The duo of Daft Punk are probably one of modern music’s more intriguing artists to have ever come out this decade. Whereas most artists and pop culture celebrities seem to have nonstop media coverage and enough drama to feed an entire class of teenagers with ADHD, Daft Punk always ended up on the complete opposite side of the spectrum: we never really got to know the people inside those masks.
Perhaps it’s a trait that’s made them all the more legendary. Throughout their 27 years of making music, there was no drama, no #DaftPunkisOverParty trending on Twitter, not even a single bad-mannered breakup reported. It got to the point where it was honestly a little unnerving, and the way that they built their brand as two robots making music wasn’t exactly helping.
This, alongside with the “weird” experimental music they would produce kind of made me disinterested in the duo. I didn’t hate them, but I was never one to actively click on the links to their Spotify page or their YouTube. I’d always just assume that their music was just “weird” and throw it off to the side. They just weren’t my type.
Or so I thought.
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It’s late 2020.
I’m 17, lying in bed, watching YouTube while simultaneously blocking out all the white noise outside of my room. On my screen’s search bar are the words “Evangelion AMVs.”(Anime Music Videos). I sigh in frustration as none of the results I get pique my interest, and then I try again, only this time with a different wording. “Evangelion Tribute.”
There’s something that’s missing in me. I can feel it, every part of me yearns for something big, something great, something emotional and raw. My entire life, I’ve been looking for it, ever since I’ve felt that magical first touch of emotion I felt I’ve been spending my entire life searching for that magic touch.
And in this case, I’m looking for a tribute to Evangelion that could truly capture the emotional and psychological intrigue that got me into Eva in the first place. I wanted to rediscover poetry in motion.
A thumbnail catches my eye. “The Evangelion Complex presents: TOUCH|An Ode To Evangelion ‘’ I click on it, silently praying to myself that it was the one. Distorted voices, as well as a synthesizer fill my ears, “I remember touch” “Where Do I belong” “I need something more”.
“Touch, I remember touch” The vulnerable, raw vocals of Paul Williams light up the canvas. “Pictures came with touch,” William’s vocals are dense, with the weight of melancholy and nostalgia. It’s a bittersweet sound, and even when the music starts to swell in a colorful painting of trumpets and piano his voice retains that melancholic yearning for touch, sweet touch. Droplets of water fell from my face as I’m transferred to a different world, the world of music, love, and Touch.
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As possibly the most complex song of Daft Punk’s Grammy winning Album, “Random Access Memories,”(featuring over 250 elements in the song) “Touch” should be a mess. And, to be completely honest, it kind of is. The song features a lot of experimental sounds like the distorted mess of robots chanting “I remember touch” and air rushing through a haunted house, while also incorporating a synthesizer and a piano at the same time. At times, the sound can be unbearably weird and eccentric, not much different from their 2005 piece Technologic. There’s a crescendo of sound like the roar of a plane taking off, and then,
“Touch, I remember touch.”
William’s voice pierces the mess of sounds, the sound of a man. The sounds disappear, replaced only by his clear, raw, voice and soft sounds of the synthesizer accompanying him.
“Pictures came with touch, a painter in my mind, tell me what you see.”
“A tourist in a dream, a visitor, it seems, A half forgotten song, where do I belong.”
William’s voice here is haunting and melancholic. He sings of melancholic memories, of him trying to remember the beautiful memories of his past. The tourist line references him feeling like a stranger in his own brain, unable to accept these flowing memories as his own, a song that’s half forgotten, and a place he does not belong.
“Tell me what you see, I need something more.”
There’s a pause, and then,
“Kiss, suddenly alive, happiness arrive, hunger like a storm, how do I begin.”
We’re transported to a whole new world, Paul William’s voice brightening up.
“A room within a room, a door behind a door, touch where do you lead, I need something more.”
The full force of the memories are coming in now, the instruments quickening their pace. William’s voice is eager and full of excitement. He wants to feel more, he wants to see more, and the iconic Daft Punk funk starts kicking in, as he finishes with “Tell me what you see, I need something more.” The synthesizers kick in once again for a few measures, the violins join in, building it up, the guitars kick in, and then…
This part is genuinely one of my favorite sections in a piece of music ever made. It’s a song that’s hopeful and inspiring, one that’s filled with the happy memories of the past, the glorious sounds of the horns and trumpets mixing with the bass, and the piano, to create a part where you just can’t help but cry and dance to. It echoes and goes, and then a rewind clip is played to completely slow it down, the drums and synthesizer keeping the medley of the song.
“Home, hold on, If love is the answer you’re home, Hold on,”
There’s the voice of the robotic duo again, telling you that you’re home, repeating themselves over and over again, the piano first joining, and then the angelic sounds of a choir. Out in the distance, there’s a distortion which gets louder and louder… until there’s a jarring cutaway to a ripple, the only sound being that distorted mess again, our intrusive thoughts are back again. We’re having an existential crisis, images of terrifying imagery flash through our minds as it gets louder and louder we can’t block out the thoughts. But out in the distance, there’s something that’s growing again, getting louder and louder. It’s a hopeful measure, and it slowly starts merging with the distortions, with those horrifying imagery until they are nothing but a stardust in a giant universe.
The bass and strings are added back in with the cymbals, the choir starts fading in.
“Home, hold on, if love is the answer you’re home, hold on.” You take a look at the world around you, the beautiful world that you’ve grown to love and adore through your memories, through the hard times and the good times, and all you can think about is how you don’t want to leave that, how you wish you were back in those times. Your face is wet, but it’s not raining. You’re crying silently to yourself, thinking about how much you wish those times were back again, the distortions and the anxieties are back, until.
Silence. And then,
“Touch, Sweet touch, you’ve given me too much to feel.”
You’re back again at where you started, tears dripping freely from your face.
You look up.
“Sweet touch, you’ve almost convinced me I’m real.”
The realization that you’re never going to have an experience like that ever again starts sinking into you, and the last lines are filled with melancholy and sadness.
“I need something more, I need something
…More.”
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Touch is the epitome of everything Daft Punk has represented, and remains one of the main reasons why I’m such a fan of their music. Because although they certainly have made weird and funky music, they have always stuck to one core principle of humanity. It’s an 8 minute ode to life, an 8 minute story about a robot who relives the memories of his past, only to jump back and finally realize that he’ll never have those experiences again. But after everything, he still holds on to touch, the sensation that made a robot feel truly alive.
