Teardrops for Jeff and House’s Existential Dread: When Re-Contextualising Music Works

On May 29th, 1997 singer-songwriter Jeff Buckley drowned in the Wolf River Harbour, a tributary channel of the Mississippi River just outside of Memphis, Tennessee. His death was unrelated to drugs or alcohol, and the swimming hole was one that he visited frequently as a local. Simply put, his death came as a shock to friends, family and fans. It was determined to be an accident, without clear explanation (Rolling Stone, 1997).

On April 20th, 1998, Massive Attack released their third studio album, Mezzanine (Naja & Marshall, 1998). The third track on this album was titled “Teardrop” and the featured vocalist was Elizabeth Fraser, former singer of the Cocteau Twins and, more importantly in regards to this paper, the close friend and former lover of Jeff Buckley. The recording of the song took place on May 29, 1997 and it was while in the studio she was given the news that Jeff had died. According to Fraser, she developed the lyrics after hearing the news and reminiscing over old photographs (Simpson, 2009).

On November 16, 2004 the first episode of the the TV series “House, M.D.” premiered, the title being the name of the main character, Gregory House, M.D. (House, 2004). This protagonist is a slightly crippled, misanthropic, drug-addict who is, despite these flaws, brilliant in his work, capable of diagnosing the most difficult of cases. He is likewise, as a misanthrope, brutally honest to the point of cruelty — often openly and bluntly joking about death and disease in the presence of terminal patients.

The opening theme song of the television show, as well as the backgrounding of each episode, is Teardrop. This is used in it’s original form without lyrics during the title sequence as well as versioned acoustically by José González for other instances.

The song itself is based around a kick drum and cross-stick pattern sampled from a Les McCann song, “Sometimes I Cry”. The kick sample has been slightly altered, tightened to a 2/4 loop, so that the result is intentionally similar to the pulse of a heartbeat. This mesmerising pulse is heightened by the pace which hovers around 75 beats per minute (adagio); a bpm which is often reserved for dub and melancholy types of music, even dirges. The key is A major and the opening and bridge melody are a repeating two-bar, 7 beat 8th note phrase played by a harpsichord which drops the first 8th note to make room for the attack of the bass pattern (“ducking” notes being a common practice in electronic music). The bass-line is a whole-note pattern based on a repeating A-G-D phrase; this simple pattern alters little throughout the song save for a few skip-grace notes. Besides a few rhythmic sound effects (most notably the beeping of an EKG machine) and a couple of subtle organ stabs, these three elements make up the primary instrumental spectrum; it is a minimalist composition.

The words are a love song, a lamentation of loss and suffering, and finally confusion. The opening verse sets the theme of what follows as Fraser dances between love as action and love as a word. A theme of unexpressed acting-love, coupled with the ease of words, as the lover dies (“black flower blossoms”); yet she confesses with tears that she still loves what she has lost. The finality being confusion and “stumbling in the dark”. The key theme seems to be the human failing to act in love even when the heart feels it. That love still speaks through tears, sincerely, yet only when it is too late (“teardrop on the fire”).

At first glance the use of the song in the context of the House series may have been simply intended as an aesthetic paring of the human element of the heart-beat and medical science, and in this way it harmonises with a basic element of the television series: the inescapable reality of the human body in all its glory and decay. The opening title sequence does not include the lyrics of the song, which would further suggest the decision was purely aesthetic. In this way the song “works” in a new context, wholly removed from Fraser’s and Naja’s original intention. But on closer inspection, the use of the song presents a multi-faceted commentary on the protagonist’s character. This quietly implied commentary comes to full flower in the final episode of the fourth season when the song is played in full —with the lyrics— during a critical moment of loss and the subsequent fall of the protagonist into madness.

As previously mentioned, the protagonist’s general misanthropic demeanour colours his relationships and shadows his demonstrative care of others through his work. His often brilliantly sardonic commentary implies an indifference that is openly contradicted by his actions. Of course this is an abstraction of word-as-act from actions themselves, but for the protagonist, gentle and smooth words mean little to nothing when death is the reality; comfort for House would be a lie in the face of what he considers the absoluteness of the Void. Yet, his efforts at saving those he can betrays a “love”, demonstrably. This demonstration of love is what Fraser had longed to do, yet, having not acted, failed because death came by surprise; in this way House is a type of foil of the failure Fraser presents in the song. Fraser sings of love and regret, and it is this failure and the emptiness of words that House is seeking to avoid, or at least to cotton over with narcotics.

