grad school = death to thinking?

I've been procrastinating on writing this paper and reading old xanga entries. And I had good thoughts! Good questions! Like this one:

I've been thinking about this concept of heaven, and eternal happiness, and all that. And I have some questions.

First off, if I ever get to heaven, how old am I going to be, for eternity? If I see my grandparents, my great grandparents, how old will they be?

Secondly, scenerio: I am deeply in love with someone. A live-by-this-person, die-by-this-person sort of love. And this person dies in a freak accident. My world is crushed, but I live on. And I eventually meet someone else, with whom I fall deeply in love, and spend the rest of my life with, but I am still in love with person #1. Who am I going to spend eternal paradise with - my first true love, or the true love that I spent my whole life with?

How does it work?

>>>>

That's a good question, right?? I mean, and now, in grad school, all of my questions are like "what are the hegemonic implications of the totalitarian system under which our government idealizes certain values and norms by which all individuals within the system must function?" or something like that?

underpass on the 5 North

Driving along the 5 North one night through the short tunnel just north of the 118, I drive past an 18-wheeler, and as I do, he taps his horn. I was a bit taken aback, since I was in my lane, and he was in his. But then I was told that honking in that underpass is a strange cultural thing. During rush hour, if one person honks, other people would join in and honk, making a veritable sonic cacophony in celebration of, uh, traffic.

a love story, of sorts

There have been a few people who have asked about my new guitar, so I thought I'd write an ode here to her (yes, after long last, one of my guitars is finally a "her"). So here goes. BTW, G-rated, this is not. Proceed with caution.

There were probably a million better things I could be doing with my time that afternoon. But into Guitar Center I strolled. And after visiting the usual suspects and old friends, the Martin OMC Aura, the Martin 16 series, the Taylor GA8 and 600 series, my eyes fell on an unbranded guitar - one that looked a bit unique. At first glance, I thought, "That's a pretty guitar." It took a closer examination to see that the guitar was fully rosewood. Including the top, which is very rare. In any case, she caught my attention, so I approached her.

At first, though, I didn't really give her the benefit of the doubt. Just casually ran my finger across her strings - I didn't even bother removing her from the guitar stand. Not a bad sound. A certain warmth, definitely, probably due to the rosewood top. "But there are tons more like it," I thought. And didn't really give her another thought. Moreover, I couldn't really gauge how she sounded through the cacophony of everyone else playing and testing out instruments. Finally, as the afternoon wore on, people left, and I found myself alone with her. So I finally picked her up off the stand, held her in my arms, and this time, I listened.

Although there was an undeniable connection going on here, I wasn't sure I wanted to invest in a new guitar at the moment. So I let things be for a while. But I kept going back, and occasionally, I’d see other people picking her up and playing her. And I would too. I was slowly moved. She somehow got under my skin, and weaseled her way into my heart.

Finally, I took her home with me. Then, deep in the dark recesses of nighttime, I explored her. With each pluck, each stroke, each caress, she makes a different sound. I feel like I could spend forever touching her just to see how I can illicit different reactions. Soft, hard, strumming, plucking, slapping, hammering... with each touch, she reveals more to me, more depth, more overtones, more shades and layers. She unravels me with her beauty, both inside and out. With every touch and every glance, with every breath, I want more. I can't get close enough to her. In the dark of the night, I make her sing.

I’m so in love with her.

sounds and lights

http://seawitchery.tumblr.com/post/4070384205/i-started-out-clicking-strategically-and-by-the

Stokes response

I appreciate Stokes bringing up the critical questions of globalization - who does it benefit, etc, and recognizing the problems with being too idealistic. This power struggle does not just apply to music, as Stokes acknowledges, but to all cultural and political aspects of a global society.

The idea of globalization in terms of music is an interesting one, and often in conflict, I feel, because music is so cultural. It’s defined culturally, and the emotions one feels is not universal - it is culturally specific.

