Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach
to underground music scenes
Volume 1
Paula Guerra and Tânia Moreira
(editors)
First Published May 2015
by Universidade do Porto. Faculdade de Letras
[University of Porto. Faculty of Arts and Humanities]
Porto, Portugal
Cover image: Júlio Dolbeth
Design: Rita Araújo and Tânia Moreira
Credits Photos (Part 1-7): Ana da Silva, Hugo Ramone, Bárbara Cabral,
Cristina Sousa, Frágil, Nito Gonçalves, Nito Gonçalves e Víctor Torpedo
ISBN 978-989-8648-49-5
All the content presented in texts are solely the responsibility of the authors.
The ideas presented do not necessarily represent the opinion of the editors.
Contents
INTRODUCTION _______________________________________________________________ 9
Underground music scenes and DIY cultures ______________________________________ 11
Paula Guerra
Tânia Moreira
PART 1 | MUSIC AND DIY CULTURES: DIY OR DIE! _________________________________ 15
1.1. Circuit-bending and DIY culture _____________________________________________ 17
Alexandre Marino Fernandez
Fernando Iazzetta
1.2. DIY culture and youth struggles for autonomy in Switzerland: distortion of the punk scene
________________________________________________________________________ 29
Pierre Raboud
1.3. The street as canvas: street art and the construction of artistic careers _____________ 37
Ágata Dourado Sequeira
1.4. ͆Do it yourself͇: Daniel Johnston̓s demon _________________________________ 49
Fabrício Silveira
Marcelo Bergamin Conter
1.5. Empowerment through design-doing experiences: workshops on nurturing creative
makers for sustainability ___________________________________________________ 59
Nicholas Torretta
Hessam Pakbeen
PART 2 | PORTO CALLING: MEANINGS, DYNAMICS, ARTIFACTS AND IDENTITIES IN TODAY'S
PUNK SCENES ________________________________________________________________ 77
2.1. Punk comix: a journey through the ͆flirting͇ of BD and punk in Portugal _________ 79
Marcos Farrajota
2.2. What does the Balaclava stand for? Pussy Riot: just some stupid girls or punk with
substance?_______________________________________________________________ 91
Alexandre M. da Fonseca
2.3. Aesthetics, anti-aesthetics and ͆bad taste͇: a brief journey through Portuguese punk
record covers (1977-1998) ________________________________________________ 103
Afonso Cortez Pinto _______________________________________________________________ 103
2.4. I̓ve got straight edge: discussions on aging and gender in an underground musical
scene __________________________________________________________________ 125
Jhessica Reia
2.5. Between drums and drones: the urban experience in São Paulo's punk music ______ 135
Débora Gomes dos Santos
2.6. What is punk rock? What is DIY? Masculinities and politics between l'art pour l'art and
l'art pour la révolution ____________________________________________________ 147
Martin Winter
2.7. ͆Fallen fallen is Babylon͇. Polish punk rock scene in the 1980s ________________ 159
Piotr Zanko
PART 3 | MUSIC SCENES, POLITICS AND IDEOLOGY: SOCIAL-HISTORICAL MEMORIES AND
CONTEMPORARY PRACTICES __________________________________________________ 167
3.1. Independence or death: alternative music in the Brazilian 80's ___________________ 169
Tereza Virginia de Almeida
3.2. Underground politics: ͆I am sure they know we are not the devil̓s son and that metal
is against corruption͇ ̽ heavy metal as (sub-) cultural expressions in authoritarian
regimes ________________________________________________________________ 177
André Epp
3.3. Before the DIY: Jovem Guarda and youth culture in Brazil (65-68) ________________ 187
Marcelo Garson
3.4. Rock in Portugal: effects of the rock music in the Portuguese youth (1960 vs. 2014) 201
Ana Martins
3.5."The Garage were I was born": Coimbra ́s musical scene in the 1990 ś ____________ 213
Pedro Emanuel Almeida Martins
3.6. Underground music in America̓s heartland: ͆Rising Appalachia͇ and traditional
folk/pop as social protest __________________________________________________ 221
Michael Saffle
Jordan Laney
3.7. The influence of punk in the social movements _______________________________ 231
Liljana Siljanovska
Vlera Ejupi
PART 4 | CONTEMPORARY UNDERGROUND CULTURES̓ AESTHETICS: BETWEEN THE
DIGITAL, THE RETRO AND THE NOSTALGIA ______________________________________ 235
4.1. uTubo ̾ development and application of an alternative digital musical instrument __ 237
Tiago Ângelo
Óscar Rodrigues
Nuno Peixoto de Pinho
José Alberto Gomes
4.2. One is the loneliest number: ͆one-man bands͇ and doing-it-yourselves versus doingit-alone ________________________________________________________________ 253
Matt Brennan
4.3. ͆We like raves, but...͇ Shituationism as a way out of the dilemma of hedonism __ 265
Benjamin Conti
Lukas Fakegruber
4.4. A survey on graphic communication and publishing practices in the Portuguese
independent music scene _________________________________________________ 269
Manuel Oliveira Garcia
João Cordeiro
4.5. The subcultural scene economy of the Berlin techno scene ______________________ 281
Jan-Michael Kühn
4.6. ͆Pimp your Pipes!͇ Knowledge, networks and DIY practices in the revival(s) of bagpipes
_______________________________________________________________________ 287
Thomas Kühn
4.7. Jazz scenes and networks in Europe: repackaging independent jazz ̽ new strategies for
emerging markets________________________________________________________ 295
Haftor Medbøe
4.8. Deka ̽ skate, illustration and the other side of the skateboard ___________________ 301
Jorge Brandão Pereira
Diogo Valente
Diogo Soares
Paula Tavares
4.9. Social media is the new punk. User experience, social music and diy culture _______ 313
Giovanni Prattichizzo
PART 5 | MUSICAL PRODUCTION, MEDIATION, CONSUMPTION AND FRUITION IN THE
CONTEMPORANEITY _________________________________________________________ 329
5.1. Musicality, culture and sociology of artistic-musical production of Ceará Blues _____ 331
Carlos Rubens Garcia Alves
Kadma Marques Rodrigues
5.2. Dodging the middleman: Insights on disintermediation in the independent music
sector __________________________________________________________________ 337
Francisco Bernardo
5.3. Materialities of the new: processes of destruction and construction in the work of
Einstürzende Neubauten __________________________________________________ 349
Sandra Bettencourt
5.4. Isolation: towards the politics of new music: reflections on the momentum of new music
in Portuguese cultural policy _______________________________________________ 359
Gil Fesch
5.5. ͆This is it!͇: peak music experiences in the Brisbane indie music scene __________ 373
Ben Green
5.6. Experimental music and the reprogramming of apparatuses _____________________ 385
José Guilherme Allen Lima
5.7. Music as as a way of living: the case of Sonoscopia ____________________________ 393
Ana Luísa Veloso
Maria José Araújo
PART 6 | UNDERGROUND MUSIC SCENES ________________________________________ 405
6.1. Above and below ground _________________________________________________ 407
Will Straw
6.2. Why it makes sense to speak of emancipation: an overview of futureplaces as a current
space for Punk to rise and reinvent _________________________________________ 415
Heitor Alvelos
Anselmo Canha
Fátima São Simão
6.3. ͂Ironbound̓? A sociospatial perspective on network diachrony in the Portuguese metal
subfield ________________________________________________________________ 423
André Aleixo
6.4. Ideology and identity in underground circuits _________________________________ 457
Bernardo Álvares
6.5. Grito Rock Festival: from do it yourself to do it together ________________________ 467
Daniel Domingues Barbosa
Luiza Bittencourt
6.6. Developing tourism locally through a heavy metal music festival: an attempt to maximize
resources and tourist services in Viana do Castelo, Portugal _____________________ 477
Jorge Coelho
6.7. The disturbing voice of the lower-class: from eighteenth century ͆Gracioso͇ to punk
rock ___________________________________________________________________ 487
Isabel Pinto
6.8. Counterculture in the periphery of capitalism: Raul Seixas and the Brazilian underground
scene in the early 1970s __________________________________________________ 499
Lucas Marcelo Tomaz de Souza
6.9. Sing it yourself! Uses and representations of the English language in French popular and
underground music ______________________________________________________ 513
Michael Spanu
PART 7 | LOCAL SCENES, COMMUNITIES, IDENTITIES AND URBAN CULTURES _________ 525
7.1. Creative social innovation - Human Being - Hip Hop for a Cause _________________ 527
João Paulo Ferreira
7.2. The multiple legitimacies of Tentacle Tribe, a dance company ___________________ 539
Mary Fogarty
Jonathan Osborn
Deanne Kearney
7.3. Local scenes, conditions of music making and neoliberal city management - a case study
of Hamburg, Germany ____________________________________________________ 551
Robin Kuchar
7.4. Space and place in urban culture ___________________________________________ 563
Hélder Maia
Catarina Braga Araújo
7.5. The ͆L͇ train in New York City: mediating the Brooklyn music scene(s) __________ 569
Jonathan Rouleau
7.6. ͆But who doesn't know The Beatles anyway?͇ Young fans of New Beatlemania
today __________________________________________________________________ 573
Nuné Nikoghosyan
9
Photo given by Ana da Silva. Photographer: Shirley O'Loughlin
Introduction
Underground music scenes and DIY cultures
Paula Guerra 1
Tânia Moreira 2
A
The underground music scenes were, for a long time, associated with strong DIY (do-ityourself) cultural practices. Consequently, in this book we intend to discuss the importance of
underground artistic and musical practices in contemporary society, both for its volatility and
for its undeniable importance in youth urban cultures, keeping a record of sociological
reflection, although open to all other social sciences. Underground urban musical cultures
were and still are considered by many as illegitimate objects of analysis within the framing of
contemporary social theory. However, these cultures play a central role in the functioning of
music (post) industry and in the outlook of emerging digital media. We also intend to clarify
the musical scenes that run through contemporary cities, giving them rhythms but also specific
forms of cultural identity, as well as a new historical, social and artistic heritage. In sum, this
book aims to explore the contemporary landscapes of underground urban music scenes and
DIY cultures in a context of globalized modernity. The book is organized according to the
following seven thematic areas: Music and DIY cultures: DIY or Die!; Porto calling: meanings,
dynamics, artifacts and identities in today's punk scenes; Music scenes, politics and ideology:
social-historical memories and contemporary practices; Contemporary underground cultures’
aesthetics: between the digital, the retro and the nostalgia; Musical production, mediation,
consumption and fruition in the contemporaneity; Underground music scenes; and, last, Local
scenes, communities, identities and urban cultures.
The thematic area “Music and DIY cultures: DIY or Die!” examines how young people
involved in underground music scenes are actively forging DIY careers though applying skills,
for example in production, promotion, composition and performance, acquired through longterm immersion in these scenes. This panel features papers from a diverse range of local
contexts and core to each one of this papers, and is an illustration of how youth culture can
no longer be regarded purely as a leisure-based and age-demarcated phenomenon but must
also be seen as a platform through which young people acquire practical skills and
competencies in an era of risk, uncertainty and precarious living. The thematic “Porto calling:
meanings, dynamics, artifacts and identities in today's punk scenes” features a set of papers
whose objective is the description, analysis and discussion of several punks throughout the
world. One of the subjects of these papers is the analysis of the relationship between punk,
youth cultures and DIY. Thus, the importance of punk in the youth culture structuration plays
a major role in the analysis, serving as an ignition to the discussion of actual subcultural or
countercultural filiations. The DIY and authenticity are clearly associated with punk, so it is
fundamental to understand how they materialize in daily strategies and practices, giving birth
1
Faculty of Arts and Humanities, Institute of Sociology, University of Porto, Griffith Centre for Cultural
Research, KISMIF Project Coordinator, Portugal
2
Faculty of Arts and Humanities, University of Porto, KISMIF Project, Portugal
12
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
to particular identities and lifestyles. Another subject are the punk scenes related to the
political activism, resistance practices and the rise of contemporary social movements – where
punk is present and playing some kind of role, depending on the context. The presented
papers discuss political visions (left-right), ideological inclinations (anarcho-punk), press,
graphic design, pussy riots… The subcultural belonging has an inevitable connection with
genre and ageing. The orientations and the aesthetic bindings of punk and their inscription in
the body, as well as the affections towards certain bands deserve special attention in this
thematic section.
