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Music Video Analysis: IDK How But I (Momentarily) Found My Will to Study

The first music video I wanted to analyse is one rich with mystery, belonging to the band I Dont Know How But They Found Me (stylized in all caps without any punctuation), often shortened to IDKHow (stylized as iDKHOW).


The American duo consists of lead vocalist and bassist Dallon Weekes (who angsty teens may remember as a former member of Panic! at the Disco) and drummer Ryan Seaman who create music by fictionalising themselves as a long-lost band with artful concepts and a mysterious narrative that ties all of their music videos together into a spiderweb of puzzling easter eggs and nuanced lore, appealing greatly to audiences young and old alike.


Keeping this in mind, Do It All The Time’s music video might help aid my understanding of inventive promotional techniques and my attempts at incorporating such a quality of cohesion in the various materials of the advanced portfolio.



iDKHOW’s music, as well as their appearance and social media presence, is strongly influenced by the style of the 1980s (and a couple of the preceding decades); Dallon Weekes has stated that he draws inspiration from the pop culture of his childhood and the influence of various decades of the late 20th century is definitely discernible in all promotional materials associated with the band, including the music video for “Do It All The Time,” which can be characterised as primarily a performance-based one incorporating conceptual elements that tie into the band’s overall narrative.


Released as part of the band’s 2018 album, 1981 Extended Play, "Do It All The Time" is accompanied by a brief overview of the fictional story behind it as shown below:


YouTube description for "Do It All The Time."

Immediately, the audience becomes aware of the possibility that the music video will be rooted in pre-80s sensibilities and is compelled to learn more about the enigmatic piece of work—speaking from personal experience, I did in fact go down a rabbit hole of reading theories about iDKHOW’s fictional narrative on Tumblr when I first discovered them, so there’s surely something to be said about the impact developing an intriguing star image can have in terms of attracting audiences.


Perhaps the most fitting way of understanding the music video is to look at the song it uses as its basis. Representing a piece of music that is categorised by most as an alternative/indie one, Do It All The Time’s video becomes an extension of its genre’s originality in a lot of ways, subverting the expectations of clichés and decadence one may have from the music video of a song that involves lyrics about stealing your girl and taking over the world one kiss at a time.


so good at selling lies


Answering a fan’s question regarding what inspired this song, Weekes said:

Brainless corporate pop music. And the ‘do whatever you want’ philosophy. I wanted to make fun of them. So I did.

Sung from the hedonisitc perspective of a trust fund brat living their easy life singing about cliché'd lyrical topics which they are aware of the harmful nature of (celebrating "taking your girl" and "selling lies") solely for enjoyment, Do It All The Time embodies a satirical tone. Clearly, this aspect of the song also seeps into the main ideas its music video is rooted in, amplifying the lyrics’ meaning as suggested by Goodwin.


The video is prefaced with a 50s-sounding TV-caster voice outlining the video’s speculative concept that imagines a world in which music is made by machines instead of men (autotune says hi):

Music, one of man’s greatest achievements, is quickly becoming more popular with each passing day. We invite you to follow along as our scientists work to conceive a future where music is created not by man but by machine.

(Interestingly, the motif of "We invite you to follow along..." reappears throughout the band's work from the intro of the 1981 EP to visual captions at the end of music videos, most often associated with a mysterious fictional group known as The Tellexx Foundation which can be seen in the opening of the music video. This acts as a reminder to the audience that the music video is a part of a larger narrative that they can explore through the band's other work.)


By urging the audience to imagine music coming from a mechanical source, the video indirectly reminds us of pop music along with the tedious repetition and lack of depth many often associate with it, giving the impression that it aims to parody the pop music industry at large through a jibe at its perceived weaknesses. (I say, glaring at the Spotify Stats website opened on my screen as if looking at it long enough will make “pop” disappear from the fifth spot in my top genres of all time.)


Dallon Weekes:

I wanted to sit down and, to be perfectly honest about it, make the most brainless kind of pop song that I could be happy playing. Something that would sort of take the conventions of pop music and make fun of them. It’s probably the most sarcastic song I’ve ever written. But a lot of people don’t really peel that first surface layer back—and it is a pop song—but if you take a look at the lyrics and the structure of it all and what we are doing, it's kind of making fun of that whole conventionality of the rules that you’re supposed to have when you’re making a pop song. Even lyrically, the stuff like, “taking your girl and making her mine,” lyrics that you’ll find a lot in modern pop music, the ‘we’re gonna’ do what we want; we’re gonna’ live forever’ and that song is there to say well, maybe that’s not the case.”

This central idea is mirrored by the video’s mise en scène as well as elements of camerawork and editing in various ways:

  • The robotic movements of the lead singer and both of the band member’s expressionless fronts substantiate the video’s attempts at using symbols and semantic codes to help develop its commentary on how devoid of passion and meaning popular music frequently is.

