Culture, Theory & Critique, 2005, 46(1), 43–59

The Splinter in Your Ear: Noise as the Semblance of

Critique*
Nick Smith
[email protected]
Culture,
1473-5784
Original
Taylor
102005
46
Dr
Assistant
000002005
NickSmith
&Theory
Article
10.1080/14735780500102421
RCTC110225.sgm
andProfessor
Francis
(print)/1473-5776
&Group
Francis Critique
of PhilosophyUniversity
Ltd Ltd (online) of New Hampshire30 Hamilton-Smith HallDurhamNH 03824USA

Abstract Noise appears to critique the prevailing cognitive and social

habits of modernity by providing concrete and particular art objects that
demand attention and jar us from one-dimensional life. Noise sounds, for a
moment, like a true alternative not only to contemporary music but to a
whole way of thinking through abstract generalisation and living through
commercial mediation. Understood in this way, noise makes sense. Once
noise is no longer inscrutable, however, it is assimilated into popular
culture and becomes a commercial novelty. The blatant contradiction of the
commodification of noise gives rise to a second order of critique wherein
noise parades its uselessness and occasions reflection on the tortured exist-
ence of art in modernity, the ubiquity of identity thinking, and the relation
between use and exchange value. This ironic endgame for noise, however, is
itself absorbed by consumer culture and noise lives on as but another cool,
extreme product. The cultural reception of noise thereby demonstrates the
mechanism by which modernity absorbs artistic attempts to critique it, and
noise is ultimately understood as a desperate but spectacular failure.

I. The scene
Noise, from the Latin nausea, suggests an unpleasant disturbance lacking musi-
cal quality. Strange forces must be at work, however, because noise has argu-
ably become the most interesting development within the cultural structures
ordinarily occupied by music. Consider the breadth of brands of noise currently
on the market. In Boredoms’ 1992 Pop Tatari, noise was ebullient as it played
with the history of music, frustrated its tropes, and assembled a pastiche of
Rube Goldberg rock with goofy non-sequitur Japanese vocals. For the nature
lover, Tribes of Neurot’s Adaptation and Survival consists of actual recordings
of insects, solo and en masse, looped and processed at high intensity. It sounds,

*This paper is dedicated to the memory of John Kantzas, my student and noise critic.
The essay continues arguments begun in my ‘Why Hardcore Goes Soft: Adorno,
Japanese Noise, and the Extirpation of Dissonance’, 4–3 Cultural Logic (2002). I thank
Stefan Sobolowski, Ray Brassier, Paul Hegarty, Greg Hainge, and participants at the
2004 Noise Conference at Middlesex University for their contributions to this paper. I
also thank Nicole Smith.

Culture, Theory & Critique

ISSN 1473-5784 Print/ISSN 1473-5776 online © 2005 Taylor & Francis Group Ltd
http://www.tandf.co.uk/journals
DOI: 10.1080/14735780500102421

Electronic copy available at: http://ssrn.com/abstract=1213482

44 Nick Smith

as one would expect, like bugs swarming in your ear. The artists encourage
‘active listening’, which entails playing both pieces in the set simultaneously
in different combinations and at various speeds so that each listener can create
‘their own unique insect experience’. If the drone of a locust plague is not for
you, Autechre’s Confield initially seems to offer techno dance music. Clubbers
will find this disorienting, however, because the majority of tracks deliver what
most would consider but the semblance of danceable beats. Among hundreds
of others in the genre, these projects attest to the diversity of noise available for
all stripes of consumers.
This paper will focus on the work of Maso Yamazaki, otherwise known
as Masonna. A descendant of heavy metal and based in Osaka, Masonna
creates the brutal high-volume nearly-white noise that has become increas-
ingly characteristic of the movement known as noise music. It can be
described as sounding something like nails-on-a-chalkboard with the force of
a jet engine. Whereas bands like Boredoms are fun, Masonna is certainly not.
Masonna performances can last only a few minutes, with Yamazaki jumping
on his gear in tantrums and flicking effect switches until he injures himself. In
most situations, playing Masonna will cause people to hold their ears or wres-
tle the DJ for control of the sound system. Unlike bands that offend with nasty
narrative content, such as Anal Cunt, or physical assault, such as G. G. Allin
or the Dwarves, Masonna repulses with nothing but noise. Masonna chal-
lenges us formally, and this partially accounts for the increasing theoretical
attention lavished on him in journals such as this and at the astonishingly
well-attended conference on noise at Middlesex University in March 2004. To
those outside of noise circles, our genuflection before what sounds to them
like utter tripe will seem to be the very worst in affected academic culture. In
this paper I hope to make sense of why noise garners such theoretical interest.
My argument is as follows: in order for music to be dissonant with
contemporary consumer culture, it must risk its very identity as music. Noise
makes this sacrifice in order to be heard as art rather than mere cultural
commodity. Noise appears to critique the prevailing cognitive and social
habits of modernity – what T. W. Adorno named identity thinking – by
providing concrete and particular art objects that demand attention and jar us
from one-dimensional life. Noise sounds, for a moment, like a true alternative
not only to contemporary music but to a whole way of thinking through
abstract generalisation and living through commercial mediation. Understood
in this way, noise makes sense. Once noise is no longer inscrutable, however,
it is assimilated into popular culture and becomes a commercial novelty. The
blatant contradiction of the commodification of noise gives rise to a second
order of critique wherein noise parades its uselessness and occasions reflec-
tion on the tortured existence of art in modernity, the ubiquity of identity
thinking, and the relation between use and exchange value. This ironic
endgame for noise, however, is itself absorbed by consumer culture and noise
lives on as but another cool, extreme product. Masonna’s cultural reception
thereby demonstrates the mechanism by which modernity absorbs artistic
attempts to critique it, and noise is ultimately understood as a desperate but
spectacular failure.
Due to the nature of this argument, the essay runs the risk of appearing
to argue with itself. I first forward what might be considered the highest

Electronic copy available at: http://ssrn.com/abstract=1213482

 Noise as the Semblance of Critique 45

ambitions for noise. At root, I believe I share these hopes with many noise
theorists despite our differing approaches to the subject. I devote most of the
paper, however, to explaining why I suspect such optimistic readings of noise
are no longer justifiable.

