Fieldnotes 2

In the seventh installment of Goosebumps, the crowd pretty much consisted of regulars--about half of the people I asked told me that they have been to every Goosebumps since it started in September.

Lot 401 is a fantastic venue--there was a large, open dance floor in front of the bar, and behind the bar, through a window, you could see the DJ booth. The place itself was clean and crisp--wooden floors, white couch benches that lined the perimeter, and white walls that changed color with the spotlights. There was a huge disco ball in the middle, and the different spotlights caused the dance floor to change color every couple of seconds. At around 11pm, the place was practically empty. The DJs weren't even in the booth--they were socializing with the 10 or so people standing around the bar. Before 11pm, guests can come in for free if they e-mailed their names to gimmegoosebumps@gmail.com, and people under 21 are welcome. After 11pm, there is a $5 charge, and it is 21+, which is why at 11pm, Lot 401 only had about 20 people in it, standing around awkwardly, not knowing whether or not to dance.

Then, one man, a lanky black gay guy in skinny jeans, a vest, and those trademark hipster grandpa glasses, grabs his 40 and starts dancing by himself. In a matter of seconds, 3 girls, all blonde and about 90 lbs. each start dancing around him, twirling in their vintage looking dresses with keffia scarves and cowboy boots. By 11.30, the Lot was about half full, with pretty much all Brown and RISD students. I recognized many students from my African dance class, and noticed that almost everyone showed up to the party in their cars or in their friends' cars--there isn't really a taxi culture like Fish Co. The people at the party were mostly the kinds of kids who can afford to have cars at Brown. They were also almost all upperclassmen (about 80% of the people I asked were juniors or seniors) and pretty much 75% white. It was about evenly split gender wise, but I recognized almost all of the men at Goosebumps to be active in the queer community at Brown.

The music was fantastic--loud, thumping, bass with dance beats and clapping rhythms. By midnight, the dance floor was PACKED. It was almost impossible to walk anywhere. The lines to the bathroom wrapped around twice, and the bathrooms themselves were flooded and getting gross. The dance floor was quite a scene--everyone making out with everyone else, people in outrageous outfits, including zebra-print leotards and pink or blue wigs, and tons of sweaty dancing. (The best kind.)

I decided to ask around, see where people were from, to get an idea of how many people were locals. Every single person I asked was either a Brown or RISD student, except for one man who looked around 30, who had a British accent and said he was only there because he was friends with the DJ. Everyone seemed to be really familiar with Goosebumps and the entire Goosebumps culture--I felt as if the crowd basically knew each other. When I asked people questions, they would wonder what I was doing there with a notebook, and then I would explain that I am writing about Goosebumps--eventually, we would start talking about the music, and I would ask them about the DJ. About 90% of everyone I spoke to would say, "Oh, Micah? Yeah, he's great!" as if they were friends forever.

Even out in the parking lot, there were kids who were the regular cigarette break kind of crowd, laughing and dancing outside where the music was barely audible, and then running back inside to get in the middle of the dance floor.

Goosebumps has definitely been able to create its own individual, personal, private atmosphere--one that from an outsider's perspective seems intimidating. However, I honestly think that if you go to more than one installment of Goosebumps, you'll already have friends from the last time, and it's easier than one would think to make friends or become a "regular." I honestly thought that I would feel like an outsider the whole time--as an ethnic woman, as someone who doesn't dress like a hipster, as someone from a lower socioeconomic class, etc--but I guess having a reason to talk to people (this post!) made it that much easier. The people at Goosebumps were like people in the real world--which was a surprise--aloof, yet craving interaction and welcoming to new people. All in all, I would say that it was a great change from the Wednesday night Fish Co. crowd and regular Brown frat parties.

[Photos coming soon!]

Reggaeton

One of Marshall's most effective ways of proving his argument is showing a thread of comments between active members in the online reggaeton community--they each expressed thoughts on its origins, who can take claim to reggaeton, who does it best, and who deserves to listen to it. Marshall writes, "as a mainstream, pan-Latino genre, reggaeton still serves to draw all kinds of lines between social groups, reflecting significant underlying conflicts and incompatible ideologies of self and other. Given what can seem a tumultuous redefinition of social relationships in the wake of new migrations amidst competing projects of national and transnational (not to mention local) unity, it is of little surprise that there is so much heated debate about what reggaeton is and to whom it belongs."

Do you feel like this happens in any other genre? I feel as if the origins of many musical cultures (metal, hip-hop, etc.) are unknown, and yet no one argues over where it comes from. Is this strictly because these genres do nothing for cultural unity currently, or do you think that it has to do with reggaeton being fairly "new?"

A Discussion That Gave Me Goosebumps..

I sat down with DJ Micah Salkind for an afternoon to discuss the history of two monthly parties—Providence is Burning, and Goosebumps. Providence is Burning started in June 2007 and continued until June 2008—it was a monthly dance party at Firehouse 13 in Providence with mostly house music, and guest DJs were often featured. In September 2008, Micah and his friends started Goosebumps—another monthly dance party with house music, this time in Lot 401, and on a weekday. I learned a lot from Micah about how he and his friends started Providence is Burning and how it had transformed into something new—Goosebumps! We discussed how there is no concrete formula to his parties, and possible visions for the future. He was incredibly kind and thoughtful, and always rooted in the ideas that the most important aspects of the parties are the music and building a safe space and community; feeling at home.

Q: This must be exciting— you’ve been there since the beginning—you kind of created Providence is Burning with your friends, and have seen it transform into Goosebumps. do you feel like this can go anywhere?