The dichotomies Stokes brings up (on page 50) between top-down and bottom-up, system and agency, global and local, etc seems to be tensions that happen in culture in general. To me, it always seems to be a question or power and appropriation, of maintaining power or subverting that power. And Stokes acknowledges this. For example, the fact that we use the term “World Music” I think says volumes about how we look at music from non-Western cultures. World music used to be a term used for anything that was outside the genres of rock, classical, pop, and country (or something like that), and encompasses everything non-Western. It seems to be a term that throws a homogenizing blanket over all things Other.

The point Stokes brings up here: “European and North American rock and pop superstars are prominent in charts, music stores, and cassette stands across much of the third world; the reverse is not true,” (pg. 55) exemplifies the cultural imperialism, or power difference between the powerful West and others. It is an example I tend to use a lot while talking about the phenomenon of Asian kids playing classical music . Why, I tend to ask, are Asian kids playing music written by dead, white, European men? We don’t ever see Europeans or Americans playing classical Chinese music on Eastern instruments. We’d be hard-pressed to find an American who can name two or three traditional Chinese instruments.

It is infuriating, as well, how copyright law and the economics of the music industry exploit ethnic music, like the example of the Taiwanese aboriginal groups’s CD release in France. It seems as though the industry, the music, art, culture are forever framed in an economic box. Copyright law, the idea that ideas are possession and hence can be traded for economic gain, is a decidedly Western and capitalistic mentality, and yet non-Western societies need to play the capitalistic game in order to survive in a global society, get they continue to get screwed over. Copyright laws don’t protect those that it wasn’t written for.

I always feel like the idea of hybridity is just a way for cultures in power (read: Western, white) to feel like they’re diverse. Like eastern medicine being used in addition to Western medicine as hybrid treatment, if it’s explicitly NOT Western, it has almost this exoticism to it - exoticism that has the potential to sell -- even when we steal things from non-Western cultures all the time (in music) and never allow those from whom we steal to benefit economically (like African beats that are transported to the West, then copyrighted by some Western artist, and Africa never sees a cent of royalty fees).

Stokes’ discussion of Monson brings to mind the fact that music is used differently in different cultures. Certain tribes in Africa use drumming as a form of communication across distances. Other cultures use songs to tell stories, in rituals. It seems like only in Western cultures is music so commercialized that every song, every musical note has a price tag attached to it. And the question becomes, then, in our capitalistic framework, how do we empower other cultures’ music as we incorporate or appropriate them, or bring visibility to them? Is that even possible, with the cultural hegemony of the West? Or is it better to keep music localized and hence, authentic, without losing its meaning by bringing it across cultural boundaries?

Religion is like a penis

From LarryList...

 

Diz again

I can't stand Disneyland's totalitarian ideology. My goodness. Even the roller coaster has a soundtrack that runs for the entire ride, then concludes when the ride stops, and it's so loud as to seek to drown out the sound of the car on the track. It's deafening. It's like, Disney really doesn't want you to hear anything other than what they want you to hear, or what they produce.

My friend tried to bring her ukulele into the park once, to play it while waiting in line (and possibly entertain the people around her), and the park officials told her she was not allowed to bring it into the park. Disney clearly did not want anything other than their own musical sounds inside the park.

Which, then, begs the question why they don't ban singing (obviously, it's harder to ban singing...).

Yesterday night, my friends and I watched World of Color twice - once from the front - or, how you're supposed to watch it. And then once from the back. Watching it from the back was really illuminating (pun not intended). When the water screen comes up, there is a distinct "pffft" sound of the water starting. You hear the unproduced sounds a lot better behind the scene - the machinery and the water dropping into the lagoon - and the produced sounds are muffled because all of the speakers are pointing in the other direction. A very VERY different sonic experience.

quick response to Hsu

I just have to make a quick response to Hsu's piece. It dangerously seems to be talking about post-racial society...and if you read a bit of Kent Ono, you'll see why this is...problematic. Hsu feels too idealistic - quoting Carter talking about crossing a bridge, "defining ourselves by lifestyle rather than skin color." It disregards the history. I have discussions about this all the time - of reverse racism, with various people - and we question whether reverse racism can really exist (yes, of course it can), but whether that racism is the same sort of oppressive racism that was put upon people of color all throughout history (no, it's not).