II. The naïve hope: noise as concrete particular

Although I am reluctant to grind noise through Adorno’s aesthetic theory, it
offers undeniable explanatory power regarding the relationship between the
aesthetic, cognitive, and commercial life of noise. For Adorno, all cultural
analysis must begin with an account of abstract identification, which specifies
an individual thing in the world, picks it out as a member of a group, and
places it under a concept. Regardless of whether I understand the thing as an
instantiation of a Platonic form or an example of a scientific class, what
matters is that the object is no longer a unique and strange thing but is rather
a member of a category that makes sense to me. This process, which Adorno
names ‘identity thinking’, causes a belief that concepts fully capture the
objects to which they refer (Adorno 1992). When we consistently disregard
particularity while reinforcing similarity, we forget the notion of something
genuinely concrete, particular, unique, non-fungible, or incommensurable.
The material world is made to fit the abstract idea and actual things are seen
as nothing more than exemplars of their concepts. Abstract classifications do
not, however, inhere in objects but, rather, are artefacts of intellectual organi-
zation. My classifications are merely constructs of convenience. Because iden-
tity thinking pretends that concepts exhaust their objects, the particularity of
things will remain overlooked and in reason’s blind spot. When Adorno
claims that the ‘splinter in your eye is the best magnifying glass’, the splinter
marks precisely this blindness to particularity (Adorno 1974: 50). The notion
of aura, which Adorno shares with Walter Benjamin, preserves concrete
particularity against identity thinking and its practical apotheosis in universal
commodification.1
In a world deeply suspicious of religious doctrine and universal truth,
capitalism has, by default, become the primary lens through which we inter-
pret the world. From within the profit-driven perspectives of capitalism, a
world-view more widespread than any other in history, all things are
squeezed into financial concepts and therefore look like exchangeable
commodities. Under this view, the idea that things have auratic individuality
– meaning because of their very particularity – is written off as morally puer-
ile. Just as everything has an adequate concept, everything has a price.
Noncommodifiable things that cannot or should not be subjected to economic
discourse are either distorted to fit market analysis or are altogether forgot-
ten. Thus the common declaration that one ‘believes in the market’ is as
ungrounded, and often as zealous, as premodern religious faith. Adorno
traces our deepest social problems to these modes of cognition. As our most
basic form of understanding, identity thinking is born not in the search for

1
For a more thorough discussion of negative dialectics and the ethical theory
arising from it, see (Smith 2003).
46 Nick Smith

objective truth but rather in egoistic instrumentality. With cognition bound in

this way to use, a direct causal relationship can be traced between conceptual-
isation, instrumentalisation, commodification and domination. Because the
degradation of reason into identity thinking is the root of the problem and
theory is contaminated with the sickness of reason, theory cannot point the
way to a better, non-instrumental life. Enlightenment reason stalls when
corrupted in this way, and Adorno looks to modern art for an alternative
mode of discourse.
At each critical moment in the Critique of Judgment, Kant draws our
attention to how aesthetic experience tests and exceeds the limits of
abstract understanding. The beautiful, for example, transcends any concep-
tual blueprint, and the work of the artistic genius does not unfold like
scientific discovery. Likewise, within Kant’s primary claim that ‘beauty is
an object’s form of purposiveness in so far as it is perceived in the object
without the presentation of a purpose’ lies the assertion that something
could be ultimately meaningful without regard to its instrumental value.
Because it was the least objective of Kant’s three critiques, philosophy ghet-
toised aesthetics. This denigration of art, however, left some distance
between it and the apogee of identity thinking found in epistemology and
ethics. While art’s lack of certainty caused philosophers to look elsewhere
for truth, now ‘art may be the only remaining medium of truth in an age of
incomprehensible terror and suffering’ (Adorno 1998: 27). ‘As the real
world grows dark’, Adorno claims, ‘the irrationality of art is becoming
rational, especially at a time when art is radically tenebrous itself’ (Adorno
1998: 27).
As objects that appear to harbour their meaning in their very concrete-
ness and particularity, art became the focus of Adorno’s critique of identity
thinking. Attempts to conceptualise a work will run up against an excess of
indexical meaning that cannot be explained but rather requires a direct expe-
rience of the work. This inability of thought demands reflection on the gap
between conceptualisation and experience, and we must then theorise the
limits of theory. Adorno’s claim that ‘[o]nly what does not fit into this world
is true’ dramatises the recognition that what overflows our knowledge actu-
ally presents us with a truth about the limits of our understanding (Adorno
1998: 93). The remainder to conceptualisation now becomes an enigmatic
object of study rather than being denied or ignored. Art forces thought to
think about its limits, and the success of avant-garde art can be measured by
how forcefully it presents such questions.
Herein lies the hope for Masonna: by denying all musical form, his
works confront us with raw concrete particulars. When Masonna hits our
ears, we struggle to understand it just as we would attempt to identify the
source of any noise roaring towards us. We ask the most basic ontological
question born of self-preservation: what is that? Ordinarily, once we know
what something is, we know what to do about it and with it. But with
Masonna, all interpretive strategies stall and the noises remain ahead of our
conceptualisations. At points in Masonna’s Super Compact Disk
M.A.S.O.N.N.A. Numero 5, for example, the noise clears to silence for a few
moments. Like the vertical zips in Barnett Newman’s otherwise monochrome
paintings that for him represent the very origins of the universe, the quiet
 Noise as the Semblance of Critique 47