During the fourth season of the show, House experiences the loss of his friend and co-worker Amber, brought about by circumstances of his own making, albeit inadvertently. Her death is an accident, yet inextricably tied to the selfish actions of House. It is during the revelation of what he has brought about that the full version, with lyrics, of Teardrop is played for the first time.

Translating a song from one context to another is artistically tricky. Listeners attune to the meaning or original intent of the composers may be put off by the jarring effect of new aesthetic surroundings; surroundings which inevitably imply meaning. Ham-handing an artistic piece into a new context for commercial purposes has backfired in many instances. A recent example being the use of Lorde’s hit song “Royals” in a commercial for premium Samsung mobile phones (Billboard, 2013). The lyrical content of the song is a rallying cry for young people to throw off the shackles of personal identity through product branding and consumerism. The antithesis created in translation and —for many devout fans who personally identified with the singer — the blatant hypocrisy are glaring. In this instance artistic and aesthetic integrity collapsed. It could be argued that any sort of ethical stance on economic prosperity is a tight-rope walk, as the success of a song is usually linked to monetary gain. There is a dualism and real paradox built into a work like that which may inevitably backfire on an artist. In the case of Lorde’s song, her lyrics touch on the issue of personal metaphysics and meaning attached to products, and the reality of the self as preceding any commercial meaning (a notion addressed by Naomi Wolfe in her influential book, No Logo). This is what made her song so intriguing and genuine. Her own monetary gain from the song would not have been problematic as she is not anti-prosperity per se, but affirming of being human no matter what your economic status. Likewise, the idea that the self is defined by identifying with a consumer luxury-brand is dismissed as meaningless. This more subtle ”lifestyle” message makes the use of the song as a bridge to identify with — and eventually to purchase — expensive, luxury technology all the more alien and jarring. The song in its new context becomes a kind of bait-and-switch, or a cynical joke directed at her listeners.

However, in the case of Teardrop and House the synchronicity between the two contexts is almost whole, the harmony between original intent and new context maintains its integrity. Some reasons for this have been touched on previously, but the more obvious connection is the narrative arc of the song — including the tragic event that motivated the contents — and that of the television show. The song was written as a lament of love lost and regret over unexpressed feelings with the finality of death. This motif has universal appeal because it is a universal experience, unchanged by time. Likewise, the underlying theme of House is the struggle against the existential dread of death and human suffering and the struggle to accept that universal reality. The protagonist has been subjected to personal suffering and loss and on a daily basis is surrounded by others who are facing that same reality. It’s the edge of the knife that both the song and the show have in common, and both present the same questions with a similar tone and even conclusion: “you stumble in the dark”.

The original video that was created to accompany Teardrop was itself a commentary on the human condition. The video is a slow-paced revolving shot of a baby developing in the womb, and as the song progresses the child begins to sing along with the lyrics. The original video, created in 1998, is aesthetically prescient of the opening credits of House. The parallels are so deep that in one episode they are made almost explicit (House, Season 3, Episode 17 — “Fetal Position”) when House is gently confronted by the baby whom he is about to abort — in an effort to save the mother — as the child reaches out to grab his finger. Again, the universal themes of death and suffering, and the paradoxes created by our longing to overcome them align in the song, even the original video, and the television show. In all, the real-life tragic events that motivated the song, the song itself and the visuals created to explore the words, as well as the television drama confront the listener and viewer with questions that they do not seek to ultimately answer.

Reference List

Billboard. (2013). Lorde's 'Royals' Scores Global Samsung Commercial: Watch. [online] Available at: http://www.billboard.com/articles/news/5748180/lordes-royals-scores-global-samsung-commercial-watch.
House, M.D., (2004). [TV programme] Network Ten: Fox Television.
Naja, Robert & Grant, Marshall (1998). Massive Attack : Mezzanine. [CD] London: Virgin Records.
Rolling Stone (1997). Jeff Buckley Assumed Dead . [online] Available at: http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/jeff-buckley-assumed-dead-19970531.
Simpson, D. (2009). Elizabeth Fraser talks about why she finds it too difficult to even think about her old Cocteau Twins bandmates. [online] The Guardian. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/music/2009/nov/26/cocteau-twins-elizabeth-fraser-interview.
YouTube, Vevo. (2016). Massive Attack - Teardrop. [online] Available at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u7K72X4eo_s.

