Showing posts with label Capitalist Realism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Capitalist Realism. Show all posts

Friday, 12 March 2010

Accentuate the Negative



I attended Mark Fisher’s Kafka 2000 talk at King’s with M. yesterday. Apart from anything else, we both enjoyed the feeling of being back at school, and I felt myself in the shoes of those engaged, questioning mature students at University that my listless, apathetic self (as it was at that time, for some more, and less, common reasons) had looked at askance – I’d actually read the book, for heaven’s sake! The material was familiar though it was nice to have it reactivated, but it opened up a bit more when it came to the questions afterwards. One question was about how art can respond to capitalist realism, and one answer was naturally the hauntological approach – but what tweaked my antennae was the idea that artists should reclaim ‘negativity’. It struck a chord as it’s something I’ve been trying to work through myself – what ‘negativity’ could mean when applied to music-making.

(I haven’t read Cold World yet, but I guess some of what follows might be creeping onto the same territory).

Initially, I think it’s possible to define the negativity by what it isn’t. The first point is that, in itself, this negativity runs counter to pervasive compulsory affirmationism. Also, it needs to be distinguished from the fossilised James Dean, rebel negativity of, say, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club or The Kills or groups like that, which isn’t even “I wear black on the outside because that’s the way I feel on the inside” but “I wear black cos it’s, like, cool.”
On that note, it’s also a negativity that shouldn’t be so much ‘misery me’ as ‘misery us’ – the point of view presented should be depersonalised, de-self-ised (NB overheard as a response from one woman to another’s woes on the train: “You should be more selfish.”) In lyrical terms, for example, this wouldn’t have to mean not using ‘I’, but it’s important that the ‘I’ is not the Romantic one of the artists typically eulogised in Laura Barton’s reliably toe-curling ‘Hail Hail Rock n Roll’ Guardian columns, and more of a meta ‘I’.

Thinking more now about the positive properties of this negativism: the post-crisis moment can give artists of this generation a moment and a subject. What I suppose is a standard-issue existential-artistic dissatisfaction with what is sold to us as reality can take on an added resonance now that some people (including artists themselves, perhaps) are waking as if from a slumber. If there’s a small chink here, the work of anyone sensitive to it, in any walk of life whatever their aptitude, must be to keep it open in themselves and in others, and to – at the very least – contribute to and cultivate the ambiance of negative feeling towards neo-liberal realism as the psychic foundation for genuine social change. This ‘negativity’ must be, in K-Punky terms, ‘libidinised’, and music is an excellent medium for through which that can happen - This is not just an argument in favour of sonically impoverished sloganeering, though.

I noted with great pleasure that Poetix (aka Cold World author Dominic Fox) has a nicely detourned quote from Cathal Coughlan/The Fatima Mansions atop his blog at the moment (from The Door To Door Inspector “You made your choice when mocking the ways of true grown men.”) since, when I was a teenager, the Coughlan of The Fatima Mansions (and we can argue about the sonic shortcomings or otherwise of Coughlan’s various musical formations another time) was one of the first people to make attractive a certain negativity (as outlined above) and seriousness, one that was on speaking terms with musical surprise, absurdity, grotesque humour and invigorating language-mangling (Coughlan and Chris Morris are strangely twinned in my mind). At the time I perhaps didn’t even take Coughlan as seriously as I should have – after all, an album like Valhalla Avenue which then seemed thrillingly paranoid and bilious now reads, from ‘Evil Man’ to ‘Be Dead’, like a pretty sane and reasonable state of the world address. That is not to argue that The Fatima Mansions should be taken as the model (they just might not work in that way for you), or that words-in-music are the only way of expressing negativity (this would be a terrible, unmusical straightjacket). The expression of negativity vis-à-vis neo-lib realism perhaps doesn’t have to be as literal, as literary, as Coughlan’s.