moments in this Masonna piece seem to provide an interpretive key to the

work. This hint of structure teases us: if we can identify one structural
element, there must be an entire musical edifice beneath awaiting excavation.
But the tip of the iceberg is a decoy. Knowing that we will scramble for any
interpretive foothold, Masonna appears to reach out with what sound like
familiar tropes of repetition and a screeching human voice, but then with-
draws the hand just as we lunge for it.
Without a ready-made musical framework to render the work sensible,
we must take this thing on its own terms. We can hear only one noise at a
time, and each noise exists not for the purpose of the larger work or to
represent anything external to the work. The noises simply are.2 While
sound has lived as classical music’s servant in that each note existed solely
as a cog in the composition, Masonna structures the duration of the works to
amplify the significance of each singular element. The ‘work’ of the piece
consists of presenting these noises in a way that allows us to hear the
concrete material struggling against its abstraction into notes. The art
provides the medium for the material, rather than the inverse, and the
medium overtakes the art. As it is said that opera and poetry are best appre-
ciated in a language foreign to the listener because alienation from content
heightens awareness of form, alienation from form heightens awareness of
material. Masonna denies even rhythm, the simplest musical form grounded
in the representation of the basic animating principles of nature: the beating
of the heart or the motion of the planets. Every noise takes on a specifically
strange meaning, and no clear hierarchy exists between them. Each noise,
just as Adorno described each sentence of Aesthetic Theory, is equally close to
the centre. Yet equality does not slip into interchangeability, for each noise
remains painfully particular. Thus we find a possible exemption to Adorno’s
claim that the ‘history of music at least since Haydn is the history of fungi-
bility: that nothing is in-itself and that everything is only in relation to the
whole’ (Adorno 1998: 27).
The source of the new aura of the work of art, rather than unblemished
Romantic beauty, is now its sheer irreconcilability. The strangeness of the
object evokes a response not like the fawning admiration of the beautiful but
more like the suppliant terror of the sublime. ‘Shudder’, Adorno’s shorthand
for this aesthetic fear, elicits ‘responses like real anxiety, a violent drawing
back, an almost physical revulsion’, and this description captures the
common reflex among those uninitiated to noise to turn off Masonna as soon
as it reaches their ears (Adorno 1998: 26). Shudder horrifies us by inducing
‘a sense of being touched by the other’, and the point of contact reaches us
not in a long awaited embrace, but in a harrowing shock (Adorno 1998: 455).

2
Greg Hainge has made a similar claim:

The sound of scratchy vinyl coming from a brand new compact disc (as
frequent a trope as it has become) instills in us a sense of the uncanny that is
not comprehensible. The sound of a deliberate CD skip pattern used to
create a rhythm similarly effects us on a level which is not intellectual and
which cannot be controlled. Walls of white noise just are. (Hainge 2002: 56)
48 Nick Smith

Unlike the angelic offering of the beautiful, the hand that grabs us from
behind in shudder will be disfigured by ‘the scars of damage and disrup-
tion…’ (Adorno 1998: 34). When we encounter the possibility of a suffering,
gasping breath beneath a cacophony of unnerving noise, we feel offended,
afraid, and complicit. Just as J. M. Bernstein argues that a work of art
expresses meaning like a body suffering expresses meaning, so when
confronted with such an object we feel the need to assuage the suffering and
fear being overtaken by whatever has inflicted the pain (Bernstein 2001). The
very distinction between witnessing suffering and undergoing suffering is
threatened.
Although this ‘truth’ of noise cannot be distilled down to philosophical
premises because its very claim oversteps concepts, it nonetheless offers a
cognitive insight. Once disenfranchised from truth claims, the sensuous and
particular experience of art now reveals a form of knowledge more complex
than philosophy can contain. Enlightenment, facing this new order of truth,
must reflect on the relationship between its estranged categories of thought.
The work of art is cast back into a relationship with philosophy, and philoso-
phy now needs the work of art to undertake this investigation. Bernstein
explains in Why Rescue Semblance,

If rationalised concepts can be shown to require the non-discursive

resources of object and image, and if aesthetic particulars thrown up
by artistic modernism can be shown to suggest meaning and cogni-
tive significance, then concept and object belong together in a manner
not recognised by the regimes of enlightened reason and rationality at
work in contemporary discursive practices. (Bernstein 1997: 179)

Albrecht Wellmer corroborates this reading of Adorno, explaining that ‘[j]ust

as a moment of blindness adheres to the immediacy of aesthetic intuition, a
moment of emptiness adheres to the ‘mediacy’ of philosophical thought;
only in tandem can they approximate a truth which neither of them can
express’ (Wellmer 1994: 32). I must, therefore, be careful using Adorno to
‘explain’ noise because these explanations cannot convey the full meaning of
the art. An experience of the works, supplemented by underdeterminate
concepts, is the closest we can come to this. In this sense, noise is not merely
grist for the Adorno mill but rather demonstrates the limits of critical theory.
The entirety of Aesthetic Theory is devoted to mapping these limits and
narrating how art embodies what philosophy cannot translate into concep-
tual knowledge and how art depends on philosophy to interpret its non-
paraphrasable claims.
Any critical power of noise, like that of all art, is itself conditioned.
Despite the veracity of Kant’s central claims regarding aesthetic judgment,
Adorno believes they are true for sociological rather than metaphysical
reasons. He demonstrates this in ‘On Lyric Poetry and Society’. Here he
exposes the pretensions of lyric poetry to transcend the ‘weight of material
existence’ and ‘evoke the image of a life free from the coercion of reigning
practices, utility, of the restless pressures of self-preservation’ (Adorno 1991b:
39). Adorno breaks lyric poetry’s illusion, explaining how the hunger for tran-
scendence is already a by-product of dissatisfaction with modernity. Like
 Noise as the Semblance of Critique 49