The relationship between art, culture, ideology and politics has raised, since long time ago,
a great interest from the social sciences. Particularly, since the cultural studies advent it
emerged a great interest in the study of countercultures and urban subcultures, especially in
what concerns
their dimension of protest and resistance, through different ways and
languages, to cultural, political and ideological hegemonic manifestations. This thematic
section of the KISMIF International Conference “Music scenes, politics and ideology: socialhistorical memories and contemporary practices” aims to contribute to review and update this
discussion, examining different (sub)cultural underground manifestations, speeches and
practices, located both in the past and in the present, situating them historically, culturally and
politically, and trying to debate them in their different dimensions and perspectives.
The relationship between society and contemporary culture with its past is certainly a
theme that has occupied social sciences in the last decades. In this context, concepts like
memory, heritage or tradition are very relevant and studied in these fields. Recently, new
discourses related with luxury, “retromania” and nostalgia invaded contemporary cultural and
artistic production and consumption. What is the influence of retro/nostalgic approaches in
contemporary artistic production? How does it influence the work processes and management
of artistic careers? And how about the consumption? What techniques and modes of
production have been recovered? Another relevant topic in this thematic section of the
conference is the growing importance of digital media and culture in contemporary
underground cultures, at different levels. How does it influence the authors’ creativity and
modes of production, allowing the emergence of new aesthetic languages or even new tools
and musical instruments? Moreover, is it changing their role, making relevant the links
between authorship and production? What is the relevance of digital networks? What kind of
relationships are been established between new and "old" medium in contemporary artistic
production? How musicians taking advantage of the digital media to structure their careers?
What has changed in gatekeeping processes? These are some of the main topics covered in
the thematic section “Contemporary underground cultures’ aesthetics: between the digital,
the retro and the nostalgia”.
The musical consumption has been an important subject in sociology during the last three
decades. Crossed by quantitative (Bourdieu, 1984, 2004, 2007) and qualitative (DiMaggio,
1987; DeNora, 2000) methods, the classical researches in this area highlighted the role of
music as a way of social distinction and status. Recently, the usefulness of the links between
musical taste and status has been shown more complex. It’s worth to mention the work
produced by the Cultural Studies of Birmingham and its contemporary re-updates, especially
in their contributions to the construction of social identities and to all the processes by which
meanings were attributed to musical works and public engagement (Hebdige, 2004; Feixa,
1999; Hall, 2003; Bennett & Peterson, 2004). Thus, in the thematic area of “Musical
Underground music scenes and DIY cultures
13
production, mediation, consumption and fruition in the contemporaneity” we intend to
present a range of discussions on this issue.
Sarah Cohen recognized an effective relationship between music and local identity (Cohen,
1991, 1993; Corral, 2008), supplanting the classical approach of cultural studies and engaging
a demarche based on the spatialization of group dynamics of music consumption. This
approach has been extremely useful to sociology because it is based on the concept of scene
(Bennett & Peterson, 2004:6-7; Bennett, 2004) as a social construction buoyed by the
networks and patterns of interactions that occur in a given space-time. Thus, a scene refers to
a cluster of social and cultural activities without rigid boundaries, but with an attachment to a
space of interactions. Scenes can be distinguished from each other by their geographical
location, the type of cultural production which identifies them or by the social activities which
animate them. The great virtue of the concept is based on the fact that it makes us an
invitation to the mapping of urban territory, to the new forms and new uses, to the new
semiotics, to the new relationships (Straw, 2005: 412). And the papers presented in this book
are rooted in it. Like Barry Shank (1994) said, a scene can be defined as a significant community
of sounds, images, lifestyles, aesthetics... The concept of scene is a way of expressing the
theatricality of the city or the city's ability to generate images of the interactions. So, it captures
the sense of the bustling city, the everyday sociability. Will Straw believes that the most
frequent and repeatedly identified scenes are those related to music (Straw, 2005: 412). The
production and consumption of music are, in effect, sociability multipliers. The music, more
than any other artistic field, is part of the bodies, groups and interactions (Hennion, 1993).
The last two parts of this book condense two thematic areas of discussion about the
contemporary cultural and musical scenes: “Underground music scenes” and “Local scenes,
communities, identities and urban cultures”.
This object of analysis and inspiring motto of this book falls within the development of the
scientific research project Keep it simple, make it fast! (KISMIF): Prolegomenons and punk
scenes, a road to Portuguese contemporaneity (1977-2012) (PTDC/CS-SOC/118830/2010),
whose goal is the analysis of the punk manifestations in Portugal since its origins until
nowadays (1977-2012). KISMIF is supported by the Portuguese Foundation for Science and
Technology (FCT) and is being developed in the Sociology Institute of the Faculty of Arts of
the University of Porto (IS|UP) in a partnership with the Griffith Centre for Cultural Research
(GCCR), the Universitat of Lleida (UdL), the Faculty of Economics of the University of Porto
(FEP), the Faculty of Economics of the University of Coimbra (FEUC), the Faculty of Psychology
of the University of Porto (FPCE) and the Lisbon Municipal Libraries (BLX). KISMIF’s approach
is trans-disciplinary (Anthropology, History, Psychology, Communication, Journalism and
Sociology) and deals with different time and space frames, in both synchronic and diachronic
manners, in order to unveil the curtains that hide this barely visible and complex research
object. It privileges a dialogue between punk’s production and reception, within the
Portuguese urban culture framework, but it also intends to conceptualize the music
phenomenon both as one the most ancient, universal and important ways of communicating
and as an important tool to build identity and community identity definition.
Here is an invitation to reading the various texts and approaches about contemporary music
scenes, in the lookout for an open and deep debate about the cultural and symbolic changes
which have been operating at fast pace in this late modernity.
14
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
References
Bennett, A.; Peterson, R. A. (Eds.) (2004). Music scenes: local, translocal and virtual. Nashville: Vanderbilt
University Press.
Bourdieu, P. (1984). Questions de sociologie. Paris: Les Éditions de Minuit.
Bourdieu, P. (2004). Questões de sociologia. Lisboa: Fim de Século Edições.
Bourdieu, P. (2007). A distinção: critica social do julgamento. São Paulo: Editora Zouk.
Cohen, S. (1991). Rock culture in Liverpool: popular music in the making . New York: Oxford University
Press.
Cohen, Sara (1993). Ethnography and popular music studies. Popular Music, 12(2).
Corral, J. M. (Ed.) (2008). New wave & post-punk (1978-1984). De Depeche Mode a Franz Ferdinand.
Madrid: T&B Editores.
DeNora, T. (2000). Music in everyday life. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
DiMaggio, P. (1987). Classification in art. American Sociological Review, 52.
Feixa, C. (1999). De jóvenes, bandas e tribus. Barcelona: Ariel.
Guerra, P. (2013). A instável leveza do rock. Porto: Afrontamento.
Hall, S. (Ed.) (2003). Representations: cultural representations and signifying practices . London: Sage
Publications.
Hebdige, D. (2004). Subcultura. El significado del estilo. Barcelona: Ediciones Paidós Ibérica.
Hennion, A. (1993). La passion musicale. Une sociologie de la médiation. Paris: Édition Métailié.
Shank, B. (1994). Dissonant identities: The rock’n’roll scene in Austin, Texas. Hanôver & London:
Wesleyan University Press.
Straw, W. (2005). Cultural Scenes. Loisir et société/ Society and Leisure, 27(2), 411-422.
www.punk.pt
Photo given by Hugo Ramone
PART 1 | Music and DIY cultures:
DIY or Die!
1.1. Circuit-bending and DIY culture
Alexandre Marino Fernandez 1
Fernando Iazzetta 1
Abstract
This article analyses Circuit-Bending and its relation to the Do-it-yourself (DIY) culture. Circuitbending is an experimental music practice which consists of opening up low voltage (battery
powered) electronic devices (musical toys, radio devices, cd players, etc. – mostly technological
waste) and of changing (bend) the way electricity flows through their circuits in order to achieve
an ‘interesting’ result. After presenting the work of some artists who make use of this methodology
we introduce the concept of proletarianisation by philosopher Bernard Stiegler and how such
methodologies can act as de-proletarianisation tactics. Then, we present the Do-it-together (DIT)
or Do-it-with-others (DIWO) discussion to bring into scene the notion of Relational Aesthetics.
Keywords: Circuit-Bending; De-proletarianisation; DIY Culture; Relational Aesthetic
Introduction
This article relates Circuit-Bending to DIY culture focusing on the anti-consumerist, rebellious
and creative aspects of this experimental practice. Generally speaking, circuit-bending consists
of opening up battery powered electronic devices and of changing (bend) the way electricity
flows through their circuits in order to achieve an ‘interesting’ result. One typically practices
circuit-bending by removing and/or adding electronic components, connecting different
circuits, or even adding organic elements to the circuit (bender’s body or even fruits and
vegetables). The next step usually calls for soldering the components into the circuit or marking
specific places to be touched. Finally, sometimes a case is designed for accommodating this
newly created instrument.
The technique was named in 1992 by Qubais Reed Ghazala, in a series of articles he wrote
for Experimental Music Instrument magazine. He discovered this method in 1967 when he
accidentally let a screwdriver get into contact with the circuitry of a battery-powered amplifier,
producing a short circuit that sounded rather ‘interesting’, as he puts it:
If this can happen to an amp, not supposed to make a sound on its own, what might happen
if one were to short out circuits that already make a sound, such as keyboards and radios and
toys? (Ghazala, 2004, p.97)
Another key player in the scene is Nicolas Collins, who developed the concept of Hardware
Hacking, a very similar approach to building experimental instruments. In some sense circuitbending has more randomness in its procedures, as the “rules of hardware hacking” (Collins,
2006, p. 7-8) are somehow more “conservative” than circuit-bending. In practice it is very
1
University of São Paulo, Brazil.
18
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
difficult to differentiate them and it is very acceptable to say that circuit-bending is inscribed
in hardware hacking.
As part of the experimental music tradition, circuit-bending follows the paths of such
innovators as Alvin Lucier, David Tudor, Gordon Mumma, and John Cage, who pushed music
frontiers forward, and also of Free Jazz, Punk and Industrial Music movements, pioneers in the
DIY approach in music. These movements focus on improvisation; they value the immediacy
and liveness, as well as the present time, in opposition to the “perfection” and cleanliness of
the recording.
As Ghazala puts it, over the last several years, experimentalism has dropped out of
academic environments and we can see that circuit-bending “has taken flight and can be
heard within many popular genres.” Ghazala argues that “circuit-benders are at the very
2
forefront of this experience of new experimentalism, constantly pushing music forward with
original discoveries.” (Ghazala, 2005, p.23)
The possibility of oscillating from inside and outside the institutional framework is certainly
one of the remarkable characteristics of circuit-bending. Many of its practitioners recognize
the feature of combining high and low culture, game and art. Being a circuit-bender and a
3
trained musician himself, north-american Casper Electronics notes that even though the
practice is relatively simple, its appeal is far reaching. The novelty of producing sounds without
the aid of sophisticated apparatuses and by using regular devices modified by the bender
brings a creative perspective to bender activity: “From the viewpoint of the bender one enjoys
the liberation found in modifying mass produced electronics and making them one´s own.”
Casper is also an academic; he states that bending, as an academic research field, “can be
appreciated for its inventive approach to electrical engineering, the encouragement it gives to
question the concept of obsolescence, the recycling of discarded technologies.” For him, the
most profound issue brought to surface by bending circuits comes from granting the bender
sight into the world that exists below our familiar world, “for circuit-bending most often
targets children’s toys as creative fodder.” He keeps on arguing that the toys benders use are
usually the one’s they have grown with, having a deep connection with them. This brings
benders a "perceptual shift" regarding the world around them and encourages people to
explore things more closely and "to question what is shown versus what is possible.” He
finishes his statement calling circuit-bending “a creative approach rather than a technical
process” and saying that it “may not be too dramatic to call it a philosophy.” A kind of
philosophy that is able to encourage a “deeper consideration and personal reclamation of a
world which is fast losing its uniqueness and finding in its place faceless products and
manufactured identity.”
2
4
For more on that matter, see the posts “Who uses circuitbenders?”, “Circuit bent devices used by
popular musicians/bands?)” at http://circuitbenders.co.uk, the entry http://www.getlofi.com/?p=453,
and also (Tadgh, 2010, p.20).
3
http://casperelectronics.com
4
http://casperelectronics.com/circuit-bending/
1.1. Circuit-bending and DIY culture
19
Examples of methodology
Besides the examples of the fathers of the methodology Reed Ghazala and Nicolas Collins,
and the above-mentioned Casper Electronics, there are some other projects worth pointing
out.
