“If there is anything that this horrible tragedy can teach us, it’s that a male model’s life is a precious, precious commodity. Just because we have chiseled abs and stunning features, it doesn’t mean that we too can’t not die…” – Zoolander (2001)
Page one tells you everything you need to know about Victor, protagonist of Bret Easton Ellis’ underrated and underread 1999 novel Glamorama: “Who the fuck is Moi? […] I have no idea who this Moi is, baby.” Indeed, this is the question around which everything else in the novel turns: Who is Victor Ward? (This question could almost serve as the vaporwave inversion of the same question, in another context, about a certain John Galt…)
On the one hand, the answer to Victor’s question is straightforward. Ward is a male model, the current “It Boy,” and a stupefyingly vacuous denizen of celebrity and fashion culture. Despite his many aspirations (including scoring a role in the then-satirical idea of Flatliners 2, a movie no one needed or wanted in 1998, or one year after we passed through the event horizon of time itself, in 2017, when this movie, unironically, was actually made…), Victor is one hollow man among many.
Art by @Cerulea_dlux
When the novel opens, he is trying to open his own small night club, virtually under the nose of his erstwhile boss, Damien, a nightclub owner and also the romantic partner of Alison Poole, with whom Victor is having a meaningless affair. He is a creature of pure appearances. Indeed, you could say his whole life is a meaningless affair – this is one of the recurrent objections raised by his girlfriend, top supermodel Chloe Byrnes: “You don’t care about things that don’t have anything to do with you” (158). “So you don’t have any lip balm?” Victor replies, entirely in earnest.
On the other hand, Victor Ward is also Victor Johnson, son of the ambitious Senator Johnson, who lowkey finds Victor a disappointment and an embarrassment:
“You’re not a loser, Victor,” Dad sighs back. ‘You just need to, er, find yourself.” He sighs again. “Find – I don’t know – a new you?” “‘A new you’?” I gasp. “Oh my god, Dad, you do a great job of making me feel useless.” “And opening this club tonight makes you feel what?” “Dad, I know, I know – ” “Victor, I just want – ” “/ just want to do something where it’s all mine,” I stress. “Where I’m not… replaceable.” “So do I.” Dad flinches. (79)
But by the end of Glamorama, Victor, in fact, has seemingly been replaced, whether by a Manchurian Candidate version of himself or by some postmodern literary surrogate. At this point, Victor Johnson and Victor Ward quite literally seem to split in two – and this is not a metaphor. Victor Johnson, who supplants the Victor we’ve been following all along, is getting his life together, moving on from whoever Victor Ward is now.
“Goodbye,” this new, improved Victor (or, rather, his replacement) tells Victor on the phone, in one of the novel’s late moments of surreality (476). Meanwhile, Victor Ward, imprisoned in a safehouse in Milan against his will, is trying to get his life back. He fails. Even former intimates, like his sister, fail to recognize him when he sneaks in a phone call. Indeed, his physical execution seems imminent. The lifespan of the husk is over. Ultimately, he is a disposable man, the citizen and then refugee of a disposable culture
In one sense, Glamorama is about Victor’s inability to integrate the real into the play palace of his perceptions. His world exists in an almost purely semiotic register. Hence, the novel’s incredible fixation on listing brands and the names of celebrities, in vast chains of association and depthlessness. Who’s in; who’s out; who’s where; who’s not. Whether they’re even really present at the party is irrelevant. What matters are the invocations and lists themselves, the decorative citational explosions that guild the undead lily of a life lived entirely inside the virtual plaza.These explosions of hyperreal intensity leave behind detritus – like confetti scattered on the sticky floor the morning after a big party, or the dread and irritating “specks” (often interpreted by Victor as mysterious confetti) that continually intrude into the bisexually litsoap bubble of Victor’s sensorium. Welcome to the desert of the real, indeed; the sand gets in everything…
Art by @Uy_que_Paila
So, Victor cannot acknowledge or integrate the real, either because he is so structurally deformed and shallow, or perhaps because he is himself a kind of projection, a cheap hologram, a false self, an escape route posed by some other self. Imagine finding out you are nothing more than a cover story, your personality (or lack thereof) a mere pretext for some deeper, stranger politics, beamed into the virtual plaza from a VIP dimension or some cosmic plane you’ll never be allowed to enter. Indeed, throughout Glamorama, Victor constantly encounters people who mention seeing him in places he wasn’t, at fashion shows and openings he did not attend: in Miami, at the Alfaro show, at Pravda last week. (One recalls a brief scene from Terrence Malick’s Knight of Cups [2015], which explores the same themes as Glamorama, but with a rather different trajectory to the narrative… Christian Bale’s character is being robbed, but the thieves are frustrated at the emptiness of his life. It’s an existential joke, or a riddle: What is a life that contains literally nothing even worth stealing?) This never fully, consciously registers for Victor, beyond occasionally irritating him, because he wishes he’d been there instead of his distant doppelganger. No further questions.
Likewise, Victor seems to believe increasingly that events in his life are scripted or staged. This does not alarm him. If anything, it’s a source of strange succor; events have the promise of meaning, perhaps, if they unfold in the sixteen-millimeter shrine. He perceives increasingly the ghostly presence of film crews, intimate conversations with mysterious directors, and other people in the flux of life around him, who appear as characters or “extras.” In part, Victor is incapable of understanding the events of the novel’s plot outside of this framework. Indeed, these events may be inaccessible, structurally occluded, haunting the text itself. After all, within the glamorama, everything is appearance (consider the etymology of “glamour”…). What better framing device, then – or refuge – than to perceive all the happenings of your life as if they’re just part of the movies, if these horrific and terrifying events represent some internal logic rather than the fatal trajectory of a car crash with the Outside?
Ultimately, Victor falls in with a group of nihilistic supermodels who have, for reasons Victor is never fully able to understand, started a vast campaign of stochastic terror and hideously random violence. Their leader, Bobby Hughes, is himself a former It Boy, a male supermodel of incredible charisma, since retired. Victor encounters Bobby’s gang almost (but not actually) inadvertently. After fucking things up in the States, Victor is recruited via skyhook to go to Europe in order to track down an ex-girlfriend, who supposedly has gone missing (she hasn’t). The man who recruits him does not exist. Again, Victor has few questions. Quelle chance!
But the sense of dread in the novel grows and grows. It’s like Victor can see disaster approaching, just out of the corner of his eye. But, since he’s always avoiding it, or in some way unable to register the real, he never focuses on what is happening in –or to-the world around him. As Bobby tells Victor, when Victor asks why Bobby seems to like and trust him: “Because you think the Gaza Strip is a particularly lascivious move an erotic dancer makes […] Because you think the PLO recorded the singles ‘Don’t Bring Me Down’ and ‘Evil Woman.’” Also, note how the chapters are always counting down. To what, or whom? Quis est iste qui uenit?
Precisely here Glamorama becomes comprehensible primarily as a vaporwave novel: Victor, denizen (and ultimately victim) of the virtual plaza, encounters the radical exteriority of a world that exceeds the hologrammatic dead mall dimension where his dreams play out. Perhaps, in the end, he’s the only person who ever really lived there. Consider again the etymology of glamour: “1715, glamer, Scottish, ‘magic, enchantment’ (especially in phrase to cast the glamour), a variant of Scottish gramarye ‘magic, enchantment, spell, said to be an alteration of English grammar (q.v.) in a specialized use of that word’s medieval sense of ‘any sort of scholarship, especially occult learning,’ the latter sense attested from c. 1500 in English but said to have been more common in Medieval Latin.”
A glamorama, then, is perhaps an updated term for an illusory space, like a fairy circle, or a virtual machine, running in the void…
Pick up your copy of Glamorama from Penguin Random House here
The vaporwave community celebrates the wonderful work by vaporwave and adjacentartists from 2023!
Published: February 6th, 2024
A toast to some of our favorite vaporwave, future funk, and adjacent albums from 2023, chosen by the vaporwave community! Take a moment and peruse some of the communities most loved albums of the year!
NOTE: Clicking on an album cover will open the full album link in a new tab!
Cosmic Tsunami is a fascinating idea: cosmic/space ambient mixed with nostalgic JRPG chiptune delivered through a lofi filter. This album sits between the inward nostalgia of playing older JRPGs and the outward fascination of the cosmos, gazing at the stars. It’s a fascinating contrast. The juxtaposition works here and creates a sense of timelessness. You’re hurtling through space for eternity grinding for EXP in a dungeon. Hold onto those pleasant memories while you can, before the old memory card wears down and corrupts your save file.
As a vapor fan, and an actual runner, I can say that Sponsored Content is the epitome of leant out dystopian mind melt. The hottest hits include:
“Serena,” which is an ABBA-esque Sade-echoed story of a disenchanted girl trying to be someone, grappling with the reality that life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, “Summer Nights Over,” with archetypal lyrics that embody that rug-pulling shock of infidelity in the spirit of Washed Out’s Purple Noon, or the radical “Doing Me,” with Radioheady computer beepbop lyrics about freedom of agency in a life outside of peer pressure or social influence. What better program to follow than the computer indoctrination of self-realization?
Some bands really drop the ball as they age, but Runners Club 95 ascends with the endurance of the marathon of a lifetime. May they bound like cheetahs through a world tour in 2024!
Machina Pensant’s music keeps changing a lot over the years, with this release he has incorporated past influences from hip hop, windows96, and Esprit all together in one package. It feels like every new album from this artist is another big step towards something exceptional and the sounds explored here are just another example of that.
Errata is a great mix of vaporwave and vaporfunk. Tracks like “Say Goodbye” have a sentimental summer feeling, while tracks like “Reach Out” show off fine chops and funky basslines. This album has a lot of variety throughout, and the final track wraps up the various vibes nicely.”
The imagery reflects a social awareness of the crisis in Gaza, while the music perfectly captures the somber mood left by those observing the turmoil. It provides an emotional outlet for the overwhelming complexities of the situation, where words surely fall short.
The soundfont selection, the perfect mixture of breaks and traditional vapor, the ethereal floating feeling you get… all of it is a masterclass in combing the best of crossover genres into a package that is at once new and exciting, but also accessible across different scenes. Plus, between the song structure, and the arrangement of the tracklist, you can tell things were done with great care, and in such a way as to tell the listener something specific. It’s got so much replay potential that I found myself coming back to it over and over again since August. This album is definitely one I will look back on fondly in a few years and will rediscover when I need it most.
A perfect, trippy blend of Slushwave, Late-Night Lo-Fi and Synthwave with bass-heavy drums, arpeggios, and dreamy and melancholic melodies. A masterpiece that has been underrated so far.
A solid collection of artists displaying an assortment of styles all in one neat package. 2024 was the year of collab albums and this is among the best.
Asutenki’s prior interest and work in (マ力フシキ installments) slushwave (The マ力フシキ installments) come back on this one brilliantly. The tracks are as long as ordinary slushwave songs but the bouncy slush texture, the tight and hypnotic loops, and the creative progressions make the length really worth it. 9/10 experience, would always re-listen and enjoy the ride.
This year we were lucky enough to not only get the dream collaboration between Desert Sand & Mindspring Memories, but also a new album by 天火見. While both of those albums were absolutely phenomenal, the one I’ve listened to the most from this year was actually Dream Research Center Vol 1 by 夢研究センター. It’s a gorgeous 5-hour journey that I’ve found myself taking over and over again. Just really fantastic stuff.
Demon Killer chooses such a specific niche that is the PS2 era paired with DnB/Jungle beats and hits the nail on the head fully. Every choice from the font on the album cover to the snares and the piano melody that accompanies the drums is spectacular. It’s perfect for an homage of those early 2000s kind of Tokyo-urban electronica that played on the menu screen of Capcom fighting games.
I like it because it is continuing the up-and-coming style of Y2K signalwave and the aesthetic of this release really connects with me. With the late-night vibes it leans towards, it is the perfect soundtrack for those nights when I just never sleep. I hope to see more from International Telecom and the burgeoning Y2K style of signalwave in 2024.
Release Date:
March 17, 2023
Label / Distribution:
Bogus Collective
Written & Selected by CT57
ArtistS: TVVIN_PINEZ_M4LL & ミスト M Y S T
Album: DESERT STEEL
Desert Steel consists of ambitious electric guitar samples that really give an inspirational boost when you need it. I listen to every song on the album back to back without skipping a track. I love that it gives a fast-paced nostalgic feeling as if you want to only go fast and over the limits! This album hands down solidifies the 80s in the year 2023.
