La aplicación del modelo de Valoración Contingente

As with Mark Archer and his Altern 8 and Nexus 21 projects, many EDM producers have operated multiple identities to covertly distribute their work. Essentially this practice defies the notion of anonymity as being that which lacks a name and instead addresses the potential for the anonym or what, otherwise, is commonly known as the pseudonym. As will be explored throughout this section, the use of these often veiled incarnations rely on processes of transformation that are similar to those involved in mask wearing. There is, for example, the representation of a conscious delineation of identity as removed from one that has already been established. In cases where the pseudonym is signifier, this has required the adoption of a guise and an associated moniker that is distinctly removed from what may be described as the composer’s so-called true identity (as in an official or ‘core’ identity that bears their full name). Yet this process may also be undertaken to develop an identity that has been designed as being different to at least one other recognised unofficial guise that has been solely constructed by the composer for the issuing of his or her music.

However, this rejection of a single fixed identity clearly impacts on the easy identification of the author and diffuses authorship at the expense of a single, concentrated persona. As discussed in previous chapters, the more typical industry approach to authorship – the ‘star system’ – tends to rely on the building of a single identity to maximise exposure through the establishing of ‘the name’. The alternative option that has become prevalent in EDM consisting of a disregard for fixed names/single identities means that the composer risks less recognition for their cumulative work. But whilst referring to the government’s policing of early EDM events (including a described “process of invasion” and the media’s subsequent “moral panic”), Rietveld offers what has become a historic basis for EDM’s refusal of a fixed

identity (1999, p.65) that has, in turn, assisted with “the articulation of a new space of the non-spectacle” that escaped “traditional sites of surveillance” (Melechi, 1999, p.34). Therefore the resisting of the fixed identity – while observed as a device for the recognition/easy identification of scene participants – is thus defined as “the only ‘tactic’ left […] an escape, a moment of moving to the other side of the mirror which is held up by established discourses such as the media discourse” (Rietveld, 1999, p.65). Rietveld and Melechi’s discussion of this type of disappearance is notably applicable to a broad range of behaviours within early EDM scenes, yet the continued and prolific nature of the pseudonym suggests a continued refusal of fixed identities despite on-going media and commercial pressures for EDM – while expanded as a potentially profitable area within the music industry – to incorporate typical star system indexes.

Sicko subsequently documents how “this type of anonymity remains a hallmark of modern electronic dance music, in which the number of artist pseudonyms has risen exponentially” (2010, p.24) with further commentators observing how “names change and shift; production teams appear under different pseudonyms; artists hop from label to label” (Shaughnessy in House and Shaughnessy, 2000, p.8). Meantime, Barker and Taylor address EDM’s pseudonym alongside the proliferation of both guest vocalists and the DJ as replacement for live performance. They state that EDM tracks were “often recorded under fleeting pseudonyms, adopted and discarded at will by producers and teams” (Barker and Taylor, 2007, p.254). However Hesmondhalgh argues that these pseudonyms are firstly “deliberately adopted” in order to “create confusion” regarding an individual producer’s identity (1998a, pp.238-239). Rubin similarly observes that such aliases a) require agency and b) have the potential to disorient when stating that producers have “camouflaged themselves behind a dizzying variety of alter egos” (2000, p.116). To illustrate, he notes that Detroit techno producer Kevin Saunderson has recorded as Kreem, Inner City, Inter City, Reese, Reese & Santonio, Reese Project, Keynotes, Tronik House and E-Dancer yet suggests that the resulting complexity within the marketplace has been purposeful. He recounts Saunderson’s insistence that it was to “help Detroit seem bigger” with the number of supposedly ‘different’ active, participating names on the scene helping to suggest how “there was more going on” (ibid.). Yet the consequent intricacies involved in piecing together fragmented discographies by producers that operate multiple identities of this kind means that it may, in fact, deter more casual fans; and that only the most committed followers of scenes may become aware of the prolific nature of many EDM producers. Yet this is of little consequence within niche areas: in chapter 3 the benefits of such an approach have already been highlighted. In particular, it is

possibly to identify connections that can be made with audiences that are actively seeking engagement with music that will prompt a high level of engagement due to its more immediately challenging and/or elusive qualities. Concepts such as ‘the tease’ and ‘the hunt’ should not be underestimated here: especially when considering the culture of EDM’s self- designated and often exclusive underground scenes complete with their specialist record stores, often elitist nightclubs and cryptic communication methods. The inaccessibility of the composer via the flexible approach to identity is potentially in tandem with these methods of dissemination: offering a counterpoint to that highly visible and arguably over-shared music persona that is often seen as intrinsic to a mainstream counterpart. However, not just to confound, there are additional practical reasons why pseudonyms may be employed to avoid surveillance. O’Connor, for example, candidly states that he and, fellow DJ/producer, Surgeon utilised aliases because they were “on the dole” (in interview, appendix #12). Their renouncement of their official identities then avoided drawing attention to casual DJ work conducted while in receipt of unemployment benefit.