5
The french duo 10Konekt (which, in french, sounds like Disconnect), for example, is a free
improvisation group formed in 2007 by Jean Christophe Cochard and Cyril Alexandre which
has the following motto: “The first recorded sound is always good!” With more than 18
releases available in the internet by different labels, they have a very noisy sounding, with a
pinch of punk attitude.
6
The work of the Dirty Electronics Ensemble , an artistic group created by British John
Richards, based on the creation of performances that results from workshops. Richards calls
circuit-bending methodology Dirty Electronics or Punktronics, making clear the connection to
the Noise and Punk scenes. His ensemble has already played with key artists and bands such
as Merzbow and Throbbing Gristle.
7
Dutch artist Gijs Gieskes shares the same line of work, but also including an audiovisual
approach. In Gieskes’ website, it is possible to see a lot of his DIY instruments and observe the
aesthetic result of his creations. A nice example is the audiovisual installation ReFunct Media
8
#5 (done in collaboration with the benders Benjamim Gaulon, Karl Klomp e Tom Verbruggen)
exposed at the Transmidiale 2013, when the artists connected a series of discarded audiovisual
apparatuses to create a really interesting noisy composition.
frgmnt.org is a Barcelona based collective of artists. Their work relates directly to the
Japanese noise music scene and lo-fi aesthetics. Their website presents a series of texts
discussing subjects like Devices and Control, and quoting authors such as Deleuze and
Guattari. They conduct workshops, artistic presentations and talks. Most of their work is freely
available through the Internet.
9
Kokeellisen elektroniikan seura (Association of Experimental Electronics) is an important
collective of bricoleurs with a really strong actuation in the Nordic bending scene. In the
10
documentary Koelse , it is possible to get in touch with a lot of their ideas and their way of
working.
In Brazil a rich scene related to Circuit Bending practices has developed over the past
decades. Among the most active groups it is noteworthy the work of the collective
11
Gambiologia , that establishes really strong connections with open source and DIY cultures,
besides its strong relation to hacker culture.
All of the artists mentioned above exhibit a connection with punk, noise and industrial
music scenes, with a more informal approach to the creative process, evidencing a noisier
aesthetic that is closer to free improvisation than to electronic music.
5
http://10konekt.blogspot.fr
http://dirtyelectronics.org
7
http://gieskes.nl/
8
http://www.recyclism.com/refunctmedia v5.php
9
http://kokeellisenelektroniikanseura.blogspot.com.br
10
http://koelsedoc.wordpress.com/eng/
11
http://www.gambiologia.net - the name Gambiologia makes reference to a brazilian slang: Gambiarra,
which is used to refer to things done without proper tools or materials, usually due to lack of these.
6
20
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
12
Another approach is embraced by such artists as the Spanish Olaf Ladousse , the North13
14
American Tim Kaiser and the Brazilian Panetone . All of them have a more careful work in
designing the instruments and a more controlled aesthetic, closer to electronic music, even, in
15
some cases, approaching electronic dance music scene .
Circuit-bending and DIY culture
By opening their electronic devices and changing the flow of electricity, benders create new
uses and possibilities for the devices in their hands, thus establishing a strong connection
between circuit-bending and the DIY culture. Ghazala explicitly states this relationship in the
following quotation:
My aim, more than a decade ago when I began to write about the DIY of circuit-bending, was
to launch new, unique instruments by means of explaining only the general discovery process
of circuit-bending instead of using the more standard “this wire goes here” dialogue — a
dialogue that usually results in exact duplications of a target instrument. (Ghazala, 2005, p.xiii)
DIY phenomenon is clearly nothing new. Eric Paulos and Stacey Kuznetsov, in Rise of the
Expert Amateur: DIY Projects, Communities, and Cultures, pose a concise and pertinent
definition for DIY:
(...) any creation, modification or repair of objects without the aid of paid professionals. We
use the term “amateur” not as a reflection on a hobbyists’ skills, which are often quite
advanced, but rather, to emphasize that most of DIY culture is not motivated by commercial
purposes. (Kuznetsov and Paulos, 2010, p.01)
DIY is a practice directly related to the rise of Industrial Revolution, generally taken as a
reaction to its massive mode of production. It is noteworthy how this movement manifests
itself during the modern era. The end of the nineteenth century and the beginning of the
twentieth (with its flourishing appeal of science and technology) presented a first glimpse of
rebellion against the mass production appeal and led to a boom of inventors and hobbyist
activities (together with the avant-garde movements, like futurism, cubism, dadaism, and so
on).
Model building, photography, high-fidelity audio, all created a vast multitude of technical
hobbyists who gathered around specific interests. The fragmentation of the production chain
and the alienation of the individual brought about by mass production sparked new interest
in manual and craft activities. Hobbyists’ activities played an important social role as they
allowed laymen to tackle complex science and technological topics which were shaping the
very idea of modernity.
Such activities were organized through magazines, books, clubs, and suppliers. They also
entailed connecting hobbyists to a specific social network that helped define their
identification with an increasingly homogenized, massive social condition. A remarkable case
12
http://www.olafladousse.com
http://tim-kaiser.org/
14
http://panetone.net
15
This list could carry on enormously, but it is not the intention of this article, for a longer and more
complete list see (Fernandez, 2013)
13
1.1. Circuit-bending and DIY culture
21
in which audio technology attracted the attention of hobbyists was the radio that was sold in
kits for home assembly in the 1920s and 30s.
However, the Second World War and the globalized consumerist model, weakened this
hobbyist and amateurist movement for a period of time, imposing a mass consumption
mentality throughout most of the western world. This gradual valorization and establishment
of mass-production led to the consumerist, hyper-industrial society in which we currently find
ourselves. In hyper-industrial society, professionals and specialists can be hired to build, create,
decorate, or repair anything, according to market demand. Its logic implies that any product
or service might be available at a nearby mega-store, leaving us time to work on our
specialized, professional careers and earn money to buy any kind of goods or solutions to our
demands.
In music, an initial reaction to such standardizing appears in the Free Jazz movement of the
1960s, with its focus on unrestrained improvisation and the production of records outside the
industrial chain, by such associations as AACM (Association for the Advancement of Creative
Musicians) and Candid Records. In the 1970s, the Punk movement also emerged as a rebellion
against this hegemonic order, bringing DIY to the scene. For these punk artists, ineptitude was
seen as virtue: “the creativity that comes from a lack of preconceptions and willingness to try
out anything, even if badly” (Hegarty, 2008, p.89). Similar to Free Jazz, punk artists such as
Crass, for example, also joined forces to release their records, bypassing the record industry,
and criticizing the musical marketplace from a DIY perspective.
In the 1990s, the DIY movement became stronger due to the rave culture and the
beginning of the netlabel movement, both focusing on independent production (of venues
and records). And, in the twenty-first century, with the Internet becoming a vast network of
information exchange, the DIY movement expanded, increasing the amount of adherents in
several fields: from growing herbs indoors, to producing textiles, knitting and crocheting, to
working on different kinds of electronic projects.
Juan Ignácio Gallego Perez, in the article DO IT YOURSELF: Cultura y Tecnologia, argues
that this form of production allows “any person to create, distribute, and promote a product,
encroaching upon the basic rules of capitalist society.” (Perez, 2009, p.279) He shows that the
DIY culture implies three states: an ideological/political one, rebelling against the hegemonic
marketing order; an industrial one, searching for new ways of production, outside of mass
culture; and an aesthetic one, pursuing singular forms of expression. According to Perez, one
of DIY’s main goals is to abolish specialization, and one of its characteristics is the breakdown
of the lines that separated worker and creator, “along with the possibility that anyone could
be a creator, regardless of origin or background.” A thinking based on the subversion of the
age-old idea of “look before you leap,” rather than an attitude based on action -- “first act,
then think” --, which he compares to movements like Situationism . He follows by arguing
16
that the DIY movement “changes social relations, creating a community feeling, independent
from industry, which seeks to change ordinary mercantile relationships” (Perez, 2009, p.280).
Hence, the social order we have just pointed out merits further inquiry.
16
Situationism, or Situationist International, refers to an internationalist group of revolutionaries, based
mostly in Europe. Their most prominent theoretical work is Guy Debord’s The Society of the Spectacle.
22
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
General proletarianisation
One key aspect of this social context is what French philosopher Bernard Stiegler calls General
Proletarianisation, where “human knowledge is short-circuited as a result of its technological
reproduction and implementation.” Such movement is amplified by the globalization of the
consumerist model, in which not only the know-how (savoir-faire) of workers becomes
obsolete, but mainly their knowledge of how to live ( savoir-vivre). That way, citizens “become
as such mere consumers: a good consumer is both utterly passive and irresponsible.” (Stiegler,
2010a, p.11)
Stiegler uses the word proletariat in its original meaning, referring to the loss of knowledge
of some kind, such as that suffered by factory workers in Marx’s time as a result of their highly
specialized functions (condition satirized by Charlie Chaplin in his masterpiece Modern Times).
The question of proletariat, though, has very old roots. According to Stiegler, this process
did not start with the Industrial Revolution, but at the beginning of mankind and it was already
noted, for example, by greek philosopher Plato:
(...) the process of proletarianization marks the beginning of humankind. (...) It is first of all
the exteriorization of knowledge in technics. It begins with technics. Now the problem is, what
is the gain of the process of exteriorization for humanity? Is it creating heteronomy or
autonomy? (Stiegler, 2011, p.37)
Evoking Kant, Stiegler does the following reflection:
(...) if you are reading my books in order to avoid thinking for yourself, out of laziness for
instance, you are proletarianizing yourself. (...) Reading books without reflecting upon them
and critically engaging with them leads to minority, not maturity. (Stiegler, 2011, p.37)
He argues that the question of proletarianisation is at the origin of philosophy, being,
essentially, a question of autonomy versus heteronomy. It is important to clarify that, for
Stiegler, pure autonomy does not exist: there is no autonomy without some level of
heteronomy.
Besides the remote origins of the concept, the process of proletarianisation is gestated in
the midst of the nineteenth century with the creation of modern advertisements and becomes
endemic and global after the beginning of the hyper-industrial society. Another key factor in
this process occurs in the beginning of the twentieth century when Freud’s nephew, Edward
Bernays, invented the basics of marketing by organizing “the captivation of the consumers’
attention, and thus of the libidinal energy that marketing must seek to redirect from the
consumers’ primordial objects towards the commodities.” (Stiegler, 2007, p.33-37).
The consumerist model, he says, appears as ways of solving an efficiency crisis in the
capitalist order, and was an important step towards hyper-industrial age. The problem is that
17
this model leads to another crisis, that of libidinal energy . To captivate this energy source,
people are enticed, by marketing strategies, to consume - in order to create a chain of
production and consumption. The side effect is that these marketing strategies end up
17
“industrial life tends to channel individuals’ libidinal potential, that is, their desires, because in order
for people to consume objects, it is mandatory that they first want them. But this captivation is
destructive, it is a destructive control, as also said in mechanical geniality, meaning that what is submitted
to control ends up being destroyed by what it controls. And if we believe, like I do, that we live in the
era of the capitalist order that exploits libidinal energy (as it previously exploited fossil fuels, natural
resources, etc.) then, hyper-industrial capitalism is on the verge of a serious crisis.” (Stiegler, 2007, p.26)
1.1. Circuit-bending and DIY culture
23
prevailing, thereby destroying singularity - together with the will to live (the libido). This
18
context obstructs the process of individuation , resulting in a process he calls disindividuation:
“a process that destroys the collective and destroys culture. And this disindividuation is also a
kind of proletarianisation.” (Stiegler, 2010a, p.17)
DIY as de-proletarianisation tactics
Bernard Stiegler sees the processes of de-professionalization of the contemporary era as a
possible means of escape from this situation. For him, the revalorization of the amateur made
possible by digital technology and strengthened by the Internet can create a new avant-garde
and form new audiences. Nevertheless, he argues that in order for this process of subverting
the consumerist mindset to happen, users have to become creators themselves, cease to be
simply passive consumers, produce knowledge, and shake the grounds of the capitalist
structure.
Circuit-bending (as most DIY culture strategies) encourages amateurs to leave the status of
passive consumers, and so it can be seen as a de-proletarianisation tactics, as it calls for a “farreaching process of de-proletarianisation, that is, the recovery of knowledge of all kinds”
(Stiegler, 2010a, p.11).
