No Fidelity Fall 2021

No Fidelity is...

Nicole Collins (ed.)

Luisa Cichowski Soren Eversoll Elise Hudson Will Prim Phoebe Ward

Leander Cohen (ed.)

Dawson Eriksen Olivia Ho Alberto Leon Owen Roth

“Harmonica” - Luisa Cichowski NF007 | 1

Contents !"#$%&%$'()*'(*+$,-*!.)$/ by Olivia Ho .................................. 3 01"*23'-.%$'(*'4*05*6"7&-- by Will Prim .................................. 4 6&-)&*8&9-:*;("*+1')%*$(*<&,&/&)*by Alberto Leon ............... 7 =&35*8-."*$)*01"*>(-$?"-5*="@*A&/"*'4*>(#",7,'.(#*B$C* B'C*by Leander Cohen ............................................................ 10 =')%&-7$&*&(#*="7&%$3"*6C&/":*!.)$/*$(*!"#$%#&#'($)*$+#,(-$

by Dawson Eriken ..................................................................... 12 6%&():*61&D"-"))*',*B&E&,#'.)*by Olivia Ho ....................... 15 *

“Untitled” - Elise Hudson

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Meditations on Girl Music Olivia Ho

To set the scene, you have to picture me: 15 and in the ninth grade. Peeling skin decorating my perpetually sunburned nose. I was, in my mind, horrifically awkward and constantly striving, against my most innate nature, to be a “cool girl.” But my sole redeeming trait, which I clung to desperately, was my music taste.

It happened in March, on a school camping trip. I was finally, after hours of being shoved in the middle seat between two loud teenage boys, sitting in the front seat of our school minivan. Most importantly, I had possession of the aux.

The bliss wouldn’t last: Enter my freshman Humanities teacher. He was the type of teacher who all the kids looked up to, myself included, who scoffed at the school administration (and authority in general—a sentiment I would later learn to appreciate), and listened to what I have been told is “very good” old man music.

(If he’s reading this, I say that mostly in jest—your old man music, I’m sure, is very good, quotes excluded.)

We were listening to “Thinning” by Snail Mail when he sighed deeply and glanced over at me.

“You listen to a lot of girl music, don’t you?”

Snail Mail I instinctively laughed and muttered some sort of affirmative. The song kept playing. I queued some Chastity Belt, and probably Liz Phair. I kept humming along, staring out the window. Meanwhile, his words ricocheted around my skull.

They still haunt me, four years later.

But I have to give my teacher some credit: I’m sure that the sound of a woman’s voice being projected from the minivan’s speakers would’ve been a radical concept to him. It was only later that I realized he exclusively played songs performed by cisgender—and mostly white—men during the many long hours of the class road trip.

Perhaps “girl music” was a literal phrase to him: music predominantly written and performed by anyone who isn’t a cis man, including cis and trans women, trans men, and nonbinary folks. Yet when I’ve talked to others about girl music, some of their most prominent examples are of cis male artists—Harry Styles, Shawn Mendes, and Conan Gray.

So girl music goes deeper than the artist’s gender, despite the concept’s inherently binary name (though I doubt that those labeling songs and artists as girl music really care about inclusivity). I’ve never been able to place what girl music actually is. It might go back to genre—I mainly listened to what Spotify calls “bubblegrunge” (a title that NF007 | 3

is both very fun and slightly infantilizing), which combines more pop-oriented sounds with an intense grunge aesthetic.

The genre seems to be mainly, but not exclusively, populated by newer bands fronted by young people. This is very different, in both spirit and style, from the old man music my teacher listened to, which was always presented to me with an air of superiority and pretentiousness. Perhaps the lack of a respected or “classic” status defines girl music—the less established the band or the genre, the more it can be disregarded. But this too doesn’t fully encapsulate girl music. After all, I’ve spent many dull hours in conversation with a scoffing music bro who can’t believe I haven’t listened to their favorite incredibly niche indie band.

Girl music may also be defined by a certain type of songwriting style, which tends to be more mellow, with self-aware and internal lyrics—though I don’t think lyrics or even mood can really sum up the true essence of girl music.

What girl music is, really, is a means of degrading music that isn’t meant for or consumed by cis men. It took me a long time to realize that girl music didn’t have anything to do with me or what I listened to: Girl music is a reflection of the labeler (it’s a self-own). Calling something “girl music” is a way of saying that you don’t know how to empathize with people who aren’t you, a way of saying that you can’t understand people who aren’t yourself.

Mostly, it’s a way of saying that everything that isn’t created for you doesn’t make any sense, and is therefore inferior.