  • The video being dominated by the colour orange similarly contributes to the monotonous quality, especially when looked at in conjunction with the white mannequins. As a result, an underlying feeling of lifelessness prevails despite the song’s upbeat quality, highlighting the role of colour codes in creating somewhat of a disjuncture between the music’s tone and its video. The audience can infer that the juxtaposition of vibrant colour and upbeat music with an underlying sense of monotony could be a deliberate case of binary opposition that often drives the concept of a music video and helps develop its themes according to Sven E. Carlsson. One may interpret this as a subtle dig the sort of music that is brimming with banality behind a facade of superficial vibrancy and mindless repetition used to attract the masses, particularly through the depiction of an opulent lifestyle that audiences are given the illusion of being able to attain. We can infer that maybe these are the ‘lies’ the song explores and reflects in its music video.

  • Moreover, the recurring shot of a controller that mirrors the song’s sounds draws attention to the artificiality of the work, employing self-referentiality to develop the same themes.

I also really need a "Fun Noise" button in my life to drown out the overthinking.
an intricate puzzle

One thing this music video achieves masterfully is its old-school appearance despite having a concept that prompts one to think of a futuristic one, evoking John Stewart’s idea of music videos 'incorporating, raiding and reconstructing’ pre-existing things to appeal to an audience through nostalgic association, etc. Its aspect ratio and grain combine to develop a distinct mise en scène that reminds one of a bygone era; a huge part of IDKHow's imagery in general, from the album art to the videos, evokes obscure 60s-80s media—the band’s name itself, for example, is a recurring dialogue from Back to the Future (1985), appropriate for an 80s-inspired band the narrative of which is drenched in time travel shenanigans—connecting this video to their broader star image by making use of distinctive elements that set them apart as artists and make the band recognisable to audiences as noted by Dyer and Goodwin.


A more obscure example of intertextuality appears in the form of the ending credits which have been borrowed from The Incredible Machine, a 1968 short film/documentary that details advancements in computer/digital technology, helping the video form an authentic replication of the past that this “fictional” band occupies.



Although such details might fly over the head of a casual viewer/listener, the notion of having a discography and its promotional material resemble a puzzle that keeps on unravelling for dedicated fans is central to iDKHOW’s goals as artists and this video aptly reflects that.


a postmodern reading

Considering its inventive qualities, Do It All The Time’s music video could be categorised as a postmodern text to a certain extent. Subtle instances of self-referentiality, paired with intertextuality, point towards this unique aspect. The video’s performance is dotted with flashes of text that are sometimes self-referential and humorous: “Original Dynamic Bridge Section, ” reads one in sync with Weekes singing the bridge of the song, while some would leave Merriam Webster scratching its hypothetical head—“YBM DESCHINCRODIAL” being a case in point that could also be reflective of the meaninglessness of some popular music. In this way, the audience is made aware of the artificiality of both the song itself and the sort of music its video aims to critique and parody.



made not by man but by machine

Goodwin explores in Dancing in the Distraction Factory five things that make music videos stand out, one of which is the amalgamation of technical aspects that play a formative role in creating meaning. In keeping with this theory, the video follows the conventions of editing visuals to be in sync with the beats of the song. The music video, however, doesn’t rely entirely on quick montage editing to lend to the “repeatability” factor, except in one section that represents a fast-paced section of the song with quick cuts between clips of Weekes’ absurd dance, the mannequins, and an orange slide that shows jumbled letters to mirror the confusion this moment in the song is centred on.



The contrasts established through camerawork—static shots punctuated with some fast-paced editing, the supposed stability of the camerawork juxtaposed with abrupt movements within the frame, e.g. Weekes’ dancing, etc.—form a patchwork of contradictions that keeps spectators on their toes throughout the video.


Paired with the use of colour and props earlier, the importance of technical elements in shaping an audience's response to a music video becomes more apparent. (This video could absolutely be an ode to machines/computers’ incredible abilities in that sense, but I guess we’ll never know. /j)


questions galore

Props associated with scientific research, from lab coats and IDs to reports being written very intently, are a very noticeable part of the video, positioning the audience to view its events as a spectacle, something important that can only be understood, if at all, through meticulous examination.



Consequently, one can’t help but probe at the multiple cryptic elements of the music video.


Is this really gibberish or some sort of intricate clue for the audience?


What’s with the white figure that reappears for barely a fraction of a second in almost all of the band’s music videos?


What is the mysterious Tellexx Foundation iDKHOW’s music videos are distributed as a product of?


Why are the singers unbothered by the mannequins literally being on fire in the last moments of the video?


Why were the video's screenings for (fictional) students discontinued in 1984 after twenty years? Could this, paired with the eye symbol in in Telex's logo, be an Orwellian referential code in disguise?

The video leaves much unanswered, creating an incomplete narrative interspersed with enigmatic codes and encouraging viewers to be more engaged with this piece of media itself in an attempt to make some sense of it.

 

Ultimately a comical & light-hearted indictment of pop music’s perceived banality, iDKHOW’s “Do It All The Time” elevates the simple idea of a performance-based music video to one that is a little more intriguing by highlighting its place in the band’s overarching narrative & persona with an artful concept—something us A Level students would be able to achieve in their Media Studies advanced portfolio in an ideal world.





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