Tidal: Turning the Tide or Without a Paddle?

With its live stream relaunch, Tidal crossed into Baudrillardian territory on a wave of unadulterated hype. No platitude was left unsaid as the tentacles of maniacal greed and self-belief searched out credulous consumers. Like acolytes of a science-fictive religion, ultra-popular pop divas lined up to – well – radiate their net worth.

One after another: paradoxical manifestations of arrogance and awkward reticence. Except Beyoncé. Beyoncé’s got this. There’s nothing futuristic about the headgear of Daft Punk and Deadmau5. This is the dark side endgame of entertainment capitalism, a recruit message relayed from the future, sheepish grins on video screens (Chris Martin and Calvin Harris) beaming across metallic, blue light included.

Both launch presenter and Alicia Keys fired off brittle promises. The presentation was akin to a positive thinking rally with an extra helping of jargon and hyperbole. Allegedly, Tidal is here to subvert the status quo and globally ‘revolutionise’ the music industry. The gullible are entrapped by ideological pincers.  At an individual level, revered notions of choice and individuality are invoked for their mythic-transgressive potential to shake up the system (any system! I’m free I tell you!). Additionally, the sheen of fame and the wealth of Tidal’s figureheads make many believe in substance where there is smoke and mirrors. ‘Success my friends, you’re part of it, with us!’

On a collective level, an imagined polarisation couched in political language demands solidarity for an unspecified social good. Yet there is no charity or social justice mission here. Calling for collective control – or as Kayne West in his chronic delirium suggests ‘combining our resources’ won’t lead to altruism or utopian allusions for all the flowery evocations of hope and unity. Only stratospheric self-belief can conclude, with a straight face, a new world is in touching distance. All West needs is the creative power of a dozen famous minds brainstorming in a press room. The man is either a fool or an actor.

Alicia Keys’ speech manages to up the batshit-o-meter by confirming the launch is a graduation. Presumably, this means quoting geniuses like Jimi Hendrix and Freidrich Nietzsche was a natural progression to her slurred presentation. The irony of appropriating a philosopher who sagaciously warned us of cultural nihilism and money worship is explicit. Hendrix said music doesn’t lie, but Tidal isn’t a bastion of truth.

Keys goes on to describe music, not as a cultural by-product of expression and creativity, oh no, but a world-historical force. As the camera pans across the owners of Tidal, her speech becomes increasingly loose and deranged (both vocally and in content, respectively). She describes Tidal’s mission lying beyond techno-commercial expansion, concluding it will be a service for global memory retainment. Yes, really.

The show culminates in a symbolic procession of the co-owners contributing their signatures to a contract. The affair’s grandeur mimics the declaration of independence, or the constitutional codification of the US forefathers, with a pinch of Madonna’s narcissistic cheek(s) to boot. This venal pageantry traces the contours of the Debordian spectacle, the cat glitch of The Matrix, the circuitry behind the mask. Surely evinced by not just us, the bitter diagnosticians, but by the everyman. The Spotify user, deep down, must know Tidal is a gimmicky, bloated brand.  Perhaps a sole YouTube comment unintentionally encapsulates the false hope of it all better than I: “I’m super excited, and I don’t even know why”.