Seen by this prism, circuit-bending (where one can learn how to solder, explore the
different electronic components, experiment with electromagnetism, etc.) can appear as a
crackle in the consumerist society, since the methodology is based on an experimental
approach, a trial-and-error attitude that rebels against buying new hi-tech tools. The goal is
the unexpected, neither the perfection nor the efficacy that hyper-industrial society demands
from its processes. Benders seek, within this unexpectedness, a genuine learning experience:
creation and discovery. When practicing circuit-bending, the primordial aim is not to play the
latest hi-tech tool, working only with inputs and outputs in a simplistic way, but rather to
experiment, to create something unique.
Circuit-bending, then, is an interdisciplinary artistic methodology, a mixture of electric
engineering and music, but also some amount of design, sound art, and performance.
Emphasis lies in its procedural character and its focus on the concept. As John Cage says: “the
utility of the useless is good news for the artists. For art does not have a material objective.
Has to do with changing of minds and spirits.” (as cited in Campos, 1998, p.130) The tonic
note of circuit-bending is transforming the useless and the expendable into raw material for
creation and production, creating singular and unique musical instruments, out of the
standardization process of the hyper-industrial society.
18
“To individuate oneself is to learn, to experiment, to become what one is by making the passage to
the act of a potential that lies within every noetic soul.” (Stiegler, 2010a, p.16) and also: “Simondon
says that if you want to understand the individual, you need to inscribe the individual in a process of
which he is only a phase. As such, the individual has no interests. The individual is only an aspect, or
phase of a process, but the process is what is important. So what is this process? It is the process of
individuation, that is of transformation, and for Simondon, everything is caught up in and brought into
a process of individuation. For example, the passages of life are a process of individuation, but ‘technics’
are also processes of individuations.” (Stiegler, 2010b, p.3)
24
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Scattering, distraction, diversion
Another key aspect of the social context we believe to be worth discussing here is that of
scattering.
According to Vilém Flusser,
Technical images are at the center of society. But because they are so penetrating, people
don’t crowd around them; rather they draw back, each into his corner. A technical image
radiates, and at the tip of each ray sits a receiver, on his own. In this way, technical images
disperse society into corners. (...) Media form bundles that radiate from the centers, the
senders. Bundles in Latin is fasces. The structure of a society governed by technical images is
therefore fascist, not for any ideological reason but for technical reasons. As technical images
presently function, they lead on their own to a fascistic society.(Flusser, 2011, p. 61)
An important issue to the Czech-Brazilian philosopher relating the social scatter provoked
by the supremacy of the apparatus is the dissolution of the family. As he puts it: children “who
sit in isolation at their computer terminals with their backs to one another have no social
awareness. They belong to no family and identify with neither nationality nor class.”. (Flusser,
2011, p.63) Such tendency is even more evident in our age of smartphones and tablets, with
even friendlier interfaces, easily mastered by children. Children’s attention, in that context, is
no longer in the exterior world, place for real (as opposed to virtual) social interactions,
resulting in the lost of their abilities to play with one another, an essential process in acquiring
social skills, leading to a great level of scattering.
Flusser does not see this process as a vertical imposition (top to bottom), but as a
spontaneous process in modern societies. He states that “people want to be scattered by the
images so that they don’t have to collect and assemble themselves, as they would if there
were in fact a dialogue.” (Flusser, 2011, p. 65)
Drawing from Hegel, he argues that communal groups like family and communities possess
a clear distinction between the private (in-group) and the public (out-group). Such groups
suffer what Hegel called “unhappy consciousness”, as they are always aware of losing
something depending on their choices (“if I go out into the world, I lose myself in it, and if I
go into myself to collect myself, then I am lost to the world”). That is why people choose to
be scattered, diverted, in search for a generalized “happiness”, a search that overcomes an
unhappy consciousness. By breaking the notions of public and private, the scattered individual
believes to soothe his consciousness, therefore the will to be entertained and the refuse to
concentrate and focus. “Every dialogue is dangerous because it could awaken the unhappy
consciousness from its sleep.” (2011, p. 65) Flusser, then, describes the consumerist society
we live in:
Psychoanalysis describes this happiness as the oral–anal phase; cultural analysis calls this
happiness "mass culture." It is happiness at the level of the nursery, intellectually as well as
morally and aesthetically. The present dispersal of society can be seen as a move toward this
happy twilight condition. (Flusser, 2011, p.66)
We argue that methodologies such as circuit bending (as most of the experimental
tendencies in the arts of the late twentieth and beginning of the twenty-first centuries) can
act as alternatives to this scattering, zombie-state tendency. For that to happen, it is mandatory
for the bender to be conscious that his actuation in the apparatus world always occurs in the
form of a game, but that this game can be played according to the intentions and rules of the
hegemonic metaprogramming or that these rules can be broken and a new set of rules can
rise, seeking to overcome that hegemony. Without such a consciousness, benders tend to
1.1. Circuit-bending and DIY culture
25
loose the experimental attitude, associating themselves with commerce and capital, losing a
great deal of autonomy, in a process of proletarianization and desindividuation, as discussed
earlier. That risk is not only present in circuit-bending methodology, but also in all DIY scenes
happening in the last 20 years or so.
DIT - relational aesthetics
The scattering process is probably the main reason why, in recent years, we can observe a
tendency in DIY movements: from Do-It-Yourself to Do-It-Together (DIT) or Do-It-With-Others
(DIWO).
The issue is that there can be no individuation in the realm of the individual. A process of
transindividuation (a wider and more profound process that occurs between distinct
individuals) is always necessary for real individuation to happen. As French art curator and
critic Nicolas Bourriaud puts it: “the essence of humankind is purely trans-individual, made up
of bonds that link individuals together in social forms which are invariably historical (Marx: the
human essence is the set of social relations).” (Bourriaud, 2009, p.25)
Stiegler says that the process of transindividuation depends on the creation of circuits
which starts as simple processes of co-individuation (a simple conversation, for instance, where
both interlocutors are really interested in the subject and produce a sincere exchange of ideas,
where both their repertoires are augmented by the dialogue).
He argues that what forges a great artist, a great philosopher, a great person is the fact
that such a person is “somebody really specific, singular—somebody who is recognized as a
singularity who has created a new type of circuit on which other people can come and
continue the circuits.” (Stiegler, 2010b, p.4)
That is the importance of this new tendency, where artists begin to work in a more
interdisciplinary way, with the collaboration of other individuals, mainly through network
technologies. In such collaborative projects, there is an intense exchange of information,
building platforms for the creation of new ways of doing stuff. According to John Dimatos,
“collaborative projects require a level of humility and understanding of the ultimate mission.
Only then do they have the ability to be truly transformative.”
19
Vilém Flusser seems to be describing the tendency towards DIT and DIWO movements
when he makes the following statement:
This, I believe, is the project of the new revolutionaries. It is an opposition to the present
society, controlled as it is by discursively ordered images. But it is not an attempt to reconstruct
any social configuration from the past. Contemporary dispersal cannot be reversed. On the
contrary, it requires a new form of assembly. It is high time that our received, consecrated
groups fell apart. They were pernicious, ideologically grounded, misery-making groups. Now
that they are about to disintegrate completely, new groups can be formed. They can be
"informed." The task is to reintegrate a society that has disintegrated into the infinitesimal.
Such formulations of contemporary activism are intended to show how firmly contemporary
revolutionaries are rooted in the dimensionless universe, on the grounds of hallucinatory,
image-producing abstractions. (Flusser, 2011, p.68)
Such a tendency of “doing it together” appears in the circuit-bending scene in two ways:
first at concerts, usually performed as a collective free improvisation; and second through
19
http://www.psfk.com/2010/04/diwo-as-the-new-diy-psfk-conference-good-ideas-onchangemaking.html#!Jvl7o
26
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
workshops, which are very important to most bending groups (both Ghazala and Collins, for
instance, are very active instructors).
About the first aspect, the concerts, it is revealing to hear Nicolas Collins´ point of view,
captured in an interview recorded in São Paulo, just before a presentation of one of his latest
performances: Salvage. When questioned about his main interests as a composer, he gave the
following answer:
I’m interested in those types of chaotic situations and I’m very interested in collective music
making. I really like the idea of having twenty or thirty people making music together. But i’m
not particularly interested in listening to them play notes on their instruments. (...). So I’m
interested in merging this semi-chaotic electronic world with groups of players to create a kind
of an improvised electronic ensemble, that has this high degree of chaos and unpredictability
in it. And then figuring out ways to sort of shape the performance to give it some kind of
form. And that’s what this little piece does. (Fernandez & Lima, in press)
In this quotation, it is possible to note his interest in the collective aspect we’ve been
discussing: seeking to get away from the individualistic tendency, electronic music has gotten
into (especially when we deal with laptop music or DJing) working in a collective environment
of musical production, making it possible for transindividuation circuits to rise.
Another noteworthy example of DIT can be found in the Dirty Electronics Ensemble.
According to Richards, “in Dirty Electronics the ethos is not only DIY, but also DIT.” His main
goal is to “get away from the idea of the solo electronic musician and work in a more fluid
and collective way.” That way he became less bothered by his own system, and began to think
“how a large group could perform a new electronic music repertoire.” (Richards, 2011, p.23)
20
In the documentary Charge/Discharge , directed by Andrew Hill, this DIT attitude is made
visible. Another key aspect, for Richards, is that the performance not only occurs in the
moment of the public presentation of the work, but is already happening during the
workshop, when the devices are being constructed by the participants. He avoids talking about
the workshop and the performance as two separate moments, since building something in a
workshop and playing in a concert are not necessarily separate activities. According to him, in
the logic of Dirty Electronics (his way of calling his bent or hacked devices), performance and
workshop are part of a “holistic event”.
Relational aesthetics
That aspect calls for our final topic: the discussion of Relational Aesthetics. The term appeared
in art criticism in the last years of the 1990s and, as Jacques Rancière suggests, is characterized
as “an art creating no more works or objects, but ephemeral situations prompting new forms
of relationships.” For Nicolas Bourriaud, relational aesthetics takes “as its theoretical horizon
21
the realm of human interactions and its social context, rather than the assertion of an
independent and private symbolic space.” (Bourriaud, 2009, p.19)
Artists involved in relational aesthetics constitute a “group of artists who, for the first time
since the emergence of conceptual art in the mid-1960s, simply do not take as their starting
point some aesthetic movement from the past.” (Bourriaud, 2009, p.61)
20
21
http://vimeo.com/47413553
http://roundtable.kein.org/node/463
1.1. Circuit-bending and DIY culture
27
It is important to notice that for Bourriaud art has always been, in one way or another,
relational. The singularity of relational aesthetics consists of putting the relational question in
first place and seeking relationships between art and extra-artistic universes. This kind of
strategy has been around since the 1960s, and has been resumed by artists in the late 1990s,
(...) but the definition of art, which was central to the 1960s and 1970s, was no longer an
issue. The problem was no longer the expansion of the limits of art, but testing art’s capacity
for resistance within the social field as a whole. (Bourriaud, 2009, p.43)
These artists do not consider intersubjectivity and interpersonal interactions only as
“fashionable theoretical gadgets”, nor as technical pretexts to an art practice. They consider
these elements that allude to the interpersonal relationship “at once a starting point and a
point of arrival, or in short the main themes that inform their work.” What is produced by
them are “relational space-times” which seek to accomplish “interhuman experiences that try
to shake off the constraints of the ideology of mass communications”, where “alternative
forms of sociability, critical models and moments of constructed conviviality” are developed.
(Bourriaud, 2009, p.62)
This kind of artistic practice represents a transformation in collective sensibility: from the
1990s on, “the group is thrown against the mass, neighbourhood against advertising, lowtech against high-tech, the tactile against the visual.” (Bourriaud, 2009, p.65) But the main
change occurred with the end of the modern distinctions between “popular culture” and
“high culture”.
That been said, we believe it is possible to inscribe some circuit-bending and hardware
hacking concerts and workshops as examples of this “relational space-times”. After a
collaborative and passionate contact with different devices and their programmations (and all
the learning that is possible to obtain through them), there is the potential creation of circuits
of transindividuation among the participants, as most of these concerts and workshops
happen in a really loose manner, inciting people to collaborate and play together and not only
to do their own device in an isolated way.
As Ghazala puts it: “that’s the beauty of circuit-bending; anyone can do it. You don’t need
to be an electronics guru or a shop genius. All you need is the ability to solder and to think
outside the box. (…) That’s pretty immediate!” (Ghazala, 2005, p.3-4)
French philosopher Jacques Rancière argues that “the ordinary becomes beautiful as a
trace of the true if it is torn from its obviousness in order to become a hieroglyph, a
mythological or phantasmagoric figure.” (Rancière, 2009, p.34) We argue that circuit-benders
do exactly that: transform an ordinary electronic device into a singular musical instrument, “a
truly alien instrument.(...) After all, now in hand is an instrument that exists nowhere else in
the universe and that presents sounds no one else has yet heard.” (Ghazala, 2004, p.99)
Funding: This work was supported by the NuSom - Research Centre on Sonology.