The great thing about the Zero Books project is the manner in which it libidinises thinking against and around capitalist realism, or it has certainly had that impact on me (although the economic crisis itself also played a large part in that…). And one interesting aspect of the Michael Jackson tome was that it demonstrated how this kind of thinking can be the background hum, the bassline mood of a work even if it isn’t its ostensible subject. I think this is relevant to other forms of artistic/cultural production, including music.

Friday, 22 January 2010

State We're In



I spotted Will Hutton’s ‘The State We’re In’ on my Dad’s bookshelf recently, and I couldn’t help picking it up. What intrigued me was that I realised (and in fact I have realised for a while) that my general ‘opinion’ on Thatcher and the Tory legacy is partly a knee-jerk one, passed on to me by two Labour-supporting teacher parents. Not entirely, mind – I’m conscious that her project has essentially been furthered by New Labour, and it’s difficult to be unaware of the effects of that, and I always had in mind the idea (prompted by The Fatima Mansions’ ‘Only Losers Take the Bus’ I think!) of everyone being plonked on the same racetrack and told “the prize is for the taking”, only to discover it’s a kind of Wacky Races, where person starts with a broken leg, while another is in a helicopter and someone else gets to start from half-way down the track. Also, the contradiction of a party supporting the idea that “there’s no such thing as society” being the same one that blames the left for social disintegration told me enough, I thought.

And… there’s always a bit of trepidation when dipping one’s toe into new water – given that this is the first economically-oriented book I’ve read (although Hutton makes it clear from the off that he sees economics, the state, and society as inseparable topics) will I be so convinced by the rhetoric that I won’t be able to see the wood for the trees? Will I, in desiring to know more, find any critical thought stifled by one person’s force of persuasion, letting them become my super-ego? Still, you’ve got to start somewhere, and I know from past experience that, even when it happens, these intellectual/artistic etc apprenticeships are a useful and sometimes necessarily first step, even if you do eventually realise that your ‘master’ was maybe full of it at least half the time!

But it’s fascinating getting down to the mechanics – and what has struck me is not only the potency of the text (particularly the coruscating opening salvo) but also that its message is more pertinent than ever.

The irony is that Hutton wrote the book at a time when New Labour was in the ascendant (and it could have reasonably been hoped that a new era was underway) but his position is, tragically, just as relevant today. Our outmoded institutions and system of government are by their nature C(c)onservative, they safeguard the entrenched interests of financiers and the ‘gentleman’ class, and encourage corruption. As K-Punk argues in ‘Capitalist Realism’, the problems we’re saddled with are systemic so this issue of taxing bankers one year’s bonus is a thoroughly pointless, feeble gesture as a response to the crisis.

I’ve been trying to come up with a useful analogy and, though it may be flawed, this is the result: a spoiled teenager drunkenly crashes his expensive sports car while driving at an excessive speed (it’s not the first time he’s done that, obviously. On more than one occasion, he has narrowly avoided killing people). Rather then making him work to pay for a new one, or suggest public transport as an option (they are, after all, the people who have indulged his every whim), they immediately buy him a new one because, of course, he does also need it to get around - but they insist that, as a punishment, he can’t go to the big party coming up the next weekend. He sneaks out of the house and goes anyway. When his parents find out, they threaten to take his car away. He threatens to move out. They start crying because they don’t want him to leave – he’s their only son, they have given him everything. How can they make him understand that he needs to be more responsible?

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I was born in 1978. Something else that I realised reading Hutton’s book is that I’ve never known anything other than what happened after the financial genie was let out of the bottle. I have no idea how things could feel outside this. I remember my parents (SDP/Labour, remember) living on credit, buying beyond their means. I even asked once, something along the lines of ‘but if you don’t have the money, why are you buying a new sofa AND a new car?’ But that’s how they lived, and they were encouraged to do so. I remember discussing (heatedly) the modesty of my own financial ambitions with a girlfriend - for her it was tantamount to not having ambitions of any sort. She talked about the big house, the car, the holidays. After a three-year relationship, she left me for a trader!

DAVID