In episode 29 of her column, Julia Friese explains what PinkPantheress’ “Just For Me” has in common with Sheena Patel’s British Book Award winner “I’m A Fan” (2023).
Three observations:
1. I want to take a ride on your memory stick
PinkPantheress is a British producer and singer who was number 1 on BBC’s Radio 1 Sound of… list for the past year. A newcomer ranking that predicted the careers of 50 Cent, Adele and Haim, for example. PinkPantheress’ sound consists of short, down-tuned, sped-up samples from the ’90s and ’00s, which she sings over in typically lethargic TikTok intonation. Their songs sound ethereal in a technical way. Hyperreal, as if PinkPantheress were not human but AI.
The video for their hit “Just For Me” begins with the sound of a CD being slid into a deck. It’s that lost, crunching, CD-ROM-being-recorded-into-the-computer sound that’s immediately oddly nostalgic. As a result, PinkPantheress performs in front of depressed-looking teenagers with their heads hanging over Slipknot T-shirts – an audience straight out of the 1995 EMP catalogue. The accompanying music, however, is alien to this slide. Headbanging is not possible to the Hypereal sound. It seems more possible that the head listening to it will be emptied into a cloud by uploading it.
Pitchfork describes PinkPantheress’ TO HELL WITH IT (2021) as an “imaginary memory” of the ’90s and ’00s. A deliberate fake. A bootleg, like the Nirvana band shirts that are currently circulating, which instead of Curt, Kirst and Dave (and Pat) show three times Kieran Culkin – or Hanson.
2. Every breathe you fake
Lyrically, PinkPantheress’ “Just For Me” is about stalking. Also in the British Book Award-winning novel I’m A Fan (2023) by Sheena Patel. The protagonist is dating a man because he is dating a famous influencer that the protagonist is obsessed with. She stalks them, which means she keeps updating her Insta profile, waiting for a new story that doesn’t actually mean anything to her while she watches “Gilmore Girls” in the background. Or not really “watching”, just streaming.
The constant, fragmented stimulant, an erratic numbing of oneself with the lives of others—that is the present. Patel also finds a narrative style that is fragmented like Insta stories in “I’m A Fan”: short chapters with erratic content in everyday language, without dedicated turning points and highlights. Because Insta-Stories offer no conclusion. Everything starts again the next day. Whether on this or another account. Fragmented narration can also be found in Olga Ravn’s “My Work” (2023), which begins thirteen times and ends nine times. Or in Solvej Balle’s “On the Calculation of Volume I” (2023), in which a day begins over 360 times.
3. the killer in you, most definitely isn’t the killer in me
The perception of male power is similarly fragmented in patriarchy. It only becomes visible to a large extent when it is misused, only to then be sorted back into sectors and according to prominent people. All evil appears to be manifest in a man for a short time, and can then be remedied just as briefly by judging this man. Further solutions usually remain fragmented: should romantic relationships be banned in offices? No longer separating the lyrical self from artists? Set up a protection zone for women at concerts?
Sex with a power imbalance, for example with male rock stars, as well as with men on whom one is economically dependent, is questioned. Consequently, Emilia Roig’s non-fiction book “The End of Marriage” is trending. Other bits of horror are more unproductively channeled to fans of troubled stars: How could you ever be such a pedo and like Woody Allen movies? Or so low class that you heard Rammstein or Marilyn Manson? Until capitalism, and thus patriarchy, is defeated, it is better to only consume non-violent art and have sex as equals. An idea as reasonable as it is hyperreal…
This column first appeared in the Musikexpress issue 07/2023.