There is a history of white hegemony and Western imperialism that can't simply be erased because we have Obama in office, which seems to be what Hsu is trying to at least make us think about. And whereas I appreciate Hsu bringing this into the conversation - the possibility of a post-racial world, one in which white people are culturally bankrupt (really? REALLY? have you taken a look at those things that make up "culture" in our society? Asian kids still play classical music written by mostly dead, white, European men -- why??), we have to remember to not disregard the history of oppression and white superiority that has ruled our modern world by being blinded with the idea of a harmonious, almost bohemian-esque, kumbaya "we are beyond race" mentality.

Jay-Z Decoded

So, before I started the readings for this week, I had to google the difference between hip hop and rap. Turns out, hip hop is a culture, while rap is simply the style of music. And, honestly, the only rap I had ever listened to before was Eminem. So, this was yet another week of music I am completely unfamiliar with. I love it. I’ve been listening to and reading Decoded, reading the lyrics as I listen to the audio track that Ryan gave us (so helpful, THANK YOU). And for me, it’s like reading Shakespeare. Hip hop music is constructed in a kind of syntax and structure that I am just not fluent in. Thank goodness for the footnotes that Jay-Z includes. It’s like Shakespeare in that it’s definitely English, but English in a way that I have to, well, decode. Perhaps this is the beauty of hip hop - the realness of the struggles for this group of people.

Decoded is a look into the songwriter’s head. We thus far have not had many readings that dealt with the “artistic” side of music, and how a musician synthesizes the songs he writes (although Suisman’s book does talk a little about it -- generally with the perception that music is driven mostly by economics). But Decoded takes us through one artist’s thought process, then the finished product.

Another thing that crossed my mind while reading Decoded was the fact that the names were, well, not conventional. It is almost as if they internalize a performative aspect to their lives, and change their name to one that is performative for music purposes (and possibly others). And, they reference real names in songs. Jay-Z does it himself, and references other people like Bleek (in Coming of Age). This sort of self-referencing and referencing real people in their lives gives the music an autobiographical feel (as fiction as sometimes Jay-Z would like us to believe). In fact, the whole book is a combination of Jay-Z’s story, and the intersection of that story with his art.

Decoded often veers into poignancy, as for example, when Jay-Z talks about being invisible. In Larry’s class today, we were just talking about the erasure of certain cultures and races in America. Jay-Z is very aware of this, and it is as if rap is a way to make the stories that the Powers That Be want to keep invisible visible. It is a side of America that was supposed to stay buried, yet didn’t. His discussion of the hip hop police depicts a scene almost like a battle - Althusser’s Ideological State Apparatuses - the police, whose job is to uphold the ideology and image of the America that is supposed to be, battling the subversive forces that find power from the bottom up.

This week seems to follow the theme of race and genre in music. The fact that hip hop is tied closely to black culture leads me to think about the questions we encountered during our discussions of narcocorridos and ragtime, and the segregation of race into genres. Rap and hip hop seems the modern day separation of race and genre. Jay-Z talks about the Beasties and Eminem, and makes the statement “Hip-hop gave a generation a common ground that didn’t require either race to lose anything.” (Jay-Z, 180). Perhaps they didn’t lose anything, but the genre itself is still entrenched in power struggles, and I can’t help wonder if white people doing hip hop is tainted with re-appropriation of an art form that they can perform and hence, control. There are white rappers. Other than Darius Rucker, have there been any other non-white country singer star? Does it work the other way? I feel Jay-Z may be a bit too idealistic in that statement. But overall, he leaves us with the message to listen, with our minds and hearts open, and perhaps in this way, we can start understanding other cultures and continue the conversation.

Grammys cutting categories

http://artsbeat.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/04/06/grammys-to-cut-more-than-30-categories/?smid=tw-nytimes&seid=auto

John Cage's Water Walk

So...uh...what is music?

http://blog.wfmu.org/freeform/2007/04/john_cage_on_a_.html

questioning my sanity

As you can probably see, for some reason, I've been in deep songwriting mode.