A: I think that one of the things that I’m attracted to in terms of where I go out is things that are rooted. So I would really like any party that I’m involved with to have a community that sustains it and to not feel like its totally transient, to not feel like its totally going to change with the students and that there’s really a group of people who can come together and take that space on. I think the hard part is figuring out how to mobilize people to come with us—especially the ones that I don’t know. That’s why I’m always trying to meet the people that come to Goosebumps. I introduce myself to people I don’t know, I welcome them—that’s part of how I’ve been taught to host. It’s not just about throwing a party or having an image or a sound—it’s about bringing people into your home. And that’s not common. I don’t think a lot of people feel that way about promoting, but if they did, we’d probably have a lot more successful, cool club nights that would foster innovation and… I hope that this breeds ten other Goosebumps!

Q: What is your future plan for Goosebumps?

A: I’m hoping it just continues to draw diverse audiences. And that people from outside of Providence find out about it. We got people from Connecticut—it had a reputation, and that was cool. I don’t know if we could ever get to that point with a weeknight party. Which is fine with me. I’m not doing this to make tons of money. I don’t want to raise the cover, I don’t want to find a bigger club. I like what we’re doing. I just…I want it to continue to evolve organically. I don’t want to put any real stresses or pressure on it to be something that its not.

Q: How and why did it change to a weeknight party? Does it affect your audience?

A: The places that you would be able to have them do mainstream top 40 chart hip hop parties on the weekends because that’s how they perceive they can make their money.

I didn’t want to go to a place like Firehouse again because they didn’t have amenities. So it’s a compromise, you know, and I think a lot of throwing parties is making compromises. Like knowing what’s essential—what’s essential for us is the music and the community. So we made a choice… A lot of what Providence is Burning was based on a model that started in Philly with Diplo’s electronic parties, and that just got tired. That whole two-minutes of a song mashed up, like…I’m just not interested in that, and I think that there are enough places that people can go to hear chart hip-hop and r&b so I don’t need to do that. And I have a lot of political issues with mainstream corporatization of the music and people who have access to it and so I don’t want to support it in that way. It’s a lot, I know, but it shows you how deliberate we are about this stuff. We’re not passive about these things. We do consider how the choices we make affect the community that comes to these things. Explicitly, the vision…I wish it could become even gayer. I think that without making it explicitly a queer space, it’s really hard to do that. But I think that there’s a lot of value to mixed parties, but it should be something that queer people really ultimately take ownership of. I think that a lot of brown kids that come are gay boys, and that’s great. I hope that continues to happen. I hope that queer people of color especially feel like it’s a space where they could just do their thing and even if they’re not crazy about the music come for hanging out with their friends and whatever. I don’t know. I don’t interrogate my friends to see what they think on that front, but they seem to keep coming, so… we’ll see. Brown is only one drop in the bucket as far as these things go. There are a lot of other people who can change the mix of people and the dynamic. We’ll see if they come. We’ll see if they hear about it.

Growing Up Punk: Commitment Careers in a Contemporary Youth Culture

A 27 year-old graduate student named Lester says, "It was all about people that didn't have jobs; no prospects in life. Or they did have opportunities but they could see that careers and all that middle class stuff was bullshit. But it seemed like around my second year of college, there were all these little kids around fifteen and sixteen years old that were getting into punk because they were rebelling against their parents and not because they wanted to change anything. It was better in the beginning." It seems as if the idea of "selling out" or "poseurs" is popular throughout all music scenes--as certain types of musical youth movements gain popularity, the ideals shift and the foundations are changed and redefined bye each person. Is there any youth culture that you can think of that didn't change with popularity? Is there a community that doesn't have an a stigma towards "poseurs" or "sell-outs?"

Men Making a Scene

In "Men Making a Scene," Sara Cohen writes about and examines the indie rock scene in Liverpool--how it is predominantly male (as is rock and roll) and how certain aspects of "the scene" perpetuate this situation. She writes about how men in bands already have a close community, equipped with jargon and personal jokes, making it difficult for anyone, especially women, to "infiltrate." She also expresses the concern that most venues are in dangerous, dirty places where women would not want to venture. However, she doesn't examine why women aren't typically in the bands themselves--does this have to do with how people learn to play their instruments/ who they would learn from? Is this just because people often create bands with their friends, or is there also a greater tendency for men to want to play rock instruments?

Also, she writes about how musical themes of men feeling lost, confused, or betrayed are often portrayed in many types of rock, and there is often an image of men being seduced by women. This music style gives these men a softer type of masculinity--however, if a woman were to write a song about being seduced by a man, it wouldn't be any type of femininity, but a mistake or a moment of weakness. Are there any examples in which a woman is able to express a "soft femininity" through rock songs? Is that pointless because femininity is supposed to be inherently "soft?" If so, how can women express "harder" femininity in rock and roll? Riot Grrl?

The Paradoxes of an Indian American Youth Culture

One thing that Maira wrote that really stood out to me was about the parental approval that accompanies the Indian American youth party scene. A young woman was quoted, "I think they like us to go because it keeps you hanging out with the Indians." This is the first instance I have ever heard of a party scene being parent-friendly--does this take away from its appeal to the youth? Are there other examples of aspects within youth cultures in which parents encourage their children to participate? I feel a lot of youth movements are about empowerment, coming into ones own, and fighting what is expected of them--are there other examples where partying or other behaviors of the like are encourages?