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Hologram Rock Star Revival

The music industry has seen massive change in the technology which underpins it. From the digitisation of sound, technology has brought new facets of piracy and exploitation into an ever-changing realm of consumer behaviour. Streaming platforms are altering not only the way we pay for music, if at all, but what we expect from it. Duration and structure of the modern pop song have evolved to capture the attention of a listener within the first few seconds, under the threat of being skipped and thus blocking monetisation.

It’s not all bad, in fact online worlds have redefined audience connectivity and enabled a level playing field of production. Yes, there’s a lot of noise out there, and fame is an uneasy concept, but we all have the ability to press a button and have our own music exist. But with 21st century technological change, comes an updated 21st century expectation of the musician and what live music in particular could entail.

Posthumous fame is not a new concept, but it’s definitely being explored in new ways. On one hand, I’m so grateful for some posthumous releases; they are such an incredible gift to be able to receive art or insight from beyond our era. But when it surpasses the trajectory of interest and intent, and we are left with a sort of exploitive hedonism, it just doesn’t feel right. But then again, it’s naive to think that ethical and legal frameworks perfectly align.

From the release of diaries and journals, session sketches, divergent duets to unintended LPs, there is seemingly a rise in a new form of posthumous glory. Holograms.

Alongside the likes of Tupac Shakur, Roy Orbison, Frank Zappa and Whitney Houston… Dean Martin is next in line for the potential hologram resurrection. It only seems fitting that the planning of such a show would take place in Las Vegas, a district submerged in a paradoxical authentic falsity, and well, significant to the Rat Pack, of which Dean Martin was central.

But in this current age of music, we are constantly challenging the ephemerality of art itself. Music doesn’t die with the body. So how do we go about celebrating without novelty or disrespect? How can we determine where the moral fibres of this new landscape lie? Or is it just as bad to assume intention of discontinuation, than to allow people an experience which defies biology?

Releasing a previously unreleased track? Cool. Using a hologram to bring back the dead? I’m not too sure on that one.

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