Notes on Digital Tech and the Future of Live Music

Yours truly doing some R & D back in 2016. Roland TR-8 & TB-3. 

Digital Tech: MAN VS MACHINE? Some notes on Future Music. 

“The tools shape the art.” - Bruce Mau

There is a well worn aesthetic now associated with electronic dance music, primarily rooted in the classic Roland 606, 707, 808 analog "transistor" drums of the 80's. Those sounds, albeit over forty years old, still permeate much of current music, including the recent developments in trap, grime and dubstep. They've been around, been tested across production scenarios and they'll most likely continue to influence the sonic landscape and dynamics for years to come. And they really are beautiful sounds. They sit well in mixes. Generated by transistor technology, their qualities are incredibly natural and human sounding. But even these qualities aren’t enough to bridge the dualistic assumption that these machines are at odds with “real” human creativity. They exist as self-contained performers that have little or nothing to do with musicianship, so it goes. 

In my career as a working musician, I've played in a variety of settings with a broad spectrum of musicians and styles or genres: punk, hardcore, classic rock, reggae, prog metal, pop and jazz. In that time I never ran into a band that was seeking to integrate a full blown, focused electronic technology wizard into their roster. Although many used effects processors, stomp boxes and various outboard rigs (mainly guitarists and to some extent bass players), most either were wholly ignorant of the digital side of the equation or were openly antagonistic to the idea that a drum machine, production station or sampler was "authentic" in terms of music making. Of course, I'm speaking from my own experience, which is limited, but I've yet to see the gap closed between the advancing tech and the musical scenes which I've been witness to and in which I've participated. In fact, I’ve experienced the end of a musical group because the traditionalist guitar player finally confessed after six-months of rehearsals “I can’t stand all this electronic crap!” For him it wasn’t “authentic” and seemed a cheat compared to “real musicianship”. As time goes on, this tension seems to still exist among many musicians. Deeply entrenched prejudices - mostly based in imaginary, sentimental nostalgia about the past - are hard to overcome. Remember, that “vintage” instrument was once new, and the original buyer didn’t blink at the idea of having the latest technology in their own day. Much of musical history is now over-romanticized.

There are artists who remain exceptions to the traditionalist mode of performance, and many of them have been at the digital side of things for many years, even decades. Such groups as Massive Attack, Morcheeba and Tricky come to mind. These artists have been openly integrating digital tech as a predominant feature into their live sets since their beginnings in the early 90's. Robert Del Naja has been at the cutting edge of new technologies since Massive Attack began and brings his Akai MPC 3000 on stage as a central piece of the live set. Later developments have come through bands such as Gorillaz, Radiohead, TV On The Radio and more recent groups like the Young Fathers (incidentally, both of these last two have done quite a bit of work with Massive Attack, signaling a shared approach to the musical process).

“Samplers defined Massive Attack and are still somewhat central to our methodology. Machine learning feels like an evolutionary step – and, just like sampling, the quality of the output is determined by the eccentricity of the artist.” - Robert Del Naja

Within Jazz circles the pushback is even stronger, although there are exceptions such as Mark de Clive-Lowe and the working collaboration between Henrik Schwarz and Buggie Wesseltoft. But these artists are exceptions within their genre; the jazz scene in particular has a tradition of kicking down non-traditionalists. 

Mark de Clive-Lowe "Ryūgū-jō" Live at Grand Performances

Henrik Schwarz & Bugge Wesseltoft on improvisation | Loop

Despite the pushback, the hybridization of old and new tech has become a defining aspect of these artists’ overall sound. And although their creative process and live performance technique is not embraced openly by many others, the music itself is hugely popular and often recognized as ground-breaking. J-Dilla comes to mind; his work has posthumously spawned a series of performances and recordings played on traditional instruments, including a large production by Miguel Atwood-Ferguson. His work has been highly influential among drummers as well including Chris “Daddy” Dave. Digital music is influential across genres, even while the actual technology and the musicians who use the tech seem to never be invited on the stages upon which the interpretations are performed. 

