Reggaeton, Acid, Log Drums, and Cultural Memory: An Unrelated Analysis

Now more than ever, the expanse of musical possibilities feels infinite. With so many sounds and arrangements possible thanks to modern production technologies, it seems like the only limit music can have is the human imagination. Why is it, then, that some sounds are used over and over, even coming to define genres and eras of music? And why are these sounds becoming even more prevalently used in the digital era, when the possibilities seem so endless?

Let’s look first to the sounds themselves and try to decode their significance. In the past 40 years, specific drum machines and synthesizers have taken a cultural hold so firm that they are near ubiquitous. Think of the 808: now mainly used to refer to the sub kick used in many hip-hop tracks, this drum machine is perhaps one of the most famous examples of how a single sound can inspire countless knock-offs and thousands of tracks. The less known but incredibly influential 303 bass machine was foundational to the acid house and techno sounds of 80s Detroit and Chicago, eventually inspiring a music tradition of acid music that is still popular today. More recently, the FL Studio log drum from the stock DX10 plugin has defined the genre of Amapiano, creating a whole new style of deep house emanating from South Africa and sweeping the world. 

Equally as significant are the many drum breaks that have come to define genres and global music cultures. The think break with drum n bass, the amen break with jungle, and even the pounder break with reggaeton are foundational to the genres they support. These breaks have wormed their way into cultural memory to such a degree that we barely even question why these particular sounds were chosen in the first place and what made them so special that they would influence decades of music. But why exactly did all these sounds become so influential when there are so many options and ways to make new sounds?

Perhaps a famous sound from cinema can give us an answer: the (in)famous Wilhelm scream. The scream was first used in the 1951 film Distant Drums, was popularized in Star Wars, and has been a phenomenon ever since, appearing in scores of movies throughout the 20th and 21st centuries. For movie sound people, the scream became a running gag, showing that they were in a specific in-group, a culture where this seemingly innocuous scream became a symbol of community pride and struggle. Now, this in-group has widened to include any attentive movie goers and has only grown the popularity of the sound. This, I believe, is also what happens to influential sounds in music. When 80s producers got their hands on Roland machines in pawn shops, the machines quickly became a way to signify a similar cultural background, a way of expression for what was at one point an underground culture of mostly people of color. The same can be said for breaks, which were taken from sample libraries by budding producers and transformed into symbols of UK, Jamaican, and Latin culture, respectively. By building on the sounds of other producers, artists could demonstrate their commitment to a music culture while simultaneously building on the ideas that came before them, adding to a decades-long conversation. 

In this way, through passion, love, and reverence, these sounds went from ordinary to extraordinary, a symbol of expression that was constantly growing, mutating, and changing while keeping the core elements the same. While there are plenty of innovators playing with new sounds, it also makes sense to return to sounds that have a deep intersubjective meaning to them, rather than try to force such meaning into a sound that might not carry the same weight. In this way innovation and tradition synthesize to produce something both meaningful and new, a way of incorporating a producer’s selfhood into a wider music culture.

This isn’t exactly a novel idea; instruments from centuries ago exist today that still have a similar emotional impact to the way our ancestors heard their sounds. Even very modern songs still use traditional instruments from all over the world, and their meaning is still felt and conveyed in a way that other sounds might not. More than a simple matter of nostalgia, these sounds are critical to our understanding of music itself. Music does not exist in a vacuum and referencing the music that means something to us is a powerful way to enter into a part of human culture that has existed for millennia. Music has a way of conveying things that words simply can’t accomplish on their own, and the substrate we build our songs with is what carries that information, an appeal to feelings that might be more universal than we could ever realize. The pounder break is more than some electronic drums; the 303 is more than a bassline; log drums are more than some basic sinewave synthesis and modulation. These sounds mean something to the music cultures they helped create, housing the memory of every piece of music they have touched. While not eternal symbols, these sounds nonetheless transcend space and time, continuing to do so for as long as there are people who care to remember.