References
Bourriaud, N. (2009). Estética Relacional. São Paulo: ed. Martins Fontes.
Campos, A. (1998). Música de Invenção. São Paulo: ed. Perspectiva.
Collins, N. (2006) Handmade Electronic Music. New York: ed. Routledge.
Fernandez, A. M. (2013) Circuito Alterado em Três Atos: Abrir, Tatear e Multiplicar. (Unpublished
master's thesis). Escola de Comunicação e Artes, Universidade de São Paulo, São Paulo.
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Fernandez, A. M. & Lima, J. G. A. (in press) Soundcheck with Nicolas Collins. Audio available at:
http://alreves.org/alreves/transfer/eue/entrevista-collins.mp3
Flusser, V. (2011) Into the universe of technical images. Minneapolis/London: University of Minnesota
Press.
Ghazala, Q. R. (2004) The Folk Music of Chance Electronics: Circuit-Bending the modern coconut.
Leonardo Music Journal. v.14. San Francisco.
Ghazala, Q. R. (2005) Circuit-Bending: Build Your Own Alien Instruments. Indianapolis: Wiley Publishing
Inc.
Hegarty, P. (2008) Noise/Music: A History. New York, London: Continuum.
Kuznetsov, S. & Paulos, E. (2010) Rise of the Expert Amateur: DIY Projects, Communities, and Cultures.
Retrieved from: http://www.staceyk.org/hci/KuznetsovDIY.pdf
Perez, J. I. G. (2009) DO IT YOURSELF: Cultura y Tecnologia. Revista Icono 14, nº13, 278-291, Madrid.
Rancière, J. (2009) The Politics of Aesthetics. New York: Ed. Continuum.
Richards, J. (2011) Lead & Schemas. Roland, The ICA’s Magazine. London: v. 9, p. 23-25. Retrieved from:
http://www.dirtyelectronics.org/docs/ICA_Roland_09.pdf
Tadhg, C. (2010) Bending Circuits and Making Music: Teen Tech Week in Minneapolis. Young Adult
Library Services (YALS). Minneapolis: v. 8, n. 2, p. 20–22.
Stiegler, B. (2007) Reflexões (não) Contemporâneas. Chapecó: ed. Argos.
Stiegler, B. (2010a) The Age of De-proletarianisation: Art and Teaching Art in Post-consumerist Culture.
In: Corcoran, K. & Delfos, C. (ed.). ArtFutures Current Issues in Higher Arts Education.
Amsterdam: ELIA, 10–19.
Stiegler, B. (2010b) Transindividuation. Interview by Rogoff, I. E-flux Journal. New York: v. 14. Retrieved
from: http://www.e-flux.com/journal/transindividuation.
Stiegler, B. (2011) This System Does Not Produce Pleasure Anymore an Interview with Bernard Stiegler.
Interview by Lemmens, P. Krisis: Journal for contemporary philosophy. Amsterdam: v. 1, p. 3341. Retrieved from: http://www.krisis.eu/content/2011-1/krisis-2011-1-05-lemmens.pdf
1.2. DIY culture and youth struggles for autonomy in
Switzerland: distortion of the punk scene
Pierre Raboud 1
Abstract
If the ‘do-it-yourself’ ethic (DIY) is a major legacy of the punk movement, the case of Switzerland
provides an interesting development. The most specific facet of the Swiss punk scene lay in its
encounter with broad youth movements. Both shared the will to fight to obtain spaces for young
people inside the urban landscape so they could express their own culture and more. It first began
with a riot occurring after a protest against the new budget allocated to the Opera of Zürich in
May 1980, which lead to a year of protest called Züri Brännt (“Zürich is burning”). This kind of
movement has not disappeared. In the present day, they may be found in the collective Tanz dich
frei (“Dance yourself free”). Through these two examples, this paper aims to question the ability of
DIY cultural practices to dissent from Swiss strong consensual conservatism through autonomy.
Keywords: autonomy, dissent, anti-hegemony, youth, scene
Today, DIY seems to embody the most important legacy of the punk movement, its strongest
persistence. This can be seen in the fact that cultural movements are often described as
“punks” even if they do not have much to do with pogo, leather jackets, or rudely played rock
music. To give only one example, the collective SPF 420 was often described as “Internet
punks” (Martin, 2014). SPF 420 gathers a crew of youth who organize live-stream clubbing
with underground DJs. The link between them and punk is the will to produce and consume
their own specific culture. This persistence was already stressed by George McKay (2009), who
identified DIY as one of the dimensions of the “punk” inside the “cyberpunk.” Johan
Kugelberg (2012, p. 46) was even more affirmative. For him, the heritage from punk is quite
simple: it is the DIY revolution inside youth cultures, letting the popular culture become
immediate. Even if this kind of approach to the punk movement is far too simplistic, dodging
many elements of the punk movement to resume it to its aesthetical dimension, the DIY
process nevertheless embodies one of the main values of punk. It is punk’s aspect that remains
strongly alive today. In this paper, we would like to question the meaning of DIY and its
actuality. We will analyse it through one national case: Switzerland.
From an international perspective, this choice might appear a bit odd, but its interest lies
in the fact that this national case possesses one main specific facet: Swiss punk has
encountered the new social movements (Schulz, 2011) and became integrated within what is
often referred to by the expression Züri Brännt (“Zürich is burning”) (Raboud, 2014). The Swiss
DIY cultural actors met the political struggles for autonomy in the early eighties. Both shared
the will to fight to obtain spaces for young people inside the urban landscape so they could
1
Institute of Economic and Social History (IHES), Faculty of Political and Social Sciences, University of
Lausanne, Switzerland.
30
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
express their own culture and values. This kind of movement, bringing altogether politics,
music, and parties, still exists in Switzerland with the late example of Tanz dich frei, which
means “Dance yourself free”, and gathers thousands of people each year to protest against
the cultural policy of the city of Bern. The case of Switzerland also constitutes a representative
example because its national structure is marked by a strong and consensual conservatism,
related to the strong hegemony that has ruled global societies since the eighties. We will
discuss these topics later.
Through these two examples, we aim in this paper to question the ability of DIY cultural
practices to express and perform dissent. These examples will allow us to question the different
dimensions of DIY practises as to the claim of autonomy. We will define the emancipatory
processes bound to that autonomy. We will examine what autonomy really mean, the scale at
which it spreads itself, and how we can relate it to the notion of cultural scene. We will also
look for the limits of DIY regarding the potentially individualist dimension of the “yourself” in
“do-it-yourself”. Through the concrete example of Switzerland, we hope to draw some
analytical perspectives both about the DIY process and its ability to develop anti-hegemonic
practices in contemporary struggles.
Swiss cultural scenes
Before focussing on the topics of DIY and its meaning within urban life, we must first present
briefly these two scenes from Swiss culture. Züri Brännt began on 30 May 1980 when the city
government of Zürich decided to allot a budget of 60 million francs to renovate the Zürich
Opera House. Many young people, who were attempting to obtain one concert venue for
youth cultures, decided to protest against this decision and gathered in front of the Opera
House. The police repressed this meeting harshly, leading to struggles between police and the
young people the whole night. What was then called the “Opera Riot” lasted more than one
year, through many demonstrations gathering thousands of people (Braendle, 2010).
This scene had a strong cultural effect. Its name referred to the punk credo “London is
burning”. Züri Brännt was initially a song by the punk band ‘TNT’ from Zürich. Many punk
bands, such as Kleenex, participated to the demonstrations. The strength of its cultural
dimension can be seen in the fact that one of its leading associations was named Rock als
Revolte (Rock as Revolt) (N/A, 2001).
Tanz dich frei is a one-day event supported the whole year only through social networks
and a website (the website is now shut down and the social media sites are inactive). It has
existed since 2011 and consists of a walk through the city of Bern, acting as something
between a demonstration and a street party. In 2012, 10,000 people participated (Gerny,
2013), which made it the largest demonstration in Switzerland in years. The whole
organization is anonymous and calls on participants to bring sound systems and drinks. This
event has been initiated to protest against the repressive policy of the city in terms of cultural
offerings and nightlife (http: www.tanzdichfrei.net).
We will approach the two examples cited above, Züri Brännt and Tanz dich frei, by applying
the notion of “cultural scenes”. Straw (2005) defined cultural scenes as
particular clusters of social and cultural activity without specifying the nature of the boundaries
which circumscribe them. Scenes may be distinguished according to their location (…), the
genre of cultural production which give them coherence (…) or the loosely defined social
activity around which they take shape. (p. 412).
1.2. DIY culture and youth struggles for autonomy in Switzerland: distortion of the punk
scene
31
In both of our cases, we face scenes whose unity can be found through broad elements.
Firstly, they are located in one particular city and structure themselves at this scale. Züri Brännt
has stressed this point through its name, which means “Zürich is burning”. Tanz dich frei was
initially an event taking place in Bern. Secondly, they gather mainly young people. In Zürich,
24% of the participants were less than 18 years old, 21% between 18 and 19, 32% between
20 and 25, and only 23% older than 25 (Kriesi, 1981, p. 213). We do not have such statistics
for Tanz dich frei but in all pictures from the press or within the movement’s documentation,
most of the people who have participated are young (see for example Habegger, 2013).
Thirdly, their cultural tastes are not specifically bound to one exclusive style. They gather
productions from broad youth cultures, such as punk, rock, and reggae in the eighties and all
kinds of electronic music today. Fourthly, they both add a political agenda with anti-capitalist
watchwords to the cultural dimension of the scene, as we will see.
DIY and autonomy
One of the main shared values of these two scenes is DIY. Züri Brännt was born next to punk
and remains strongly bound to its spirit. Tanz dich frei has taken over its legacy. Hein (2012)
defined DIY as an ideology that affirms that people should create their own culture without
following the mainstream or the dominant discourse. Everyone should escape the passive
attitude of consumption to take initiative and choose for themselves.
The DIY process has two main meanings. Firstly, it refuses any hierarchy in terms of
legitimacy to create. One does not have to learn to play guitar for years to start a rock band.
One does not need to care about what the establishment will think about one’s works.
Secondly, it also means that cultural production should search for autonomy. It must escape
the cultural industry by creating its own labels, magazines, venues, and more.
This radical statement of DIY may explain why cultural practises and political struggles have
joined together in Switzerland. The young generation fought to obtain free spaces where they
could express their own culture. It stands to reason that if a group tries to obtain autonomous
spaces, it will use those spaces to produce and access its own culture.
During Züri Brännt, every demonstration or squat constitutes opportunities for punk,
reggae, or experimental bands to perform (Grand, 2006, p. 228). The close ties between punk
and DIY may explain why this musical genre has played the leading role and why so many
punk musicians became spokesmen for the whole movement. Punk bands needed the broad
movement to conquer spaces. At the same time, the broad movement wished to express a
culture strongly identified with youth and the refusal of the dominant values. Astrid Spirig, the
singer of Kleenex, asserts: “Die Punks brachten durch ihr Outfit klar zum Ausdruck, wie sie die
Gesellschaft sahen: als heuchlerisch und verlogen.” (N/A, 2001, p. 49) (“The punks brought
the outfit to show clearly how they see the society: hypocritical and lying.”)
This situation allows us to understand why the punk panoply has spread beyond individual
punk bands or audiences in Züri Brännt. This can be seen in the fact that the main punk fanzine
in Zürich, Eisbrecher, changed its name to Brächise shortly after the Opera riot, its articles
talking more and more about political struggles in the city, and less and less about gigs and
records (Sozial Archiv).
In the Tanz dich frei’s demonstrations, the music played is less easily associated with one
specific musical genre. The music blaring through crude sound systems is mainly electronic
music in a street parade style: techno, drum ’n’ bass, and so on, not the kinds of electronica
32
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
one would hear in mainstream clubs or on the radio. The most important issue is again that
everyone brings their own music and sound systems in a DIY process.
The translation of DIY in a more literally political meaning may be the notion of autonomy.
This notion does not only designate the wish to enjoy the kind of entertainment one prefers.
