Blacks, whites...and asians!

Blacks, whites...and asians! The concept mentioned in class regarding actors who—in such a cliche manner—discuss how deep into the roles they delve actually has a psychological/scientific basis (as I’ve learned here at SC in my psyc class). At Stanford University a famous prison study was conducted by Zimbardo ( ) in which regular students were given roles of prison guards and prisoners. The findings astounded even the researchers: that the students did not just play parts; but rather they LIVED the parts. Guards treated prisoners with unexpected cruelty and the study was forced to end prematurely so as to protect the mental health of the participants (this study would be considered unethical now). With regards to the idea that “out of the counterfeiting of the black American’s identity there arises a profound doubt in the white man’s mind as to the authenticity of his own image of himself” (Ellison), in light of the Stanford prison experiment, it would be perfectly reasonable to assume that the bridge between whites and blacks is in fact being bridged through this sort of imitation. The assuming of black roles by whites does, in my opinion, blur the color boundary and psychologically speaking, the act would certainly affect how the white person perceives him/herself. Does the desire to “act white” derive from a desire to, in fact, be black? This question sort of confuses me. On one hand, the notion of social and aesthetic othering producing a black culture (taking forms in dancing, talking, sexuality, etc.) that whites so desperately want to copy/imitate makes sense to me. On the other hand, I don’t listen to a Jay Z song because I knowingly/consciously want to be black. But I guess it’s the bigger picture, isn’t it? That over the course of time, black customs and culture have drawn whites in in some particular way. The dressing up of whites to be black is very much theatrical, yet so is the entire niche of spoofs on Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon. The martial arts stereotype as influenced by asian culture has very much become a similar sort of phenomenon. Kung Pow! Enter the Fist ( ) is the perfect such example of imitation of a subjugated race by white America. Asians, having been persecuted throughout American history (Chinese labor exploitation in the building of the continental railroad—something shown but not focused on in the Mel Brooks’ Blazing Saddles scene we viewed in class; as well as Japanese internment camps), have been socially othered to a great extent by whites. The form of aesthetic othering that has manifested itself in American pop culture is, though not as prominent as that of the African-American slave influence, certainly prevalent. Just as people have pointed out the lack of black lead actors in Hollywood (out of a dearth of parts for them to play that don’t involve them fulfilling racial stereotypes of the baffoon and so forth), asians experience what I perceive to be an even greater lack of opportunity. Iron Chef America (based off of its asian predecessor: ) as well as the popular show Wipeout (a direct copy of MXC— vs ) are perfect examples of asian influence in popular culture today, especially the cinematic realm of pop culture. That we don’t necessarily hear asian influences as much in pop music as we do black influences doesn’t diminish this fact. I don’t know if I can fully address this idea in one blog, but it’s a start!

Week 3-identity...

I’m going to be pretty erratic in my writing here, as I have scattered thoughts on this week’s reading.  To start with the notion that music and identity are inseparable—that in the black person’s case, they were forced to produce song out of their “dislocation” from their homeland—strikes me as something very powerful.  I have for years grappled with the concept of identity outside of “I am white, I am middle class, I am young right-handed male.”  I’ve always thought that there has to be more to it than those simple classifications.  From what I’ve been able to glean, to simply identify with music (ie. understand the lyrics and say, “I’ve felt that before”) is only a harbinger of the true recognition of one’s own identity through music.  I believe I harbor a subconscious defense mechanism that in a way doesn’t allow me to read into everything too much.  My skeptical (one might say cynical) mind jumps to conclusions that the artist just wanted to make a profit and felt it customary to produce a “message” song; or that a song is...well...JUST A SONG.  Does a piece of art always have to carry with it intricate meaning and significance?  I feel I can answer this one of two ways—the obvious answers being yes and no.  I think “no” because when I sit down to write my own music, I am not thinking of anything other than what makes me feel good inside.  What chord progressions (often simple and akin to those you’d hear in The Notebook’s soundtrack) make me just ooze or sound pleasant.  I can guarantee that through the process of putting together the rhythms and syncopation I often feel good using, the African roots from which these devices originated did not cross my mind so much as once.  I write my songs to express to a select handful of people how much they mean to me.  I perform songs to vent that compassion to the world, not to mention there’s a unique high I (and I’m sure others do too) get when on stage. I don’t feel bad about not thinking about slavery.  Why should I? I hadn’t taken a class like this that really forced me to think about it.  My “yes” answer to the original question is due to the fact that the art inherently does carry with it the significance of the past.  It is a product of history as I have come to realize, and when you really think about it, it’s an incredible journey/transformation that pop music has undergone (and continues to undergo).  It is funny to me to think about how my music would not be without the work songs of the slaves in the field (which I thoroughly enjoy listening to by the way).  The fact that I feel the beat of a song down to my very core makes me feel connected to the past in a way I have never really considered possible to feel.  I don’t want to overdramatize my experience in the first 2.5 weeks of this class, but I definitely am opening my eyes to the truth and beauty that pop music (which, through writing and listening to it, has been the most significant intangible part of my life) is something I share with my most remote ancestors.  We all share this experience, and that to me is pretty remarkable.  