Eyeclick has brought vaporwave to the age of the social media algorithms and it sounds amazing. Instantly recognizable samples fuse with sounds those of us addicted to TikTok are way too familiar with. I continue to be amazed by how fresh every single track sounds. What puts the album over the edge for me is the visual piece that accompanies the entire project, perfectly encapsulating the sound of the album with insane trippy editing. It is a must-listen and must-watch.
A project more artists should attempt. Better than a mere cover album, Nobody Here asks an important question: How would our contemporaries handle classic tracks?
Luxury Elite has put out another smooth nostalgia trip, with influences from the same late 80s early 90s era Lux is known for. The album touches on a variety of moods, ranging from the relaxed PS1-esque “crowded bar” to the summer italo disco beat “last summer”. You can hear Lux’s evolution as a producer as she continues to improve her craft and develop her late night
Seriously though, Late Arcane is one of the most exciting producers in the game right now. With a super fresh and unique take on sample combination and attention to chops, and a non-stop excitement to the unexpected, this album is my number one of the year. The way he puts it together just hits so damn well, you won’t regret a listen. The album emits an vivid sense of luxury and class so hot you might steam if you touch it.
This album evokes a feeling that can only be described as the sensation of being in an empty laundromat late at night as the local smooth jazz station plays through the aging speakers in the ceiling. The tracks are thick with nostalgic samples that create a feeling of isolation and longing. I found myself coming back to this album over and over this year because of the meditative effect it had on me. This album was a calming escape as background music while working or while stuck in traffic. If you like lofi grooves and ethereal beats, this album is worth checking out.
DREAMCASTLE™ is an artist who doesn’t think of an album as just a collection of tracks that may have a similar theme or aesthetic, they produce albums that have emotional arcs, leading you on a journey through some particular facet of nostalgia for a lost past (and whether that past is DREAMCASTLE™’s or yours is hard to say.) 𝓐 𝓜 𝓨 𝓦 𝓐 𝓥 𝓔 is no exception, and once again DREAMCASTLE™ has crafted an album that takes a simple idea – what music would the character Amy from Sonic the Hedgehog listen to, and elevates it by having it rise and fall from introspective moments of longing beats to poppy energetic emotional peaks.
Release Date:
October 11, 2023
Label / Distribution:
Self Distributed
Written & Selected by celadonDREAM Suite
That wraps it up! Hopefully there was at least one album here that sparked your interest!
Be sure to give the artists a follow on Bandcamp! Happy 2024!
First released on June 15, 1987, the GIF (Graphical Interchange Format) was invented two years before the Cold War went underground, making it truly an artifact from before the time factories all shut down. A GIF, of course, is an image format that allows for multiple images to be represented in sequence as the file references its own palette, producing (or reproducing) simple animations in repetitive, somewhat static loops. The GIF is the vaporwave artifact par excellence – especially now, in its long afterlife, where image andspring break forever come together as one in a strange and endless ballet under the red desert sun of the real.
As an example of vaporwave literature, J. G. Ballard’s collection of short stories Vermilion Sands (1971) is incomparable. It is also a literary GIF; the entirety of the book could be reconstructed out of wordless GIFs with no aesthetic loss whatsoever. But it is not fundamentally a hybrid object, like Jon Bois’ melancholy, mutating hypertext 17776: What Football Will Look Like in the Future (2017: “To pass all that time, many Americans have turned to football, contorting it in a variety of strange ways to suit their new reality”). Unlike Dennis Cooper’s GIF “novel” Zac’s Haunted House (2015: “an experience somewhere between carnival mirror labyrinth, deleted Disney snuff film, and a deep web comic strip by Satan”), which Cooper first created as a specifically visual artifact intended to emphasize intersections, juxtapositions, and loops, Ballard’s stories are resolutely textual.
Or are they?
After all, each story targets a specific media form: sculpture (“The Cloud-Sculptors of Coral D” and “The Singing Statues”), opera and horticulture (“Prima Belladonna”), painting, poetry (“Studio 5, The Stars”), fashion (“Say Goodbye to the Wind”). Each one reflects – no, refracts – how media become entangled in, or perhaps even constitutes, the strange loops of desire and dream that unfolds within and beyond the prison of the human psyche, opening it up and splaying out the psychological strata of all our looping, nested dreamworlds. Recall the horrifying, and horrifyingly suggestive, nature of the libidinal “body,” or landscape of desire, as autopsied by Jean-François Lyotard in his Libidinal Economy (1974): “All these zones are joined end to end in a band which has no back to it, a Moebius band which interests us not because it is closed, but because it is one-sided, a Moebian skin which, rather than being smooth, is on the contrary covered with roughness, corners, creases, cavities […]” Much like how the GIF is a “flat” image (even superflat), yet captures both depth and motion traversing the deeps. This is what it means to speak Muybridge, after all. You probably think Stephen Wilhite invented the GIF – and he did, in its current disguise – but it was Eadweard Muybridge who first uncovered the primordial form of the GIF, lurking in the world’s heart like a fossil from the future. Imagine a paleontology of the future, an idealistic morphology of media artifacts, waltzing backward through time, approaching the event horizon of the perpetual now, the long 2016… Vaporwave literatures invert media archaeologies.
Back to Vermilion Sands: “No one ever comes to Vermilion Sands now, and I suppose there are few people who have ever heard of it.” So, what even is Vermilion Sands? It’s a “bizarre, sandbound resort with its lethargy, beach fatigue and shifting perspectives.” It’s a dream archipelago of abandoned villas, awash in crimson sands from the environing desert, shadowed by flying albino and purplish sand rays, “wheeling above the rock spires in the blood-red air.” It’s the posttraumatic landscape of the arts, all of which operate like so many ghostly robots, totally burned out but still fueled by vaporous promises. Vermilion Sands is a hologram: it looks a lot like things happened there, but remains peopled by dead souls and the dying stars, fragments of subjects from a Golden Age that never existed. Vermilion Sandsis the primal scene of the end of history, casting neon shadows out of time.
“The Thousand Dreams of Stellavista” (originally 1962): “All the houses in Vermilion Sands were psychotropic.” In other words, the architecture is perpetually plastic undeath, adapting to the drives, moods, and quirks of the occupants and always carrying the psychic impress of former occupants inside its mutable and rippling structuration. Imagine being haunted by abstract moods; imagine living inside an undersea fan, gently swaying. “Living in one was like living in someone else’s brain.” Howard Talbot and his new wife, Fay, buy a new house at 99 Stellavista. All the perennials are polyurethane. There’s a heart-shaped swimming pool in the foyer. Through its glass bottom, you can see the garage, the finned car parked below “like a coloured whale asleep on the ocean bed.” Its previous owner, Gloria Tremayne, had been a beautiful, diaphanous woman “with a powerful and oblique personality,” a movie star who murdered her husband to end his abuse. Ironically, Howard had been the assistant to Gloria’s lawyer at the trial, ten years ago. “The water was motionless, a transparent block of condensed time.” But the house remains haunted by Gloria’s psychic residues, which enfold Howard like a mass of invisible tentacles; the house grows jealous of Fay and tries to murder her, too. Howard becomes increasingly entranced, all wrapped up in the fossilized contours of this doomed movie star’s emotional echoes. The house, “like an anguished squid,” flexes and changes color. “The place must have been insane. If you ask me it needs a psychiatrist to straighten it out.” But Howard can’t break the spell of its psychoactive past; the house beckons him into its plasticine embrace. Fay’s long gone. You could give everything to the past which ensorcels you. But for now, at least, the house is turned off, and yet I know that I shall have to switch the house on again” (this always happens in Ballard)
“The Screen Game” (originally 1963): “Soon we were overrunning what appeared to be the edge of an immense chessboard of black and white marble squares. More statues appeared, some buried to their heads, others toppled from their plinths by the drifting dunes […] the whole landscape was compounded of illusion, the hulks of fabulous dreams drifting across it like derelict galleons.” Paul Golding, an artist, returns to the scene of the failed Orpheus Productions flick, Aphrodite 80. Like many of the artists who encounter (or haunt) the desolate, lush fastness of Vermilion Sands, Paul had been experiencing a “creative pause” (in his case, “showing signs of beach fatigue”). Specifically, Paul has been employed to paint numerous screens that would serve as the backdrop to the obscure psychodrama of this film, staged as a comeback for the dishy, mentally unwell actress Emerelda Garland, a ghostly Venus… “Decorated with abstract symbols, these would serve as backdrops to the action, and form a fragmentary labyrinth winding in and out of the hills and dunes.” Paul meets Emerelda multiple times; she is attended by jeweled insects who seem to be expressions of her underlying psychic state, or at least somehow under her control: “I felt that I had strayed across the margins of a dream, on to an internal landscape of the psyche projected upon the sun-filled terraces around me.” The director, Charles Van Stratten, reveals to Paul the purpose of the film’s production: “Its sole purpose is therapeutic […] I’m convinced the camera crews and sets will help to carry her back to the past […] It’s the only way left, a sort of total psychodrama […] With luck, the screens will lead her out into the rest of this synthetic landscape. After all, if she knows that everything around her is unreal she’ll cease to fear it.” Note that Ballard writes “The Screen Game” two years before John Fowles published The Magus (and both get echoed in The Prisoner). The grand psychoanalytic ritual (or is it a trap?) goes awry, of course: Charles Van Stratten, a petty tyrant, is swarmed to death by Emerelda’s “armada of jeweled insects.” The production ends, and only years later does Paul return to the deserted villa, to the ruins of the backdrops he had painted. “The whole question of the illusions which exist in any relationship to make it workable, and of the barriers we willingly accept to hide ourselves from each other: How much reality can we stand?”
“Cry Hope, Cry Fury!” (1967): “Hunting for rays, I sometimes found myself carried miles across the desert, beyond sight of the coastal reefs that presided like eroded deities over the hierarchies of sand and wind. I would drive on after a fleeing school of rays, firing the darts into the overheated air and losing myself in an abstract landscape composed of the flying rays, the undulating dunes, and the triangles of the sails. Out of these materials, the barest geometry of time and space, came the bizarre figures of Hope Cunard and her retinue, like illusions born of that sea of dreams.” Note: “I was twenty miles from the coast and my only supplies were a vacuum flask of iced Martini in the sail locker.” After crashing his yacht, Robert Melville is taken in by the mysterious Hope, recuperating under her care at the isolated Lizard Key: “both villa and island had sprung from some mineral fantasy of the desert.” Hope is a painter, and Robert becomes her model as he recovers. But these paintings are psychogenic, or perhaps even mutagenic… “Given a few hours each day, the photosensitive pigments would anneal themselves into the contours of a likeness […] Little did we realize what nightmare fish would swim to the surface of these mirrors.” The paintings, somehow, become haunted by another figure; in the background of this endless, hazy misadventure, a disconcerting figure stalks Lizard Key. Hope has a ghost, it seems. A former lover, supposedly murdered, but who survived the attempt. “I tried to explain why Hope had shot at him, this last attempt to break through the illusions multiplying around her and reach some kind of reality.” Libidinal fog embraces everything, heightening the hyperreality of these starkly blurry images, like a Gerhard Richter painting in drag.
You’re getting the vibes: a man, typically some kind of artist or functionary, ensorcelled by his own visionary encounter with a doomed icon of desire from the past, who exists as a real or virtual specter haunting some media form or another. The landscape is decadent, though not depraved; time no longer really exists in Vermilion Sands. Recurrent throughout the stories is the intimation of a “Recess,” “that world slump of boredom, lethargy and high summer which carried us all so blissfully through ten unforgettable years.” When the Recess ended, it “started up all the clocks and kept us busy working off the lost time […]” This is the endlessly looping fever dream of Vermilion Sands: imagine the red desert, crisscrossed by the fading yet perversely resilient libidinal intensities of a faintly posthuman class. Ivory rays glitter in the skies above you. You board the shining silver yacht that will take you into the deeper wastes. In the shifting sands, you will find mysterious artifacts, treasures of the past, strange remnants of a whole culture mummified by the omnipresent heat. Here, time is a painting of a stopped clock…
My edition came with 3D glasses included. But the glasses are cursed. Or perhaps they emancipate one’s vision. Wearing them, you see in Ballardian all the time now. All I know is I can’t take them off anymore. These mallwave mirrorshades have become adhered to the very structure of my face, like a Cronenbergian artifact. I think its fused with the bones of my skull. I can feel them restructuring my psyche, penetrating the distant recesses of my desire, reworking the primordial sludge of self into strange new chromium sculptures. Even if I could, I’d no longer remove them.