As Tari (2011) emphasized when speaking about Autonomia Operaia, an Italian autonomist
movement active in the 1970s, autonomy means the explosion of the subversive potentiality
of the individual and social behaviours. Struggle for autonomy means fighting to obtain spaces
freed from the capital and the state. This notion enlightens the radical side of DIY, and
“autonomy” was the precise term used in most of the discourse produced inside Züri Brännt
and Tanz dich frei.
Young protesters in Zürich did not ask for a “youth centre”; they demanded an
“autonomous centre”. Their fanzines not only discussed bands, records, or gigs, as was the
case in most punk fanzines at that time. They developed the need for autonomy, to selforganize the space they had conquered in all of its dimensions: culture, food, entrance, places
to sleep, and more. This protest went beyond the space for the autonomous centre. The
different fanzines and tracts consulted in the archives expressed broad protests to change
urban life in terms of housing, public space, labour, and the like. For example, one tract stated,
“Wir wollen die ganze Stadt. Eine autonomes Haus, das PAJZ, genügt uns nicht ” (Sozial
Archiv) (“We want the whole city. An autonomy is not enough for us”). Here, the autonomy
was not understood solely as an individual space to obtain and to protect. It represented a
first trench in the way to change the whole urban way of life.
We cannot find such an evident discourse inside Tanz dich frei. The main reason for this
absence may lay in the fact that here we do not face leading associations that provide
watchwords and edit fanzines. The event’s Facebook has some links to files with criticisms
against the policies of Bern, in terms of nightlife but also of housing and public spaces. One is
called “Wem gehört die Stadt” (“To whom belongs the city”). That link contains the same
kinds of watchwords as in Züri Brännt, but it remains hard to certify if this page was
representative for the whole movement or if a minority with a more politically defined
discourse ruled it.
We
faced
the
same
interpretative
problems
with
the
movement’s
website
(http://www.tanzdichfrei.net). It also had affirmations that the goals of this demonstration
were not only about having more clubs or about being able to go to venues where the music
would be in sync with youth cultural tastes:
This movement entails more than turning up the volume and making music. It is about raising
our words, not just the sound. (…) It is not just about dancing freely once a year. It is about
speaking freely, thinking freely, exchanging freely. (http://www.tanzdichfrei.net/about)
Here, the discourse emphasized the claim for freedom already encountered through the
notion of autonomy. But again, this may be only relevant to the small more-politicized groups
who take part in the movement, such as young communists or the collective based in the
Reitschule, a famous squat in Bern.
Breaking the ice
After having observed how the DIY process has brought together cultural practices (playing
punk music, editing fanzines, bringing one’s own sound system) and struggles for autonomy
1.2. DIY culture and youth struggles for autonomy in Switzerland: distortion of the punk
scene
33
in scenes where protest and culture are bound together, we must now address why we can
find such specificities in Switzerland. Züri Brännt occurred at a time when protests were
becoming scarce in Europe (Judt, 2012). The Swiss punk scene joined a political movement,
whereas in West Germany (Teipel, 2010) or France (Rude Boy, 2007), punks and political
movements rejected each other in most cases at that time. For its part, Tanz dich frei has
gathered thousands of people, which may be related to the “Occupy” or “ Indignados”
movements but with the difference that in Switzerland the cultural issues occupy the front
row.
One possible reason could be found through the dissonance between these two cases and
the usual application of the notion of “scene”. Straw (2005) linked this notion to an expression
of energy formed within urban life. But both Züri Brännt and Tanz dich frei have faced what
we can call an absence of urban life. The specificity of the Swiss context lay in its strong cultural
conservatism.
On the eve of the Second World War, the Swiss government had set up a policy called
“Schweizerische Landesverteidigund” (“Swiss national cultural defence”), whose goals were
to avoid any influence from other countries by assuring control of the society through censure
and repression. This control was so severe that some historians have even discussed, in a
provocative way, a “Swiss totalitarianism” (Jost, 1998). During the Cold War, this cultural
policy survived by reinforcing its anti-communist dimension (Caillat, 2009).
When Züri Brännt erupted, even if the Swiss national cultural defence was not as close to
the government as in the 1950s and 1960s, its values of order and calm remained strong. The
Swiss elite had not yet experienced a shift comparable to those in other European countries.
The elected politicians were still marked by the importance of their national and military status
(Mach, 2011). Pro Helvetia, the main Swiss cultural foundation, which was founded within the
Swiss national cultural defence’s process, despite its emancipation from it, remained very
conservative and considered only bourgeois culture as legitimate (Milani, 2010).
The young people of Zürich were living in a city without any cultural life apart from the
traditional and elitist. There were simply no places to organize concerts for bands they liked,
no places to hear the music they liked. The only youth centres were ruled and controlled by
the government. The co-founder of the associtaion Rock als Revolte, Markus Kenner explains
it: “Es gibt so wenig Orte für uns Junge. Wir müssen raus auf die Gasse. Deshalb dieser Name
Rock als Revolte, RAR. Es ging um Musik, aber es ging auch um den Kampf für Freiraüme”
(N/A, 2001, 21) (“There are so few spaces for youth. We are thrown into the street. This is the
reason for the name Rock as Revolt, RAR. It’s about music, but it is also about fighting for free
spaces”).
One of the main recurring elements of the discourse inside the Züri Brännt movement was
criticism of this cultural conservatism. To denounce it, they used the metaphor of “pack ice”.
Michael Lütscher, an important member of the punk scene, described the situation in this way:
“Zurich – et toute la Suisse – était recouverte d’une banquise” (Lütscher, 2012, p. 228)
(“Zürich – and all of Switzerland – was covered by pack ice”). The manifesto-movie Zürich
Brännt (1980), a documentary directed during the events, began with long shots showing a
cold city without any movement. In a fanzine called Werkbund Material, Peter Erni (1981)
criticized the “pack ice city” where order ruled. This element was part of some of the slogans
used in the demonstrations, like “Freiheit Grönland – Nieder mit dem Packeis” (“Freedom for
Greenland – Down with the pack ice”) (Erni, 1981, 8). This metaphor showed again that Züri
Brännt not only asked for more musical venues. They were fighting against a whole situation
34
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
in which order and consent were dominating and killing every opportunity to bring energy to
urban life.
The beginning of Tanz dich frei revealed a similar situation. After a more open era in the
1980s and 1990s, with many venues opening thanks to the youth struggles of the early 1980s
(N/A, 2010), the late 1990s and 2000s had been years of backlash: the government shut down
squats and instituted a more restrictive policy towards nightlife. Bern, the fifth-largest city of
Switzerland, had only few clubs left, and most of the places—clubs and pubs—closed early.
Again, the demonstrators wanted to challenge this organization of the urban life in which
“order” and “silence” were the key words. The video “Tanz dich frei. Wem Gehört die Stadt
(Offiziell)” (available on the facebook page) shows the city of Bern without any human or
social life, just police cars.
Both Züri Brännt and Tanz dich frei have showed how DIY cultural practises could mean
empowerment for groups trying to conquer autonomous spaces within urban life. Whether in
1980 or todays, Swiss young people have fought against a conservative cultural framework to
find ways to express their own culture. We have already stressed the political dimensions of
such a protest. We see it as anti-hegemonic.
More precisely, these DIY practices and struggles for autonomy represented emergent
processes. As Williams pointed out, they were “significant both in themselves and in what
they reveal of the characteristics of the dominant” (Williams, 1977, p.122). They expressed
the need for autonomy and disclosed the continuing strength of conservatism at the same
time.
We can understand the primacy of this cultural issue in recent Swiss movements because
of the economic stability of this country and its lack of tradition in terms of unionist struggle.
If the Switzerland has also been affected by economic recessions, their impacts have remained
low, especially compared to other European countries. In 1982, its GDP had fallen only by
1.1% (Rein, 1987, 22). In 1984, the unemployment rate did not exceed 1.2%, whereas it
stood up at 9.7% in France and at 13% in Great Britain (Idem, 51). Switzerland has also
succeeded in remaining safely apart from the 2008 crisis and its consequences (Buss, 2013).
Here, DIY seems to embody a political process able to conquer the public space. Even
better, it suits perfectly the Swiss context: in a very consensual society, DIY would represent a
battlefield where emancipation becomes possible. Against a strong hegemony, it allows antihegemonic practices to be heard.
But we must not forget that this cultural dimension can also turn to a disadvantage. DIY
may impact only on marginal or individual spaces of society. We can ask if autonomy, despite
its radicalism, lock these practices up in the margin. To win an autonomous centre and be
happy with it do not change the structure of the society.
This limit of DIY can be seen also in the fact that the government always tries to respond
to these kinds of protests by reducing them to their cultural dimensions. The City of Zürich
allowed a youth centre to be built (the Rote Fabrik) in 1980. The city’s mayor, Sigmund
Widmer, reportedly shouted once at rioters, saying, “Make some music instead” (as cited in
Lütscher, 2012, p. 230). The City of Bern has responded to Tanz dich frei by setting up a new
nightlife policy with more liberal closing times and new places to organize special events. In
both cases, the responses of the government have succeeded in normalizing the protests by
splitting them.
This kind of recuperation or normalization represents a real danger for any cultural protest.
To aim to change the whole urban landscape, a DIY movement needs to add broad political
1.2. DIY culture and youth struggles for autonomy in Switzerland: distortion of the punk
scene
35
discourse and agendas to its cultural practices. We must recognize that both Tanz dich frei
and especially Züri Brännt did this. They have affirmed loudly that the autonomous centre was
not enough. They did not want to be locked up in a “cultural ghetto”, as a tract from Züri
Brännt expressed it clearly (Sozial Archiv). They wanted the whole city.
One last and brief observation can be made through the comparison of the two analysed
cases, showing how social movements have changed and how the ways to express dissent
have shifted. In 1980, despite the punk outfits, the Züri Brännt scene was organized in a very
countercultural as it possessed a lot of elements listed by Hebdige (2008, p. 53) in his definition
of counterculture: it was represented through associations. It published information and had
a clear political discourse. Its mobilisations lasted months. By contrast, Tanz dich frei does not
have any real representative institution. It has no clear discourses and its temporality is limited
to a one-day event. Actual movements of protest seem more heterogeneous. If they still
express the will to change urban life, they do not have the same ability to build long-term
militant actions and a defined political discourse (Cannone, 2012), at least for now.
Both cases, bringing together political struggle and DIY cultural practices, have turned the
notion of cultural scene upside down. Here some may think that this notion should not be
used to describe Züri Brännt and Tanz dich frei. But we have showed how the cultural agenda
drove the political movement to act like a scene: editing fanzines, gathering through particular
venues, and the like. The political dimensions tore the borders of the scenes apart.
The differences between the situations lead to two opposite cases. Züri Brännt constituted
perhaps more than a scene: its values (DIY) and practises (fanzines, gigs, and music) spread
beyond the dimension of the scene to become appropriated by a broad youth movement.
Tanz dich frei is instead less than a scene: a ghost of a scene, becoming alive only once a year
and crying for life the rest of the time.
References
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Buss, B. (2013, 04 september). Depuis la crise de 2008, la Suisse a dopé sa compétitivité. Le Temps, p.14.
Caillat, M. et al. (2009). Histoire(s) de l’anticommunisme en Suisse. Zürich: Chronos.
Canonne, J. (2012). Indignés: les nouvelles formes de protestation. Sciences humaines, 235, p. 41-41.
Erni, P. (1981). Es is kalt. Werkbund Material, 1+2.
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Judt, T. (2012). Après-guerre, une histoire de l’Europe depuis 1945. Paris: Fayard.
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Grand, L. (Ed.) (2006). Hot Love, Swiss Punk&Wave. 1976-1980. Zürich: Edition Patrick Frey.
Habegger, T. (2013, May 04). Gefahr bei «Tanz dich frei» – müssen Baugruben weg ?. Berner Zeitung,
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Hebdige, D. (2008). Sous-culture, le sens du style. Paris: Zones.
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Heute und Danach, The Swiss Underground Scene’s of the 80s (pp. 226-233). Zürich: Patrick
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Mach, A. et al. (2011). La fragilité des liens nationaux. Actes de la recherche en sciences sociales, 190,
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what ?:The Cultural Legacy of Punk (pp. 49-67). London and New York: Routledge.
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1.3. The street as canvas: street art and the
construction of artistic careers
Ágata Dourado Sequeira 1
Abstract
This communication aims to discuss the relations between art, urban space and the city, which is
the aim of the ongoing PhD thesis project. Specifically, the purpose is to understand how an urban
public space can be configured through the ways in which it connects with the city and the artistic
field – namely the realms of art in the public space, considering in particular street art, as artistic
manifestation of an intrinsic ephemeral nature.