those who retreat to fantasy novels when disenchanted with reality and
longing for a meaningful, ordered, and magical world,3 lyric poetry

implies a protest against a social situation that every individual expe-

riences as hostile, alien, cold, oppressive, and this situation is
imprinted in reverse on the poetic work. [Therefore] the more
heavily the situation weighs upon it, the more firmly the work resists
it by refusing to submit to anything heteronymous and constituting
itself in accordance with its own laws. [Lyric poetry thus provides] a
form of reaction to the reification of the world, to the domination of
human beings by commodities that has developed since the begin-
ning of the modern era, since the industrial revolution became the
dominant force in life. (Adorno 1991b: 39–40)

As with lyric poetry, noise generates its meaning only in response to its
culture. Noise would not resonate if the world were not fully instrumental-
ised and if we were not so desperate for alternatives. In a world filled with the
sounds of means, creating the noise of ends-in-themselves becomes the task of
the sound artist.
Rather than basking in individualist rock-and-roll quests for otherworld-
liness, successful noise engages its own dialectical relation to society. While
Adorno makes clear that ‘the free floating subject is an illusion, because the
social totality is objectively prior to the individual’ (Adorno 1991a: 225), and
that therefore ‘we must concede the object’s dialectical primacy’, this primacy
must be genuinely dialectic (Adorno 1982: 505). Adorno does not simply
convert idealism (the generation of object by subject) into materialism (the
generation of subject from object), but instead draws out the relationship. The
subject, while itself a cultural product, is the vehicle of cognition and there-
fore must remain operative in Adorno’s theory. Indeed, the very viability of
Adorno’s project, as outlined in the preface to Negative Dialectics, depends on
the possibility that he might ‘use the strength of the subject to break out of the
delusion of constitutive subjectivity’ (Adorno 1992: xx). As Simon Jarvis
explains this interdependence, ‘the only way to do justice to the priority of the
object is by pushing subjectively mediated identifications to the point where
they collapse’ (Jarvis 1998: 184). Susan Buck-Morss makes further sense of the
subject–object dialectic by describing the poles

as necessary co-determinates; neither mind nor matter could domi-

nate each other as a philosophical first principle. Truth resided in the
object, but it did not lie ready at hand; the material object needed a
rational subject in order to release the truth which it contained.
(Buck-Morss 1977: 81)

This ‘truth’ is ultimately a cognitive, and as such it must pass through the indi-
vidual subject. The task Adorno sets of comprehending the incomprehensible

3
See philosopher and fantasy writer R. Scott Bakker’s discussion of the relationship
between fantasy and modernity (Bakker 2002).
50 Nick Smith

is to be undertaken by a cognitive being certain of neither its subjectivity nor

its humanity. Works of modern art ‘cut through this illusion of subjectivity
both by throwing the frailty of the individual into relief and by grasping the
totality of the individual, who is a moment in the totality and yet can know
nothing about it’ (Adorno 1991a: 225). Unlike the temperament of most
machismo metal where one confirms one’s ego against the world by ‘raging
against the machine’, noise only compounds uncertainty.
This reading of noise suggests our highest aspirations for it, where it
presents something like a confrontation with the non-identical. As Greg
Hainge has claimed that John Cage has ‘arguably, succeeded in creating an
areferential expression, an art of sensation which breaks with all transcen-
dental and representational forms and bypasses the intellect’(Hainge 2002:
50), noise might be thought to provide a primal experience of an object that
hits us before we can raise our conceptual guard. As a splinter in the ear,
noise punctures our aural relationship to the world wherein we hear all
things as abstractions. By disrupting our auditory habits, noise challenges
our cognitive habits. Because of the causal relationship between identity
thinking, conceptualisation, instrumentalisation, commodification and domi-
nation, these noises appear to offer a critique not only of music but of every-
thing wrong with modernity. Art’s assertion that ‘undamaged experience is
produced only in memory’ springs not from the discursive message it
carries or the intent of the artist, but from the very ‘truth we gain through
the medium of art’ (Adorno 1991c: 317). ‘The mark of authenticity of works
of art’, for Adorno, ‘is the fact that their illusion shines forth in such a way
that it cannot possibly be prevaricated, and yet discursive judgment is
unable to spell out its truth’ (Adorno 1998: 191). Thus noise ‘cannot escape
the hypnotic suggestion of meaning amid a loss of general meaning’
(Adorno 1998: 221). Rather than denouncing the world in its lyrical content,
noise points toward a better world by modelling a non-instrumental rela-
tionship with a thing. This is a lot to say for something defined by its inar-
ticulacy.

