Monday, March 30, 2009
Music in Diaspora: The View from Euro-America
In "Music in Diaspora," Slobin writes "for both individuals and groups, taste has become recognized as an important dimension of identity." This piece emphasizes diasporic identity and creating an us/them environment through isolation via different tastes and preferences in music, and yet it is states that "diasporic identity is not invented as a free expression of group will; it is improvised under pressure from within and without." How can one turn a diasporic identity into an empowering thing? Acknowledging and discussing the us/them dynamic can backfire on artists--is it empowering, isolating, ignorant, or "a step in the wrong direction?" Under the influence of the superculture, can one ever really be an individual within their subculture, or are there other unrecognizable elements that have made them exactly as they are, according to the superculture/media machine's "larger plan" of wrongly representing their subculture?
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
An Evening With Daryl Hall & John Oates: My Date With an 80s band
The box office window drew a line of roughly 60 people—almost all white, over 30 years old, in jeans and t-shirts. Trevor and I walked past the line because we had already purchased tickets, and I felt awkward and yet proud when the older people looked at us and asked each other how we had even heard of Hall & Oates. We walked in, and the ushers took our tickets—they didn’t search my bag or jacket, which was definitely a different concert dynamic than I am used to. As I walked through the venue, I noticed that there was not a large crowd, and then I turned the corner and found where most of the audience was—the bar! Trevor and I decided to head over to the merchandise table. There was no line, and limited merchandise available—two different men’s shirts, a women’s shirt, and women’s underwear. (Which said ‘maneater.’ Classy, right?)
I decided that I wasn’t going to buy anything, and as I turned around to leave, I came face-to-face with a very young girl. Confused, I said, “I’m sorry, but if you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?” She smiled and said, “Oh no problem! I’m fourteen.” It took a minute for this to register in my mind before I was finally able to spit out, “Cool. How do you even know about Hall & Oates? Why are you here?” She laughed and pointed at a woman in her 40s with huge crimped and curled bleach blonde hair and a sign that read ‘HALL & OATES 4EVER’ and said, “That’s my mom.” I felt sort of foolish after that—after all, the only reason I started listening to Hall & Oates was because my parents were obsessed with them. I decided to ask her if she liked their music, and she said, “Yeah, they’re pretty okay. Their songs are good to dance to.” Her mother called her over, and we said our goodbyes.
By this point, it was about 7.25pm and the show was supposed to start at 7.30, so Trevor and I headed up the stairs to find our balcony seats. I consider Hall & Oates to be a classic pop duo, so I thought the Orpheum Theatre would be packed—but at this point in the evening, I would say that only about 15% of the seats were taken. It made me feel guilty to see the Orpheum mostly empty…if Hall & Oates came out on stage to this, they would surely feel old and washed up.
The show didn’t end up starting until almost 8 o’clock, and by then, about half of the theatre was full, which made me slightly happier. The lights flickered, and the audience started cheering—a mixture of whistles and claps; there wasn’t much screaming. The band slowly trickled on stage; first, the keyboardist, then the bassist, the drummer, the percussionist—the only band member of color, the saxophonist/keyboardist, and then the famous guitarist T-Bone. And then the crowd started screaming and going wild—John Oates, a tiny guy wearing jeans and a white t-shirt came out with a guitar, and then Daryl Hall walked—no, strutted—out in a leather jacket, jeans, and huge cowboy boots, wearing sunglasses and a smile reminiscent of Gilderoy Lockhart. (I immediately wanted to punch him n the head. He had a fan on him at all times during the show so that his hair would have movement.)
The stage was packed—Hall & Oates is an eight-person band! There was an incredibly cheesy backdrop of a fake brick wall and the floor had about four or five oriental rugs strewn across it. Hall & Oates were sitting on two stools front and center, with spotlights on them, though it was clear that Hall was the one with all the attention—his mic was very obviously louder and he did ALL of the talking. They began playing their songs, but the first ten or so were newer songs that the audience didn’t really know. I decided to take this opportunity to look around the audience—about four songs into the show, people started coming into the Orpheum in waves, and by the 6th song, I looked around, and there didn’t seem to be an empty seat in the house. The crowd was about 90% white, and I would say that roughly 85% was over the age of 30. Everyone was seated—I had never been to a concert where people sat while the main act performed.