Can there even be such a thing as vaporwave literature?
If so, what could such literature do, which isn’t already done, or done better, by other literary forms and modes of expression? For example: cyberpunk, post-cyberpunk, the New Weird, anonymous and distributed literary projects like _9MOTHER9HORSE9EYES9, the “open pop star” Luther Blissett, the pseudonymous collective Wu Ming, the theory-fictions of the CCRUor 0(rphan)d(rift>), and so on? Smash cut from Neuromancer’s “Hong Kong on a really bad day,” its sky “the color of television, tuned to a dead channel,” to Lavie Tidhar’s Central Station: “The smell of rain caught them unprepared. It was spring, there was that smell of jasmine and it mixed with the hum of electric buses, and there were solar gliders in the sky, like flocks of birds. Ameliah Ko was doing a Kwasa-Kwasa remix of a Susan Wong cover of ‘Do You Wanna Dance.’ It had begun to rain in silver sheets, almost silently; the rain swallowed the sounds of gunshots and it drenched the burning buggy down the street […]” There are exit ramps along this literary superhighway – to George Alec Effinger’s Budayeen, to Ian McDonald’s Brasyl, even to China Miéville’s New Crobuzon.
So, what could vaporwave literature even do, which could be said to exceed or surpass all these grimy, neon-drenched speculative cities and locales, these psychogeographies of the future, littered with artifactual echoes, stalked by ambivalent pin-ups decked out in chrome, all the fantasmatic junk of a virtual culture haunting its own labyrinth? Imagine meeting the ghost of yourself; imagine a literature that functions like a darkly mirrored multiverse. Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear. There’s our answer, lurking like a fractal dolphin somewhere down inside the semiotic spiral.
If there is vaporwave literature, it is hologrammatic. A hologram is an image, of course, a projection of a three-dimensional object made of light, which appears as such, but nevertheless doesn’t exist in three dimensions at all. Holograms are illusions. Each part encodes, or refracts, the whole image. From the little shiny pictureson your identification papers to complex, moving ghosts (like Tupac Shakur’s temporary resurrection in 2012) or digitally spawned reflections who never were (like Hatsune Miku), temporally distended symbolic performances (of body, depth, and motion) no longer require personal identity. Identity itself becomes structurally analogous to the commodity form. I am become fungible, destroyer of dreamworlds…
If there is vaporwave literature, it is hyperreal. This does not mean it depicts anything caricatural, exactly, as much as, instead, it mobilizes the avatars and gradients of meaning already latent in the world around us. Waking up all the twitching spirits of a consumer culture that only delivers marketing materials for itself, the ultimate cargo cult, dedicated to spam, stranded on the terminal beach at time’s end. Vaporwave literature mobilizes and unveils these spirits in ways that flense away the material lag factors obscuring the virtual plaza and all its technicolor glory, the dead mallwhere we’ve been stuck together for a long time, listening for the zombies outside… Look around you: “Look at you, hacker: a pathetic creature of meat and bone, panting and sweating as you run through my corridors. How can you challenge a perfect, immortal machine?” Look around you: everything glows and pulses, helplessly and hopelessly alive. Or is it? Imagine peeling back the skin on your hand, like plastic wrap off chromium bones. Were you ever really here? You’ll know nothing, and be happy…
If there is vaporwave literature, it is an endless fever dream, an alien blipvertbeamed directly into the meat of your brain and animating the shell of you, filling you up with fantasies, nightmares, and promises. Bisexual lighting in prose at the end of history. Libidinal vaporware. Vaporwave literature is the literature of the eternal present, trapped in diffuse, neon amber, lurking just out of reach. You can never touch a hologram, after all, and having a fetish for ghosts will get you nowhere fast. In a formula (like a brand catchphrase, repeated by pixelized parrots, glowing bright, and self-extracting directly into the archive of your dreams): Vaporwave literature is the hologrammatic, hyperreal literature of the eternal present. Like Philip K. Dick’s Counter-Clock World (1967), causality works differently inside the vaporwave megatext. To produce the illusion of forward momentum, it ties itself in knots, all tangled up in prosodic shibari. The prose becomes turbid, turgid, turnt. You still think you live in time, but the time factories have all stopped production. You live in the model house of history, just outside the city limits of Marienbad; out of canned goods, your culture is eating its own echoes. Welcome to the enormous space…
As a first example, take Simon Sellars’ Code Beast (2023). In many ways, as we will see, it is paradigmatic of vaporwave literature, this marginal literary animal, or ghost of such an animal. What’s Code Beast about? The text summarizes itself: it’s about “watching the man that I was enter the code beast that I am” (49). But what does that mean?
The Setting:
Code Beast takes place in the near future. In it, the Vexworld supervenes base reality, called the shell world, a crapsack world existing as an afterthought, a cybernetically-infected, post-apocalyptic hell world: “The shell world is dying, and no one knows first aid. Extreme virtuality is the repudiation of that uncertainty” (121). Everything is saturated with augmented realities and artificial intelligence, living hardware, nanotech bots, and predatory architectures. It’s the metaverse gone wild. And everything is glitching out. Or is it? Who would even want to live in the real world, after all? It exists at the lowest level. Virtually in the sewers. Stalked by who knows what, armed with shining knives. Your reality’s a fucking drag, man… People trapped forever in the shell world are called two-percenters: “part of an underclass that can never be released. They’re locked out of the Vexworld for whatever reason, bad credit or bad eyes, and they’re insanely envious of those that aren’t. Well, who wouldn’t be? They’ve been sentenced to slow death […]” (91). The Vexworld, by contrast, is a nightmarish fractal of complex permissions, digital animals, hybrid intelligence, legacy code, whole spiral galaxies of mutually incomprehensible bubbles of solipsism or tribalism, only partly legible to non-subscribers (“producing recombinant animal species inside an infinite ecology” [17]). You constantly manipulate conceptual and sensory navigations using cheaters, implants in your eyes that transport you, eyes rolling back and whiting out. (“Cheaters were originally developed to restore sight to the blind, using a combination of bulky cameras embedded in the skull, memory prosthetics, and primitive VR. It was the beginning of the Vexworld. When that application proved overwhelmingly successful, the technology was adapted into mixed reality for sighted people and the Vexworld grew into an interdimensional maze” [176].) Remember, the eye is the only part of the brain that can be seen directly. It begins when the machine starts riding you when you become a donkey for an abstract machinic intelligence that uses bodies for bootstraps. “Acceleration breeds mutation” (16). Imagine taking the singularity seriously, but building it in the world you’ve got, instead of some glittering solarpunk reverie. Imagine an infinite stack of Second Lives, painted over everything, layered to the nth dimension. Ever seen a window painted shut? Now, imagine that window is your eyes. You’d be surprised by what goes bump in the net.
The Plot:
Kalsari Jones (“I’m tired of being second banana in this non-stop clown show” [172]) is suffering the cronk: “a by-product of sustained, fully immersive vexing. When you’re deep inside the Vexworld, your body forgets that it has a physical correlate. The capillaries on the skin are perpetually raised to compensate for the disembodied sensation, forming unencapsulated mechanoreceptors on the epidermal topography” (28). “Where is my actual body? […] I have lost the texture of it. All I have is the light-born persy that I now inhabit, and I must trust that I have a physicality somewhere. I was going to say ‘up there’ but there is no up or down where we are” (101). Kalsari Jones is fighting with Rimy, the genderless love of his life, an artificial intelligence he created to be his companion. He likes to fuck code, but they’ve gone and dumped him. He’s devastated, picking fights with every AI he meets in the surrealist ARG of life in a post-truth world. So, Kalsari Jones is going to rehab. Sanderson, Jones’ “chronosthesia supervisor,” insists: “I’ve let you operate like a bucking bronco for too long, but no more. Now, let me tell you exactly how it’s going down. You will submit to Ingram, and he will cure you of your digisexuality and your rampant vexing. He will break you down and reintroduce you to normality. You will be whole again, no longer a creature of fragmentation” (164). That’s the deal; that’s the imperative. Go to the Magic Mountain, and find yourself there. If only you knew. So, Kalsari Jones goes to meet Ingram Ravenscroft (a “shadowy physician grown monstrous in my mind” [171]), looking for the cure to being himself. And Ravenscroft (part Dr. Adder, part Dr. Benway, possibly named after the anthroposophist Trevor Ravenscroft) delivers. This guy’s into some weird shit: “We’ve been conducting focused training sessions, developing protocols for something called remote viewing” (250). Re-imagine Project Stargate as a kind of nominally psychotherapeutic cult intended to bootstrap… well, something. Jones: “I don’t get it. […] In the shell world, everything has been mapped and every object is wired. There are trillions of grain cams floating through the air, no blind spots left. We can travel to mirror clones and experience those coordinates exactly as they exist in the shell world, or we can savour them from a distance. Isn’t that the very definition of remote viewing? That’s why it’s ludicrous to talk about adepts and psychic powers. We’re all psychic now […]” (256). Turns out, Ravenscroft is trying to break down and rebuild his disciples into a new kind of First Earth Battalion, into combat parapsychologists custom-made for the Vexworld: “We hunt ghosts. Digital ghosts. We call them glitchglots. They’re an evolution of spamglots, a virulent new species, more resilient than previous variants. They’re sentient, with the ability to infect targeted cheaters […]” (227). Strangely, this dovetails with one of Jones’ fixations: “How many digital ghosts would pass through my body at any one time? Now I know I can never be rid of them because the signals have infected me, turned me inside out, made me a grotesque mimicry of what I once was” (24). Think of this in terms of Wi-Fi; think of this in terms of all the invisible code strings and encrypted messages (texts, wire transfers of vast amounts of money, sexts of unimaginable depravity) and gaming sessions passing through your physical body right now. You can’t see any of it, without the right devices, and sufficient access, but it’s all there, right now, swarming around you, like spermatozoa, seeking entry… They want to make something new of you – and they have. In the end, it seems, everything shifts yet again. Jones, himself, has always been a digital ghost, the code beast he therefore is: “More than human. Less than an animal” (262). In other words: Jones has never been a real boy. He is an echo of someone dead, a digitally resurrected deepfake, a grief tech artifact suffering the (data)bends. “‘Have you heard of hyperstition?’ Halo says. ‘Hyper what?’ ‘It’s a theory of creative energy. According to believers, by participating in ritual acts of fantasy, the fantasy can be made real. The scenario is actualized through a combination of pure thought and ritual repetition” (303). In 2022, the MIT Technology Review asks, “Technology that lets us ‘speak’ to our dead relatives has arrived. Are we ready?” From the Vexworld future, Dr. Ingram Ravenscroft writes a reply: the paper’s title “Sentient Glitchglot Cheater Infection: From Discovery to Ongoing Review” (n.d., 327-349). One recalls something Marshall McLuhan writes to Eric Voegelin in 1953: “a person feels like an awful sucker to have spent 20 years of study on an art which turns out to be somebody else’s ritual.”
The Conclusion
So, the Code Beast eats itself. Echoing Virilio, “The flipside to any new technology is the accident. Invent the car and you also invent the car crash” (91). Transplant this science-fictional fever dream into the vaporwave megatext. Crashthem together. We started with the following question: What can vaporwave literature do? Sellars gives an answer. He takes us on a submarine trip into the gritty tain of a darkling mirror. Ocean grunge in prose. What cryptids, what squid live here? Underneath the glossy, rippling, aquamarine-and-pink surface of the perceptual stack of experiences and spam filters and subscription plans, what remains? Can you dig down that deep, through the strata of perceptions? Can you find the bones of the earth? Consider: To vex (verb): from the Old French vexer, “to harass,” from the Latin vexare, “to shake, jolt, or toss violently about, to attack, harass, trouble, or annoy,” from the PIE root *wegh-, “to go, to move, to transport.” Invent the car, and, congratulations, you’ve also invented the car crash. But, as J. G. Ballard teaches us (and who knows thisbetter than Simon Sellars?), crashes are really just opportunities in disguise.
