MAKE ART HUMAN AGAIN

1.

I remember when computers took over cartoons.

When I was a kid, I loved old cartoons. Looney Tunes, Tom & Jerry, vintage Disney movies. I don't remember any of the plots, or the gags, or the voices. I remember the music, and the drawings. I remember the sense of beauty.

Sitting in front of the tv, I felt like I was absorbing the heights of art from a bygone culture. Like I was seeing and hearing the shapes and sounds that people, laboring together frame by frame, considered most beautiful.

The lines weren't precise, but they felt like they came from nature, filtered through the hands of many masters. The colors would warp a little, but they had soul. Everything felt real, and when I was watching them, I felt touched.

Then I remember when Powerpuff Girls came out.

It probably wasn't the first, but it was the first one I remember. All my friends liked it. But I couldn't understand why.

It had gags, and characters with chutzpah, and unconventional roles, but... the touch.

It was gone.

All that was left felt like just... a bunch of stuff happening.

Somehow, it didn't do anything for me.

And no computer-animated cartoon ever really would.





I'm not a luddite.

I use computers and smartphones and shit like that every day. I've spent hours and hours engaging with chatGPT.

I record my music digitally. I use plug-ins. I just learned how to make beats and remixes and I love it.

I like house music. I like psytrance. I think they're fun. I think they're powerful.

But here's why:

When you have a bunch of people jumping and sweating and dancing together to music that's a relentless grid, it only makes us seem more human, because we just can't fit in perfectly. We flop out. We laugh. We exude our imperfect, real souls.

To me, that's the art.

The electronic music just facilitates it.

It holds our beautiful imperfections in a perfect frame.

Everything else is just amphetamines and room-cleaning music, or art that speaks to the depression of feeling disembodied and dehumanized. All of which is good. But.





Digital technology increases speed, which in turn increases reach. It increases options. It increases precision.

But it doesn't do anything for touch.


And what's the point of reaching, if not to touch?

What's the point of options, if we don't make them meaningful?

What's the point of precision, if the line doesn't connect to the heart?





Hang out with your ragged, real self. Play real instruments and record it on your phone and share it with your friends. A spoon is a real instrument. Your hand on a countertop is a real instrument. You'll be surprised what you can do with them, because you'll feel them, and that will fuel you. You won't be able to make the exact same sound twice. And hell, if you practiced for even two hours with a spoon, you'd probably be able to do it like no one else could.

Put that in your next beat.



Rehumanize music.

Make art human again.



This isn't about turning your back on the changing world.

This is about bringing your soul into it.



Take a lesson from punk music:

They didn't know how to play their instruments?

Then that's how they'll play them.

Totally sloppy and all you've got is your energy?
Prove it.

In this seemingly least-punk era,

Don't pretend like being good at camouflaging yourself behind technology makes you an artist.

Show us your guts.



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