When you allow a piece of music to be the primary object of your attention, when you listen to it without distraction, you quickly realise that the components of a brilliant song are no different to those of a movie that commands your focused viewership, a play you can’t look away from, or a book that holds you at every word.
To anyone who has made or studied music this is probably far from a revolutionary comment, but for me, a casual but passionate listener, this recent revelation has helped me join the dots of my stylistically scattered music taste.
Beyond his technical gifts, Tyler, the Creator’s appeal lies in his braggadocious yet relatable character, in whom listeners can get truly invested. In Folklore and Evermore, Taylor Swift thrives on cottage-core world-building, an irresistibly interesting backdrop for a set of low-key folk classics. With artists like Viagra Boys involving heavy satire in their recent releases, it is clear that it isn’t only the serious, dramatic aspects of art which contribute to a great album, and comedic elements can be just as effective.
One feature that has a powerful way of dragging you back to a song over and over again is tension. However, the way that music is popularised in 2023 means that this impactful technique risks being overused to a point of redundancy. A temporary state of unease with the promise of relief, tension works in music just as it does in film. I often find myself listening to an entire song for that single moment of bliss which bisects the track into ‘before’ and ‘after’. Psychologically, it makes complete sense: to experience a sense of discomfort or incompleteness before pleasure ultimately makes the eventual release more rewarding.
While this effect is not limited to a genre, culture or instrument, it certainly plays a bigger part in some styles of music than others. For example, a number of genres of electronic dance music (EDM) revolve around a central tension point: a bass drop. Think ‘Lean On’ by Major Lazer, ‘Bangarang’ by Skrillex, or ‘Wake Me Up’ by the late, great Avicii. Remove the bass drop, and these tracks are unremarkable at best. In other genres, including a bass drop, per se, is hardly prototypical. In the realm of rock and folk music, a more nuanced approach than simply turning off all the bass and turning it back on again may be preferable. My favourite example of recent times comes from North Carolina singer-songwriter Indigo De Souza. The track ‘Real Pain’ from her sophomore album ‘Any Shape You Take’ treats you to an uncomfortably long bridge where De Souza’s screams of anguish distort her cries of ‘Going’ further and further. Eventually, the screams give way to a set of passionately delivered confessional lyrics. It’s an expertly crafted invitation to her range of feelings and emotions, which leaves you catching your breath but desperate for more. I can’t recommend this song, and the whole album, enough.
These tracks all rely on the point of tension relief to underpin their structure, but employing this technique has an advantage from a business point of view as well. Having a single moment in a song which is so central to its narrative is far more likely to get that song ingrained in the mind of a one-time listener than if a song is written at a constant pace and intensity. Then, once a listener knows one of your songs, they are more likely to give the rest a listen and become a long-term fan. Looking at the most popular songs of certain artists can provide evidence for the strength of this technique. By far the most popular song from indie rock favourites, The Backseat Lovers, is the charming ‘Kilby Girl’. The chorus of this song, with its fake IDs and nose rings, is a classic moment of tension release – and they get double points for repeating it throughout the song.
Unfortunately, commercial musical entities seem to be far too aware of the advantages of such a technique in the TikTok era. In a world where a catchy 15 second snippet can launch a track to number one, generating hundreds of thousands in income, it is no surprise that musicians are producing songs with one big moment in their thousands.
Not only does this make the effect less impactful, as it becomes grossly overused, but the tracks that attempt to build and release tension for reasons other than artistic value tend to fall extremely flat. Gayle’s hugely successful hit ‘abcdefu’ is a prime example. This song’s focal point is a generic diss to an ex, which fails dramatically at getting me to care about anything being said. However, by using a landmark moment in the track, this transparent attempt to battery-farm streams landed at the the top of the charts across Europe, and somehow picked up a nod from the Grammys for Song of the Year. The question, of course, is which of the eight versions, which were all shamelessly released in 2022, received this prestigious nomination.
Obviously, tension isn’t the first example of a powerful musical feature being appropriated for commercial purposes, and it certainly won’t be the last. Unfortunately, there is no way to prevent such techniques falling into the greasy hands of suited men in boardrooms. However, it is a shame that artists who have mastered their craft to create music which reflects genuine and heartfelt emotion don’t get the recognition that a mutant combination of features ripped from the trending sounds page on TikTok receives.
Still, the picture isn’t entirely bleak. Bands like Black Country, New Road continue to make tense and engaging songs without sacrificing artistic integrity (see ‘Turbines/Pigs’) and even songs clearly made to exploit the algorithms can be effective, like Armani White’s ‘Billie Eilish’. Whether or not using tension points in songs will remain popular in the independent circle, or if the technique will dissolve into the corporate cauldron remains to be seen. I, for one, am on the edge of my seat.