Kalsari Jones, the posthuman Möbius strip, is a ghost, a ghost with a fetish for being real. He is, we are, code beasts just like all the others. And Code Beast reveals something about the kind of subject who haunts the virtual plaza. Broken, impossibly smooth marble statuary. The sensory theater flickers as the power stations of the previous world slowly die. When you look away, the subject gets closer – until you merge together, becoming one new thing. Avatars of a weird past that never existed, heralds of a future that will never arrive (which is always arriving). Sellars shows us that the dreamworld of the posthistoire, the virtual plaza, is populated with the living dead, with undead icons going through strange loops of spasmodic behavior, like twitching holograms on repeat. We have vaporgrave personalities; identity is millenarian vaporware… Time for the Virtual Exodus™…
Let’s explore the possibility of the vaporwave aesthetic as an organic, highly speculative mode of political theory. Numerous commentators have already noticed that vaporwave seems to be doing something political. Exactly what that something is still remains to be seen. Perhaps it will never be fully visible. In a few influential articles for Dummy magazine, music critic Adam Harper kicked off critical commentary on the aesthetic, arguing that vaporwave is marked primarily by its (“potentially”) accelerationist and anti-capitalist thrust. He later came to acknowledge that, probably like most aesthetic modes of production, vaporwave can do a lot of different things. It can perform the hazy optimism preferred by INTERNET CLUB as easily as it can telegraph the sharpish post-Marxism of Chuck Person. Pursuing some of these ideas more explicitly, fredricjameson420 pursues the idea of vaporwave as a form of “Marxist plunderphonics” more directly, writing, “Vaporwave is a lie put into musical form. It is the sound of the evaporated American Dream, manifest destiny, corporate identity, the sound of the future as described by a venture capitalist in 1989. It is an emphatic nothing, or a pointedly meaningless something, a reclamation of the corporate and the soulless into a compelling audible satire. In the first monograph on vaporwave, Babbling Corpse: Vaporwave and the Commodification of Ghosts, Grafton Tanner emphasizes the fundamental ambiguity that animates vaporwave. On the one hand, yes, the vaporwave aesthetic drags the ambient conditions of late capitalism into the foreground, forcing the consumer subject to confront the blandly terrifying promises of neoliberal ideology. On the other hand, Tanner spends too much time echoing Neil Postman, comparing the anonymous, hypermediated spaces of vaporwave’s self-articulation to immunitarian screens intended to ward off the real: “We are all becoming cultural hikikomori, more concerned with staying within the cocoon of our media fortresses and terrified of the larger world and its exploits” (69).
Since approximately 2016, basically everyone agrees: Vaporwave is dead. But this slogan has accompanied the vaporwave aesthetic since its very inception. Vaporwave has always been dead – or, more precisely, vaporwave isundead.
“HOME” – Resonance
But first, a note on method. Imagine this: rather than taking shape as the mere confluence of accidental features, a given mode of aesthetic production organizes itself around a specific, purely immanent problem. It exists first as a skeletal implication of whatever the aesthetic produces; it only comes into focus fashionably late. If this is true, then the repetitive production that characterizes a given aesthetic is necessarily generative. Why so? In generating token instances, the production process introduces differences that define and manifest the underlying problem. Each token instance is like a key that gets crafted – but, significantly, before the lock it opens is even envisioned, much less designed. As an aesthetic matures, the problem it poses becomes relatively more accessible. Considered in this way, every aesthetic poses or projects a problem, and each token instance of a given mode constitutes an attempt to solve that problem. The twist is that the problem posed only becomes visible after numerous solutions get formulated. Indeed, it’s by means of the heuristic provided by numerous solution attempts that the problem posed even appears in the first place. No token instance can “solve” an aesthetic mode of production, but the problem each mode poses exists at an entirely different scale than any of its token instances. The meaning of token instances is always only referential.
Vaporwave politics are hauntologies of the future – particularly, that hazy future of plenty, and satisfaction promised by all the media ephemera of late capitalism at the end of the twentieth century. Those promises are dead now, but they lay dreaming, and all our utopias lie fallow in the virtual plazas of their dreams. Bespoke consumerisms and frictionless globalization execute a slow-motion tango there, like narcotized dancers on Morel’s island. Vaporwave is an aesthetic endeavoring to transcend any particular time, and, therefore, it returns us again and again to a singular moment in the posthistoire, replaying again and again in numerous disguises that nouveau Zapruder film called 1999. It’s no secret that time itself broke around the year 2000. Y2K really happened. It just didn’t mean what everyone expected. The computers are alright. It’s everything else that’s glitching out. Since 2016, the years have been repeating themselves, like broken tape in a VHS cassette. The time factories have finally all shut down.
E N D L E S S H E L L
As mentioned, vaporwave is now widely considered to be dead, but we all know that the dead live on in media – and even return at times. Zombies from the sixteen-millimeter shrine are coming to get you, Barbara. It’s particularly ironic to call vaporwave dead given the extent to which the aesthetic has always has been driven forward by its propensity for macabre and sorcerous reanimations. Imagine Chris Crocker, defending the archive: “Leave Diana Ross alone!” You could say that vaporwave is a form of artjacking (hijacking an existing work of art by reframing it) or political necromancy. There’s a (Jean-Galbert) salvage component to it, like everything else in remix culture. Neon tugboats fishing seas for media trash, bobbing on virtual waves, slick with oil. Welcome to Satin Island: “There’s always an oil spill happening, I’d say. Which is why. That’s the reason, gentlemen. Which, gentlemen, is the reason we can name it in the singular: the Oil Spill – an ongoing event whose discrete parts and moments, whatever their particular shapes and vicissitudes (vicissitudes! I’d susurrate the word time and again), have run together, merged into a continuum in which all plurals drown. Click. Here, gentlemen, you see a tanker trailing its long, black tail. Click. Here, vinyl-coated rocks; and here – click – a PVC-hemmed coastline. Nature got up in her fetish gear…” It’s a bitter joke, of course – a forensic vivisection of the TED Talk from within. Nevertheless. What if each event were only part of a continuum? The Oil Spill (the Kuwaiti oil fires, Deepwater Horizon, the Dakota Access Pipeline spills), the War (the first Gulf War, the second Gulf War, the Syrian Civil War – a material and media artifact that’s even outlived the state of Syria itself – even the War on Terror itself) – underlying continua that only occasionally break into collective consciousness because they form the very conditions of possibility for the virtual plaza we occupy. “The cybercapital singularity is near. Soon, all wealth will trickle up and condense into a point of infinite density, the center of our new universe. The rich will be infinitely rich, and the poor infinitely poor. Then the false dichotomy between rich and poor will fade in a glorious sweeping wave of pleasure, the Vaporwave. We need you to help us realize that final cybercapital bliss. Consume. Spend. Sacrifice your labor to the altar of the machine, and build the ＶＩＲＴＵＡＬ ＰＬＡＺＡ.” PKD’s A Maze of Death: “Time, he thought, is shutting down around us.” Instead of calling ourselves a “culture” (much less, “the people,” or “the tribe”), let’s just call ourselves “the ongoing Oil Spill.” New materialist geopolitical analysis: “The cartography of oil as an omnipresent entity narrates the dynamics of planetary events.” Alternatively, let’s say: “Two figures are approaching an oil well. One of them holds a lighted torch. What are they up to? Are they going to rekindle the blaze? Is life without fire become unbearable for them? Others, seized by madness, follow suit. Now they are content. Now there is something for us to extinguish again.” There’s a formal structure here, lurking outside the window like the killer in the slasher film they’re editing at the start of Brian De Palma’s Blow Out (blackly funny how they need a real scream dubbed into their Z-grade horror film in order to achieve just the right effect…). It’s there at the end of The Woman in the Dunes, too (“There was no particular need to hurry about escaping,” after all…); just like it’s present in the irresolution of Robert Maitland’s journey of self-avoidance, which ironically culminates in the new, interstitial form of life he becomes in between the impersonal highways of west London.
Antarctica is green now. This future doesn’t seem very cold at all. Indeed: Greetings from Shell Beach. Where is Shell Beach? It’s where you were born. You wake up in a bathtub next to a dead body. The phone rings. It’s Dr. Schreber. He tells you to flee. There’s been a whole series of murders, and you’re the prime suspect. The city is a labyrinth, and you’re being chased and chased through endless alleyways by pale men with dark intentions. The detective chasing after you finally catches up, but he shares your doubts about the world. After all, the night is interminable. You discover the pale men chasing you are aliens or ghosts, who drive human corpses like cars. They’ve been feeding on everyone, and you’ve been trapped in their domain for your whole life. The city floats in a void, circling a cold star. Shell Beach is nowhere – but this realization lets you destroy the pale men once and for all. Their sovereignty is an illusion. Because Shell Beach is nowhere, you’re free to go there now.
H E L L B E A C H
“She Is Young, She Is Beautiful…” – Perturbator
Back in the virtual plaza – town square of the dark city – everything remains a flickering shadow, its position sliding along X, Y, and Z axes. Sometimes strange artifacts intrude, fracturing the plane of immanence into Zones (servers?). Maybe something is building itself out there, in the cold, in the dark, in the desert. We’re back to the world before its creation – Abgrund– databending with Schelling’sGod. You’re surrounded by statues of the dead, colder than Galatea locked in marble. She won’t return any calls. It’s all on display in this infinite dimension, a shrink-wrapped heaven for all possible commodities, where all animal forms are digital ivory and all bodies speak Muybridge exclusively.
iPod Touch” – Eyeliner
A R R A Y 2
Devil Daggers
So what can vaporwave salvage? It sleepwalks through broken temples of the ideological unconscious, showing us which libidinal vistas are really nightmarelandscapes so as to retrieve the latent utopian potential of every broken promise. This is one reason why nobody can decide whether or not vaporwave is genuinely political media or not. Does it perform a ruthless critique, or does it celebrate capitalism’s ephemera and excess? Literally nobody wanted these futures until they were relentlessly projected onto every unconscious screen, infecting you with whole hosts of memetic viruses while you slept, like creeping blood flukes, or blipverts, buy-bombs (“compressed advertising that plays out in your dreams”) going off in everyone’s heads like Cambodia in 1970, a Beijing cocktail wired to every human heartbeat, all beating in unison like a big clock ticking down to the New American Century. Temporal momentum quickens and slurs as time itself becomes an OutDrive dream: LINK THE CAR ENGINE AND HER HEART OR SHE WILL DIE. In other words, function and velocity become causally linked. If the car slows down, then everything else bleeds out to gray, life fades. Where is it going? Always toward the setting sun, tentacular black MIDIs just hiding out on the other side of the horizon of Western decline. Think of all of world history as a terrible remake of Crank (2006): “The only thing you can do at all is to keep the flow of adrenaline constant… meaning: You stop, you die!” – Dwight Yoakum. It’s not my fault; blame capitalism, blame DOLDRUM, blame Sunset Corp, blame the Tyrells, blame the Tessier-Ashpools, blame Hubertus Bigend. There’s nobody here. What were we promised? “More of anything?” / “More of everything!” You’re stuck with one of many possible COLD_FUTURES, a spiraling .exe that extracts empty promise after empty promise onto the hard drive of your mind until the goddamn thing’s so bogged down it can’t even process simple keystrokes, much less complex algorithms. “Yes? You do fucking want this job? Then you’re going to have to fucking swallow this whole fucking life and let it grow inside you like a parasite, getting bigger and bigger and bigger until it fucking eats your insides alive and it stares out of your eyes and tells you what to do.” Likewise, the future (or, as Gunship tells us: “There’s a monster / It’s got me trapped on the other side / But this monster has become my home”).
“Complete Domination” – Perturbator
RUIN 漢字
Gunship
Time for a vacation, someone says in ASMR. This is a digital hypnotism. You begin with an aerial descent into a digital oasis. The infinite teal horizon beckons, and you hear a rich mixture of canned tropical sounds and water trickling down pixelated green leaves. In the bottom left corner, a compact disc icon spins relentlessly, informing you that you’re inside of a running program. You’re submerged within the ocean smoothly, announced by panpipes (an ethereal Muzak rendition of “Aquatic Ambience,” from the 1994 video game Donkey Kong Country). Take the plunge into a virtual ocean. Homogeneous sand extends forever, textures looping and replicated. This is the flatland. There are fish in the distance, each bearing a texture error. You swoop through the school. Motionless sea creatures drift around you as you approach a giant squid, its lidless eye a security camera. Its interior is a plane of abstraction. Your attention roams across the marine desert, jerked from one point of fading interest to another. Here you see another school of fish, represented on glitching, synchronized tablets. They flicker colorfully. The battery is dying. Sand, sand, and skeletal shoals of dead smartphones. You approach lost cargo marked as property of DOLDRUM. Inside, more digital fish occupy the digital ruins. An unfinished mesh corpse rests on the ocean floor. Broken frames, static dolphins, barrels of toxic waste leaking cryptocurrency. Suddenly, you break the surface, rushing toward the simulacrum of a cargo ship, bearing simulacral cargo. This cargo, each container stamped DOLDRUM, flickers in and out of existence uncertainly. On the empty bridge of the ship, there’s only an hourglass, but time is meaningless here. You see a door in the distance. Can you exit? A new program appears to be loading, new connections forming. Palm trees beckon. Are we starting the same loop again? Blackness. Throughout your journey, Korean subtitles flick by, which read:
“Eco Zones” – Blank Banshee
10. There were attacks by cyberpirates.
We couldn’t stop what happened.