III. The failure: noise as the semblance of critique

These high hopes for noise are unfortunately unsustainable. As Adorno was
aware, a number of problems impede art from levelling a cultural critique of
this kind. From the outset, we must recognise that noise presents but a
semblance of a sensual particular. Rather than provide a genuine pre-concep-
tual experience of a thing-in-itself, noise projects a ‘second order modified
existence to something which [it] cannot be’ (Adorno 1998: 160). Art ‘can no
more achieve the identity of essence and appearance than can knowledge of
reality’, for in it the ‘essence that passes into appearance both shapes and
explodes the latter’ (Adorno 1998: 160). Subject to all of the usual obstacles
preventing concepts from realising the non-identical, art never really enjoyed
privileged access to particularities. In the end, art is just another piece of art.
We know art only with our instrumental concepts, and it never actually
sneaks past our intellect to reach us directly. Noise is no exception, especially
as it comes to us swathed in such thick preconceptions. Masonna, for exam-
ple, works in a defined and narrow palette of auditory techniques and his
 Noise as the Semblance of Critique 51

sound is readily identifiable. The works are predictable to a familiar ear: start
with high-tempo abrasive technological noise, introduce distorted screaming,
contrast some slow, eerie chiming, and synthesize these elements. While the
works may seem initially unusual, to describe them as rupturing or tran-
scending cognition overstates their force.
Although I am wary of conflating all instances of the avant-garde,
Beckett’s Endgame faces the same problem. Endgame, Adorno writes citing
Beckett, ‘is a “desecration of silence” wishing it were possible to restore that
silence’ (Adorno 1998: 195). Hamm and Clov speak in the second language of
those who have fallen silent, an agglomeration of insolent phrases, pseudo-
logical connections, and words galvanised into trademarks, the desolate echo
of the world of advertisement [where] human beings’ words and sentences
have swollen up within their own mouths (Adorno 1991d: 262). But these
attempts to render language mute fail:

even where language tends to reduce itself to pure sound, it cannot

divest itself of its semantic element, cannot become purely mimetic
or gestural, just as forms of painting that are emancipated from
objective representation cannot completely free themselves of resem-
blance to material objects. (Adorno 1991d: 262)

When we watch ordinary language struggle in this way, we understand what

it is not able to accomplish. While comprehending this failure is already of
some critical value, to attribute pre-conceptual powers to words in a play or
bits of feedback is to infuse them with magic.
Our theoretical treatment of Masonna further neutralises the work. At its
highest vocation, noise presents us with a meaningful art object because of its
prima-facie inscrutability. As we decipher, classify, and explain noise, we
render it sensible and meaningful. The brute materiality of the thing can then
be integrated into the prevailing conceptual and economic system. Regardless
of any insight enabled by the conceptualisation, the very process of making
sense of noise sterilises it and escorts it into the market when academics
stamp it with cultural legitimacy. While the relationship between theorisation
and commodification is dialectical and we should not overestimate the
cultural authority of theory, theorists do give the impression that noise is
something of an alternative for those who reject mainstream prattle. Whether
consumers find our analyses to be pedantic puffery, initiations into otherwise
inaccessible art, or a confirmation of their sophisticated tastes is an empirical
question I cannot answer here. But as Clement Greenberg did for Jackson
Pollock, we surely contribute to the legend and sales of noise under any of
these scenarios.
Noise artists already lead us toward their theoretical integration with
their own nomenclature. Merzbow takes its name from Dadaist Kurt
Schwitter’s Merzbau and Boredoms’ Chocolate Synthesizer alludes to Duch-
amp’s Chocolate Grinder. Noise advertises its relation to the history of modern
art as if to grease its cultural acceptance and pre-empt charges of vapid mean-
inglessness. Popular musicians have also used this ploy to add high-brow
meaning to club music. The pop band Art of Noise takes its name directly
from the title of Russolo’s futurist manifesto. ZTT Recording, which enjoyed
52 Nick Smith

considerable success during the 1980s with Art of Noise, Frankie Goes to
Hollywood, and 808 State, takes its name from ‘Zang tumb tumb’, a line in
Marinetti’s sound poem cited in Russolo’s essay. Masonna admits that he
derived the name from Madonna, which suggests a jibe at pop culture in the
manner Marilyn Manson parodies the worship of pop idols and serial killers
with his moniker. Although to my knowledge they have never acknowledged
this inspiration, Boredoms’ very name states the affliction of modernity that
Russolo expected noise to cure:

[E]veryone will acknowledge that all musical sound carries with it a

development of sensations that are already familiar and exhausted,
and which predispose the listener to boredom in spite of the efforts
of all the innovatory musicians. We Futurists have deeply loved and
enjoyed the harmonies of the great masters. For many years
Beethoven and Wagner shook our nerves and hearts. Now we are
satiated and we find far more enjoyment in the combination of the
noises of trams, backfiring motors, carriages and bawling crowds
than in rehearsing, for example, the Eroica or the Pastoral…. Let us
now, as Futurists, enter one of these hospitals for anemic sounds.
There: the first bar brings the boredom of familiarity to your ear and
anticipates the boredom of the bar to follow. Let us relish, from bar to
bar, two or three varieties of genuine boredom, waiting all the while
for the extraordinary sensation that never comes. (Russolo 2001: 70)

Boredoms, we can assume, aspire to provide a panacea for boredom. Noise

artists call attention to their intellectual and artistic heritage and in doing so
they quicken their acceptance into that culture. Even if one had never heard
these noise artists perform, one would have a sense of what they were up to
from the cultural references provided just as one can predict with some accu-
racy that Napalm Death or Cannibal Corpse will be heavy and morbid before
hearing a note.
Our desperation to break the spell of instrumental reason can lead us to
fetishise art. We want to believe that art has power, and this desire becomes
another trap that Adorno cautions against: ‘art – the imago of the unexchange-
able – verges on ideology because it makes us believe that there are things in
the world that are not for exchange’ (Adorno and Horkeimer 1972: 158). Much
of noise theory flirts with this false hope, as we are tempted to attribute heter-
ogeneous, differential or excessive qualities to what is now wholly circum-
scribed by a commercial culture that corners the market in all appearances of
alternativeness. But what exactly does noise transgress besides a few heavy
metal clichés? Can we seriously, for example, claim that Masonna generates
an experience of the sublime?4 And is it not hyperbole to describe art noise as
horrifying or terrorising? Noise interests some of us and annoys others, and
the intensity of effect seems more or less within this range. While it may at
first present a curiosity, how deeply does noise challenge my world-view or
identity? Here we should be alert for the ‘pseudo individuality’ of which

