasy epic about technology and rock & roll gone awry. But in fact, they are the serious speculations of an unlikely duo: Peter Gabriel, a leading practitioner of what is often dubbed art-rock, and Stewart Kranz, a journalist/theorist. The two have been conducting think tanks recently about what rock & roll will be like a decade from now, or, more accurately, what rock & roll technology will be like. So far, they’ve come up with a body of notions fantastic enough to prove worthy of Star Wars and foreboding—and likely—enough to recall Brave New World. But Gabriel and Kranz believe that their collaborative vision of rock’s technofuture will ultimately help make the art form more of a participant sport.
“Ever since I left Genesis [one of the most extravagantly theatrical English rock bands], I’ve been trying to reestablish myself without all the extraneous trappings,” says Gabriel, seated next to Kranz at a tableful of blueprints. When he speaks, it’s in a demure, barely audible voice that contradicts his fierce, jarring persona in concert.”It’s coming down to an arms race in rock, seeing how much we can bombard and numb the audience, and that’s not really very creative. The byproduct is that the economics of the industry are designed to protect the strong, because they have access to the large audiences. What Stewart and I have been trying to do is come up with some ways that will ultimately help new artists reach more people at less expense. That’s the kind of technological progress we’d like to see. Plus anything that grants the audience more opportunity to interact with the artist.”
Kranz concurs. “Today’s audiences are looking for a chance to get involved. That’s what the New Wave and disco movements have tried to articulate.” A jolly, bearded man who sometimes laughs nervously at the seeming preposterousness of his own forecasts, Kranz is the author of Science and Technology in the Arts, a tome about how artists have increasingly turned to technology for expression. “In the Sixties,” wrote Kranz, “the significant part of the aesthetic experience became the moment when the spectator came in contact with the work of ‘art.’ [The involvement] took on the characteristics of a partnership between artist and participant—a partnership devoted to the ideal that pleasure, whimsy, insight and even disgust were ends in themselves.” Kranz and Gabriel see that partnership as the focal nerve of their vision of the future. “The more one can actually participate in what’s coming off the stage,” says Gabriel, “the closer your relationship with the artist will be, and the better the entertainment. A lot of people feel alienated when the artist doesn’t seem to respond to their input. One thing I’m doing at the moment is going out into the crowd with a cordless radio mike. It helps to make contact with people, give them a chance to contribute. Plus it breaks a psychological barrier.”
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