I’m sure that I’ve held my grudge against my teacher for too long—and in trying to find ways to reconcile the powerful and immediate shame I felt in that moment, I’ve pathologized girl music. Trying to find meaning in my teacher’s moment of grossness that has come to symbolize an entirely obnoxious and unacceptable attitude isn’t easier than just forgetting about it, but it’s all I could seem to do.

The idea that I listened to “girl music” haunted me for a long, long time. But I’ve come to embrace the label in all its iterations: I do listen to girl music, and I read girl books, and I watch girl movies. I think that there’s nothing wrong with that.

And I’d like to think that the next time someone tells me I listen to girl music, I’ll be able to proudly agree. ◆

The Evolution of Ty Segall Will Prim

If there’s one thing that is true about Ty Segall, it’s that he really loves his dog Fanny.

The little dachshund makes appearances in different ways, whether it’s being the source of inspiration for his song “Fanny Dog” or being the artistic centerpiece on the designs Segall created for Baker Skateboard decks. In fact, Segall’s love of Fanny and other dachshunds is one of the only apparent consistent trends throughout his career. In contrast to his love of Fanny, Ty Segall’s discography is constantly evolving and shifting. The Laguna NF007 | 4

Ty and Fanny

Beach native’s sprawled out musical catalogue is like the far removed sections of an extensive family tree; quite different yet all connected in one way shape or form. Although Segall’s evolution is not exactly linear, there are noticeable threads that make listening to the artist’s albums one after another quite interesting.

In an interview with comedian Aidy Bryant, Segall mentioned that there’s “always a bit of a reaction to the last album” when recording a new project. That fact is evident throughout the garage rocker’s vast discography. One album always affects the next, in one way shape or form.

Ty Segall’s most recent album, B&,D'($E",, is a testament to the idea that his sonic evolution is nowhere near complete. Segall’s 14th solo studio album, which was released on August 3rd through Drag City Records, is characterized by sizzling synthesizers, stoner-metal guitar breakdowns, sweetly perfected harmonies, and mind-frying fuzz. B&,D'($E", encapsulates Segall’s time in quarantine. From the meticulous harmonies, to the vast array of auditory experimentation heard through Segall’s mangling with new gear, to clinging on to the comfort from the past while also moving forward, to even a feature from his wife Denee, Segall perfectly captures the feelings of being in lockdown from this past year. Segall’s “Whisper” portrays utter dystopia with airtight harmonies and avant-garde synth parts paired with speaker-rattling fuzz. “Pictures’’ features Segall clearly experimenting with new sounds while also maintaining his iconic fuzz-rock sound. Beginning with a sludgy and earth-shifting flanger and being interceded by an array of synthesizer-madness midway through the track, Segall combines old and new elements to perfectly compose a song about trying to grasp on to yet move on from memories past.

Ty Segall’s music found me at the ripe age of 13. As an impressionable kid dipping my toe into garage/punk rock, the rawness of Segall’s first few records drew me in and kept me. I was most attracted to how Segall was able to create such loud and powerful music with simple melodies and chord progressions. As I dug deeper into his discNF007 | 5

graphy and as he released more music, I’ve been so interested in how he’s evolved from record to record.

While B&,D'($E", deserves a thorough review, I want to use this article to commemorate Segall’s past work and explore how it is integral to the music he creates today. Without going through the entirety of his discography, I wanted to highlight some of my favorite records and the ones I believe are most essential to the garage-rock bigwig. !"#$%&'((#)*++,Released by Castleface records, Ty Segall’s self-titled debut is characterized by short simple songs with minimalistic drum parts, buzzy lo-fi vocals, and loud distorted guitar. Segall’s DIY/one man band philosophy defines the album as his most raw work by far. Segall’s static drenched howls on top of his beaten guitar in “Oh Mary” shows off Segall’s musical horsepower and ability to create a multitude of sounds. “The drag” features an undeniably catchy chorus utilizing Segall’s gritty guitar and reverb soaked vocals that broadcasts his love for 60’s rock rhythms. .%(/%0#)*+1+In his 3rd full-length, Segall completely sheds his one-man-band stature and unleashes a new side of Ty that we were given a glimpse of in his first and second LPs. !"-%"# gives way for “Evil Ty” to be seen in full form, which had been slowly gathering in songs like “Pretty Baby (You’re so Ugly)” and “Die Tonight” from earlier releases.