4
See, for example Reynolds (1990: 57).
 Noise as the Semblance of Critique 53

Adorno warned, like ‘the standardized jazz improvisation [or] the exceptional
film star whose hair curls over her eye to demonstrate her individuality’
(Adorno and Horkeimer 1972: 154). This appearance of difference proves ‘no
more than the generality’s power to stamp the accidental detail so firmly that
it is accepted as such’ and demonstrates that the ‘defiant reserve or elegant
appearance of the individual on show is mass produced like Yale locks, whose
only difference can be measured in fractions of millimetres’ (Adorno and
Horkeimer 1972: 154). Categorical differences remain between Masonna and
most popular music, but the distinctions between metal and noise continue to
blur. For example Meshuggah, known for its intricately structured math
metal, frames its 2004 release I with segments of noise and innumerable ‘new
metal’ bands pepper their tracks with just enough noise to flirt with the avant-
rock designation. Merzbow has been crossing over at will for some time.
Noise’s status as more-alternative-than-thou is increasingly suspect.
The assimilation of noise is typical, as the avant-garde historically
progresses from incomprehensible to canonical. Whether Beethoven, Schoen-
berg, Cage, Pollock or Mapplethorpe, it has been customary for such works to
be initially denied status as art, then to be recognised as art due to their trans-
gressions of the perceived limits of the boundaries of their media, and then to
slip into cliché. What we see now, however, is that dissonance itself has
become cliché. When the act of transgressing becomes ‘hot’, transgression no
longer stands in a critical relation to culture. Art used to enjoy a life between
its inception and its co-optation, but in this global information age the
progression from outside to inside is instantaneous. For this reason, success-
ful contemporary art works to stall its recognition as art and builds its inte-
gration into its meaning. But here again, the culture industry understands the
allure of this cat and mouse game and sells this struggle to us as well. The
alternativeness arms race escalates, and we buy the resultant annihilation of
music in the form of noise.
As contradictory as it may seem, for Adorno the commodification of art
enables it to reach its full potential as a critic of universal commodification.
Capitalism liberates art from its duties as a vehicle for religious and political
propaganda, and a market in art frees it to assume a critical relationship to
instrumental life. Art, in other words, is only free to be useless within the
space carved out for it by fully administered society. Art appears autonomous
not because it rejects commodification, but because it embraces it so
completely. Art embodies the excesses of capitalism by providing a thing of
commercial value – often extreme commercial value – that has no use. By
divorcing exchange value from use value so definitively, art becomes what
Adorno calls the ‘absolute commodity’. The absolute commodity appears to
float above the world when it actually exemplifies the most condensed by-
product of modernity.
Take, for example, the Merzbox, a collection of fifty compact discs of
Merzbow noise packaged with an interpretive Merzbook, a t-shirt, poster,
medallions, stickers, and postcards. Marketed as a limited edition collector’s
item, it has sold for upwards of two thousand US dollars. While such a quan-
tity would be a monumental purchase for any musical collection, the fact that
this buys a case-full of noise adds to its conspicuousness. And as several
reviewers of the set have noted, the noise contained in the set can be so trite
54 Nick Smith

that we must wonder if Merzbow generated it for the sole purposes of filling
the advertised ‘unique black fetish-rubber case’.5 Rather than entering the
market kicking and screaming, noise plays along as well as Pokémon cards
and Beanie Babies. We are surprised, as Adorno wrote of art generally, ‘not
that it is a commodity, but that today it deliberately admits it is one; that art
renounces its own autonomy and proudly takes its place among consumption
goods constitutes the charm of novelty’ (Adorno and Horkeimer 1972: 157).
Whereas other consumer goods claim to be necessary for a better life, noise
can cut to the chase and declare itself nothing but noise. Here noise flaunts the
absurdity of its condition, exaggerating its commodification to call attention
to the swindle at work. Thus noise brings into contrast the contradictory state
of all art in modernity: ‘Art must, through its form [as absolute commodity],
on behalf of the unexchangeable, conduct the exchangeable to a critical self-
consciousness’ (Adorno 1998: 123). Whereas rock and roll has lived a long and
profitable afterlife with a counter-cultural image projected by a corporate
reality, noise pushes this illusion so far that its commodification itself
becomes spectacular. Nowhere have I seen this more explicitly than within
the Merzbox, where the Merzbook assures the proud owner of this stack of
highly stylised goods that Merzbow ‘ought to be the ultimate anti-commodity
in music, never in danger of commercial recuperation’ (Woodward 1999: 37).

5
For one reviewer’s comments on all fifty disks, see Burns (2005). Kieran McCar-
thy’s (2004) review for allmusic.com merits citing in its entirety:

It is common for critics to resort to hyperbole when outlining the salient

traits of mid-level artists. By overstating their noteworthy characteristics,
one can draw attention to even minor or tepid figures, and make them seem
far larger than they actually are. In the case of Merzbow’s release, the
Merzbox, this could not happen. No matter how overblown, no matter how
shameless or self-indulgent the criticism, it is not enough. No matter how
rabid or scathing the review, it pales in comparison to the art itself. The
Merzbox defies simple description, and so it defies traditional notions of
criticism. One cannot exaggerate the ridiculous, the obscene, and the mind-
blowingly abrasive nature of the Merzbox. With 50 CDs and over 40 hours of
unapologetic sound experimentation, Masami Akita demands a response
that goes above and beyond the normal protocol. No number of stars could
summarize the emotions that well up when listening to the incessant yelps,
interminable screeches, and directionless feedback of the Merzbox for days
on end. Fundamental descriptors such as ‘good’ and ‘bad’ don’t capture the
spirit of the endeavor any more than a slide rule could be used to measure
the size of the universe. Akita’s audacity is unparalleled, and the existence of
this most brazen of box sets raises many questions. Does Akita honestly
believe that these two full days of unedited noodling are worth a serious
listen? Is he toying with gullible listeners? Is the ultimate conclusion he
wants us to reach that, in the end, after enough time, all music sounds like
the same old processed crap? It will never be possible to understand his
intentions. When all is said and done, though, the Merzbox belongs in
Ripley’s Believe It or Not, and not in your record collection.
 Noise as the Semblance of Critique 55