I'm playing a show on April 15th in Long Beach, which will be a B-sides show - new songs (mostly), and songs no one has heard before...and going thru the set list, I realize about 4 or 5 songs are all in C#Maj. So I have this crazy idea to do one continuous 20-minute medley-type chunk (medley-type because the full songs will get played, and not just pieces) that just flows from one piece to the next. Unfortunately, because all 4 or 5 songs are stylistically different, I'm not sure of the best order to put them in, how to transition from one to the next without sounding completely bonkers, and the last time I combined songs, it was only two, and I ended up with a 9-minute song that exhausted me by the time I reached the end.

I think I might have talked myself out of this idea. It's 1:30am, and ideas that seem great late at night may prove to be mistakes in day's harsh light (wouldn't you know it, I'm an accidental poet --- just in time for the hip hop unit this week, although my rhymes here are somewhat meek)

Real vs fake chord songs

When I write songs, they musically fall into two vague categories. The first is heavily influenced by my affinity for country music (I know, I know, let the judging begin), and the second is my attempt to be edgier and more free form.

In the first category, I use what I call "real" chords - easily understandable chords like Gmaj, Cmaj, Emin, Dmaj, Dmin, etc. Sometimes with a 7 chord thrown in. Sometimes suspended. I'm finding these songs fall neatly into place - it's a structure that's easy to read, and you know when and how phrases start and end.

In the second category, I use what I call "made up chords". Ok. These chords aren't really made up. In music theory, there are names for them. They're just too much trouble for me to figure out exactly what to call the chord. (did I mention that yes, I'm a classically trained musician, but when it comes to guitar, I can't even so much as read music to translate it onto the instrument? And I can't translate the sounds/noises I make on my guitar into musical notation. And it's mostly because I'm lazy and don't want to figure it out) So I call them made-up chords. They consist of a lot of suspended chords, Major7 chords, and other ones that just don't make any sense (as for example, E fingering off the 7th fret or something)

Anyway, my point with the second category is that I never know when the song is finished. Because it's so free form, it seems to change every time I play it. I'm actually speaking from a current frustration. I've been working on a song the last two days or so, and want to finish it in time for my show on the 15th. And I think it's finished, but I'm not sure. Because it almost feels like it's half improvised.

It's also funny that sometimes it takes 20 minutes to write a song. Other times, it takes 20 minutes to write 2 words.

disco response

Disco. The images this word conjures up for me include the shiny ball above the dance floor, Saturday Night Fever’s iconic image of John Travolta (a movie, I’m sad to say, I have yet to see), and big hair. Growing up in a Chinese household didn’t leave much room for cultural exploration outside that with which my parents were familiar. So, like in previous weeks, this is new territory for me. I actually thought disco took place during the 80s, which just shows how ignorant I am of pop music before the turn of the century...

Echol’s brief description of the transition from the 60s to the 70s reminded me of a book I read a couple years ago called “Generation Me” by Jean Twenge, in which she talks about the current generation of people in their 20s and 30s who grew up with a focus on the individual rather than the collective, with the desire and drive to stand out, to be unique, being told from an early age that they’re “special.” Self-esteem became more important that productivity, and “A for effort” became the norm in schools. I wonder if this has anything to do with the cultural revolutions of the 60s, which brought out a consciousness of diversity and identity, civil consciousness which spoke to the importance of the individual, and resulted in a push for self-identification and standing up for oneself. Here is one interpretation that I do not necessarily agree with, but can (if I expand my mind enough) see the point -- my mom once told me that to come out of the closet (as gay or lesbian) is a very selfish move, as it is tragic to one’s parents. It is interesting to me that she speaks from a culture that is more collective (Chinese), whereas in America, hiding one’s sexuality in order to appease one’s family, save face, and keep peace within one’s communal society would be unfathomable in, well, the liberal, diverse circles in which I live.