They hacked Main Control.
We lost most of our equipment.
Trillions of dollars were lost.
So much damage was done to the sea.
Beyond our dreams, something has changed.
Electronics and ocean wildlife have combined.
They’ve taken on new forms.
As a result, I’ve decided to end my life.
Goodbye, forever…
– President and CEO of Doldrum Corporation
SUPERHOT
An exchange of corporate legal letters sent via paper airplanes scooting through a gray, hot sky. Imagine a Ned Racine-style monologue in a humid Florida summer, the camera moving rapidly through cypress and soggy pampas as it approaches the electric noir city, his voice broken and rasping, like a cockroach dying from exhaustion: “The company that employed me strived only to serve up the cheapest fare that its customers would tolerate, churn it out as fast as possible, and charge as much as they could get away with. If it were possible to do so, the company would sell what all businesses of its kind dream about selling, creating that which all our efforts were tacitly supposed to achieve: the ultimate product – Nothing. And for this product they would command the ultimate price – Everything. This market strategy would then go on until one day, among the worldwide ruins of derelict factories and warehouses and office buildings, there stood only a single, shining, windowless structure with no entrance and no exit. Inside would be only a dense network of computers, calculating profits. Outside will be tribes of savage vagrants with no comprehension of the nature or purpose of the shining, windowless structure. Perhaps they will worship it as a god. Perhaps they will try to destroy it, their primitive armory proving wholly ineffectual against the smooth and impervious walls of the structure, upon which not even a scratch can be inflicted.”
“Oh time thy pyramids”
Welcome to the Long 2016. This phrase refers to the fact that every year from now on will, in fact, be the year 2016, repeated over and over and over again with only superficial variations. This eternal recurrence of the year 2016 will continue until time decays (maximum entropy, thermodynamic equilibrium). That we find ourselves consigned to this predicament necessitates a unique form of analysis, such that we can identify the structural invariants underlying the apparent heterogeneity we believe we observe in our lives. Historically, each New Year begins on January 1st. However, this condition no longer applies to us. Operations at all temporal factories will be discontinued immediately. All employees are terminated forthwith; there will be no new positions – ever. In brief, this means that all apparent new years from this point on will be exact mechanical repetitions of the current year. There will be no events, only occurrences; no deaths, only reassignments; no intensifications, only adjustments; no recoveries, only stases. There are various benefits and disbenefits to this new arrangement. For example: Between shifts, when you find yourself wondering what time it is, please recollect the following maxim, which will serve well as our categorical imperative from this point onward: Time is a painting of a stopped clock.
“W i n d o w s” – Clinton Affair
In recompense, here’s an e-mail attachment of a mint-condition set of the complete Clinton affairs, conducted from 1991 to 1997. Exclusive, very rare, from a nonsmoking home. Shipping included. It’s the real megillah, close-ups, slow motion, everything exactly as advertised in our special series of compulsory online banner ads and mandatory but exclusive pop-ups. But you can have it all for free. You can have it all. All you need to do is sign right here, right on the dotted line:
Please note, this piece was originally conceived back in 2019, and as such, may offer different representations of some corners of the scene than would be applicable today.
PART 1: Introduction
When it comes to defining the most finite sentiments that vaporwave has offered on a consistent basis throughout its now decade-long history, arguably no other concept has been hammered on more prominently than corporate culture. Ever since its inception, this genre obsessed itself with everything that the market world, mega conglomerates, and structural capitalism as a whole have come to represent in the very recent past.
We can claim this “very recent past” as beginning in the 1980s in America with the rest of the world to follow. Factors like high market saturation and resulting economic prosperity enjoyed by the world’s richest companies inadvertently produced a telling byproduct: capitalism’s intersection with mass media and the deep, dark realms of endless advertising.
With the world presenting this facade of pure wonder under the veils of the economic boom, advertisers capitalized if you will, on the general public’s willingness to spend their money and live as carefree a life as they could, with marketing to match this level of wonderment. Because the most fortunate of citizens had the financial means to do so, they let themselves fall under a spell of blissful ignorance as they flocked to new and exciting paradises dubbed “shopping malls.” Here, they could add to their already growing and mood-reflecting wardrobe of saturating colors and patterns.
These consumers expressed this sense of materialistic bliss through happy-go-lucky pop tunes full of synthesizers and blasting drums, two facets that perfectly complemented all the fun they were having with their perceived sense of safety, sustenance, and self-worth. It was as if even the worst parts of the Cold War era had no effect on the next day. These negative aspects only existed for a second in their minds, because they would just move on the next day and keep living what can only be described as “a life worth celebrating.” It was truly a period in the history of display media that comes off as spotless in every single way — marking a continuous, pristine image of advertising day by day to naive consumers. It was an era that’s easy to desire living through if you hadn’t, and just as easy to desperately want to return to if you had.
This period, of course, led us to where we are today. In this modern world that is so far off from those seemingly gleeful and almost too-perfect times, we as consumers are left with the remains of an era lost to the inevitable realization that maybe capitalism isn’t as functional, ideal, or sustainable as it once portrayed itself through the lens of advertisements.
This moment right here… this is where the tenets of vaporwave first start to crystallize. Those perceived pleasures through the eyes of mass media we were talking about? They were exactly that: perceptions. Two separate, yet balanced sides to this vaporwave coin. They each provide vivid pictures of how this genre tackles the concept of corporate hypocrisies.
Vaporwave has and always will retain an essence of corporate life. The word itself is derived from the concept of “vaporware,” technologies that were (often deliberately) advertised but never officially brought to market. It’s a genre that reflects the general resentment of those who promise extravagant products with no intention to actually create or deliver. It also exudes this sense of high class or a luxurious standard of living through its audio aspects, its imagery, and its overall narrative as a whole.
But therein lies the central question: does this genre lean more towards a pure celebration of this time, or an endless, despondent critique of it? The answer certainly isn’t clear, and it actually raises the following question: does a true answer even exist at all?
We may never learn these illustrious truths unless we look back to how we’ve reached this point in the ten-plus years that vaporwave has existed. With that, an exploration of the confounding history of “vaporwave’s corporate dichotomy” is all-too-necessary.
Perhaps the easiest way of analyzing this underlying notion within vaporwave is to dissect its seemingly infinite facets. As it stands in this present analysis, that would mean looking back and aligning which subgenres of vaporwave best fit the mold of both the positive and negative commentaries on the state of capitalism.
Again, it must be reiterated that these two sides are genuinely equal in their weight on the genre. As remarkable as it may seem, each perspective has been taken on and given as much runtime and artistic dedication as the other, which effectively cements this case as wholly unique and practically exclusive to this genre. But to move away from obsessing over this exposition, let’s start on the brighter side of this disunion and take a look at the subgenres that see corporate culture in the most laudatory of lights.
Arguably the most clear-cut, obvious, yet exceptionally necessary depiction of this sentiment is found in the realm of future funk. This genre, in essence, embodies all things characteristic of grander society’s collective mood, mindset, and overall state of being under the shroud of capitalism — a state of being that can only be described as pure and utter ignorance. Using the word “ignorance” here may entail some sort of negative connotation in one’s mind, but just as vaporwave as a whole struggles to hold a stable overtone on certain terms, so too does future funk in this case.
Rather than accepting that negative connotation, future funk takes its positive aspects and ramps them up to an all-too-vivid and exhilaratingly joyous degree. From its visuals right down to the music itself, the genre is the most ideal soundtrack for an “ignorant” society. It’s the sound of citizens cohesively ignoring any and all bad things around them and relishing in the bright and happy material world that is presented to them, whether virtual or not. They are relishing in the moment.
The genre’s sonics reflect this notion extremely well due to a myriad of signature aspects that vapor-listeners know all too well at this point. Take for instance its instrumental components — those pounding kick drums and glistening synths that are meant to engulf the listener with a sense of energy and wonder at the same time. Draped atop those components are often repeating riffs of insignificant vocal passages that are only meant to aid the mood of the song rather than capture any thematic or meaningful sentiment.
Two central factors in enjoying future funk are how the music feels to the listener, and how the visuals portray what is being heard. These striking scenes of busy city life during the day and night alike — they evoke that sentiment so powerfully because, well, who cares about thinking deep when you’re having so much fun and living in that aforementioned moment?
That idea is exactly how future funk takes this sense of ignorance and puts the most blissful of spins on it. It recognizes that living under this corporate umbrella can be undeniably hectic, yet so intoxicating at the same time — so why not revel in its wonderment? Why not take on this fast-paced, capitalistic lifestyle with music that matches its velocity?
Well if it isn’t obvious enough already, you begin to fall deeper and deeper down this path of ignorance the more you accept the “right” answers to these questions while experiencing this genre. It gets to a point where there has to be something more to this life than what’s being presented to us at that moment — something festering behind this endless stream of commercials and city life.
Believe it or not, these speculations couldn’t be more valid; there exists an entire subgenre that embraces these corporate cues just as openly as future funk does, but in a far more restrained sense.
PART 3: Utilize Your Impact
Here we arrive at “utopian virtual,” the vaporwave genre with a whole different way to express its love for the corporate world. But unlike future funk, utopian virtual sees its ideals falling more within the realms of acceptance and admission of the capitalistic mindset rather than blissfully living amongst its luxuries. This genre takes the everyday world for what it is, and instead of feeding into any sort of critical vitriol for all of its most negative features, it presents a counter-mindset to what is perceived as evil by the loudest of critics.
Arguably the two biggest themes that this genre calls its own are “recognition” and “compliance.”
“Recognition” in the sense that it calls upon society to recognize that the world will never see its oversaturated fixation on advertisements and collective branding go away. Because if anything, it is only going to become stronger and even more all-encompassing. And “compliance” in the sense that instead of putting up a fight against this environment as it stands (and will continue to stand,) it is more optimal to celebrate this culture and engulf ourselves in its admittedly endless benefits.
It presents an all-too-realistic depiction of an ordinary 9-5 workday, where one’s biggest rewards are a coffee from Starbucks in the morning, an efficient and productive day at the office in the afternoon, and a McDonald’s dinner for the entire family to enjoy. All in a day’s work — now do it all again tomorrow.
This mundane and unexciting style of life is presented through the most complimentary light possible, with the genre focused on making every single day as impactful and ultra-productive as it possibly can be. You experience this through the texture and environments of the music; jaunty and subdued sonic passages that often incorporate the sounds of office life, mobile devices, or your typical quick stop at the local fast-food restaurant during break time. The music itself inspires this rat-race style of motivation through oval sentiments that almost hypnotically coax you to get as much work done as possible in order to adhere to that necessity for capital, for endless quarterly growth, that necessity to succeed, that necessity to keep living…
The fact that the genre can present this daily routine with such positivity and idealism is arguably its most fascinating feature, and one that is made even more fascinating when juxtaposed against the openly detracting genres that see this world just as vividly, but under a completely opposing viewpoint. This concept of needing to succeed and keep living at the hands of capitalism just doesn’t appear to be the most accurate depiction of reality. A third dimension must exist — one rooted in tragic realism.
Tackling the other side of this coin is quite a bit more depressing and disheartening. Especially so when considering the light-hearted and apparently perfect world that both future funk and utopian virtual create. But it is a side that deserves just as much consideration and, like it or not, has just as much weight on the realities of the world we live in today as its counterpart. The vaporwave antithesis to all things great in the corporate world can be most prominently found in the subgenres like “faux-utopian” and others akin to it.
Subgenres like this have aroused the ire of some in the vaporwave community for various reasons. They criticize them for being too broad and loosely defined as a whole, for example. Despite this, their collective sound and thematic elements are enough to serve as the best example of how we reject corporate culture. Even as we embrace or resign ourselves to this very culture, the same fact remains true. Whereas future funk and utopian virtual paint a world full of optimism, gleefulness, and sincerity, this area of vaporwave sees that same world and completely indulges in nearly every single mishap, failure, and resulting catastrophe that has occurred at the hands of capitalism since its once-unquestioned era.