This endgame, however, runs the risk of having its very irony absorbed
by the culture industry. The paradox of noise’s injunction to ‘buy more to
resist commodification’ may be lost on a culture accustomed to hearing ‘Need
is a Very Subjective Word’ to pitch the $100,000 Hummer military as the latest
suburban sport utility vehicle on the US market. Like our sport utility vehi-
cles, our music becomes more extreme, useless, nonsensical, and expensive.
Within these cultural conditions, noise could become nothing more than
another cool product, another fleeting consumer itch to scratch. Noise could
become a musical pet rock. At a recent New York performance of Finnish
noise band Grunt, one could not help but be struck by the juxtaposition of the
anti-commercial aesthetic of the bombed-out industrial space and the cool
kids who cultivated an anarcho-chic image smacking of a disdain for global
consumerism with what was really going down: young white men buying
expensive tickets, t-shirts, recordings, videos, and drinking alcohol while
perusing fetish magazines.
Consider also how Masonna is marketed as an ‘extreme noise artist’,
bringing him near the commercial realms occupied by the X Games and rest
of the ubiquitous extreme alternative culture sold to teenagers. Russolo
understood the developments and increasing complexity of music as a quest
to ‘excite and exalt our sensibilities’, and as our ears become ‘educated by
modern life’ we ‘are not satisfied merely with this, and demand an abundance
of acoustic emotions’ (Russolo 2001: 70). Again, noise was for him an antidote
to boredom. His call for noise to jolt the senses reads like a Mountain Dew
commercial mocking tiresome classical music:

We cannot see that enormous apparatus of force that the modern

orchestra represents without feeling the most profound and total
disillusion at the paltry acoustic results. Do you know of any sight
more ridiculous than that of twenty men furiously bent on redou-
bling the mewing of a violin. (Russolo 2001: 70)

This surely resonates with the typical noise consumer, desperate to find
something to arouse their jaded and tired ears. In this context, Masonna can
be understood as the newest flavour of adrenaline music, whether for teenage
boys to use to get ‘amped’ while destroying or jumping over things or for
those of us who no longer get a rush from hackneyed metal. This places noise
directly within the rather mainstream lineage of Iron Maiden, Judas Priest,
Slayer, Pantera, and all of the supposedly more radical forms of metal now on
the market. Noise has become a mildly masochistic curiosity in the USA, shar-
ing audiences with entertainment like Jackass, Faces of Death and Ultimate
Fighting Championship. While I cannot provide any serious sociological data
for this, many of my seventeen-year-old students at a New England state
university own a larger noise collection than I do. Candiria and Dillinger
Escape Plan have long been favourites on my University’s illegal download-
ing server, but now Melt Banana, Boredoms, and even Masonna are gaining
popularity. Admitting that noise has little more critical import than
soundtracks to extreme sports or video games can make theorists, myself
included, feel sheepish, but it does explain the popularity of noise within
certain demographics.
56 Nick Smith

Theorists are complicit in the demise of noise not only for decoding it,
but also because we exist within the culture industry and are not immune to
its temptations. I know I enjoy telling stories of Yamatsuka Eye destroying a
club with a bulldozer during a performance in part because I become associ-
ated with something terribly cool. Publishing essays on noise and speaking at
international noise conferences is also, for now, quite cool. Considering how
many noise theorists are also practising noise artists or DJs, we must be mind-
ful of the distinction between analysis and self-promotion. Alternative music
scenes and ideological movements have a history of generating delusional
subcultures which stake out their territory and go to great lengths to defend
their borders from attacks against their status as unique and liminal long after
the gig is up. Intellectual danger is a holy grail for contemporary theory as
well as art, and this search can be disorienting. This is not to berate those of us
working on noise, but instead to try to make honest sense of a truly complex
predicament.
Discussions of noise often describe it as not only aesthetically radical, but
also as somehow socially and politically progressive. For Jacques Attali, noise
resists totalitarianism because it ‘betokens demands for cultural autonomy’
and provides ‘support for differences and marginality’ (Attali 1985: 7). Attali
thus claims that noise undermines the authoritarian ‘concern for maintaining
tonalism, the primacy of melody’ and countervails its ‘distrust of new
languages, codes or instruments, [and] refusal of the abnormal’ (Attali 1985:
7). Hainge likewise suggests that ‘[n]oise may announce a shift in the opera-
tions of global capitalism’ (Hainge 2002: 56). Similarly, Simon Reynolds
claims that noise ‘occurs when language breaks down’ and is ‘a wordless
state in which the very constitution of our selves is in jeopardy’. ‘The pleasure
of noise’, he continues, ‘lies in the fact that the obliteration of meaning and
identity is ecstasy’ (Reynolds 1990: 57). But when noise becomes ensconced
within commercial culture, it presents only an illusion of freedom and differ-
ence. As Adorno warned, where ‘the public does – exceptionally – rebel
against the pleasure industry’ it can only muster ‘the feeble resistance which
that very industry has inculcated in it’ (Adorno and Horkeimer 1972: 145).
Crippled protests are integrated in the system and the status quo ‘embraces
those at war with it by coordinating their consciousness with its own
[because] what subjectively they fancy as radical, belongs objectively to the
compartments reserved for their like’ (Adorno 1974: 46). What appears to be
critical merely diversifies the products bought and sold. The culture industry
deceives alterna-consumers into believing that their undertakings are socially
transformative, when in actuality the industry has merely changed the colour
of its products from khaki to black. The illusion of negativity provides a
placebo that causes critics to believe they are treating their condition when in
fact the dose of consumerism coated with false negativity further constricts
their existence.
Moreover, the same issue haunting most discussions of the political rele-
vance of difference arises here: difference is not always good and therefore it
has no necessary relation to justice. Instead, these vague claims for the politi-
cal relevance of noise appear to map noise onto some version of inclusive
multiculturalism. While a consideration of the merits of multiculturalism and
its unsatisfying relationship with continental philosophy are beyond the
 Noise as the Semblance of Critique 57