Segall kicks off the album with a heavy hitting dark-fuzz masterpiece titled “Finger” which makes Ty’s intentions known for the rest of the LP: He’s in control. “Caesar” continues Melted further by being a track bathed in a warm distortion with Segall’s jangly guitar on top creating an upbeat track that shows him taking his work in new directions. In “Love Fuzz”, Segall discards his reliance on simple drum parts that’s especially present in his first release and creates a wide-eyed groove with all parts helping create and broadcast the confidence that comes with having a loving partner. In the final few songs of the record, Ty elevates his enamorment with 60’s rock rhythms to new levels with “Bees”. Segall takes a seemingly innocent Kinks-esque guitar part and adds a lyrical flavor of loneliness and death to create this two-faced ripper that makes it so !"-%"# has no dry moments. .'2345('/67#)*+18Ty takes his attention to detail to new levels in his 2014 release of !&($C.-&%',. The 17 track monster represents a true combination of Ty’s sonic signatures that broadcast the careful measure approach he took to recording and producing the album. While combining elements of his early work (gritty acoustic guitar, strong rumbling bass parts, and berserker fuzz), Segall adds new flavors that take !&($C.-&%', to new heights. Ty immediately proves this point with the title track beginning with a steady synth NF007 | 6

part, which is seemingly brand new to Segall’s catalogue. “Manipulator” begins the album with an epic high-note, allowing Ty to flex his layered guitar solos and psychedelic-esque vocals in a new way. In “The Singer”, Ty adds orchestral strings, compressed fuzz guitar, and poetic lyrics to create an unskippable eery serenaden that adds more to the melting pot that is Manipulator. The shattered cymbal sound that begins the epic build-up in “Feel” shows once again Ty’s ability to compose an impassable wall of sound. “Feel” is the perfect live song in Segall’s catalogue with hard-driven chords, a howling solo, and an infectious drum break that portrays Segall’s immaculate drumming ability. Segall screams “Raw Power” with his fuzz-filled two and one-half minute headbanger “Crawler”. He finishes the record with a VU-esque tune titled “Stick Around” that broadcasts the new directions he took throughout the album in a catchy and heartwarming manner. Like many songs on the LP, “Stick Around” is full of acoustic guitar and layered guitar solos, but it’s upbeat nature and sweet chorus makes it a great ending to a screamer of an album.

97%%06:;<#=6>(32#)*+1?-# A,""#'DF)* +'G-$( represents Ty’s most diverse and free-ranging work in his prolific career and solidifies his position as the king auteur of the new world of garage rock. From a cover of Hot Chocolate’s disco hit “Everyone’s a winner” to the beautiful saxophone-filled swoon of “My Lady’s on Fire”, Segall lets loose and fires in all directions on all cylinders in his ambitious double album.

Ty begins the LP with a horn-filled rock ode to his dog fanny that kicks off the album in high fashion. The leathery layers of horns, electric pianos, and Segall’s signature guitar combine to create a song that truly portrays Segall’s profilicism in composition and recording, truly showing the distance he’s come from the kick-drum stomping Ty we saw in his initial release. The crisp and warm tones of Segall’s keys that begin the grunge-filled song for Mother Earth “Alta” truly prepare you for the sonic takeoff that Ty achieves within the song. Segall’s perfectly tuned harmonies and acutely distorted guitar adds another track of perfectly composed power to the Freedom’s Goblin listing. On a softer more melodic note, “You Say all the nicest Things” allows Ty to once again explore and expand on the 60’s pop rhythms that he always seems to touch on.

Finishing the album is the epic fuzz-filled blues jam “And, Goodnight” that perfectly shows why the rocker has a Neil Young Tattoo. Ripping a note out of the Jam-band book, Segall jams in a way never seen before in the reimagination of his 2013 psych-folk song “Sleeper” that seems to show that Ty can deliver as much of a punch in a twelve minute song as he can in the two minute rippers that define his early albums. ◆

Salsa Baúl: One Ghost in Caracas

Alberto Leon

For a long time, I’ve noticed how urban cultures from all over the American continent share similar characteristics, despite being so far apart from each other. They seem to follow the same pattern: a drug and a music genre that spins around it. Many of these new genres take music from an already established one, reduce their tempo, NF007 | 7

and add effects like reverb and compression. These are added to more or less complement or imitate the effect of the drugs present in the most marginalized parts of the great metropolises. If you don’t already know what I’m talking about, let me present to you three genres: Chopped & Screwed, Cumbia Rebajada, and the least-known of the three, Salsa Baúl. So this article is an effort on my part to expose to a broader audience the genre, its aesthetic, and at the same time, try to break down the feelings it transmits.

The thing that these three genres have in common is the thematic presence of the past within them, a past that is always reconstructing itself no matter how much time has passed. A past that is always present within our societies, our cultures, and ourselves.

In his book Specters of Marx, French philosopher Jacques Derrida identified these abstract hauntings of the past; he put them inside the concept of what we know today as hauntology.

