Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today we’re returning to a novel recent production, as we check out the second episode or “round” of Alien Stage, the apocalyptical musical web series pitting hapless singers against each other in a contest to entertain their capricious alien overlords. The prize for victory? You get to keep singing, keep dancing, and keep competing for the adoration of a heartless crowd. The cost of failure? Well, I think you can guess.
The series’ first episode did a fine job of laying out the terms of this reality, as well as offering a sprinkling of vignettes illustrating the close bond between its two unfortunate contestants. A story illustrated in such brief snippets must necessarily gesture rather than fully articulate; through odd details of their shared history and the fragmentary explanation of their world at large, Alien Stage has articulated a world where artists must bow and scrape for fundamentally hostile overseers, competing for scraps rather than helping each other shine.
Given the art-hostile progression of global capitalism and increasing integration of artist-displacing artificial intelligence, as well as the parasocial, possessive dynamics of modern indie production, it’s certainly not hard to draw parallels between this contest and the struggles faced by artists in our own world. And until capitalism fits its own collars around our necks, the best we can do is support each other, practicing solidarity in the face of a world whose every institution demands we embody the selfishness of our billionaire butchers. Let’s get to it!
Round 2
Our competitors are two boys this time, though only one of them appears to be wearing an explosive collar. I wonder where that concept originated? It was employed quite famously in Battle Royale, but I have to imagine the concept precedes that usage. Regardless, it’s certainly an effective image – a promise of implied violence that inherently frames its wearer as lesser, either a slave or an animal
The boy on the left has significantly more main character energy than the fairly generic design of the guy on the right. Not holding out much hope for the second guy
Our first contestant actually has a guitar
Though the song is fairly high-energy, the guitarist maintains his muted scowl. As in the first episode, it seems one of the few forms of rebellion they can embrace is emphasizing how these songs are not for the audience, but for each other and themselves
The sort of “rebellious selfishness” of artistic expression is a theme I’ve been seeing more and more these days, seemingly as a rejection of modern society’s framing of art as an obligation to the audience – as “content,” as a “product,” as a consumer good that should be subject to the desires of the consumer. The reactionary Gamergate movement was in large part about championing this “art is a product” ethos, framing game developers as inherently subordinate to passive consumers. In my view, anyone who sees art as a product is incapable of comprehending what art actually is, blind to the transformative potential of engaging with something that challenges you, that wounds you, that opens your eyes, perhaps even transforming you in the process
And indeed, it makes some sense that people who have never engaged with art that challenges them, or who in particular remain within the confines of games (where you can easily avoid engaging with anything with a message beyond “have fun” and “you are powerful”), would find the truth of art threatening. Art is about discovery and empathy, and reactionary movements of all kinds hate the idea that there is something out there they don’t already know, that curiosity and humility are necessary prerequisites to achieving your potential as a human being. “This is stupid” in response to art that confuses you is the cry of a mind content within its cage – “learn to code” in response to art that challenges you is the denial of all human potential beyond our ability to be more efficient machines
Tatsuki Fujimoto is one of the great modern champions of art as a selfish rebellion. Both Goodbye, Eri and Look Back emphasize the importance of speaking your genuine truth, even if no one else understands it. The protagonists of each find exactly one other person who appreciates their voice, and subsequently realize that one such connection is more valuable than all the applause you might gain from constructing a more generally palatable “consumer product”
Looking to his left, our guitarist sees a woman with long, grey hair slumped in her chair
Apparently his path through whatever organization controls these concerts was less gentle than our first two contestants. We see brief flashes of him struck and bruised as a child, establishing he at least grew up alongside the others
It seems he actually has feelings for the pink performer from the first stage. The lyrics are certainly less abstract for this round, which I suppose fits for his aggressive emo pop style. I never got into that particular scene, though I was certainly the right age for it; the lyrics rarely impressed me, and my hipster ass was already listening to all the bands those bands had been listening to (Weezer, Jawbreaker, Sunny Day Real Estate, Mineral, etcetera). I did always like The Get Up Kids and Jimmy Eat World though, and have gained some appreciation for the more charmingly theatrical acts like My Chemical Romance over the years
“The edelweiss of my feelings that blossomed because of you.” A short-lived mountain flower, symbol of rugged, resilient beauty. If we’re continuing the flower symbology, it’s no surprise this singer would relate himself to a scrappy survivor
Definitely a more reserved visual style for this entry, with little of the post-production flourish or multilayered compositions of the first episode. I suppose that also fits for this unvarnished confession, though I’d hardly call ‘00s emo a genre free from visual artifice
We at last get a nice flourish when he slams his guitar into the stage, and it shatters to reveal human organs underneath. A classic metaphor of bleeding out your guts through musical confession
Unsurprisingly, our rocking rebel wins handily, pushing himself one step up that terrible bracket
And Done
Jeez, that sure went by quick! Unlike the first episode, this one didn’t offer enough vignettes to give us much sense of the texture of this boy’s life, and the song was frankly a basic genre riff I’ve heard plenty of times before. As I said regarding the first episode, this series seems to embrace a sort of fan-oriented deprioritization of authorship in favor of collective interpretation, which isn’t really my scene. Nonetheless, it’s always fun to ramble about the inherently toxic relationship between art and commerce, and if these stages keep up their variability of genre, I’m sure I’ll have more to reflect on regarding my own wandering relationship with popular music. There’s nothing so liberating as belting your heart out in spite of it all, whatever your current heart may treasure. Don’t let them take that from you – don’t let them take a fucking inch.
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