Blanck Mass @ Elsewhere [NYC] - 9/22/2019
Blanck Mass at Elsewhere (Photo by Lindsay Hogan)
For a musician whose harsh electronic compositions never include full lyrics, Benjamin John Power is remarkably eloquent. In his artist statement accompanying his latest album at Blanck Mass, he writes:
“In this post-industrial, post-enlightenment religion of ourselves, we have manifested a serpent of consumerism which now coils back upon us. It seduces us with our own bait as we betray the better instincts of our nature and the future of our own world.”
The album, deftly titled Animated Violence Mild articulates the overstimulation and excessive gratification caused by modern technology and limitless consumerism. Blanck Mass’ trademark power electronics create massive compositions and kinetic tracks that excite the senses while bordering on overstimulation. Furious synths, chugging bass, and layered percussion plunge the listener into an album that both recreates the overindulgent revelry of our time while expressing anger at our helplessness to escape it.
His adrenaline-fueled catalogue has earned him comparisons to the frivolous industrial dance music of the 90s, but that likeness overlooks the intention and intricacy of his work. The album’s severity is punctuated with uplifting moments where Power’s electronic maximalism suggests salvation and healing. It even dabbles in some serene harp-lead instrumentation. Though some of the best moments on the album convey inspiration, Blanck Mass primarily uses his palette to express grief through rage. Personal grief is mixed with grief toward the consequences of our societal indulgence; environmental decay, individual greed, self destruction, etc.
“We throw ourselves out of our own garden.” Power writes, alluding to the bleeding, bitten apple on his album cover and the hedonistic failure of Adam and Eve. “We poison ourselves to the edges of an endless sleep.”
With all this heavy grief and anger at our species’ predisposition towards self-destruction and the inevitable death of our natural world… how much is Blanck Mass’ audience supposed to enjoy his album live?
Is the performance of his album meant as a euphoric catharsis for the listener? Or is the album’s sonic excess meant as a critical reflection on our animated, violent world? Should one react with meditation and observation or wild physical recklessness?
Surely if Power feels frustration and grief at the sway the “serpent of consumerism” has over “the better instincts of our future,” he must not want his listeners to bite the apple and fall deeper into our pleasure-seeking society.
But no matter how grave his intentions, Blanck Mass’ furious beats are ripe for a warehouse rave.
On Saturday night at Elsewhere in Brooklyn this conflict was on display. Depending on how the show was marketed you could get a room of dour artist-types politely plugging their ears or a Cybergoth Dance Party. This was New York after all. If a crowd is going to unfurl its freak flag to the sounds of pulsing industrial electronic music, it's here.
Once Blanck Mass’ set was in full force the audience was made up of about 5% hardcore revelers who embraced the intoxicating nature of the music and made it their own pulsing, depraved party. Behind them was a larger group (maybe 10%) who, initially stoic, gave into the growing intensity of Blanck Mass’ set and tasted some of the uplifting catharsis within his album. The remaining 85% of the audience stood at attention, absorbing Blanck Mass’ wave of noise. With a mix of open and closed eyes, this majority partook in a more passive Blanck Mass’ experience.
Was this 85% of the audience feeling Power’s grief at humanity’s downfall? Or were they too scared to unfurl their freak flag? Either way, it was a rich reflection of the conflict at the center of Blanck Mass: the music itself lurches back and forth between destruction and elation, the artist mourns parts of us killed by excess, and simultaneously re-creates that indulgent excess. Meanwhile the audience is conflicted between giving into their primal instinct to dance and having enough discipline to evaluate the art on display.
The set ended with Power walking off stage and leaving his electronics to churn out four punishing minutes of relentless, discordant noise. It seemed like a message.
After the noise shut off, most of the crowd moved to the rooftop where silver-clad DJs blasted Madonna’s “Hung Up” and frozen mango margaritas sold for $17. Blanck Mass’ crowd dropped their cool exteriors and burst into dance with a repressed fury. One audience member was crowd surfed in order to execute a group selfie. A few boys bought shots and attempted very poor break-dancing. Some others revived their dying phones, crouching low at the electrical outlets and sharing a few cigarettes.
In other words, Blanck Mass is fighting an uphill battle against our demons. But he should get credit for trying to fight them at all.