Suite For Ma Dukes Orchestra Untitled Fantastic A Tribute To J DILLA

Chris Dave & the Drumhedz Live (J. Dilla the greatest)

One reason for rejecting the new technology that I’ve heard on a number of occasions and in different settings is that digital tools are static machines, which are unable to produce the nuances of “real” human performance. There’s some truth to this, mainly due to the very exacting tempos that a machine can produce. For people who have never worked with a click track or a metronome, the precision of an unbending tempo can feel restraining. But it may simply be that an individual’s tendency to rush or slow down is being revealed and they are having to come to terms with a weakness in their own playing that they may have not yet noticed. The drum machine can be a ruthless teacher! 

On many classic recordings bands are often at a faster tempo near the end of the song than the beginning. It’s quite common. And there is a breathing element to live performance that is often expressed in subtle tempo changes, even unintended ones. Yet, with a sensitive tech musician, tempo matching is something that is easily accomplished. With most new tech Tap Tempo is a standard feature, and this makes it possible to follow the music as well as any other musician might. The plasticity of modern digital tech more easily coincides with human feeling than perhaps it has in the past. 

My inclination is towards live performance that is improvisational, less predictable and more open to experimentation and happy accidents. The possibility of incorporating digital tech into this type of live set is now reality, as the advances being made in musical tech close the gap of human and machine interactions. The drum machines, production stations and samplers are now designed for actual performance. There are many great examples of improvisational artistry executed from scratch on a drum machine or production station. 

Roland TR-8S Berlin Sessions: Steffi

Traditionalist musos view risk as the defining aspect of a true musician; with no risk there's no real art. I agree with this. It's predicated on the idea that it takes skill, gained through long hours of practice, to play well live and that the lack thereof can't be glossed over when the audience is listening. At the heart of the traditionalist pushback against digital tech is the notion that the only skill required of a digital artist is the ability to push PLAY. Nothing can go wrong, because it's not an actual musician performing. This prejudice runs deep in some circles and I have to admit I understand the pushback; there are too many instances of this sort of posturing to pretend that some forms of tech aren't sometimes used as a crutch for a lack of real musicality or skill. 

EPIC DJ FAILS // TOP 10 BEST MOMENTS

But the reality of pro digital tech, such as the Roland TR-8S or SP-404’s, the Elektron Digitakt or even the demure KORG Electribe, is that these are instruments and to master them isn’t as simple a task as is often assumed. The creative depth of which these machines are now capable requires many hours of practice, experimentation, musicality and technical wizardry in order to create compelling art. The number of these machines bought that end up on the resell sites isn’t so much a testimony to their failure as it is to the bad assumption that it would be easy to make music with them. Like any instrument, the quality of the work depends on the skill of the artist using the tool. There is an equality now between investment and returns, but the power is latent in the machine; it takes a skilled, thoughtful musician to dig out and obtain the gains. 

Shadwell Electribe - Gloria 1

Like any new technology, it often takes a while for society to come to terms with the potential changes it brings. Even Guttenburg had many detractors who saw the printing press as a dangerous device. Within the American music scene we have yet to experience a cross-genre embrace of the new tech coming out. It’s interesting that in other countries cross-pollination has been going on for decades, particularly in Jamaica and the UK, where the Jamaican expat community has had a massive influence on the music scene. Always the first to embrace new tech, the Jamaicans lead the way. Here, we have yet to universally let go of the genre boundaries that have stalled creativity and most musos still assume a distinction between instrumentation choices: “drum machines are for EDM, guitars are for rock and roll.” That mindset will eventually fade as the pressure of the times and creative influence change. Musos who reject the move forward will most likely end up in the dust-bin of "vintage" music, playing it safe for the sake of an aging audience. The experimenters and curious will eventually move to the forefront of the musical stage.

The Bug VS Earth Performing 'BOA' Live at Supersonic 2015

 

My percussion kit, with both Electribe 2's. I use both as "enhancements" to the acoustic sounds. Sampler in red, more synthesis focused version in blue. Check out some of my experiments in synthesis at: https://soundcloud.com/hyoshighost