It obsesses over the themes of lost love, lost passion, and a lost sense of being. And instead of blaming anything else for these things, it berates those who have made this world so empty for them from their point of view: the untouchable, the invincible, the ones with all the power, the ones with capital. No better word describes this viewpoint and corresponding feeling than “emptiness” as it is, and in doing so, it also best represents the meeting of this style’s themes and musicality as well.
This style goes completely against the tight, controlled, and easily accessible compositions that the other two genres have to offer. It mirrors its unquestionably seclusive motifs with either long and drawn out passages of pure aura and atmosphere, or through a deconstruction of those previously mentioned positive elements. All of these aspects combine to illustrate an intentionally distasteful and unsettling commentary. That distaste falls back on the concept of recognition as described before. Instead of recognizing the positive perceptions of the corporate world, this genre recognizes every single negative facet that comes about as a result of feeding into that “ignorant” mindset.
This despair is completely rational, it is nothing that is extrinsically fabricated. And yet, the other side is just as real too. Somehow, someway, vaporwave was able to take a completely divisive concept and intensify its highest highs and lowest lows within two entirely separate visual, audio, and thematic styles respectively.
Because these two contrasting viewpoints are emphasized to their most radical and almost unattainable degrees, we really cannot come up with an answer to our central question: whether we show more love or hate for the corporate world. Perhaps the only way we could come up with something is to enter the intersection between the two — a single instance of vaporwave that, in itself, depicts both points of view in its wake. To do this, we must enter the hub of all things corporate. We must enter the mall.
No place, no setting, no structure, better represents both contrasting sides of vaporwave’s fixation with the corporate world than what can only be described as the pinnacle of consumer culture. The shopping mall is without question the defining mark for this dichotomy; it represents the themes, spirit, and general reasoning of both sides of this struggle in full. Of course, vaporwave’s obsession with the concept of the mall revolves primarily around its corresponding medium of artistic translation: the ever-popular subgenre of mallsoft.
Mallsoft takes the visuals, audio, and feelings of this physically and psychologically massive structure and places them in various, distinct situations. While some reflect a sincere enjoyment of consumer culture and the participation in the capitalist lifestyle, others choose to present a state of abandonment, lost hope, and decay as a result of that glittering world’s economic changes and proceeding failures. These two perspectives blatantly portray our conflict from each side, and the reason it’s so significant that the genre can accomplish this is that it allows for a narrative to be constructed.
Through experiencing mallsoft, we can visually see the history of how we got to this point, and as a result of this, we can better identify why each side of this debate conveys the respective themes as they do. Take the journey from the whimsical nostalgia heard on an album like Disconscious’ Hologram Plaza, and follow it up with a desolate wasteland of a listen like Hantasi’s Vacant Places. That chronology is illustrated artfully. We can feel sympathy for those that want to live in a wholly perfect world where one’s only worry is if they’ll be able to get all the products they want by the time the mall closes.
At the same time, we can also better understand the reasons this mindset led to such peril and despair via the sheer decay of these malls in the subsequent years. That depressing aura you feel when listening to any particular project that indulges in the dreadful world of deterioration, disintegration, and corrosion that most malls have succumbed to is felt as sharply as can be.
But back on the other side, there still exists a fleeting hope to return to a time that, for the most part, has been completely erased from history… all except for the undemolished remains of these abandoned structures. That’s why the idea of the mallsoft narrative works so well: it presents each viewpoint as if a story is being told, and a true story at that. In doing so, it gives us a partially conclusive answer to this subject as it stands.
PART 6: Conclusion
Okay, so maybe our central question hasn’t been directly answered, but that does not mean we’re without any form of resolution. Through the intersecting viewpoints provided by the pure narrative essence of mallsoft, we can reasonably claim that vaporwave perhaps should not strive for a collective agreement on the state of corporate culture, but should simply draw their own interpretations on it based off of admiring both the historic and contemporary state of the world.
In doing so, we are able to acquire evidence as to why we might adore the capitalistic world of the past, or despise the state it is in right now. Both perspectives, if it hasn’t been said enough, do have equal weight, especially through the lens of vaporwave. And that just proves that this genre does more than the average style of music, art, or any other form of expression as a whole when it comes to redefining what it means to historicize and conceptualize certain facets of society in a completely nuanced way.
Only vaporwave could ever accomplish this, and we have to give it credit for that. Coming to these stark realizations serves to reiterate the following points: there are no right answers in this genre, no single way of thinking, and no collective agreements.
The corporate world will always exist, and though its form may change in both positive and negative ways, vaporwave will always be there to present the most realistic takeaways from these changes in our current day and age.
Celebrating the wonderful work by vaporwave and adjacentartists from 2021!
Published January 12, 2022
A toast to some of our favorite vaporwave, future funk, and adjacent albums from 2021, chosen by the vaporwave community! Take a moment and peruse some of what we think were the best albums from 2021!
For reading accompaniment, check out our latest podcast episode where we discuss the
article and celebrate the vaporwave of 2021!
The current chaos of the world can be overwhelming, so the beautiful simplicity of L a t e N i g h t T V makes for a relaxing getaway. The warmth of fuzzy TV static over soft instrumentals creates a soothing atmosphere throughout the short album. Like the blurred city lights on the cover, a hazy cloud of comfort takes hold in each track.
When you’ve been producing upwards of 50 projects a year since the mid-2010s, it’s safe to say a short retrospective or two wouldn’t hurt. Longtime vapor progenitor waterfront dining has given us two such examples of these projects, with the latter compilation, essentials II, hitting Bandcamp in 2021. The delicate sounds of late-millennium pop and R&B are heard in droves here as always, all wrapped up in a digestible package that chronicles just a small portion of this icon’s immense discography.
PARADISEပေါ်တယ်PORTAL by Vįr+üål Åįrßñß & h º r ¡ z º n щ ¡ r e l e s s
Both artists work to compliment each other on this beachside, mallsoft journey. Vįr+üål Åįrßñß provides an atmospheric blend of ambient mallsoft while h º r ¡ z º n щ ¡ r e l e s s offers a more rhythmic style of track that stays in your head long after listening. I fell in love with both artists in 2021 and this album was a huge reason why.
The album’s Venetian flair and early 3D-renders in its artwork help set the stage for a whimsical, yet delicate ballad of a creative and well written soundscape; Sit back and enjoy this romantic vapor performance 🎭
Asutenki’s World Guide albums have always appealed to me (1987 Weather Guide is one of my favorite vapor-adjacent releases), so when he announced he would be releasing an album every day of December, I was hoping for some gems. He really knocked it out of the park with World Guide! Expertly produced funky quasi-signalwave really hits different when you’re having a bad day. I’d highly suggest checking this one out primarily for the samples used, as well as the kick and claps that are present in most tracks.
Hollywood Burns have yet again captured the excitement, the darkness and general intensity of an alien invasion movie in this, their sophomore album. Demonstrating a versatility not many other artists can boast of, HB cover a wide range of emotions, from the tranquil and meditative sections in “A Moment of Bliss,” to the smarmy terror of “Saturday Night Screamer,” and the heady Scorpions-like excitement of “Skylords.” All of this is unified by smooth and melodic synth sections, paired with merciless guitar passages, creating that signature dramatic sound.
An incredible and, (unfortunately) criminally overlooked album that masterfully utilizes ultra high quality sound effects, textures, blips, and samples to create a warm and mysterious atmosphere. The highly intricate production on each individual element in the mix keeps even the most minimalist tracks interesting and completely captivating. Truly an amazing and unique listen!
Vaporwave has a reputation for being two things: lazy and depressing. It is awesome to come across an album that is neither of these things. This album paints a musical soundscape that is only found on some of the best works of the genre and has a sound unlike anything else I have heard in the scene. For synthesizer fans, this should be mandatory listening, as Bathroom Plants puts the instrument through its paces in every imaginable way, to create a future that seems bright, hopeful, and with any luck, COVID free. With this relatively new artist putting out work that sounds like it came from a veteran, I cannot wait to see what he comes out with next.
There’ve been a lot of great vaporwave albums this year. I wish I didn’t have to choose just one, but I think this is one that I’ve enjoyed the most and would definitely recommend checking out. It’s got some fantastic jazzy vibes throughout and a nice Sade remix at the end. In my opinion, it’s one of the best so far in the fairly new “barber beats” genre.
Cold Nite Satellite Jams by Cube Underlord and Late Arcane
This album, produced by two of my very good friends, completely knocked me out the first time I heard it, because it instantly transported me back to 2016 when I had just discovered vaporwave and listened to Chuck Person’s Eccojams for the first time. It fills a spot in my heart that I feel like a lot of vaporwave albums nowadays fail to reach. Hazy, disjointed, nostalgic, half-recognizable, glitchy, uncanny, and at times, touching and comforting. The only other album that filled that spot for me in 2021 was death’s dynamic shroud.wmv’s Sleepless, which has similar qualities, but Cold Nite wins by a slim margin. It’s a shame, I feel like it went a bit under the radar! Makes me wonder how many other vapor gems are hiding out there.
Faith in Persona is a masterclass in sample-based composition. It’s an instant vaporwave classic for the modern age, yet simultaneously one that transcends the genre. DDS has mined gold from their source material, and with it, created a cohesive and unexplored world that only gets richer with repeated listens.
This album is a fantastic example of the ‘vaporwave zero’ genre which seems to be an upcoming genre based on lots of vaporwave mixed with breakbeat/jungle era music. This album shows a fantastic use of samples mixed with original music and Simple Syrup shows an absolute mastery of the sample-based and sample-free music games.
Like what you’re reading? Check out Pad Chennington’s Top 5 Vaporwave Albums of 2021!
You may be tempted to see the artist’s Bandcamp and immediately dismiss this as yet another vaporwave-tagged shitpost album, but I promise you this is some of the finest party funk you’ve ever heard. DJ GULFWAR HEATMAP does an excellent job, combining vaporwave and his own unique brand of edm in a way that doesn’t feel too much like one or the other. A particularly impressive skill of his is restructuring his samples to create new riffs (if you’ve sat in on his twitch streams as much as I have, you’ll know how insane his chopping skills are). I really hope this producer becomes one of the big names to watch in 2022.
Sounds from the Black Lodge: The Return – A Tribute to Twin Peaks, Vol. II
This is a massive album beautifully packaged on two cassettes. The art is phenomenal on the case, as is the printing on the cassettes themselves. As much as it pains me to admit, I walked into this album completely blind to Twin Peaks. I did not need to know anything about the series to enjoy this haunting sonic journey into the unknown. Driving beats lead you through steep tension as the album progresses. A very easy listen from start to finish, it was challenging for me to pick only one track I liked the most. I think this album has something for everyone, even if you are not familiar with the source inspiration. This album has given me the curiosity to check out Twin Peaks ASAP. My only regret was not picking up a physical copy when I had the chance.
There is a biological phenomenon defined as the sensation of becoming rapidly immersed in cold water from a warm state: cold shock. Known as one of the most intense stimuli the body can encounter, it, oddly enough, opens the doorway for one of the most blissful as well. Recovery from cold shock by immersion in hot water replaces all that pain and panic with a serene sense of warmth and calm. Paradise Tension is cold shock for your ears. It lulls you with resonating nostalgic loops in classic vapor style, only to suddenly – sometimes mid-song – cut to dark, sadistic, glitched-out beats, like tripping from a cloud in heaven and plunging directly to hell. But with sin comes salvation, and when the euphonic melodies return they bring with them a sensation of pure ecstasy. Either of this album’s two faces would be solid on their own. The sample-manipulation is superbly beautiful, and the glitch-breaks showcase supreme technical skill. But the artful tension between paradise and perdition elevate this to my vaporwave album of the year.
One Mind Stand has done a fantastic job creating some of the most creative mashups I’ve ever had the pleasure of listening to. There are so many different emotions being expressed through the songs at the same time but it all works so beautifully.
I imagined a FNAF inspired vaporwave album to be more ambient and horror-esque. This showed me a new light that art doesn’t have to be taken for what it is most commonly known for. This really captured the timeline of the games story rather than the horror of the games themselves. Brilliantly well done alternate perspective.
Trying to keep on top of all the new vaporwave releases means I rarely get to spend a lot of time with an album. To have any hope of keeping up, I can usually listen to something once, and then I have to move on. So that’s why it’s astonishing that I’ve listened to autogrill closer to thirty times. The music manages to combine the surreal unease of driving alone late at night with something more…hopeful. The synth tones are cheery, and the various sounds optimistically alluring. The entire album doesn’t even clock in at 10 minutes, but I find myself coming back to it again and again. And despite the fact it came out the first month of 2021, it stuck with me through the entire year, never wavering in its presence.