The continuity of disco on the dance floor is an interesting thought, especially since it seems to homogenize music - as Echols states, “songs that were easy to mix in and out of...began to dominate deejays’ playlists.” (Echols, pg. 9) Only certain songs that fit the beat and tempo of music were played and hence familiarized. Moreover, the embrace of  the “synthetic over the organic, the cut-up over the whole, the producer of the artist, and the record over live performance” (Echols, pg. 10) resonates with the popularization of techno and electronic dance music today, as Echols mentions in her Epilogue. Electronic dance music seems to be the updated disco of today’s music world, even to the point of “discofying” popular songs into a style with techno beats and pounding synthesized percussion.

Another interesting point to disco is that it seems to empower (at least economically in terms of visibility and record deals) marginalized minorities, especially black women, or the diva, with gay men as prominent consumers of this genre. Not to be grossly overgeneralizing, but the stereotype of the gay man as the diva suddenly makes more sense to me now... The point being is that it seems to me like one of the really significant things about disco was the fact that it is like a genre of subversion, a genre that was embraced by those in the margins - even the margins of the marginalized, as was the case of gay macho, and made the margins more visible than it were before. Echols makes the point that it crosses racial and gender boundaries that other genres may not. This probably says something about dance and rhythm as well...

And just another thing I appreciated about this book - the historicizing and summarizing of gay culture in America.

Wedding sounds

Reaction paper in the making...

But. I meant to blog about this sooner. I was at a wedding this weekend. It was a beach wedding. During the vows, you could hear what the officiator was saying (for the bride and groom to repeat), but you couldn't actually hear the bride and groom repeat it. I thought this was interesting in that sonically, the audience could hear what was supposed to be said, but the sounds of the bride and groom were reserved only for them. Perhaps that makes it more intimate.

Just a quick thought.

Also, ever notice that regular TV is louder than if you have a DVD in? I have to turn my volume way up when I watch a DVD.

sounds at Diz

Explanation of title: According to a Disney cast member we met today, people at Disneyland call the park "diz" or "the park" or "DCA" (for California Adventure)

Ok, on to other thoughts. Warning: Will be disjointed and not written very...intelligently... (or, eloquently) because I am very very tired (after spending the day at Diz), but wanted to get these thoughts up. Some of this is from today, some of this is from last month when I went.

Pirates:
1) It's like a movie. Where each room you pass is a different scene. And visually, it changes with each room you pass. Aurally, it fades, but remnants of the last "scene" or room still seep into the current.
2) There are two types of sounds on the ride - the produced sounds (or mechanical sounds), and the "real" sounds. The produced sounds are the ones that are recorded and reproduced. In pirates, this means the voices, the singing, the bullets and cannon shots, the dog barks, the instruments. Almost EVERY sound you hear on the ride is a produced sound. The real sounds are few and far between. Mostly sound of water. Or, for example, a great combination of the two are in the cannon battle scene. Where there are simulations of cannonballs hitting the water. The sounds of the cannonballs are all recorded, yet they blast water up, and the water hitting the surface of the, well, water from whence it came, is a "real" sound. There aren't much of these in ride.
3) The experience is so aurally immersive that you don't hear people talking, unless they're sitting RIGHT next to you. And even then, it's hard to hear them. Very much like a movie. Which I found was really the point (John Hench, head Imagineer, seems to imply) --- actually, we went to check out the Little Mermaid ride preview in DCA, and the layout plans of the ride show each section as a "Scene". As in, "Scene 8 - Ariel's escape" or something like that.

Fantasmic:
One thing really struck me during the fireworks. They play music during the fireworks. And the fireworks visually works with the music. Like, you'd see a burst of something or other on the downbeat, or a significant syncopated beat in the music. HOWEVER. As we all know, the burst you hear from fireworks occurs later than the burst you hear (which, I believe, is simply due to the scientific fact that light travels faster than sound). So the SOUND of the fireworks is in complete disjunction with the music. And yet, it seems like people don't CARE. It doesn't seem to affect the experience in any way, as long as the visual falls in place with the music. This is not only another example of visual hegemony, but that people are so taken in by the produced-ness of the experience, that there is a certain kind of deafness to the VERY LOUD boom that comes with the fireworks - it's heard but not really heard. The loudest sound of this produced experience is one that is unavoidable, and yet somehow forgotten. It's an aural signal that is expected to be disjointed, yet doesn't disrupt the produced experience.