Then, Hall & Oates started to play their older songs—the billboard top songs. They played ‘Maneater,’ and then ‘Family Man,’ and by the time they played ‘Wait For Me,’ the audience was going mad. Considering how old he is, Daryl Hall’s voice is absolutely fantastic—it sounded just as good as their records from the 70s, and he did some improvisational singing (diva-esque) in which he hit some impressively high notes. The sound of the band in general was really great, including the balance of volume with the saxophone or guitar during solos. They played ‘Rich Girl,’ and about half of the audience was on their feet dancing by this point. Afterwards, Daryl Hall said thank you into the microphone, and the band started walking off. I was in shock—what a short show! And why wouldn’t they play their biggest hits? There were at least five more songs I wanted to hear, and I didn’t think they would play an encore to incorporate all of them. Regardless, I stood to cheer, like the rest of the audience, and after about 2 minutes of cheers, the band decided to come back, only this time, Daryl Hall didn’t take his place in the front with his guitar—he moved to the side to the synthesizer. (I was obviously excited—this meant business!) They played ‘Kiss On My List,’ which got the whole audience clapping along. They next transitioned into their slow jam ‘Sara Smile’ (Which I was named after, by the way.) and the audience was swaying and holding each other.
They left the stage again, and people cheered for a while and began gathering their things, and then suddenly—the band reappeared for a second encore! They started with one of their best songs, ‘I Can’t Go For That,’ and then played their biggest hit, ‘Private Eyes.’ The entire audience was clapping along, and I admit to dancing with my neighbor—a blonde woman in her 40s with acid-washed jeans. Daryl Hall introduced every member of the band, and then said his thanks and good night. The Orpheum Theatre, filled to the brim with people whose ages ranged from 14 to 70, was screaming, clapping, cheering, and dancing when Hall & Oates finally left the stage. The lights came back on, and there seemed to be a shared sigh of happiness from the audience. As I walked out, literally every person I saw was smiling. It definitely wasn’t the best show I had ever seen, but I think it was the happiest—just because the audience had members who didn’t seem to go to shows very often, and it was almost impossible for me to not feel good when 60 year-olds sang and danced with me.
(Word Count: 1190)
I decided that I wasn’t going to buy anything, and as I turned around to leave, I came face-to-face with a very young girl. Confused, I said, “I’m sorry, but if you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?” She smiled and said, “Oh no problem! I’m fourteen.” It took a minute for this to register in my mind before I was finally able to spit out, “Cool. How do you even know about Hall & Oates? Why are you here?” She laughed and pointed at a woman in her 40s with huge crimped and curled bleach blonde hair and a sign that read ‘HALL & OATES 4EVER’ and said, “That’s my mom.” I felt sort of foolish after that—after all, the only reason I started listening to Hall & Oates was because my parents were obsessed with them. I decided to ask her if she liked their music, and she said, “Yeah, they’re pretty okay. Their songs are good to dance to.” Her mother called her over, and we said our goodbyes.
By this point, it was about 7.25pm and the show was supposed to start at 7.30, so Trevor and I headed up the stairs to find our balcony seats. I consider Hall & Oates to be a classic pop duo, so I thought the Orpheum Theatre would be packed—but at this point in the evening, I would say that only about 15% of the seats were taken. It made me feel guilty to see the Orpheum mostly empty…if Hall & Oates came out on stage to this, they would surely feel old and washed up.
The show didn’t end up starting until almost 8 o’clock, and by then, about half of the theatre was full, which made me slightly happier. The lights flickered, and the audience started cheering—a mixture of whistles and claps; there wasn’t much screaming. The band slowly trickled on stage; first, the keyboardist, then the bassist, the drummer, the percussionist—the only band member of color, the saxophonist/keyboardist, and then the famous guitarist T-Bone. And then the crowd started screaming and going wild—John Oates, a tiny guy wearing jeans and a white t-shirt came out with a guitar, and then Daryl Hall walked—no, strutted—out in a leather jacket, jeans, and huge cowboy boots, wearing sunglasses and a smile reminiscent of Gilderoy Lockhart. (I immediately wanted to punch him n the head. He had a fan on him at all times during the show so that his hair would have movement.)
