Electronic Music Shows Real Soul

By Cory Anotado
Collegian Staff
March 22, 2006

Music has long been the expression of the soul. The Bible has passages of David playing the harp in order to ease the mind of the King of Israel. Early American slaves used songs to not only pass time in the fields, but also to help aid escape by coding directions to the North into their verses. Even today, those bands labeled “emo” share their misguided and tortured souls to anyone within 50 feet outside of a Hot Topic or Top 40 radio station. The question is invariably brought up: if music isn’t created with a soul, can it express one?

Harpsichords, trumpets, guitars and drums all have a special feel to them. To make those instruments work to potential, a player must not only have the necessary skill set to belt out those dulcet tones, but also the heart and soul to make the music mean something. Listen to Carlos Santana play the guitar. You can hear him pouring himself into the playing. Yes, there are notes, but there is also heart and soul.

This leads me to electronica and techno. The names of these musical genres conjure up feelings of cold, lifeless melodia. Listening to techno initially gives you that same impression; the pulsating, perfect-to-a-fault rhythm of the beat gives way to sounds that could possibly be an instrument, if you could only place what instrument it was. Vocals are usually reserved for “samples,” the repeating of a sound clip. The ideas of choruses, bridges and verses are lost in the hypnotic beats and jarring sirens. How could one think of this as music?

If you listen closely to these songs, you can hear soul, though a different kind of soul. It isn’t emotional. It doesn’t exert feelings of love, or rage, or anger or infatuation. Techno doesn’t let us express how we feel after our girlfriend leaves us. Electronica doesn’t feed our adrenaline after we’ve won the big game. This music is primal, feeding on our most primal instincts. Our instincts to survive, to reproduce, to run, to jump and to go wild are all represented in techno, which is ironic because the way these artists tap into those instincts is with a technology that’s no older than our parents.

An excellent example of a pulsating track is TaQ’s album Bounce Connected. There are no vocals, no samples—just the pulsating beat. The names of the tracks lend well to the primal imagery that the artist wants us to feel. The fourth track’s title is “Stoic,” meaning someone who can take pain without displaying it. The track is fast and bold, like a hunter chasing after his or her prey. Instinctual feelings suddenly flood your inner psyche. You start to feel antsy, your thoughts clear and you have no emotions; just an inner drive to connect with your ancestors in the Pangaea before that pesky Ice Age. Then the song ends and you’re back in modern times, feeling slightly aggressive and wanting to eat red meat.

All music is created with a purpose. An advertising agency creates music to sell a product. A garage band creates music to jam and rock out. A techno artist creates music to touch our primal soul.

anotadoc1@lasalle.edu