Hauntology is that fixation on the past and nostalgia we see in media. Before corporations were cruelly playing with our lack of hope by selling “retro” stuff, capitalizing on the fact that we are so fond of the past because we see the possible outcomes of the future as catastrophic, Houston was already toying with those sensations. This came in the form of Chopped & Screwed, which consists of hip hop and R&B tracks slowed down with added effects like reverb. In creating it, DJ Screw realized that his music replicated the euphoric feeling of being high on lean (a drug made of codeine cough syrup mixed with Sprite). The lyrics and vibe of the music were resounding more with their listeners, the people of Houston. It allowed listeners to remember the good times; remember the ones who are not there anymore. This led to the genre’s massive popularity, its legacy in Houston, and its enduring influence in hip hop today.

“The thing that these three genres have in common is the thematic presence of the past within them, a past that is reconstructing itself no matter how much time has passed.”

On the other hand, we have Cumbia Rebajada, which consists of similarly slowed-down Cumbias, a folk music genre from Colombia. Cumbia Rebajada was born from Colombian immigration to Mexico. The genre spawned a whole urban subculture, the Cholombianos, characterized by combining the usual Cholo fashion (flannels, baggy pants, etc) with their own particular types of hairstyle. This subculture developed in the popular areas of Nuevo Leon, Monterrey.

It’s interesting how these musical styles turn into an escape from and voice for, alienated and marginalized communities. Inevitably, the urban cultures around them ended up questioned and rejected by their societies’ dominating and “cultured” classes. However, recently both genres gained a massive reach thanks to the Internet and its niche communities. Videos, articles, and social media posts slowly took off the undesirable connotations around these genres and the aesthetic that went along with them. It reached the point where new listeners the genres came NF007 | 8

from socio-economic backgrounds way different from the original participants. Taboos die as those cultures are more studied and appreciated and successfully evolve as elements from other musical styles, urban cultures, and internet cultures are added.

Nevertheless, I’ve noticed how, unlike Chopped & Screwed and Cumbia Rebajada, Salsa Baúl did not reach the same outcome. Of course, it could be more widespread on the Internet, but today, Salsa Baúl is something reduced to a part of Caracas’ culture, where it’s still an indecorous subject to talk about. Venezuela’s social and political situation has created a further divide among the way its citizens think, fueling even more resentment among social classes, affecting cultural expression from both sides. Many have blamed people from Caracas’ slums, where the genre comes from, as responsible for the current situation. This serves as an excuse to treat Salsa Baúl with classist contempt. Fortunately, younger generations start to hang out no matter their social background, therefore blurring this divide. The genre gains new interest, and old prejudices begin to fade away.

Still, because of this stigma and general lack of awareness, there’s no documentation about Salsa Baúl beyond DJ mixes available on YouTube (some of them racking up millions of views) and the weirdly presented short videos seen in WhatsApp statuses, usually reposted on Venezuelan meme pages.

First, we need to define Salsa Baúl. The most accurate definition is the music genre which takes Salsa Romántica

pieces and reduces their pitch and tempo. Salsa Romántica is a genre emerging from Salsa, different from other styles because of its slower tempo, more pop-like structures, and heavy use of synths. It originated in the slums of Caracas in the late 90s and early 2000s. Its name comes from the expression “El Baúl de la Salsa,” which translates to “The Salsa Chest.” This expression refers to the cheesy and erotic Salsa Romántica, therefore, “stored in a chest.”

The genre slowly started to become a standard part of the lives of Caraquenians in many ways, from great matinees organized in public spaces or in certain clubs like Club Hipocampo in the center-east part of the city. Also, Salsa Baúl played inside buses part of the public transport system, whose drivers got those mixtapes from burned CDs, distributed by informal vendors, the famous buhoneros.

Titles and illustrations that go along the mixtapes are a reflection of the different social and personal relationships present in the slums of Caracas. The baul-like aesthetic, which feels so different from that transmitted by Salsa Romántica. It’s primarily based on malandreo, the series of behaviors associated with criminal groups from popular sectors. Most visual contents that go along with mixtapes reference the different labels for people in these environments. For example, the word “lacra” refers to the most ruthless criminals. “Fresa” (“strawberry”) refers NF007 | 9

to beautiful and apparently innocent women, and conquering their hearts becomes a subject of honor and glory.

Similarly, DJ tags enhance the experience by not only hyping up the DJ and stating with power and confidence the emotions that the mix aims to produce on the listener. It’s amazing how, through this simple resource, the euphoria experimented by the listener grows exponentially. Ask anyone who has been to an achante if you don’t believe it.