I'm sort of sad that my first blog entry is going to be somewhat negative, as I disagreed with almost all 43 paragraphs of what Theodor Adorno discussed in the reading "On Popular Music."  In this piece I see a gross oversimplification of a genre of music, as well as numerous errors in classification.  His breakdown of music into two spheres right off the bat irks me as I disagree with both his labeling of "serious" music with the word "serious" as well as his overly simplistic juxtaposition of that sphere with "pop" music.  I grew up listening to "serious" music—as my dad, aunt, and uncle were prodigal classical pianists in their youths—and I think that Mr. Adorno fails to recognize in popular music many of the same facets of which he seems so pretentiously fond in classical music.  So I will just list my grievances in a not-as-scholarly fashion.

To begin, he mentions that in a scherzo there is a "conversation" between instruments, and I believe duets in popular music evoke similar duality in thematic content.

His prevailing argument seems to be that, in contrast to "serious" music, pop musical "details" do not matter, as they are too standardized.  Any detail is simply a blip on the auditory radar of a listener because they are in a state of "inattention and distraction" when they listen to pop music.  First of all, although a more simplistic structure than say a Beethoven sonata may pervade much of popular music, I think it criminal for someone as seemingly learned as Adorno to unceremoniously cast aside pop musical details.  As we discussed in class, the vibrato and emotion carried in voices such as Billie Holiday and Ethel Waters evoke powerful sentiments and present a musical piece subject to interpretation.  He claims that any single part of a "serious" piece is essential to the understanding of the whole piece and that everything in pop music is substitutable.  That is just not true.  The substitution of any voice with that of Frank Sinatra would alter the very perception and essence of the song.  

As for the remark about Pop music listeners being "distracted" and in a state of "inattention," well, that's what this course is about: to educate our ears and critically listen.  I think, however, that he underestimates the musical inclination of the masses because our very tastes with regards to popular music involve a discriminatory ear.  We don't just like everything and every substitutable portion of a pop song.  There are favorite parts, there are favorite artists, genres, pitches, etc.  We NOTICE when an artist's sophomore album completely deviates from the trademarks that make his/her first album so endearing.  Iron and Wine's release of "The Shepard's Dog" added numerous instruments that I just didn't care for.  And I haven't even begun to mention the classical pieces my dad played for me that lulled me to sleep...and there's no greater state of inattention than being unconscious.  Don't get me wrong, some of them were beautiful pieces; I just sank into them the same way Adorno claims people sink into pop music.

Also, to say that the masses don't understand music as a language is slightly elitist.  We don't just interpret music linguistically for our "institutional wants."  We find expression in music, we find a way to relate, and we can find (or create) our own identities through music.  Pop music is absolutely capable of driving movements, empowering others, and simply declaring one's love.  All these things illustrate the communicative nature of pop music.  

Lastly, toward the end, he discusses emotional listeners as listening to sentimental music serving as a catharsis—as an opportunity for them to confess that their lives are less than ideal.  Basically, we listen to emotional music because it allows us to admit and objectively see how our lives suck.  I could not disagree more.  I listen to that kind of music because it evokes memories (The Fray's "Look After You" or Teitur Lassen's "One and Only").  I listen because it's inspiring (A Fine Frenzy's "The Beacon") I listen because I feel like their are gifted poets in the world of pop music and I want to hear what many of them have to say (Jason Reeves's "Wishing Weed").  I listen, yes Mr. Adorno, to be entertained (Maroon 5), but also because it more often than not illuminates the good in my life (The Band Perry's "If I Die Young" and Ingrid Michaelson's "Can't Help Falling In Love With You")

This is just a fraction of my response I had written because my internet crashed about 3/4 of the way through my original post.