Akin to the mask’s use within EDM, the pseudonym has had most currency in its ability to also be used for indexical purposes; where it “draws upon dimensions or extensions” to “signal representation” and help to categorise productions (Pollock, 1995, p.582). Mark Pritchard, as one particularly prolific example, has utilised a number of monikers to organise his output as a producer. Chameleon, Vertigo and Use of Weapons have operated around drum and bass. His collaborative Reload, Link, Jedi Knights and Global Communications projects have alternatively been rooted in ambient, techno, electro and electronica while the names Harmonic 33 and Troubleman tend to respectively be reserved for Pritchard’s hip hop and funk-influenced experiments. It has subsequently being described as fitting into a tradition within EDM: a “way of fleeing the constraints of being pigeon-holed […] you can be as many people as you want to be without confusing everyone” (Bray, in interview, appendix #15). Of course, this contradicts Hesmondhalgh’s insistence that the pseudonym is there to confuse and Mark Archer similarly refers to these clarifying indexical practices when noting how his Altern 8 guise was essential in creating distance between his output under that name and what he was recording as Nexus 21. For him, it allowed him to “keep the moody techno thing” that surrounded Nexus 21 (in interview, appendix #13). Reynolds notes that Altern 8 then functioned as “a jokey alter ego […] to keep Nexus 21’s reputation clean of hardcore’s taint” (Reynolds, 2013a, p.147): thus highlighting a division between playful, disposable work which was free from the seriousness of the ‘taste-making’ areas within EDM scenes and his other output that conversely aimed to be as revered as many of the American scene

innovators that were being admired by both fans and the bourgeoning dance music press. Yet, while attempting to hide those origins, Archer concedes that there will always be indicators of his production style that he will struggle to hide. He says that, even despite the pseudonym, he has been told “that ‘you can tell it’s one of yours’ no matter what style” due to recurring musical motifs or other production traits (ibid.). Yet that ability to detect an individual producer that will use multiple identities isn’t always easy. Many EDM musicians have used the flexibility that a pseudonym can offer to make a radical departure from the music with which they were already associated. The duo that utilised the guise of South Central for a number of abrasive electro-oriented records appeared to have stylistically severed all ties with their earlier house music incarnation of Rhythm Masters. Tahita Bulmer similarly left little trace of her work as Blue States – a production unit known for music often labelled as ‘chill out’ – when re-emerging as the front-woman for the punk-funk oriented band New Young Pony Club. While in 2014, ‘My Love’, a track attributed to Route 94 (featuring vocals by Jess Glynne) reached the number one position on the UK singles chart and, for some observers, indicated a new production talent. This had followed substantial support for Route 94’s productions from former dubstep associates Skream and Benga on the pair’s Radio 1 show. It later emerged that this ‘deep house’ record was itself created by another former dubstep producer that had gained more specialist scene exposure under the name Dream.

Such flexibility is subsequently far removed from the employment of an alias as described by Kraftwerk’s choice of a nom de plume: i.e. one that translates as ‘power station’. Here Kraftwerk’s utilitarian and labour-oriented connotations that were discussed extensively in chapter 2 as linked to slavery and oppression give way to its antithesis elsewhere: identities as driven by freedom and choice. Furthermore, the composer’s perceived flexibility to choose is an all-important factor: it facilitates the invention and reinvention of identity in order to negotiate the type of formulaic expectations within the music industry that had been critiqued by the deployment of Kraftwerk’s enslaved ‘man machine’. For example, the more playful approach to identity by Altern 8, Route 94, Mark Pritchard et al. allows for the producer to reinvent when they are perceived as being located (and potentially constrained) within a specific genre. The ability to reinvent can then regain and further explore freedoms. Again highlighting a disassociation with what may be perceived as the individual’s established style or kinship with a specific subgenre in favour of creative freedom, producer Theo Keating has recounted how his Fake Blood guise was initially developed so that he might remix a track by, one of his own collaborative projects, Black Ghosts (McIrvine and Stevenson, 2010, online). Having subsequently maintained the anonymity that surrounded this new guise so that

observers might not remark on the somewhat incestuous nature of that particular process, he inadvertently triggered a significant amount of speculation regarding the actual identity of Fake Blood.

People were saying it was Fatboy Slim, then Switch. Then someone said Switch thinks it’s Jacques Lu Cont. Someone put on a blog as a gag that it was Tiësto and people thought it was serious. And then the thing with Erol [Alkan] telling NME it was Soulwax was a joke to wind up the NME. But then people were on Youtube saying ‘It’s actually Soulwax!’

(ibid.)

What Keating’s account demonstrates is that the name now occupies a place in EDM where its use is often assumed to be indicative of just one guise operated by a producer: that the pseudonym can be treated with suspicion due to its potential as an indicator of further musical incarnations elsewhere. Given the attention that Fake Blood and Route 94 immediately achieved (particularly the support of their productions by established scene figures), it may also be appropriate to assume that especially lauded anonymous talent may, in fact, be representative of individuals that are making use of the flexibility that a new moniker will provide, albeit alongside the scene connections that would likely evade the novice producer. Yet records under shadowy pseudonyms still emanate from producers that aren’t established. These, too, can become caught-up in the suspicion that surrounds the pseudonym with the Sleeparchive name being just one example. Finding exposure via the kind of hand-stamped vinyl that Berlin’s Hardwax store had distributed, producer Roger Semsroth, “while not seeking to his identity”, often had his work as Sleeparchive attributed to, well-known techno, figure Richie Hawtin (Brophy, 2010, online). The pseudonym then may work alongside Hesmondhalgh’s observance of EDM’s obscured authorship as “a key ideological goal” (1998a, p.238). However, the expectation of scene participants based on a historic diffusion of authorship that comes via multiple identities still makes it a “distinctive and challenging feature” (ibid.).