deeh / EZE, 2026

 

Sharky's Machine, an Asemic Critique - AI / EZE, 2026

Sharky's Machine (Wikipedia)

AI

Analyzing Burt Reynolds’ 1981 neo-noir thriller Sharky's Machine through an asemic lens requires shifting focus away from the literal plot (cops, mobs, and prostitution). Instead, the film must be viewed as a canvas of abstract gestures, sensory patterns, and communicative fragments that carry emotional weight without relying on conventional narrative structure.

By stripping away the explicit genre dialogue, Sharky's Machine transforms into a purely visceral composition defined by specific asemic dynamics:

The Stakeout as Visual Asemic Writing

A massive portion of the film involves Tom Sharky sitting in the dark, staring through a telescope at the high-class escort Dominoe.

• The Frame as a Canvas: The telescope lens frames Dominoe’s penthouse window as a literal light-box. Her silhouette moving behind sheer curtains or glass ceases to be "a character in a story" and becomes a series of sweeping, calligraphic gestures—similar to how asemic art treats line and form over text.
• The Act of Pure Interpretation: Sharky falls in love with her without ever hearing her true voice or speaking a word to her. He is essentially "reading" a human being whose true context is completely unreadable to him, deriving intense emotional meaning from entirely abstract kinetic movements.

Sonic Textures and Asemic Audio Landscapes

The iconic jazz soundtrack—featuring Randy Crawford's "Street Life" and Chet Baker's "My Funny Valentine"—functions as an emotional substitute for speech.

• The Voice as an Instrument: The melancholy trumpet lines and soaring, non-verbal vocalizations of jazz operate under the exact same premise as Laurie Anderson’s audio art or classic asemic writing: they detach sound from literal dictionary definitions to communicate pure, unmediated feeling directly to the subconscious.
• The "Machine" as a Rhythm: The vice squad itself (the "machine") operates less like a team following an explicit plan and more like an improvised jazz ensemble. Their interactions are heavy with unspoken cop shorthand, glances, and overlapping radio static—a text that looks and sounds cohesive but is largely illegible to the outside world.

Violence and Physical Trauma as Asemic Punctuation

When communication completely breaks down in the film's second half, the narrative shifts entirely away from words into a raw, physical choreography.

• The Body as Inscription: Characters are beaten, fingers are severed, and individuals are violently thrown through high-rise windows.
• The Erasure of Text: In an asemic sense, these acts of violence are explosive mark-making on a page. They represent the total failure of language, where the "meaning" of a scene is dictated entirely by the kinetic force of a body colliding with an environment. It is the ultimate expression of communication stripped of intellectual semantic content.

If you would like to explore this abstract interpretation further, let me know if I should break down:

• The cinematography and lighting choices (the visual "graphemics" of the film's shadows and neon).
• A deeper look at how the jazz soundtrack acts as an emotional translator.
• A structural comparison between traditional noir tropes and asemic art principles.

What direction would you like to take?

~***~

deej / EZE, 2026

 

An Asemics of Laurie Anderson - AI / EZE, 2026

Laurie Anderson

AI

Laurie Anderson’s use of "asemics" (visual or musical communication intentionally stripped of conventional semantic meaning) centers on the idea that words often fail to convey true human emotion. Instead of literal language, she relies on abstract sounds, symbols, and physical gestures to allow audiences to feel the underlying emotional core of her stories. [1, 2, 3, 4]

Her approach to asemic expression is most clearly demonstrated through these specific techniques:

