Day 99: Idealism — nobody else ep
Idealism is a downtempo, jazzy beat tape produced by Lassi Kotamaki in Finalnd. Full of rainy mood piano jazz, it’s inoffensive background music destined to appear on some “chill” Spotify playlist for which he will not be fairly compensated. Its cover art, featuring with neon-lit Japanese characters suspended above a dark street, suggests a certain understated Japanophilia. It’s not hard to imagine tracks like “Neon Lights” soundtracking anime, an Adult Swim bumper promo, or argument between fedora-wearing Redditor and friend/uncomfortable Tinder date about how Dark Souls III, like life, is unfairly difficult.
It’s hard to pick out bright spots or blemishes, because it feels uniform, smoothed out of anything offensive or abrasive. Lingering background conversations serve as its only sign of life, lending credence to the idea that is dreary nouveau jazz was performed in a basement bar near Shinjuku where forlorn businessmen sip on Suntori whiskey. If you factor out Murakami’s Beatlemania, it’s the ultimate soundtrack to one of his novels, in that it feels at least vaguely surreal and thoroughly devoid of happy characters.
As a Spotify cynic who nonetheless feels no other option but to pay the Swedish startup $9.99 a month to underpay musicians, it’s hard to wonder where the line between the real and the artificial is with an artist like Idealism. There’s been plenty of reporting this year about the artificiality of the streaming service’s many “Chill” playlists, and with an EP intentionally devoid of human warmth, it’s not easy to tell what the difference — or perhaps the point — is when it comes to separating music from muzak. In the absence of any irrefutable proof, it’s incredibly easy to pass off the fake as the real in a world where both production and consumption takes place entirely online.
Maybe next year will bring us more of an ability to discern fact from fiction when it comes to music. Failing that, hopefully we’ll collectively exert a stronger desire to support the communities and creators who we can vouch for. The recent rallying around Silent Barn, a DIY venue and creative space in Brooklyn, is a great example. For us cynics, there’s been little reason to believe that late-stage capitalism will reverse course and treat the music that artists labor over as anything other than a low-cost, exploitable branding tool. But if I hold onto idealism for anything, it’s the belief that somehow the musicians that matter will find a way to make a living even as the world crumbles. After all, the band who played as the Titanic went down were at least told they’d be paid.
This is Day 99 in my 100 albums in 100 days series, where I review a new album or EP I haven’t heard in full before every day through tomorrow. Check out yesterday’s post or see the full archives for more.