The stage was packed—Hall & Oates is an eight-person band! There was an incredibly cheesy backdrop of a fake brick wall and the floor had about four or five oriental rugs strewn across it. Hall & Oates were sitting on two stools front and center, with spotlights on them, though it was clear that Hall was the one with all the attention—his mic was very obviously louder and he did ALL of the talking. They began playing their songs, but the first ten or so were newer songs that the audience didn’t really know. I decided to take this opportunity to look around the audience—about four songs into the show, people started coming into the Orpheum in waves, and by the 6th song, I looked around, and there didn’t seem to be an empty seat in the house. The crowd was about 90% white, and I would say that roughly 85% was over the age of 30. Everyone was seated—I had never been to a concert where people sat while the main act performed.
Then, Hall & Oates started to play their older songs—the billboard top songs. They played ‘Maneater,’ and then ‘Family Man,’ and by the time they played ‘Wait For Me,’ the audience was going mad. Considering how old he is, Daryl Hall’s voice is absolutely fantastic—it sounded just as good as their records from the 70s, and he did some improvisational singing (diva-esque) in which he hit some impressively high notes. The sound of the band in general was really great, including the balance of volume with the saxophone or guitar during solos. They played ‘Rich Girl,’ and about half of the audience was on their feet dancing by this point. Afterwards, Daryl Hall said thank you into the microphone, and the band started walking off. I was in shock—what a short show! And why wouldn’t they play their biggest hits? There were at least five more songs I wanted to hear, and I didn’t think they would play an encore to incorporate all of them. Regardless, I stood to cheer, like the rest of the audience, and after about 2 minutes of cheers, the band decided to come back, only this time, Daryl Hall didn’t take his place in the front with his guitar—he moved to the side to the synthesizer. (I was obviously excited—this meant business!) They played ‘Kiss On My List,’ which got the whole audience clapping along. They next transitioned into their slow jam ‘Sara Smile’ (Which I was named after, by the way.) and the audience was swaying and holding each other.
They left the stage again, and people cheered for a while and began gathering their things, and then suddenly—the band reappeared for a second encore! They started with one of their best songs, ‘I Can’t Go For That,’ and then played their biggest hit, ‘Private Eyes.’ The entire audience was clapping along, and I admit to dancing with my neighbor—a blonde woman in her 40s with acid-washed jeans. Daryl Hall introduced every member of the band, and then said his thanks and good night. The Orpheum Theatre, filled to the brim with people whose ages ranged from 14 to 70, was screaming, clapping, cheering, and dancing when Hall & Oates finally left the stage. The lights came back on, and there seemed to be a shared sigh of happiness from the audience. As I walked out, literally every person I saw was smiling. It definitely wasn’t the best show I had ever seen, but I think it was the happiest—just because the audience had members who didn’t seem to go to shows very often, and it was almost impossible for me to not feel good when 60 year-olds sang and danced with me.
(Word Count: 1190)
Monday, March 2, 2009
Topic Post
For my term-long project, I decided to study the evolution of Providence is Burning into Goosebumps. Providence is Burning started out as a monthly DJ battle held in Firehouse 13, but now, the same crowds attend a monthly party called Goosebumps, held in Lot 401, with a regular Providence-based DJ named Micah Jackson. I want to interview the party-goers, a predominantly white, upper-class, hipster, well-educated group, and see what attracts them to these parties. What does the music mean to them? How does the "battle" aspect affect the dynamics of the party? Does it matter who "wins" or "loses?" Do they attend shows for the purpose of seeing the outcome, do they choose "sides," or are the battles just something that happens in the background? How did the music go from mash-up, dance mixes to funky 70s inspired techno songs? I plan to examine the MySpace pages of these events, analyze the e-mail invitations, and attend the monthly parties, interviewing the participants, and possibly the space managers of Lot 401 to hear an objective description of what kind of people go to these parties.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Fieldnotes
The following is an examination of the MySpace pages of Providence is Burning and Micah Jackson.