• The Tape Bow Violin: In 1977, Anderson invented a violin that replaced traditional horsehair in the bow with magnetic recording tape, and the bridge with a tape head. As she pulls the bow across the strings, it plays back rapid snippets of repetitive audio. Because the words are looped and fragmented, they lose their literal meaning and become an asemic soundscape. [1, 2, 3]
• Voice Filters & "Audio Drag": Anderson frequently alters her speaking voice using digital pitch shifters, dropping it into a deep, masculine register. By detaching her own body and identity from the "Voice of Authority," the speech becomes less about the specific words being said and more about the performative, abstract nature of communication itself. [1, 2, 3]
• Visual Asemic Writing: In her multimedia installations and books like All The Things I Lost In The Flood, Anderson projects and draws abstract lines, symbols, and dendritic forms. She creates an "asemic writing" that bridges the gap between raw silence and coherent speech, allowing the viewer's subconscious to interpret the strokes. [1, 2]
• Musical Speech: In iconic tracks like "O Superman," Anderson loops simple, non-linguistic syllables (such as breathing or repeating the word "Ha") over cyclical beats. The voice acts as a purely musical instrument, turning text into rhythm and communicating feelings beyond traditional dictionary definitions. [1, 2, 3]

If you are interested in exploring her asemic and visual works, I can recommend:

• Which multimedia exhibitions or installations to look into (like Chalkroom or The Weather).
• The specific books where she discusses her theories on language.

Let me know what you'd like to dive into next.

AI

Analyzing Laurie Anderson's "Sharkey" mythos (the tracks "Sharkey's Day" and "Sharkey's Night" from her 1984 album Mister Heartbreak) through an asemic lens shifts the focus from a literal story about a modern corporate everyman to an exploration of language breakdown, digital automation, and sensory glyphs. [1, 2]

...

The "Dot-to-Dot" Visual Grapheme

In "Sharkey's Night," guest vocalist William S. Burroughs intones the phrase: "You connect the dots. You pick up the pieces." [, 2]

• Meaningless Inscription: Asemic art often resembles a puzzle or a script that invites the viewer to decode it, only to withhold the ultimate answer.
• The Illusion of Syntax: By telling the audience to "connect the dots," Anderson highlights how humans frantically try to impose logic, narratives, and grammar onto random stimuli. The "dots" are visual anchors of an alphabet that contains no actual message. [1, 2]

Sonic Automation and Asemic Audio Textures

The sonic landscape of "Sharkey's Day" relies heavily on processed, jarring instrumentation—specifically Adrian Belew’s aggressive guitar tracks fed through a Foxx Tone Machine pedal. []

• Abstract Communication: The guitar solos do not follow traditional melodic or harmonic syntax; instead, they mimic animalistic shrieks, industrial whirs, and electronic glitches. [, 2]
• De-contextualized Language: The human voice is similarly disrupted. In "Sharkey's Day," Anderson repeats phrases like "The sun's coming up like a big bald head" until the words lose their literal meaning and flatten into rhythmic, percussive markers. The phrase becomes an abstract signifier of time passing, rather than a poetic description. [1, 2, 4]

The Corporate Landscape as a Blank Page

Sharkey is described as a man who is perpetually "not at his desk right now," operating in an ecosystem of "white courtesy telephones" and automated responses. [1, 2]

• The Failure of Transmission: In the corporate "machine," language is completely decoupled from human emotion or intent. Pager beeps, phone rings, and office pleasantries function exactly like asemic scribbles: they possess the appearance and structure of urgent communication, but they contain an absolute vacuum of genuine semantic meaning. [1, 2]
• The Body Replicating Space: When Burroughs observes that Sharky's eyes are "doin' everything I do," language collapses into pure, meaningless mimicry—a visual loop where bodies copy motions without understanding why.
  [1]

The Non-Linear Narrative Canvas

Traditional songs rely on a lyrical narrative arc. Anderson's Sharkey tracks function like a large-scale asemic mural. She splices together unrelated fragments—visions of soaring airplanes, glowing grocery store signs, and internal dialogues about fear and love—without providing a connective syntax. The audience is left to feel the kinetic energy, humor, and underlying dread of the track entirely through its rhythm, tone, and non-verbal delivery. [1, 2, 3, 4]

If you want to delve deeper into Laurie Anderson’s experimental language systems, let me know if I should:

• Analyze the music video for "Sharkey's Day" and its use of abstract visual green-screen symbols.
• Explore how William S. Burroughs' "cut-up" technique functions as a form of literary asemic writing in "Sharkey's Night".
• Compare the abstract audio landscape of Mister Heartbreak to her earlier masterpiece, Big Science.

Where would you like to guide this exploration?

~***~