Main Street:
I have to go back and listen to this, but it seems like people are lethargic around 3pm, very lively heading back into the part (presumably after an afternoon nap) around 7pm, then restless to go home at around 10pm. I just remember 3pm being very quiet. And the produced music was everywhere on Main Street. Lots of swing music, some ragtime, some musical, marching band-type music, and the music is continuous anywhere you go on Main Street, although if you listen closely enough, you can figure out where the speakers are, even though Diz tries very hard to hide them and make the sound seem sonorously magically present.

Jungle Cruise:
If you're talking about produced sounds creating an immersive experience for the audience, the Jungle Cruise does not do this. Especially if you're sitting in the back of the boat, where the motor is. You can't hear the guide at all. An example where real sounds overpower produced sounds and punctures (a bit) this frameworked experience Disney wants you to have. There's an interesting performative thing here too. Imagine being the guide and giving the same spiel for hours and hours on end, and needing it to sound fresh every time.

Tiki Room:
The split between produced sounds and real sounds (in this case, the mechanical sounds made by the animatronics technology that moves the birds and flowers mouths) is most pronounced here, and the real sounds probably the most ignored. The mechanical sounds are really percussive, and very noticeable, that at first, I thought it was part of the music, and was thinking, "huh. that's clever. they use the mechanical sounds to add to the produced and recorded sounds to make it sound more percussive." Until the flowers started singing some aria-type number, and then (because I was paying so much attention to it), the mechanical sounds started being distracting and overpowering. But probably only because I was listening for it. Everyone else seemed to not notice it at all - it didn't alter their experience...or the experience Walt Disney wants them to have. Again, another example to check reality at the door, to be willing to look past the real and buy into the experience (and pleasure --- this is talked about in the "Inside the Mouse" book) of the park - the fabricated and constructed one - to only experience what you're SUPPOSED to. It's all pretty totalitarian.

On a completely unrelated note, I realize that I can hear my neighbors' coffee maker early in the morning from my bedroom (my bedroom and their kitchen are adjacent) - and it has to be early because any later and I hear the faint occasional sound of cars in the street, which actually overpowers the very VERY quiet coffee maker sounds. And, when my ear is physically touching my pillow or blanket at certain times, I can hear my heartbeat. Sound travels through solids best, I guess. I mean, I know that sound travels through solids best, but I guess that's the explanation for the latter one.

Ok, I'm going to bed before people think I'm completely discombobulated. Good night.

Andrew Lansley rap

On the heels of our genred, racialized discussions...white rapper from the UK. Talking about the NHS in peril. Awesome stuff.

response to Migrancy (Kun and Ragland)

I found Josh’s article fascinating, and an interesting introduction for me into the world of narcocorridos. Before this week’s readings, I knew absolutely nothing about Mexican music. (and honestly, I still feel like I don’t know much!) So, I think this response will be drawing comparisons to types of music and situations with which I am familiar.

The narrative style of narcocorridos to which the readings this week refers reminds me a little bit of country music - the telling of a story often centered around a character. With country music, though, there’s usually a moral point to the song or the story. Narcocorridos seem to celebrate crime and subversion. It is almost as if music itself is in cahoots with these ideas of subverting traditional power structures - women in the position of power with the example of Emilio Varela and Camelia le Tejana. Ragland paints a very interesting story of the tensions between Mexican and Mexican American culture - one that I’m rather familiar with as well, being Asian American and seeming “westernized” in the eyes of Asian friends, family, and acquaintances. The fact that Camelia was able to get away with murder and money, I felt, could be read a few ways. That it was ok because she was a woman, but not REALLY Mexican, and women are shady, subordinate creatures anyway, which doesn’t disrupt the social order if they deviate from it, because their position of less power. That it is empowering that a woman (regardless of nationality or culture) overpowers and outsmarts a man. That a woman had so much “visibility” or “aurality” - or “airtime” and given notice - that she was represented and given (quite a bit of) space in the musical narrative, that may seek to change the patriarchal hegemony.