The substance with the most presence is anise liquor. A really sweet alcoholic drink but popular in the salsero niche. It’s usually mixed with other sweet beverages like Gatorade, Red Bull, powdered fruit juices, sodas like Sprite (or Chinotto as it is known in Venezuela), lemon juice, and the most popular, strawberry yogurt. These cocktails are constantly alluded to on mixtapes, putting them on the same hedonistic pedestal with sex, love, and money. It is almost like anise was the symbol for everything delicious. Still, at the same time, it is the closest thing achievable.

A cold shot that could be in both glory and disgrace.

Salsa Baúl is an extraordinary musical genre, capable of capturing a wide spectrum of emotions. It takes the merely commercial concept of Salsa Romántica and transforms it into a series of expressions that represent the way of life of a significant part of Venezuelans. It creates its own culture organically, sincerely. It’s a style of music that won’t lie to itself or its audience. It represents the mundane desires everyone might have but doesn’t have any shame in presenting them most explicitly. Thanks to its honesty, Salsa Baúl has the possibility of being even more versatile because it doesn’t rely on the paradigm of the “educated” to evolve as a genre. ◆

Navy Blue is the unlikely new face of underground hip hop Leander Cohen You’ve probably seen Sage Elsseser. A professional skateboarder and model for upscale New York skate brand Supreme, his face is blazoned across its Instagram. There, you can see him in $90 tees and puffy North Face jackets. But his own page, dotted with music videos, album covers, and old film photos, tells a different story.

When not modeling for Supreme, Elsesser doubles as Navy Blue, an emerging voice in New York’s underground hip hop scene. With MIKE, MAVI, and his childhood friend Earl Sweatshirt, Navy has helped create a distinctive sound characterized by introspective bars over lo-fi soul samples.

Even within the scene, Navy stands out. He first appeared on Earl’s groundbreaking album Some Rap Songs in 2018, where he produced the gorgeous “Azucar” and delivered a modest yet solid verse on “The Mint.” Since then, Navy has bloomed as an artist, dropping three excellent albums in just a year and a half.

Above all, he’s he’s shown his range, able to sing over NF007 | 10

slowed jazz samples on “Ode2MyLove” and to flow over harder beats like “Ritual” and “Shine.” His bars are poetic but clear, digestible, and meaningful. It all adds up to an impressive catalog and a unique sound, all of which Navy makes seem effortless.

“This is personal,” Navy declares on “Light.” Navy’s words are inward-looking, but never feel forced. To listen to Navy Blue’s music is to get to know Sage Elsesser gradually, as you might get to know a friend over time. Raised in L.A. by his mother, a Black American singer, and his father, a Chilean musician, Navy’s verses often acknowledge his heritage and upbringing. On “Heavenly Twin,” he reminisces: “Special like Grandma kisses / Special like Papa last Christmas, with us.” And on “Dreams of a Distant Journey,” he repeats: “I got fam in Santiago, I got fam in Tennessee Child of Ogùn, his spirit walk amongst the trees Proper dearest came from Nashville, it’s Choctaw in me It’s Choctaw in me.”

The reference to Ogùn, a spirit in several African and Caribbean religions, is one of many nods to his Afro-Latin identity. On “Light,” Navy invokes Ogùn, as well as Shango, Oya, Elegua, and Oshun, all deities in Yoruba religion with counterparts in New World religions such as Santeria. It often seems Navy is calling out to his ancestors on both sides of the Atlantic through their shared spirituality.

Navy often interweaves his identity with anti-colonial and anti-racist themes. On “1491,” he starts: “I used to kiss my Saint Christopher, fuck Christopher Columbus / 1491, it’s one and done, this shit is fucked up.” And on “Tired:” “And even when our people screaming for some help / Can’t hear us, scary news, this shit a living hell.”

And in many of his songs, Navy copes with a range of emotions, including grief, anger, and sadness. On some, like “Tired” and “My Whole Life,” he connects it to the killings of Trayvon Martin and Michael Brown.

On others, like “Self Harm,” he dives into his experience with depression and his co-dependency on weed: “Sometimes I feel like there’s nowhere to call home / My own home got ghosts that I brought in here / Get ‘em out.” Across his music, Navy communicates these emotions with simple language and poignant phrases like these. With his wordplay, metaphors, and laidback, direct style, it often feels like he’s reciting poetry.

Getting to know Elsesser through his music also means getting to know his interests, like his love of soccer. He NF007 | 11

has a number of fire soccer-related bars, including: “A 9 like Ronaldo / Navy been a baller like Carlos, Tevez” on “My Whole Life,” and “Up front, Vardy in the middle of the city like Leicester” on “Post Panic!” The soccer bars, and others on food, clothes, and weed, balance out some of the darker, more emotional themes.