scope of this paper, we can note that the original intentions of noise do not
neatly line up with pluralistic politics. Russolo declared in ‘The Art of Noise’
that the ‘limited circle of pure sounds must be broken, and the infinite variety
of noise-sound conquered’. By ‘selecting, coordinating and dominating all
noises’, he continues ‘we will enrich men with a new and unexpected sensual
pleasure’ (Russolo 2001: 80). Here the art of noise sounds like an extension of
the conquest of man over nature wherein instrumental rationality, egoism
and hedonism are privileged. In other words, noise can be enlisted to
promote the very authoritarian values Attali claims it undermines. This
should be an unfortunate side-effect for those claiming that noise denies all
representational content.
Even if noise does advance a consistent and desirable political agenda,
according to the above theory noise occupies a critical position because of its
non-instrumental nature. As Kant claims that ‘beauty is an object’s form of
purposiveness in so far as it is perceived in the object without the presenta-
tion of a purpose’ (Kant 1987: 84), Adorno makes the parallel assertion that ‘in
so far as a social function may be predicated to a work of art, it is the function
of having no function’ (Adorno 1998: 336). If we enlist noise in the campaign
against instrumental rationality, however, noise itself becomes a tool. Noise
only appeared to offer critical resistance because it presented a rare glimpse
of a thing existing for its own sake, and therefore understanding it as a means
to a social end strips it of even this value. As just another instrument, it can no
longer model a non-instrumental relationship with an other.
It could be argued that noise has nothing to do with politics or critique.
But this position would return us to two entwined questions: why do we listen
to noise, and why do we theorise about it? I suspect we cannot answer these
questions to any degree of satisfaction without invoking the idea of critique.
Noise can critique theory just as theory critiques noise, but we cannot assume
that noise currently holds any such power over theory. Doing so would revert
to dogma, which is why I insist on the relevance of Adorno to these arguments.
Adorno’s studies of the non-identical begin with the drive to stay alive, follow
the economy of ritual sacrifice into universal commodification, and land in the
modern work of art. Adorno charts the movement of the non-identical through
its historical conditions, so that even the dialectical method itself must lay its
origins bare and ‘in one final movement turn itself even against itself’ (Adorno
1992: 406). Any philosophy that fails to do so ‘will always sound to the subject
like a transcendent dogma’ (Adorno 1992: 406). The crises Adorno diagnoses
arise historically, creating a sociological rather than a transcendental dilemma.
Adorno’s responses to concrete situations, namely negative dialectics and its
preoccupation with the non-identical and the work of art, operate only because
of and within this historical framework. As Peter Dews argues, ‘pure singular-
ity is itself an abstraction, the waste product of identity-thinking’ that is only
of philosophical value as a corrective counterpoint to modernity (Dews
1994: 109). The value of the other, the sublime, the negative, or the beautiful
can only be meaningful within its context, and therefore formal deconstructive
conceptions of these terms stand on tautologies. As Bernstein has written,
‘conceptions of non-identity that foreswear dependence on a sociologically
informed analysis of modernity, that refuse the burden of self-reflection and
the sacrifice of innocence’, actually aggravate the situation since they become
58 Nick Smith

‘complicit with capital’s sublimity in a way modernist art was not’ (Bernstein
1992: 266). And as Adorno admonishes: ‘Expressions of life that seemed
exempt from the responsibility of thought, not only have an element of defiant
silliness, of callous refusal to see, but directly serve their diametrical opposite’
(Adorno 1974: 25–6). Thus we must theorise noise. The domination of all
things by the pressure of instrumental reason causes us to crave the various
forms of its opposite: freedom, non-violence, or particularity. A critical
response does not consist of religiously looking to an unthinkable, but in ques-
tioning everything.
Noise is but one case demonstrating the crisis of modern art. The fact that
art can criticise culture is itself socially determined, and therefore art’s capac-
ity for critique could have been lost. Art plays a critical role only because it
offers a thing beyond concepts and free from desire to a world lacking these
qualities. Considering the advance of capitalism and its tightening grip on
culture, even the semblance of emancipatory potential Adorno attributes to
art may be a thing of the past. Adorno himself noticed that art had ‘grown
old’(Adorno 1998: 476), and Bernstein has announced that ‘[o]ver the past two
decades, art’s liquidation has led to its critical moment to pass to philosophy’
(Bernstein 1992: 263–4). But now even this second death of art is made glossy
like Hollywood versions of disaster and apocalypse. The culture industry
sells these death twitches of art to us as well. The death of art, like screaming
Japanese musicians, is extreme and therefore cool.
Whether art can resist the commodification of particulars even from its
enfranchised position will depend on the force of the objects produced more
than the theories receiving them. It is possible that a new sound could strike
our ear like a rumble of thunder to the pre-scientific mind. Regarding this,
however, I am even less optimistic than even Adorno.

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