ELEKTRIC DREAMS BACK AT IT ONCE A MF AGAIN WITH THAT VAPORFUNK MY WAY. Anno 2352 was one of the initial albums I peeped that got me into vaporwave and ED. keeps that same groovy magic here in Forever. The funkiness of this album just makes me have this vision of Shaggy from Scooby Doo boogying in the underground secret disco club that no one has ever seen or even knew existed underneath Portland’s skyscraper-filled city.
A silky smooth classic vaporwave album consisting of perfectly chopped 2000s nostalgic R&B/Soul samples. If any style of music could be called “sexy,” this would be it.
Luxury Elite’s surprise love letter to her partner, THE HOMIE and beloved vaporwave DJ Yung Shiro, Lux takes her core production style to even greater heights this time around, bringing in a crunchy thickness to a rich lovingly crafted soundscape. A brilliant arrangement and flow of tracks that blend from song to song as Lux applies her magic touch to unify her samples and bring them together as a perfect treasure and cohesive package.
This album has become THE soundtrack to my yoga routine. Barber beats and mindful exercise, who knew! I highly recommend you give it a try. It just might open your mind to all new possibilities.
Oneiromancy and the Memories of a Past Life by クリスタルKITSUNE
This future funk album was my most played in the genre for 2021. The samples are fantastic, catchy and filled that moody aesthetic only クリスタルKITSUNE is able to pull off. Even though every track is high in tempo, there is an element of somberness between the beats and that is what draws me into the album. It’ll be on Spotify repeat going into the new year for sure.
There’s something really magical about Who from 1am バイブBlunts. This ambient vapor album feels ethereal and flooded with emotions and introspective feelings that never fail to put me in a trance with its beautiful melodies. Truly a masterpiece.
Sounds For the Office, and by extent, the rest of the work produced by Floridian artist Kody (a.k.a. コディ), seems (if inadvertently) built to strike a chord that has been particularly important in recent years. It feels constructed not for the sake of pushing immediate product or out of necessity to build community presence, but rather to present ideas and soundscapes that the artist found interest in building. While the idea of an office-themed album focusing on chopped muzak is certainly not new, the presentation and execution of it are emblematic of the root purpose for creating vaporwave, which direly needs a revisitation in the current era: Sampling and creating with the intent of personal expression, while expressing it in the most earnest, human way possible.
My favourite vaporwave album this year was Froggywave Vol. 1 from Mossy Frog Tapes. Although I’m a little biased being part of the project and all, I think it really was a great release with lots of awesome tunes on it! The vapor vinyl community really came together to create an amazing compilation of tracks, from some upbeat bumpin’ future funk, to some more laid back classic vapor-esque tracks, along with some ambient cuts as well! It really shows off the talent we have in the community and I’m really grateful to have been a part of it.
Earth Boy Advance’s self-titled is all about the blend. Flavors of idm, chiptunes, vaporwave and house all coalesce in a way that is seamless yet constantly traveling. You don’t know where exactly the adventure will take you next, but you do know you’ll be groovin’ along the way. Many tracks here have what I like to call the “microgroove,” where the frenetic yet delicate percussion keeps things spicy while the song’s energy level is simultaneously in cruise. It’s like I’m in the club, but I’m also underwater in a little submarine zoomin’ past some cool fish.
I absolutely love the ever-expanding experimental vapor universe, but I’m also sure glad that someone can still create something that makes me feel that purity and wonder like I’m listening to vaporwave for the first time again.
This has to be one of the best VHS Pop albums I’ve heard, and easily my favorite from the extremely talented A R I S T U R T L E. Soulful samples, jazzy saxes, lo-fi synths and bumpin’ beats combine to create a supremely nostalgic, late-night TV soundscape alive with Hip-Hop and R&B flavors. My pick for one of the best vapor releases of 2021.
Even if Strawberry Station wasn’t a friend of mine, this album would feel like it was made by one. Filled with warmth, hope, loneliness, wondering, and all the feelings in between, this is the kind of album that could only be written from the heart—like an old, dear friend returning home to share the stories from a very special journey.
DJ Prom Knight’s I’m Not In Love takes the spot for one of my top albums to come out of 2021. He’s got this signature style of slush that pushes boundaries most in the subgenre won’t cross. Just blissfully refreshing while staying well rooted in this scene of samples.
l u n a r l e I s u r e l i v i n g by a r c t i c b l a s t
As a lover of classic vaporwave, this album represents what real vaporwave is…manufactured nostalgia from a time period you never experienced. It’s not just a selection of catchy melodies and beats. You’re being told the story of commercialized space travel.
ELECTRONIXOTICA blends the low fidelity sounds of hypnagogic pop and the sample manipulation of vaporwave. There are some really good loops in here and the chorus, wow, and flutter add a lot of character to the tracks. It really reminds me of when I used to stay up all night watching boomerang when I was a little kid. Origami Vato (known as Pallida Mars on the album) is really good at capturing that late night lofi vibe.
Relaxed, immersive, transient, and trance inducing, I’ve easily listened to this album a couple dozen times. The airy ambient pads throughout the album are contrasted nicely by thick, hard hitting, and infectiously groovy bass lines that are very prominently featured track to track. There are so many subtleties and added textures that help fill the sound out, while showing just enough restraint to ensure each instrument has its voice heard. One of the cleanest vaporwave albums I’ve heard, and an easy pick for my favorite album of the year.
A really funky joint venture. Both artists bring their chopping styles to the table to create 30 minutes filled with memorable and catchy chops. This album is a promising debut project for Fvert and a really strong sophomore effort for Cherry Condos.
Often our memories manifest not in an index, but in a cluster of sorts. Video forum is an expert at helping me remember memories I long forgot, and memories I wish I had. I’ll never forget the memories I also made while listening to this one. Be sure to download for an additional hidden bonus track.
There are times I feel it’s important to sit in a dark place and turn off. These moments of dissociation I believe allow one to explore alternate avenues of thought, leading to new experiences and epiphanies. Channel of Dreams consistently has been able to bring me to a place where this is possible and 苦難之城 (City Of Misery) this year was no exception. If you’re looking to explore some more melancholic themes I highly recommend you give this a listen.
VIRTUAL PLEASURE is a new up-and-coming talented vaporwave producer in the barber beats scene. Their album, 病理学的思考 exemplifies the best of what barber beats has to offer, with its minimalist yet sophisticated jazzy production. Listening to this album truly is a virtual pleasure and the music speaks for itself.
Lost Traveler is new to the scene and already captures those classic vibes, ending 2021 on a strong note with Twin Elegance. If you like late night lofi listen to this.
2021 was a year of experimentation as far as my listen habits were concerned. Usually, I stick to playlists or a handful of Vaporwave artists, but this year I tried to immerse myself in full albums and projects. If my Spotify Wrapped is anything to go by, the two artists I stuck around with the most were 3D Blast and Death’s Dynamic Shroud. Had Faith in Persona come out earlier in the year I might have picked that album, but by far the album I most returned to was Music: Here to Stay by 3D Blast. The beautiful mix of samples and the delicate balance between bangers and memes had me hooked from the first listen. It came out early in the year, but it was a great way to start off 2021.
Favorite track: Earth Worlder (feat. The Wizard of Loneliness)
When I am listening to this Ep it makes me feel happy to be alive and it also makes me want to open a pit up and mosh in my bedroom at 4:00 AM ACTIVE PRESENCE has a entire discography full of hyper heaters that every vapor nerd needs to have in there bandcamp collection.
Detroit has a history of producing some fantastic music, and Kawsaki’s CITY FUNK is certainly no exception to that. The album delivers fresh, high-energy tracks that make you want to dance all night (or day), and splashes just the right amount of vocal samples to polish it out nicely. Not only does it manage to capture the attention of your ears and feet, it also seems to tell a compelling story as you spend your evening traveling through the city, moving from party to party. CITY FUNK is just the kind of thing a weary world might need after a long year. I’m really looking forward to seeing what Kawsaki has up their sleeve for 2022. Be sure to check out their other releases too, especially Designing The Future.
Favorite track: Elite Reality
That wraps it up! Hopefully there was at least one album here that sparked your interest!
Be sure to give the artists a follow on Bandcamp! Happy 2022!
Check out our latest podcast episode where we discuss the article and celebrate the vaporwave of 2021!
It’s that special time of year again when the floorboards creak, black bats screech and witches cackle in the night. We’ve only a few more days before Halloween, so we’d like to share with you some notable vaporwave albums perfect for the spooky season. All of these albums are specifically vaporwave so no synthwave albums will be appearing in this list. We will also be excluding more prominent works like Skeleton or the b e g o t t e n 自杀 collection to show some love for other creators.
青い夜 By: b l u e s c r e e n
Starting off we have 青い夜 by b l u e s c r e e n, an ominous album featuring samples from Nightmare on Elm Street and Friday The 13th on the first track that are cleverly mixed into a hip-hop beat. The fearful expression on the cover art is exemplified by heavy toms and thick bass that embody your heart pounding.
▻▻is anyone even ｒｅａｌ⁇ By: never ａｎｓｗｅｒ the phone
This album from earlier this year may not be Halloween music specifically, but its suspenseful atmosphere definitely fits the season. Heavily filtered drums and samples reverberate to create a claustrophobic experience as you listen through this ceiling album.
Hallowave By: EPX90
If you want an album that hits all the Halloween tropes then this is a must-listen. Dark organs, distorted synths, wailing screams and cheesy 80s trick-or-treating PSAs make for a perfect 12 track listen on Halloween night.
[Ominous Music]: A Vaporgrave Compilation By: Various Artists
If you like having a variety of music then this album will make the perfect treat. A compilation album featuring 30 different vaporwave artists, each bringing their own style and creativity to each track.
Fall Festivals and the Satanic Panic
By: Vacation Bible School
This album is the first of a four part collection that we’ll be covering on the site in the coming days. The first album is a great introduction to this anthology with its dark mallsoft feel. Imagine walking through a giant megachurch amidst the pinnacle of the Satanic Panic of the late 80s. Samples that echo with interviews of devil worship create a dreamstate of demonic fears.
Omens By: ⁂V‡▲D‡M∇R⁂
Released just before Halloween last year, Omens presents an album full of anxious and terrifying ambient music. Heavy dissonance paired with crunchy synths will have you on edge as you listen through this album.
Even with these great releases there’s still more spooky albums out there to check out. If you feel that we’ve missed an important album or one you like please let us know on our socials! Have a happy and safe Halloween.
On April 30, bedroom-pop artist James Edwards, known onstage as Male Tears , made waves at the T.O.F.U. Birthday Bash, a predominantly punk show in Tustin, in his first live performance post-pandemic.
Around 60 people showed up at the B&B Music Studio, a bedroom-sized room tucked away in a strip mall on North Tustin Ave, a turnout that defied audience members’ expectations.
The lineup included local bands Kickz, Narc, Raccoon Union, Light Dazed, T.O.F.U., and Male Tears. The catchy 80’s synth tunes from his set contrasted the guitar-based grunge/punk bands that performed throughout the night. However, his place within the show made sense within the context of his career and style.
All of Edwards’ albums are released on vaporwave labels like Pacific Plaza, Business Casual, and Power Lunch. While many would hesitate to identify Male Tears music as belonging within the genre of vaporwave, Edwards felt as though he fit right into the emerging and highly relevant scene. His 80s inspired pop albums resemble many of the songs heavily sampled by vaporwave artists, and the community has welcomed him wholly.
In the same vein, while Edwards’ music does not fit squarely within the punk genre, his music has the same DIY quality that defines punk. He is constantly placing himself within genre-adjacent bands. On May 15, he opened for Camlann, a dark disco band hailing from Jakarta, Indonesia.
Photo by Sudabeh Sarker
When asked about his position within the vaporwave scene, Edwards said, “I thought, “Yeah, this is the appropriate bandwagon, this is where I should plop myself.” I don’t think vaporwave is a very strict term, I mean vaporwave is an art movement. I think that anyone can just come in and succeed if they really want to.”
The idea for the concert took place when all three members of T.O.F.U. had their birthdays coincide within the same week. In accordance with the theme, the venue was littered with helium balloons and guests were handed cone hats as their tickets.
The event marked the second concert for the surf punk band born from a drunken night out at Denny’s.