FIELD NOTES: Providence is Burning/ Certified Bananas
Myspace.com/providenceisburning
Poster is the profile picture… huge skull with a single tear… cats coming from other sides and red hands…kind of just really creepy. In big bold letters at the top: PROVIDENCE IS BURNING—creepy letters that look like zombie print. [pre-cursor to goosebumps?] words and letters around it completely disorganized.
Only 3 songs up—two of which are by Certified Bananas [one by Sammy Bananas, one by both Certified Max and Sammy Bananas]
The Tracks:
1. Woaoooh Looow: techno mix of old popular Venga Boys song? Mixed with “Get Low” Catchy, starts out as head-nodding, eventually gets faster and just incredibly dance-y, but bouncy dance-y more than anything else. Only two songs…has the potential to be more mash-up, but feels a lot less A.D.D. than Girl Talk. 3 and a half minutes of an old, guilty 90s song and apple-bottom jeans. Interesting.
2. Dat Funk, by Sammy Bananas: starts out with basic beat, leads to dialogue—ghetto voice asking questions, says “Funk that!” rather than “Fuck that!” leads into what sounds like a little bit of a Salt N Pepa beat. Questions again, then “Smack That” comes on in the background, replaced by “It Takes Two.” Fades out into drum beat again.
3. Shake and Pop, Bananas Remix: techno beat, “Fergalicious” over it. Has what sounds like an 80s riff, shifts into a male rapper—Fergie does the chorus, male rapper does rap, digital voice repeats “Shake…and pop. Shake and pop.”
Best lyric ever: “I like electro, I like retro. I like ghetto, house, and techno.” Goes on for about five minutes—switching with male rapper, Fergie, digital voices. This song is considerably catchier and more dance-y than the other ones.
Besides the songs, the profile is incredibly plain—under the category “sounds like,” the creators of the page wrote, “BOOM.” Underneath the poster in the “About Providence is Burning,” part, there are photographs of the past events. There are only five photographs, all horizontally displayed, with a red tint. There isn’t anything really special about the photos—it looks as if they were just taken randomly to capture the crowds. There are DJs and random instrumentalists, though—including a tuba player and a couple of trombone players. The performers are dressed oddly—one has his face painted like a skull, one is wearing what looks like a Nixon mask, and the others just have regular clothes with a silly aspect—like a chickenhead hat.
Looking through the crowds, though, the audience looks almost completely white, and incredibly [annoyingly] hipster, with their keffia scarves and plaid shirts. The “Top Friends” on the profile are all Providence-based DJs, mostly with profile pictures that advertise this month’s GOOSEBUMPS party. It feels as if the Providence is Burning hasn’t been visited in a while—the last login was in July, but I don’t think that there’s a new profile for Goosebumps itself, which is basically just Providence is Burning with a different name and a different headliner. Providence is Burning’s number one friend is Certified Bananas—which also has an incredibly plain profile. The last login was in December.
I think that Providence is Burning/ Certified Bananas have been kind of out of the loop for a while now. Most e-mails for the DJ battles/ parties themselves have been about Goosebumps, with the main DJ as Micah Jackson. I’m really interested to find out what caused this change and how the dynamics of the parties have shifted. Are the audiences still predominantly white?
Micah Jackson Tracks:
1. Sing Sing Bare Bones Edit: way more funky—starts out with a guitar and bass groove, and continues on in the same fashion. There is no incorporation or mash-up of modern hits. It’s actually quite boring—it’s a really long song, with the same things over and over again. It’s a good dance beat, but I can definitely imagine a crowd getting bored unless there were some kind of mind-altering substances involved.
2. Spooky Acid: Kind of soft dance beat in the background, woman whispering. Boring again. I’m only two minutes in, and I really have no desire to finish listening to this track.
I can’t really imagine Micah Jackson parties being more fun than Certified Bananas ones, but I guess one never really knows. What caused this shift—the music feels completely different, and yet it’s basically the same crowd who goes to these parties. I want to examine why Micah Jackson has won out over Certified Bananas—I just don’t get it!