Alongside his lyrics, Navy Blue’s production is pivotal to his sound. A Pitchfork profile of Navy writes that his discovery of J Dilla as a child “rewired his mind.” Dilla’s influence is everywhere, from the siren on “1491” to the bright soul chops of “My Whole Life.” But some beats use Dilla’s sound as a base and take it a step further, like the colorful, driving “Ritual” and the melancholic “WGOWM.” Like Dilla, the sounds are warm and the drums cut through, but the samples are longer, jazzier, more complex. Though he doesn’t produce all of his tracks, Navy has proved himself a master crate digger, finding beautiful samples for other artists’ tracks, such as Wiki’s “Can’t Do This Alone” and pink siifu’s “stay sane.”

There’s a lot to like about Navy Blue. He’s an artist with a rare penchant for details, from his lyrics to his production, and a clear vision of how to weave poetry and sound. That makes his recent output all the more impressive, and what he will do next all the more exciting. ◆

Nostalgia and Negative Space: Music in The Legend of Zelda Dawson Eriksen Sweeping, panoramic vistas, a narrative structure that trends toward silence and an ambience that prompts a deep and almost unnerving sense of nostalgia have undergirded the design of many games in the H"7"(#*'4*I"-#&*Franchise. The visual, narrative and gameplay aspects have been award-winning since almost the very start, but this beloved Nintendo series has introduced new approaches to sound design as well, making it a multifaceted example of artistic care and innovation.

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The history of the I"-#& franchise follows the history of sound in video games almost perfectly, often sitting at the cutting edge of available technology. Repeatedly, I"-#& games have utilized the most current technology and design frameworks in order to create games that remain loyal to the franchise image but produce an experience like none other. Starting from its 2D origins in 1986 with 01"*H"7"(#*'4*I"-#&, the game was limited to the Famicom Disk System, a cartridge, battery-backed memory system with limited audio and visual capacity. Up until the !&J',&F)*!&)? in 2000, this system required fewer songs, as well as simpler harmonies and alongside memory issues, the various early systems also had limited speaker quality. The makers of Zelda worked around this by focusing on how the melody could create tension and suspense within itself, taking advantage of key changes to indicate changes in the story, for example, the music moves down half a step when entering dialogue, or shifts into a minor key when facing a boss.

Since the beginning, Zelda games have pushed against technological barriers to further innovation within the industry.

But now we live in an era where instead of feeling ahead of technology, music often feels like it is falling behind it. Since the invention of the CD, there has been a veritable explosion in available music, and streaming platforms like Spotify have only encouraged this. The increasingly accessible and casual nature of music has produced a greater diversity in the field. Despite growth elsewhere, music within movies, video games, and other multi-media have remained active and engaged parts of innovation and creativity within the music industry. The 2006 0@$-$71%*K,$(/")) (later redone in HD in 2016) and 2011 6?5@&,#*6@',# editions of the series are excellent examples of this. The main theme of 0@$-$71%*K,$(/")) utilizes a range of deep bass notes unseen in many prior games and embraces a tradition of grandness that has entered the video game genre. Alongside advances in graphics and gameplay, 0@$-$71%*K,$(/")) introduced a new form of boss music based on motifs, and the I"-#& franchise from this game forward would become deeply invested in an idea of continuity. Long, ringing bass notes to indicate danger, and a lullaby-esque descant to represent the titular princess Zelda became modified to fit the theme of each game. These motifs, equally as recognizable as the game titles instead of being repeated are innovated upon and redesigned to further the tone of each installment of the series. 0@$-$71%* K,$(/")) introduced a new range of unsettling and dissonant melodies, which would later manifest in the dungeon and boss music of later games. Similarly, 6?5@&,#* 6@',# expanded the environmental aspects of sound in the I"-#& franchise by expanding the setting to beautiful heavenly cities in the clouds, and a haunted mist-laden surface.

These two games expanded the franchise’s available pool of motifs to pull from by expanding NF007 | 13

the environments in which its music could fit. In essence, 0@$-$71%*K,$(/")) added a range that tended toward deeper notes, more dissonance and grandness, while 6?5@&,#* 6@',# contributed a lighter, higher, and more playful array of motifs.