Josh’s article quotes Mr. Quintero as saying that “songs for peace, or songs about ending violence...It’s not what people want to hear.” At first, that seems a bit disturbing. However, if we take ourselves out of the dichotomized framework of good and evil, legal and illegal, peace and violence, etc, can we start seeing the world more as relational rather than as absolute? Ragland also alludes to the complicated dynamics of the border, of nationality and identity, and of music. The narcotraficante lifestyle seems like it can be painted a bit like Robin Hood, where the questions of good and bad are thrown out the window and are, rather, replaced with questions of perspective, power, need, culture. If you steal from the rich (the drug-addicted North Americans) to feed the poor (shunting drug money back to Mexico to better the community) (Ragland, 166), is that really “bad”? The law may seem black and white, but morality is rarely that clearcut... as are the other strands of questions Mexican music plays with - culture, identity, nationality, race, gender, etc, and the movement across and between the Mexican and American frameworks for these.

I also wonder how narcocorridos compare with rap and the prevalence of sex and domestic violence and rape in rap music. I know very little about ether genre (oh, how problematic this idea of genre is, as we know), but it doesn’t seem as though rappers are killed like the Mexican musicians were...

Another instance of the drowning music industry....

http://www.digitalmusicnews.com/stories/032211fill?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+mediaredef+%28jason+hirschhorn%27s+Media+ReDEFined%29

response to Miller reading

One of the major things I got out of the Miller book was the idea that commercialized music was integrated into "folk" music, or southern music, rather than the other way around, of the Powers That Be appropriating "authentic" or "folk" music. I actually thought it would be the second way, although when one thinks about it, given the proliferation of commercialized music, it is not surprising that southern music would be influenced by commercialized music. It was interesting that Charles Peabody was dismayed to hear African American laborers singing commercialized "white" music coming from New York City - in that it exemplified the sentiment of the Jim Crow laws, wherein Powers That Be (usually white) wanted to put race and genres and music in separate boxes. The bleed-thru of commercial music into "folk" music, then, seemed to threaten the sacred tenet of segregation on which the Jim Crow laws are based, and hence threaten the hegemonic power of white folks. (who are, at the end of the day, still "folks" - more on this later)

Genres have always really bothered me. It seems to seek to put art and artistic endeavors (music, film, TV, etc --- and people, as we see) in these tiny boxes. They put unnecessary boundaries and limitations on human expression, and seek to categorize and organize in order to control. We see this with film and TV genres all the time. Especially with the Emmys, what is "good" and what is "bad" is often based on genre - this is a "good" drama show, this is a "good" comedy show, and we will reward you for falling within the lines of genre, award shows tell us. Race, then, as Miller demonstrates, is an ultimate genre that then gets tied closely with art produced by racialized bodies. It is a type of genre that comes with even more historical power struggles than the genre to which I previously referred. Both, of course, are constructed, and are sites of power struggles. This idea of racialized genres is still prevalent in music today, although it seems less imposed upon by Powers That Be and more simply part of the hegemonic fabric of our society that comes from a history of slavery and oppression of non-white people.

Broonzy's quote "all music is folk music" in the afterword of the book is poignant on many levels. On one level, he speaks of the challenges (and possibly inanity) of trying to categorize folk music, of trying to categorize what is "authentic." On the other hand, I feel he makes a much broader statement about race and the perceived inferiority of African Americans or non-white musicians. He seems to react to the fact that non-Whites, and especially African Americans, were treated no better than animals, if we recall the slavery era. His comment about the horse speaks to this very clearly. This statement is poignant because it recognizes the dehumanization of black folks in the south, and seeks to bring an aspect of humanity back into the conversation, to remind people that, regardless of race, everyone is foundationally human.

One more quick anecdote that I won't elaborate on too much (might be able to link it later to another blog), but I thought was relevant to this idea of racialized music. My friend Dawen performed at the Apollo in NYC last week. Did not win, but is interesting in that he's a guy of Asian decent playing soul music. Dawen's genre is R&B, another "traditionally" black genre. I've often wondered if Asian American musicians have a genre of music, or if we just bounce around, adapting other racialized genres?