FIELD NOTES: Providence is Burning/ Certified Bananas
Myspace.com/providenceisburning
Poster is the profile picture… huge skull with a single tear… cats coming from other sides and red hands…kind of just really creepy. In big bold letters at the top: PROVIDENCE IS BURNING—creepy letters that look like zombie print. [pre-cursor to goosebumps?] words and letters around it completely disorganized.
Only 3 songs up—two of which are by Certified Bananas [one by Sammy Bananas, one by both Certified Max and Sammy Bananas]
The Tracks:
1. Woaoooh Looow: techno mix of old popular Venga Boys song? Mixed with “Get Low” Catchy, starts out as head-nodding, eventually gets faster and just incredibly dance-y, but bouncy dance-y more than anything else. Only two songs…has the potential to be more mash-up, but feels a lot less A.D.D. than Girl Talk. 3 and a half minutes of an old, guilty 90s song and apple-bottom jeans. Interesting.
2. Dat Funk, by Sammy Bananas: starts out with basic beat, leads to dialogue—ghetto voice asking questions, says “Funk that!” rather than “Fuck that!” leads into what sounds like a little bit of a Salt N Pepa beat. Questions again, then “Smack That” comes on in the background, replaced by “It Takes Two.” Fades out into drum beat again.
3. Shake and Pop, Bananas Remix: techno beat, “Fergalicious” over it. Has what sounds like an 80s riff, shifts into a male rapper—Fergie does the chorus, male rapper does rap, digital voice repeats “Shake…and pop. Shake and pop.”
Best lyric ever: “I like electro, I like retro. I like ghetto, house, and techno.” Goes on for about five minutes—switching with male rapper, Fergie, digital voices. This song is considerably catchier and more dance-y than the other ones.
Besides the songs, the profile is incredibly plain—under the category “sounds like,” the creators of the page wrote, “BOOM.” Underneath the poster in the “About Providence is Burning,” part, there are photographs of the past events. There are only five photographs, all horizontally displayed, with a red tint. There isn’t anything really special about the photos—it looks as if they were just taken randomly to capture the crowds. There are DJs and random instrumentalists, though—including a tuba player and a couple of trombone players. The performers are dressed oddly—one has his face painted like a skull, one is wearing what looks like a Nixon mask, and the others just have regular clothes with a silly aspect—like a chickenhead hat.
Looking through the crowds, though, the audience looks almost completely white, and incredibly [annoyingly] hipster, with their keffia scarves and plaid shirts. The “Top Friends” on the profile are all Providence-based DJs, mostly with profile pictures that advertise this month’s GOOSEBUMPS party. It feels as if the Providence is Burning hasn’t been visited in a while—the last login was in July, but I don’t think that there’s a new profile for Goosebumps itself, which is basically just Providence is Burning with a different name and a different headliner. Providence is Burning’s number one friend is Certified Bananas—which also has an incredibly plain profile. The last login was in December.
I think that Providence is Burning/ Certified Bananas have been kind of out of the loop for a while now. Most e-mails for the DJ battles/ parties themselves have been about Goosebumps, with the main DJ as Micah Jackson. I’m really interested to find out what caused this change and how the dynamics of the parties have shifted. Are the audiences still predominantly white?
Micah Jackson Tracks:
1. Sing Sing Bare Bones Edit: way more funky—starts out with a guitar and bass groove, and continues on in the same fashion. There is no incorporation or mash-up of modern hits. It’s actually quite boring—it’s a really long song, with the same things over and over again. It’s a good dance beat, but I can definitely imagine a crowd getting bored unless there were some kind of mind-altering substances involved.
2. Spooky Acid: Kind of soft dance beat in the background, woman whispering. Boring again. I’m only two minutes in, and I really have no desire to finish listening to this track.
I can’t really imagine Micah Jackson parties being more fun than Certified Bananas ones, but I guess one never really knows. What caused this shift—the music feels completely different, and yet it’s basically the same crowd who goes to these parties. I want to examine why Micah Jackson has won out over Certified Bananas—I just don’t get it!
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