Therefore this paper will have its focus on the processes of production of street art in the
metropolitan context of Lisbon, with a reflection based on a field work research that includes a
series of interviews to several artists to whom the street is the main recipient of their artistic
interventions, as well as other influent actors in urban creativity, a detailed photographic
recollection of images of such artistic displays and further documental analysis.
Particularly, a reflection on the constitution of artistic singularity, both in what concerns the artistic
career, the diversity of artistic profiles in street art and the very plasticity of the artistic work, can
be made. What motivates the artists to use the street as their canvas, and from it to build an artistic
career, and what very particular mechanisms of legitimization exist within the promotion and
production of urban art in Lisbon, are some of the interrogations that are to be explored here.
Keywords: Public Space, Cities, Street Art, Artistic Career, Urban Sociology.
The changing world of street art
In this paper I aim to approach some of the reflections that have been resulting from a research
project about the transformative potential of art in the public space, in what concerns its
potential of change in the populations, the institutions and the people who create.
Recently, one has been observing a rapidly growing phenomenon in the streets of Lisbon.
Following a global urban tendency, street art has been gaining more and more attention, as
an increasingly larger number or artists finds the opportunity (or is given that opportunity) of
leaving their unique mark in the city’s walls.
Therefore, as recent as this is – while street art differentiates itself from the graffiti
languages, all the actors at play are trying to figure out what exactly is street art and what
potential rests upon it. The population, the artists and creatives behind the works, the
contemporary art world, the academia, media, private entities and public institutions – are all
constructing their own views and positioning about this subject, making it an exciting field for
the attention of social sciences, as it is still in the process of establishing itself as a consolidated
art form within the creative specificities and potentials of urban public space.
1
DINAMIA'CET-IUL, University Institute of Lisbon, Portugal.
38
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
The ephemeral character of the street art pieces allows them to reveal what is probably a
more immediate potential for transforming the public space, which can also be read from the
time frame in which the several moments of the creative process happen: the planning process
of the piece (from a single individual’s decisions about what place to choose and techniques
to use, to a myriad of contacts between several agents such as the collective of artists, street
art producers, public institutions and private stakeholders or owners of buildings); the making
of the piece, that allows a specific moment between the artists and the passer-bys, set
somewhere between the performative and the interactive; the media and online reactions are
also very immediate once the pieces are finished, in an intensity of images and comments that
is also very transversal in terms of who produces this discourses, in a way that may be unique
for a form of contemporary artistic creation.
Right now, and particularly in the last 6 years, Lisbon has been the stage of a diverse set
of manifestations of street art, that imply a set of changes happening in the streets, at several
levels. One of them is lies within the plasticity of the pieces: from the very expressive basic act
of painting a wall in the street using spray cans, techniques the urban dweller is long
familiarized with through the presence of graffiti, to acts such as placing a stencil, sticker or
poster, or even making three-dimensional objects to be ‘released’ in the streets. The plastic
possibilities are immense. On the other hand, the motivations to artistically intervene on the
streets are as diverse as the individuals are: to make a message pass, sometimes a subversive
one and with strong social critique; or to experiment with a new form of ‘canvas’ (the city
walls), while at the same time creating the opportunity to turn this act of in an opportunity to
build a career in the creative and artistic field.
The interpretations of what it means to make street art are also very diverse, but what
seems transversal is the notion that street art, although having its roots in the political mural
art and the graffiti aspect of hip hop culture, no longer confines itself to the meanings and
ways of making that these art forms usually implied, but actually at times seems to blend with
other expressive forms – from non-artistic fields to even the field of contemporary art.
With aesthetic languages that are very current, street art has also been subject to
incorporation (or sometimes appropriation) from companies, for marketing purposes. This
might reveal a conflict, as some artists find in this an opportunity for paid work, while other
artists feel street art should be free from all the constraints but their imagination and artistic
intention.
The institutional approach to street art has also been subject to change. The possibility of
the artists using walls for their works has been facing some regulating initiatives by the city
hall. From these regulation a new paradigm is visible – street art not as an act of sheer illegality
but as an opportunity to value the urban space, in terms of the possibilities it implies of
showing Lisbon as a contemporary and modern tourist destination. At the same time, artists
have been instrumentalizing the possibility of support by the city hall in terms of creating their
own visibility and further work opportunities.
Power and communication in the public space
Two main aspects in this research are the ways in which not only relationships of power but
also the communication aspect of public space are revealed through the art it exhibits.
In fact street art, being of ephemeral nature and such a direct form of interaction with the
public space, strongly reflects a set of relationships of power within public space. It illustrates
1.3. The street as canvas: street art and the construction of artistic careers
39
(both figuratively and literally) the struggle for a space of communication, of visibility, among
competitors such as advertising and institutional powers. If, as Lefebvre famously stated, public
space is a stage of intense sociability and diverse meanings (Lefebvre, 2000), it is also a space
of social contrasts that might be explicit in its very planning – hence the notion of the city as
a bureaucratic and class map whose disparities are intended to be suppressed through culture
and art (Zukin, 1993). On the other hand, the very use of culture and art can in the end reveal
these same contrasts, constituting a way of control and domination, given its capacity to
produce symbols and establish place. This research project argues that such effects of art in
the public place are also visible in the current production of street art in the urban metropolitan
context of Lisbon.
Since the public space is also a powerful mean of communication (Lofland, 1998; Campos,
2010), the art it features, as is the case with street art, can be read not only in terms of what
the actors involved have to say through it, but also in terms of how the way it is produced and
promoted can speak to us about the mechanisms behind making public space in an urban
context: «(…) Space not only structures how communication will occur and who will
communicate, it also has consequences for the content of that communication.» (Lofland,
1998:186). Therefore the study of street art can fuel a debate on what actually means ‘public
space’, when the city might seem at times overpowered by huge advertising billboards, that
might as well depend on a net of bureaucratic authorizations, or in a simple authorization
from a private owner of an exterior façade. At what point private decisions make public space
and what can the practice of street art show us in that matter is too big a question to give a
definitive answer in this paper, but there are a lot of important aspects to be approach
concerning this matter.
Therefore several questions can be made, namely on why the control of public space is not
in fact responsibility of everyone but the entities that organize it, or advertise in it, or that build
in it, or simply own it; the use of walls in the public space as the medium for several forms of
street art, that appropriates itself of them, so many times illegally, others not, is evident
symbolic expression of confrontation and dispute of urban space, reflecting relations of power
and tensions that relate to the life in the city on a daily basis. The feeling of exclusion provoked
by domination and public communication by media and advertising is on the root of that
appropriation of the street walls as a mean of communication – also, undoubtedly, public. It
can be argued that street art, in its most spontaneous and unprogrammed forms, being of
ephemeral nature and in the global current contexts, has the potential to accomplish the
promises of public art (Hayden, 1995) in a more direct way. Because it is more immediate and
unexpected, it can also be very critical, posing by its mere existence questions about the
legitimacy (or lack thereof) of the state, local institutions and the capital of occupying what is
in fact called ‘public’ space. It origins a debate about these issues, fueled by situations where
the competition for public visual space is sometimes blatantly aggressive.
Another aspect that is also an important part of this project is the assumption that street
art can also be a strategic element in the construction of an individual creative path. As a
specific communicational space (Campos, 2010), urban art is expression of identities, lifestyles
and discourses from who produces it. As it uses public space as canvas for its artistic
manifestations and also as a vehicle for communication, it seems to make a commentary on
the visual and artistic forms that are more conventional and institutional, reclaiming for itself
its very own space. This is also an undoubtedly political and ideological statement (Stahl,
2009). The fact that so many street art initiatives are being promoted – from the public
40
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
initiatives to the private ones – contributes to the fact that there are possibilities for the artists
to have their work visible in a way that is possible today as maybe it never before was. Also,
the necessary quickness inherent to making an illegal artwork in a wall is so many times not
necessary through these initiatives or intermediaries, so there is more time to devote to the
artwork and therefore more and more complex pieces appearing, that allow the creators and
artists to develop their techniques and imagery in what might be a more fluid way. Visibility
might come with compromise, and the discourses of the makers of street art are diverse. As
important as thinking about street art as a form of building an individual path is the reflection
about what is artistic work in this field and who are the agents around it, in a particular context
where these considerations seem yet so diffuse.
The attempt of providing answers to these questions is indissociable of specific
methodological approaches. So this research assumes a qualitative aspect to it, including a set
of interviews to several stakeholders – from creators with really diverse profiles to associations,
institutions and collectives – within the street art that takes place in the streets of Lisbon. Being
this an essentially visual object of study, it is equally important the construction and analysis
of a set of images resulting from the field work that document or attempt to illustrate the
several aspects that will be subject to reflection. And a necessarily solid anchoring in a
theoretical support resulting from a transversal bibliographical research is also fundamental
for this project – as it is for any attempt of adding knowledge to a field of research.
In this paper in particular, I’ll approach the ways in which making street art and developing
a creative or artistic career are related, in a context where this inter-connection starts to be an
actual possibility. Making street art right now assumes different forms, from the more
independent initiatives to the ones that are part of institutional actions. The first being usually
connected with a certain anonymity and/or peer-recognition of the artist, where the act of
making an artistic mark in the public space assumes a political role of appropriation, the
claiming of a place for communication that counterpoints the advertising and the institutional
marks that dominate the communication in the public space. The second relating to the
collaborations in artistic projects commissioned by institutions, where the artist is no longer
semi-anonymous but a recognized creative, being the act of intervening artistically in the street
not as much an individual political claim to a space for communication but almost an act of
construction of an artistic persona that is recognizable in the broader field of the contemporary
art scene, with all the opportunities that come as a result. While at the same time both of
these forms of making street art are equally rich in terms of what they say politically about the
powers that intervene in the public space and the several meanings that are imbued in these
actions.
1.3. The street as canvas: street art and the construction of artistic careers
41
Figure 1 - Underdogs. Artwork by Interesni Kazki. Photo by the author.
Making street art in Lisbon
The designations of ‘urban art’ or ‘street art’ are not free of a certain degree of polemic, which
will not be approached in this paper, for the sake of brevity. Instead, let us stick with the
choice of using the term ‘street art’, as it is arguably a more specific form to designate such a
current for of artistic creation.
One can trace the roots of street art back to an act ancient and primordial such as drawing
on a wall. Or later, writing one’s name in stony walls, making it therefore public. Fast-forward
to the contemporary age, it is in the events of May 1968 in Paris and in the birth of graffiti
within north-American hip hop culture that one can trace the origin of what is now widely
recognized as street art. As for the Portuguese context, this origin is inseparable of the political
mural paintings and writings on the walls as political statements and calls to action in the
period immediately after the revolution of April 1974. What these contexts have in common
is the inherent social agitation and political uncertainty, so the act of using a wall in the public
space as canvas or platform to communicate might also be seen as a form of questioning the
social and political status quo, while at the same time making essays on freedom in the very
public space. One can’t avoid thinking about the recent popularity of street art and the current
social context of economical crisis, a connection that can seem particularly strong while
analyzing the ways the artists and creatives of street art in Lisbon build their careers.
As for graffiti, it also has expression in Portugal, through the influence of American hiphop culture, with several writers making their mark known in the city walls, trains, etc. The
quickness of the act of painting that the spray cans allowed these writers, a certain aesthetic
and even a specific ethos are still to be found within street art in a broader sense, as there is
an intimate relation between street art and graffiti culture. Actually, several ‘old school’ graffiti
writers have embraced the practice of street art, so the legal and illegal creative practices in
urban public space are hand in hand.
It comes from a simple act of observation, to state that street art has grown in the last few
years as a field of its own. Actually, and despite the obvious proximity, it has been detaching
itself from graffiti, although it might include its techniques, as well as stencils, posters and
other less formatted expressions under unexpected forms that show once more how rich in
terms of plastic experimentation the creative field of street art can be. Also to be found are
42
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
elements of graphic design, contemporary painting, comic book universe, etc. These such
diverse ways of making show an intimate relation to the actual diversity of profiles of the
people who make it: some with a background in ‘traditional’ graffiti, others in several branches
of design, illustrators, many contemporary plastic artists (that ‘come from the gallery’, so to
say) that try the street as a new canvas for their work, self-taught creatives, among others.
The constitution of street art as an artistic field in its own right is central to this research,
and intimately linked to the personal career paths the street artists chose.