All this history brings us to the 8,"&%1* '4* %1"* L$-#* which became a record-breaking seller. While many diehard I"-#& fans claim that 0@$-$71%* K,$(/")) will forever remain the greatest I"-#& game of all history, 8,"&%1* '4* %1"* L$-# proved to be revolutionary. Taking place multiple millennia following the rest of the series within the lore, 8,"&%1* '4* %1"* L$-#* incorporates past musical motifs and melodies in ways that produces a deep sense of nostalgia and longing for players new and old. The combination of recognizable patterns and a daunting, new game design level the emotional impact between rookies and veterans, making it a suitable introduction to the franchise for new players. The temporal distance lore-wise is firmly ingrained within the sound design, as the first scene of the game depicts the ruins of the land of Hyrule, which Zelda rules.

While the beautiful image says a lot, this breathtaking panorama is further augmented by the drastic retard in the main theme. The slow rumbling bass notes create in their spacing a blank slate which is painted upon by the higher mingling of melody and harmony. In a way similar to visual art, the game produces “negative space” which prompts a slower game pace than other I"-#& games and also an emotional response of longing and nostalgia.

Tempo quickly becomes the most noticeable and well used tool by sound designers playing a pivotal role from the first track.

Using tempos, these games allow for the reintroduction of older themes in this new, devastated environment.

Expressing the temporal distance, many locations from previous games are present as ruins, and their motifs are beautifully interwoven with 8,"&%1*'4*%1"*L$-#F) main theme at each location. Again, the sweeping, beautiful images are accompanied by slower, sparser notes which open up the experience rather than close it into a contained moment. Longer rests, subtler harmonies and an attention to dynamics all contribute toward a productive partnership between image and sound.

For example, at the dazzling 0"DC-"* '4* 0$D", styled after Eastern European Basilicas, the thematic music from the game it was introduced in, 0@$-$71%* K,$(/")), is redone in a slow more contemplative tone. While the key and melody remain the same, the tempo and harmony are augmented so that there is less sound. This absence works in two ways. One way is in a comparative manner. People who have played 0@$-$71%*K,$(/")) immediately notice the difference allowing for a nostalgia of specificity to be developed. The change in music marks a specific past for the location within the game lore and tracks that past to the future by representing its fall to ruin sonically.

“In a similar way to visual art, the game produces ‘negative space’ which prompts a slower game pace than other Zelda games and also an emotional response of longing and nostalgia.”

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The second way is through atmospheric development. Due to the resonance, the echo of footsteps and standard sound effect and the difference in speed between the relatively quick gameplay and slow music, the atmosphere is transformed into a somber, contemplative space. While mirroring the religious imagery that cloaks the 0"DC-"*'4* 0$D", it also stands in deep contrast to other game tracks. Rather than a simple melody repeating, this track is filled with long complex verses which can go on without repeating for several minutes. This is also the location of one of the first flashbacks that the main character has, so the atmospheric work done by the music goes far in developing a supportive setting for the progress of the plot.

But what does all this negative space mean for the player’s experience? It has been clear from the very beginning of 8,"&%1*'4*01"*L$-#F) release that the game was designed to both feed veterans’ hunger for rich lore and introduce new players to the franchise. The combination of both strategies of nostalgia shows this attention to making space for both groups. With longstanding titles like I"-#&, it is difficult to make all aspects of the game friendly to beginners, in fact, some of the greatest titles from the series were characterized by complete redesigns which open the game up to more players. Aforementioned titles like 0@$-$71%*K,$(/")) and 6?5@&,#*6@',# did this by completely changing the setting, each taking place in their own new dark and light world respectively. 8,"&%1*'4*01"*L$-#, however, takes on a much more ambitious project of introducing the entire game world to new players through active and engaged storytelling.

This fusion of new and old would not be possible without the canvas provided by the game’s soundtrack. By providing negative space for storytelling, and inspiring similar emotion for a broad variety of players, the game has proven to be a grand success in many ways. ◆

Stan Culture: Harmless or Hazardous?

Olivia Ho

My single biggest flex is that I’ve never stanned an artist—this is true as long as Mitski doesn’t count. My lack of stan experience is perhaps the reason I find myself so fascinated by stan culture in general. Everything about it, from the language to the psychology, is somewhat incomprehensible to me.

If you’ve ever peered into the depths of the internet, you know what a “stan” is—they’re usually found on Twitter, posting fancams and fiercely protecting their chosen artists. For those that don’t know, the term stems from an

BTS recognize their Army, a massive global fanbase which has led to comparisons to The Beatles.

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Eminem song (yikes) and refers to a type of celebrity fan that is devoted to the point of obsession. Notable stan communities include the Barbz of Nicki Minaj, the BTS ARMY, and, interestingly, fans of NBA Youngboy.

