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.