HARMONIC313 - When Machines Exceed Human Intelligence

When machines exceeded human intelligence: a programmatic title. A manifesto, almost. The tools that take over, technology triumphing over the technician, the creature devouring its creator. It would make the perfect premise for an 80s sci-fi film, or a Miguel Angel Martin comic. Instead, this bleak, hopeless future is told through a record, the debut full-length from Harmonic 313, the moniker behind which hides Mark Pritchard (Tom Middleton's long-time partner in Global Communication, aka a cornerstone of 90s electronica). And he tells it in a new language, the language of London's underground culture, the language of the emerging wonky beats scene, or whatever other tag you want to pin on this offspring of dubstep and hip-hop, grandchild of jungle and drum'n'bass. Essentially, a cluster-bombing of fat, deep basslines, almost without pause, over which the craftsman Pritchard builds his own castle of beats and synth melodies, with a mood hovering between breakbeat and house.

Listening to the record, the first image that comes to mind is the cover art: that robotic grin that's nothing but an artifact of our own mind, staring back at us, cold and impassive in its unassailable logic. We can picture it delivering the intro to "Word Problems", halfway between real and virtual; or finally surpassing human intelligence by discovering emotions, so different from our own, almost like cold data sequences to be analyzed according to a precise protocol ("Falling Away"). Because across the whole record, Pritchard tells his own futuristic story with impressive cinematic skill, as if crooked synths stood in for words, and beats and basslines stood in for punctuation.

The setup, devoid of overtly melodic openings — relegated to the background or mangled with sheer force — limits the connection with the listener, who is left simply watching in stunned silence. The craftsmanship behind the icy rendering of sounds is at times superb (the mathematical progression of "No Way Out", the sonic jolts of "Cyclotron"), and the intricate web of compositional writing reaches disorienting results (the multiple layering of "Köln", the varied colors of the sprightly "Galag-A").

The relentless, adrenaline-fueled rhythm takes hold, forging obsessive digital short-circuits, whether in hip-hop form ("Battlestar") or in brief one-minute divertissements ("Cyclotron C64 Sid").

The soul of this music, detached from any empathetic context, flaunts its impassivity with brazenness and distance, torpedoing the listener with skeletal rhythms and arid sounds (a prime example being "Call To Arms" and, above all, "Flaash"). It feels sterile, or at best pedantic, to seek out a definition for a cluster of bits blended together so perfectly (the six minutes of "Quadrant 3" are about as indefinable as it gets); setting the analytical side aside for a moment, what's needed here is a disenchanted, attentive listen.

One wonders whether machines will ever manage to replace humans, whether the very technology we create is the next step of evolution. Pritchard offers no answers to these questions; he simply tries to tell a futurist (and futuristic) musical story — and, like the great authors, he does so using the expressive and communicative means of his own time.

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google

06/04/2009