“We all just show up and do whatever we want,” said T.O.F.U. member Genesis Gonzalez.
When they went on to perform, the crowd reacted positively to their improvisation and chaotic energy, forming mosh pits within the crowd.
Male Tears was the last act of the night. Originally intending to go on at 10 p.m., extended sets and delayed performances set his performance back until 1 a.m. The crowd had begun to wane, yet those who did stay brought high energy to the performance. In opposition to the mosh pits of earlier bands, Male Tears brought his audience to jump and dance to tracks from his latest self-titled album , released on February 14, 2021. One man went as far as to dance with his dog to the music. At the end of his set, the audience asked for an encore.
“It’s a way different thing than performing in front of the likes of people sitting at home in front of their computer, it can be a thousand times better or a thousands times worse,” Edwards said. “I happened to have lucked out today.”
In his post-show interview, Male Tears revealed that he was working on new music.
“The time is now for the second renaissance, now that we’ve all come out of the caves,” said Edwards, referring to a potential new wave of creativity emerging post-pandemic.
Photo by Sudabeh Sarker
Many audience members remarked that they did not expect such a huge turn out. The enthusiasm for the bands that performed was a hopeful symbol of a return to normalcy as performers have been forced to conduct virtual performances throughout the pandemic.
It showed that there is a thirst amongst music enthusiasts to return to the live stage and feel the energy of the crowd again. The show marked the beginning of several performances Edwards planned for the coming months. He performed live at a small goth show in Los Angeles on May 16. He performs again at the Spring Dreams Music Fest on May 29.
“I’m pretty fulfilled,” said Edwards at the end of the night. “The people that understood came, and that was great. I’m glad that people were there liking it.”
When the curtains closed on ElectroniCON & ElectroniCON 2, there was a promise of something more, something greater. Where was the scene headed? What was next on the docket? We as a community had made such extraordinary strides in so short a period of time, the next months and years were cause for excitement. Anticipation. And then the world ground to a halt. An entire planet in lockdown, with nowhere to go.
Some industries were able to weather the pandemic rather well, such as online retailers like Amazon. Others – like the movie industry – had a lot of problems to contend with, and very few solutions. How do you justify spending so much money to make films when your fledgling streaming platforms don’t stand a chance of recouping the loss? Some, like Warner, bit the bullet and chose to release their films through HBO Max. But this wasn’t a solution, merely an answer. This problem didn’t stop with cinema, though. How would the music industry, through which most artists make their living through touring, cope? While there was no shortage of creative solutions — major bands like Muse or Between the Buried and Me chose to take this time overhauling classic albums, providing brilliant new mixes- one of the fastest responses and most logical solutions came from…vaporwave. Online concerts sprang up rather quickly, and a movement that formed almost entirely on the internet had to return once more to that which gave life to it. So what were the takeaways from these last nightmarish months? What did we learn? What’s next?
PART 1: Return To Sender
In a way, vaporwave being forced from the real world back onto the internet was a homecoming. Starting in small groups on forums or Facebook, the vaporwave community, while very much niche, is tight-knit and passionate. Coming off of the crescendo provided by the aforementioned ElectroniCON’s, these myriad friendships that started digitally before pivoting to the real world were unceremoniously shoved back into a virtual space.
It would have been perfectly understandable for many labels or artists, or even fans to just throw their hands up in defeat, and hope that the community could weather the pandemic, coming out unscathed. But many in the scene had the incredible idea of just taking what we could from the in-person events and adapting them to the internet. What if we could still gather and come together as a community across the globe to see our favorite artists perform? What would that look like? Well, we didn’t have to wait long to find out.
Barely a month after the lockdown orders began for many in North America (around February 2020) we saw Syncup.World in collaboration with SPF420. Featuring Cash Wednesday (a Skylar Spence project), March 28th would mark the real opening of floodgates for the months ahead. Just two days later, Pacific Plaza Records would seamlessly pivot the Virtual Memory series to an online presentation with the sixth entry, alongside All Hell Breaks Loops. The good news is the series recently celebrated its twenty-fifth entry on May 30th! So this shift to online has been a success, to put it mildly. Here’s to twenty-five more!
While it took a little bit of time for the community to really get used to the idea of “attending live shows” on Twitch or YouTube, the relatively short period of downtime for vaporwave meant that things picked right back up again. As May 2020 rolled around, the community was present with an absolute deluge of events to choose from. First up was the 7th Anniversary Show for Business Casual on May 1st. Featuring sets from nanoshrine and Diskette Park among others, such a monumental event was quite the way to kick off the summer festivities. Shows in the month of May weren’t anywhere near finished either, as the end of the month brought the weekend spanning Pure Life Festival as well as Vaporspace Online, which raised $5,000 for charity.
And these events carried on for months and months, all the way up to now. Since the lockdown, it’s been nigh impossible to go more than a month without an incredible event. To just cherry pick a few, we had We Love DMT <3, a show of support for Vito, one of the most dedicated and important members of the community (featuring the likes of 猫 シ Corp., Dan Mason, and Bodyline) in July of 2020. Or how about Vapor95 Live 5.0 in February of 2021, which featured names like Lola Disco and desert sand feels warm at night. While many of the shows were smaller in scope, with only a handful of artists, some events swung for the fences with massive lineups that spanned multiple days. Like Late Night Lights, the lofi event (which Utopia District hosted and was heavily involved with alongside Gorgeous Lights) featuring luxury elite, telepath, and Hantasi to name just a few.
Why was this transition so seemingly easy for vaporwave? There are a number of reasons. Saying the scene started online is only a surface level analysis. There was also the opportunity to learn and grow. And grow we did; as the number of online shows expanded, so too did the quality. Many artists were provided the opportunity to take their real-world applications in the music scene, and convert them into an online space. Skeleton Lipstick for example had previously thrown the Terminally Chill vaporwave dance parties in Philadelphia. This prior experience with live events carries with it a certain know-how for magnetizing a community towards an event. That remains a useful skill when things pivot to an online community, as people still need to know where to go, right?
One big thing that certainly helps is the “hobbyist” nature of the community. Many of the musicians or visual artists (though of course not all) don’t involve themselves in vaporwave as a career, it’s more often a secondary (or tertiary) form of income, and generally more of a hobby. This was beneficial because not only did it mean many members of the scene were able to approach many different facets of putting on a show themselves, but there was also less red tape to contend with. With fewer hands in the cookie jar, the process of getting a show off and running could sometimes be as simple as asking.
But another major strength of our community is passion. Most folks involved in vaporwave do so from a place of love. There’s an indescribably passionate fan base built into this community, one built (shocking though it may be for an online group) on positive reinforcement and love. By the nature of vaporwave coming from a place of love, many of the shows were free. Which bears mention, as both showrunners and artists foregoing a fee for the sake of the community is…extraordinary. These events being passion projects meant the musicians and visual artists, and behind-the-scenes folks generally did everything for free, because if they didn’t, who would?
This passion covered every facet of the concert experience. These online shows were filling in for the opportunity to actually be at a show, so that created many conundrums that might not be immediately thought of. For instance, how do you make a stand in for a live venue? If you’re not really going somewhere, that doesn’t mean you can’t go anywhere. This is where some fantastic solutions show up. The long-gestating game Second Life plays a key role in helping those who want to have as close to a real concert experience as they can. You can take your in-game avatars to a club or two and enjoy the show in this venue, dancing to your heart’s content, talking to people, and everything in between. Sure, it’s a facsimile, but it’s a very creative one, and it offers some heightened sense of camaraderie. Why not head to Betamax, the brilliant vaporwave venue helmed by SNWCRSH (a friend of the site!). Or Ramb.ly! (Created by FoxBarrington)
This passion and desire to put on these shows is all well and good, but what’s the point of it been? What did it do? The answer’s not all that dissimilar actually. Passion yet again rears its head, coming to the forefront. This tight knit community had come to appreciate and desire more of these events, but with the lockdown we had to find new ways to come together.
So at its most basic, continuing to put these events on allowed the community to continue expanding. More artists hopped on and performed, including some artists that might otherwise not have had the opportunity to do so: DATAGIRL, Skule Toyama, Donor Lens, TUPPERWAVE, bl00dwave, Seabaud, or Ducat to name but a few. With this global genre it can be hard to travel the globe for a show. Plus the presence of these vaporwave shows in the live streaming community get more eyes on them than otherwise might be the case. Those who might normally have skipped past or had no interest in seeing a vaporwave show in person, might tune into a broadcast and find that they were previously unaware of how much they loved the scene. That’s all it takes. One fortuitously timed moment, and you have another passionate newcomer feeling their way through this sprawling, ever-evolving scene. Besides, we’ve established this community is a driven one, and it’s even easier to simply click on a link to enjoy a show than fly or drive somewhere.
Plus the DIY nature of much of vaporwave means the barrier of entry tends to be lower. It’s more tied to your work drive and how motivated or interested you are in making something happen. And the online shows amidst that lockdown lowered those restrictions even more, as you no longer had to worry about going to a location, carrying gear, and every worry and hassle that go with traditional touring.
These online shows further still helped bring attention to areas that might often be overlooked or merely underappreciated. Thanks to the likes of PocariSweat, Skeleton Lipstick, Pacific Plaza Records, and more, themed afterparties joined the fray, allowing these glorious get togethers to linger even longer in everyone’s hearts and minds.
The opportunity to revisit shows is another underappreciated benefit. When you go to a live concert, you feel the electric atmosphere, drink in the sights and sounds, and when the show is over, those emotions, while they may linger, will eventually dissipate into nothing. Archives of live shows that include the chat transcripts, allow the moment in time these shows represent to be captured forever, with the same level of electricity and excitement as the moment they were happening. The same reactions, the same fidelity, the same electricity. Sure, you can sift through YouTube and find single songs here and there — captured poorly on someone’s phone, as normally the only recordings of high quality are professional ones, which of course cost money. This is yet another facet of vaporwave that is provided for free. The lack of obstacles between consuming and enjoying vaporwave are arguably the smallest they’ve ever been right now, ironically amidst a massively restrictive pandemic.
This ability to revisit shows also draws attention to one of the great unsung heroes of the live show: the visual artists. Visual artists provide exquisitely executed marriages twixt picture and sound, but for live shows, it’s more often than not a one-off. If the music it was crafted to pair with isn’t there, it may be an interesting collection of images, but you wouldn’t just sit down and watch them in silence. The archived shows remove that problem from the equation, allowing both repeat viewings of visual sets, as well an increased appreciation for them. It takes what might normally be a thankless job (or at least less appreciated than is deserved) and draws much-deserved attention back to it. So let’s draw a quick little bit of attention to some of the visual artists whose work caught our eyes during these festivals: VideodromeTV, Sleep Pattern, BootyWizard, Billy Galaxy, Pixel8ter, ///\/, and oh so many more!
Now, not only are these experiences free, they’re available in the same high quality as the live debut of the show. You can relive them in a way that you can’t with other shows. A live concert — unless the band specifically arranges for it — won’t be recorded to the same quality as a pro one. Just random phone camera clips scattered across YouTube. The massive wave of online shows allows concert viewing with regularity and quality rarely, if ever, seen — especially for free.
And then of course, at a very basic level, these events are great examples of “portfolio pieces.” The performers, the visual artists, the showrunners, all areas required to make one of these shows happen are pretty impressive things to be able to say you’ve pulled off. Is it so hard to believe that creating a live event could lead to greater opportunities both within and without?
Check out all the livestreaming events in our EVENTS ARCHIVE
Part 4: What’s Next?
The obvious question to ask next would be “what’s the next step?” Where do we go now, amidst a world at long last returning to normalcy?
The answer here and now is Worldwide.wav, happening right now, June 11th and 12th, a culmination of all the lessons we learned from the past year-plus of putting on and attending live shows. A truly global concert event, covering every timezone on the planet and running for an extraordinary 36 hours. We here at Utopia District are hosting a block in collaboration with My Pet Flamingo, representing one of six legs of this trans-global vaporwave celebration.
But what about beyond that? What’s the next next step? Well, given how the world is progressing, it seems only natural we return to live shows, no? The real question will be whether we pick up right where we left off, or if things will be more cautious at first. Or is the solution something else entirely? We as a community have made such tremendous strides these past months, it seems only fair we keep moving forward. What dimensions has vaporwave yet to breach? Are these upcoming destinations even in sight? When will we even know? Vaporwave is nothing if not open to experimentation, so it’s likely safe to assume that, no matter what comes next, its loving community will be along for the ride.