While superfans aren’t a recent occurrence, it seems like modern-day stans are more intense than the fans of the past. A lot of this has to do with an increased level of intimacy that musicians can have with their followers. In the past, fans of The Beatles were able to send letters to their chosen Beatle guy (confession: I can barely remember the names of approximately three Beatles and have pretty much zero ability to tell them apart), but they didn’t expect to get a letter back. Now, fans can tweet at their favorite artist and can have reasonable hopes of receiving a reply.

The biggest question when considering stan culture is why it matters—who cares whether a bunch of internet kids obsess over Ariana Grande or Taylor Swift?

Stan communities can provide spaces for young people that are generally very open and accepting of sexuality and gender. They can also do some tangible good in very creative ways—last summer, when the Dallas Police Department asked Twitter users to submit videos of Black Lives Matters protesters, K-Pop fans spammed the website with fancams and effectively shut down a website that could’ve been used to persecute activists fighting against the highest levels of injustice in the United States.

Yet too much stanning can devolve into something pretty unhealthy for young people finding their place in the world. When you stan a musician or other celebrity too hard, you become blind to their flaws—you forget that they are, in fact, normal shitty people. After the release of Ariana Grande’s “7 Rings,” Black members of Stan Twitter took to speaking out about cultural appropriation, Blackfishing, and racist double standards within the music industry. Despite their entirely valid commentary, they were roundly attacked by Ariana Grande stans.

When the flaws or intolerable actions of an artist are exposed, there can be an almost personal sense of betrayal to the stan. It can be exhausting to feel personally hurt each time your favorite artist fucks up. Intense stanning also leads fans to ignore or discredit the victims of their musician entirely. One notable example is Chris Brown: despite being found guilty of assaulting his then-girlfriend, Rihanna, he’s still defended by hordes of stans on social media.

Upon reflecting on each of these things, the underlying question is why people stan, and why it’s become much more of a cultural phenomenon in recent years. Besides the increased connection to celebrities via social media, capitalism plays a large role.

Across almost all groups of stans, there’s an idolization of wealth and influence—which isn’t new in American culture. It’s also always been clear that celebrities don’t have to labor under the same conditions that normal people do. Whereas most stans have to work at 9-5 jobs or go to school, popular musicians get to live off doing the things that we love—the same things we often have to give up upon entering the “real world.” Ultimately, stans envy the lives that their favorite musicians lead.

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“Ye’s done miracles on me” - Phoebe Ward (@phoebecomix)

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Yet the new intersection between capitalism and fan culture has led to an increasing sense of familiarity and relatability that many celebrities project. In the past, fans could idolize Elvis Presley or Sid Vicious (though you probably shouldn’t idolize Sid Vicious), but they didn’t think they could be them. Now, since the advent of social media, musicians are “just like us.” Doja Cat, Billie Eilish, and Lil Nas X are on TikTok—and they don’t just post manager-approved videos of themselves promoting their music. They also make embarrassing faces, participate in the newest trends, and interact with their fans.

Essentially, celebrities don’t profit off of being unattainable anymore. They profit off of being relatable. The cult of fandom that surrounds certain celebrities isn’t only based on the work they create or the things they have, but the lifestyle they lead.

Even though I’ve laid out some of the reasons why stan culture, to an outsider, seems dangerous, I do have reservations about criticizing stans without mentioning the underlying double standards of this criticism. The majority of the most prominent stan communities center around female artists—often women of color—and the majority of stans themselves are young queer people.

While there seems to be a constant outpouring of ridicule and genuine criticism for these communities, I see very little criticism extended to fan bases of male artists which predominantly contain straight male fans. These artists and their fans seem to be taken more seriously, and even though they’re often more toxic and dangerous (especially for young women), they’re seen as a staple of the industry. Panucci’s Pizza, a Philadelphia emo/indie band that I first listened to when I was around 15, was the first band I knew of that fit into this mold. After figuring out that they weren’t active anymore, I discovered why: the lead singer had sexually assaulted a child my age.

The music scene at the time was decidedly intolerant of this behavior, but Panucci’s Pizza has now found a renaissance through TikTok (“Naruto Themed Sexting” is a particularly popular song). And though information about the lead singer’s sexual assault is more readily available than when I listened to them, it seems as though many of their new fans remain either ignorant or uncaring.

Stan communities have always existed in some form— but as the fervency and prominence of modern-day stanning continue to increase, I think we must also consider how it will influence the music world as a whole. Though I question whether our culture has ever had a healthy relationship to the concept of celebrity, it’s clear that we need to place limits on our admiration. ◆

“Untitled” - Elise Hudson

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NF006 out everywhere 11.18.21. Featuring music by Lele Beats (Leander Cohen), soren (Soren Eversoll), and St. Nexu (Owen Roth).

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