Death Drive beneath the stage: exploring the addiction to danger

You entered a hall, full of crowds, waited for an hour or two — excited, curious, impatient. Your favorite artist arrives, and everyone feels the full euphoria. For two hours, you forget about the world. You immerse yourself in the experience: the noise, your favorite artist, and ultimately… the death drive.

Freud believed the death drive shows up in our minds as a leaning towards self-destruction, or directing that tension outwards as aggression. This idea comes from the compulsion to repeat, where we engage in behaviors not driven by pleasure.

Also touching upon collective identity during concerts: I cast aside my roles as a researcher, daughter, and sister. I evolve into a integral part of the crowd, immersed in a space where I can sense every goosebump, belt out the loudest tunes, and effortlessly meld into the moshpit. It’s my kind of ‘symbolic order.’

My curiosity kicked in when I found myself able to attend countless concerts and festivals in Europe. My familiarity of the death drive became more intense than ever, weaving its way into my being.

I’m into all sorts of music, from classical and pop to rap and electronic — letting the diverse beats, sometimes lyrics and rhythms amplify that deep sensation within.

I recall attending ASAP Ferg’s performance, witnessing the crowd go absolutely wild, and I lost myself in the moment.

The state of no desire and the unconscious urges unleashed in such moments — what do they truly signify?

Lilian Campesato (2018), quoted Luiz Alfredo Garcia-Roza,

[…] to the extent that the death drive is conceived as a destructive power, we can think of it acting disjunctively and preventing the perpetuation of forms or associations formed by Eros. Freud tells us (in The Uneasiness in Culture) that culture is at the service of Eros, who wants to bring together individuals in increasingly comprehensive totalities, until the formation of a large totality that is humanity. From the uniqueness of the individual to the totality of humanity, we would have an increasing indifferentiation. However, if we understand desire as pure difference, the design of Eros would be the elimination of difference and, therefore, of desire, in a final indifferentiation that is humanity. (Garcia-Roza 2004 [1990], 136)

Many scholars have delved into the realm of psychoanalysis and music such as Dolar’s for instance, but the available explanations remain limited. Such analysis is considered elite, requiring a payment of 30 euros or more to access articles. I appreciate Lilian for providing an open-access article on this topic.

Garcia-Roza argued that Eros and Thanatos (the death drive) merged and functioned as interrelated essences, and Campesato extended this notion with the amplification of noise, stating, “Noise can take a role that disrupts a common shared context, moving towards singularity, difference.” She argued that there is a specific connection between death drive and noise.

Lilian Campesato emphasized that the death drive manifests as libidinal energy overflowing in artistic works, exemplified by the disruptive nature of the Rite of Spring and Varèse’s strident chords. The recurrence of familiar yet disturbing elements, avoided or repressed in music, persists as noise, serving as a creative catalyst.

But what about rap, rock, emo, metal? The rage, lyrical expression, and enrichment through samples — how do they intersect with the concept of the death drive?

I would argue that the drives experienced in classical, pop, and jazz concerts differ significantly from those in rap, emo, rock, and metal concerts. In genres like jazz, pleasure arises from the purest pleasure principles, with exceptions like the movie “Whiplash” depicting the death drive in jazz.

On the other hand, at rap concerts, pleasure emerges from the thrill of potential danger in the moshpit, the challenge of catching up with lyrics, and the enjoyment derived from the repetition and unity of the crowd.

You find pleasure in being part of a potentially dangerous crowd where accidental harm may occur. The repetitive enjoyment of such experiences lingers even after you’re home, making concerts of this nature addictive.

Does your preferred music genre reflect aspects of your psyche? It’s common to find ourselves repeatedly listening to the same music. During low moments, the inclination is often to immerse in sadness, turning to melancholic songs. Conversely, in moments of high spirits, pop music tends to be a comforting companion.

What about rap and rock? What characterizes these genres, particularly in terms of expressing emotions like rage?

Certainly, delving into the nature of lyrics that are closer to explicit, provocative, and insulting language in rap and rock is a topic worth exploring in upcoming articles.