In truth, it can be said that street art has been penetrating other universes, being the
processes of artistic recognition (Heinich, 1993) beyond the world of street art a reality in
several cases. Several street artists in fact seem to have a unique ability to enter other «social
worlds of art» (Becker, 2010), in particular the contemporary art circuit, to which the
relationship with specific stakeholders or agents within it is key and can launch a career that
flourishes both within street art and the contemporary art world, while the boundaries
between both are not completely dissolved in a transversal body of work. Simultaneously,
other relationships are inevitable, as the process of making street art many times involves a
relatively vast network of agents, public and private entities – which I will refer to in detail in
the section that follows.
Projects and initiatives of street art in Lisbon
Lisbon, as other urban contexts and with a part on a global phenomenon, has been the stage
of several manifestations of street art, with a specific set of diverse ways of promoting and
producing it. These several initiatives include not only the individual will to intervene in the
city’s public space, in one end of the spectrum, but also the promotion of street art events
from public and private entities in different molds. These distinct forms of production and
making street art are eloquent in terms of what are the powers and the people involved, and
what relationships between street art, its artists and the public space are being experimented
in Lisbon at the present time.
A relatively rigid systematization of the different types of production of street art will prove
not to be exact, because the inter-relations between all of the actors involved are a profuse
reality, when it’s not the case of an individual artist’s initiative. However, despite this tendency
for the interdependency of the several actors involved, there are in fact strong differences and
motivations between them, which does allow for a simple systematization effort.
In this sense, in order to explain the characteristics of these different forms of production,
it might be useful to arrange them according to their more or less institutionally planned
character, in an ideal-type way. As consequence we have, on one side, the absolutely noninstitutional initiatives, and, on the other side, the projects of institutional initiative, which in
the case of Lisbon, are promoted by GAU (Galeria de Arte Urbana – Urban Art Gallery), an
organism of the city’s municipality. Among these two poles are other types of production of
urban art that result from processes of mediation between the institutional entities and the
artists, through agents, such as associations or collectives that assume the role of promoting
street art. In the following paragraphs I will approach each of these types of processes of
production of street art individually and in more detail.
As for the non-initiatives – let’s refer to those as those individual initiatives - they essentially
translate the will of an artist or a small collective or artists to intervene in the street, sometimes
(though not necessarily) without any kind of mediation or concerns towards legality. In this
1.3. The street as canvas: street art and the construction of artistic careers
43
aspect it would be much like traditional graffiti, if not in the content or intention, but in the
form or ways of making. These might be relatively spontaneous initiatives; with of course the
amount of planning that is necessary to turn the initial idea to a physical realization. Most of
the times, these are not authorized interventions, but the result of the initiative of the artists,
who find in the walls of the city a canvas for their work and will to self-expression. These
pieces can have a rawer and even subversive intention in them. It is totally ‘untamed’ street
art, while meaning in a very clear way the willingness to reclaim their space within the city’s
public spaces. If on the one hand there might be a risk in the moment of making the piece in
the street and not getting caught, on the other, there is a certain feeling of surprise or even
serendipity for the alert users of the public space when discovering that a new piece of art just
‘appeared’ in a wall or tree or sign in the street they are passing by. This is certainly a
stimulating effect of communication between artist and passer-by that contributes to a sense
of communal belonging in relation to the city.
Figure 2 - Individual initiatives. Artwork by Pantónio. Photo by the author.
In relation to public initiatives of street art in the context of Lisbon, the work of GAU (Urban
Art Gallery) is paramount. It is an organ of Lisbon Municipality that aims to promote several
street art initiatives around the city, while claiming an important role in displaying the works
of street artists in this city but also in mediating the obtaining of permits for the artists to
intervene in privately own exterior spaces (such as a building’s façade, or a surrounding wall,
for instances).
The work of GAU started in 2008 with localized interventions in Largo da Oliveirinha and
Calçada da Glória, with the intention of rehabilitating the Bairro Alto area by cleaning the
profusion of tagging that could be seen there (and still can, despite the efforts against it),
while at the same time creating a space for quality street art that could be on display. Of
course the idea is polemic in several ways and raises a lot of tremendously interesting
questions, but those will be approached in a different occasion.
GAU has been establishing itself has a very active institutional branch that promotes several
distinct interventions and with them an opportunity for the artists to showcase their works in
44
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
legal walls with considerable dimension. This might not only mean no time constraints while
painting and the budget for the materials for doing so, but also the visibility and further
opportunities for paid work, mainly from companies who want to incorporate some of the
aesthetic options these artists take, in their products or image.
One example of the work of GAU is ‘Rostos do Muro Azul’ (Faces of the Blue Wall), an
initiative with several editions in which several artists were invited to send their projects for
painting sections of the wall that surrounds a psychiatric hospital in Lisbon. Another GAU
project is the one called ‘Reciclar o olhar’ (Recycle the look), where public glass containers for
recycling bottles are painted by basically anyone who is willing to send a project – not only
street artists, though many do too. Simultaneously, the place where the initiatives by GAU
started (Largo da Oliveirinha / Calçada da Glória) is still, from time to time, subject to
interventions, as well as many other sporadic projects that this entity promotes a bit all over
the city.
Of increasing importance is the work being developed by the mediation agents, mainly in
the form of collectives or associations of people who propose to promote street art events or
initiatives. These might be collectives of artists (either former or in the active) or cultural
associations, being, again, the profiles of the individuals within it, diverse. The work of these
agents is important, as it’s often them who bring the knowledge of the process of planning a
street art initiative – from the idea of the artist to the bureaucratic net of authorizations that
will be necessary to accomplish it. The mediation process can be between the several
stakeholders involved, such as the artists or collectives of artists, the municipality (through
GAU), associations of cultural intends, and the owners of private property where there is an
interest (from either side or both) in making a street art intervention. There are several
associations or collectives that play the role of mediation agents for the production of street
art in the context of Lisbon. One of them is the project Wool, that in collaboration with Lx
Factory, a privately own deactivated factory complex that now welcomes several cultural
initiatives but also a lot of small companies and their offices, fashion and interior design stores,
galleries, restaurants and bars.
Figure 3 - Wool on Tour, Lx Factory. Artwork by Mário Belém and Makarov. Photo by the author.
1.3. The street as canvas: street art and the construction of artistic careers
45
This location, from time to time, accommodates editions of Wool on Tour, that brings
street artists to Lx Factory, to intervene in the former factory’s walls. Another privately held
former factory that also promotes street art initiatives for their inner walls is Fábrica Braço de
Prata. This is a building of large dimensions that used to serve as a gun and ammunition
factory, while now is the home of several cultural activities: it hosts theater and cinema
sessions, dance lessons, concerts, a book store, art exhibitions, a restaurant and bar, among
other facilities the deactivated factory rooms allow. From time to time street artists are invited
to submit a project to paint sections of the walls that surround this building, forming an open
air gallery of urban art. It might be because of the influence of this association in a specific
area of Lisbon – bringing some animation and cultural life to a pretty depressed and deindustrialized zone – that other walls in other buildings around here became also the canvas
of several street art manifestations. One can read in this juxtaposition between the derelict
building and the brightly painted artwork a critique to the powers and circumstances that
allowed that a once lively area of working factories became a forgotten and depressed district,
between the rich Parque das Nações neighbourhood and the historical downtown.
Figure 4 - Fábrica Braço de Prata. Artwork by Vhils. Photo by the author.
Other examples - although not extensively listed - of associations that mediate urban art
initiatives include APAURB (Portuguese Association for Urban Art) – with collaboration projects
th
such as «40 anos, 40 murais», a celebration of the 40 years of the revolution of 25 of April
1974, or the interventions in the Alcântara tunnel; Ébano Collective, that proposed the recent
series of pieces that took place in the Graça neighbourhood, «Passeio Literário da Graça»; also
to be mentioned is Project Crono, which programmed several initiatives, including what may
be one of the most recognizable urban art projects in Lisbon – the painting of the façades of
a set of derelict buildings in the centre of Lisbon, under permit of the city hall. Finally,
Underdogs, a platform for Portuguese and international street artists that, working in
partnership with the city hall, allows the artists to be able to create street art in large scale in
Lisbon, while also stimulating the exchange of ideas, graphic languages and artistic concepts
for international street artists.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Figure 5 - ‘Passeio Literário da Graça’, by Ébano Colective. Artwork by Mariana Dias Coutinho. Photo by the
author.
Career paths and strategies
Several interrogations have been stemming from this research, namely in what concerns the
career aspect of the people that create street art in Lisbon.
One of them concerns the commercial effects that the growing popularity and visibility of
street art has been stimulating. There is in fact an increasing amount of companies or brands
that see in street art an opportunity to promote commercial products, and it’s not uncommon
for partnerships to happen between brands, associations and the public institution, in urban
art events.
On the other hand, there are also appearing small companies that revolve around the
current production of street art in Lisbon, mainly in what concerns tourism. Street art guided
tours are already a reality, just as online street art city guides that pinpoint what pieces to look
for, destined to a specific niche of tourism that seems to be growing. Actually, the global
visibility of street art and the profusion of images from street art pieces that everyday can be
found online, is becoming a powerful tool for the marketing of cities as a tourist destination.
Lisbon is no exception, being often featured in quick (and very debatable) lists of ‘the best
street art cities’ – as a simple google search can atest. While on the one hand this mediatic
attention is by no means a reliable indicator of the comparative quality and quantity of pieces
or street art in each city, on the other hand it shows how street art is currently being used as
a powerful tool for marketing cities as tourist destinations, in a tough competition among
urban destinies that aim to pass an image of trendiness that certain tourist segments might
look for in their travel choices.
Another aspect that stems from all the current interest and visibility of the street that is
being produced right now is the commercial appropriation of its visual languages for the
purpose of selling products: artists are invited to decorate store windows, for instances, or to
decorate cars or clothing items. This might for some artists consist of a valid opportunity for
1.3. The street as canvas: street art and the construction of artistic careers
47
paid work through an activity that is parallel to their body of work, while others might consider
it an unthinkable activity, an unwanted detour from their work, or its misuse.
Figure 6 - Postalfree van. Artwork by Vanessa Teodoro. Photo by the author.
Which brings up a very interesting question: with the several events and street art initiatives
that are being programmed and promoted by private and public entities, at what point the
artistic and creative work that is implied in the painting of a considerably large wall, for
example, can be consistently and fully be considered work in its self right, and therefore
systematically paid accordingly? Maybe the fact that this aspect is so diffuse at the moment
and in this context lies within the fact that this is a new field that is constituting itself, but
while there starts to have a consistent response from the several stakeholders – public and
private entities – and new agents start to emerge and have a fundamental role in the
promotion and establishment of a systematic way of doing things, this specific artistic
production, when inserted in this net of relations and influences, might just have to be paid
for the work it represents and not a sort of highly elaborate and technically specific ‘hobby’.
While that isn’t the case, street artists who make this activity their main focus, will continue
to develop their own strategies of sustainability, such as working with brands when possible,
for some, or making pieces in canvas that might be more immediately sellable. And,
interestingly, to these different strategies might correspond even a different signature: it is
common that a street artist signs the piece he/she made in the street with the name he/she
uses, often one they created for that purpose. On the other hand, on their incursions in more
sellable formats, such as serigraphies or objects, the signature might just be their real name,
as a strategy to distinguish both streams of what is in fact a single – yet diverse – artistic career.
This brings another relevant aspect in terms of this duallity: globally, there is a certain
movement of recognition of some street artists by the more conventional and ‘galleryoriented’ contemporary artistic spheres. There are several examples of urban artists that have
seen their work recognized in a broad scale, with their art pieces being exhibited in galleries
(both indoor and outdoors), festivals, retrospectives, published in monographies and
48
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
catalogues, etc. Others might form collectives and organize street art events themselves, or
even put together galleries – in the ‘white cube’ sense of the word – to showcase their works.
So as some street artists move from the street walls towards the gallery space, other ones
move from the gallery towards the street, since opportunities in that sense have appeared and
this way they can experiment new plastic approaches to their work.
This reveals the different backgrounds of the diverse set of people that make street art.
Some initiated their artistic path within traditional graffiti culture and eventually gained
interest in experimenting with different graphic languages, or exploring other frames of artistic
production. Others initiated their street art incursions as result of a will to further stretch the
boundaries of the career they were already developing, be it in the context of design or in the
field of contemporary art in a stricter sense.
Another relevant observation is the term these artists use when referring to themselves and
their work. They’re virtually as diverse as the creators interviewed, and the particular word
they chose to refer to themselves (‘artist’; ‘designer’; ‘grafiti’, etc.) reveals just that – the
makers of street art come from different backgrounds and have also different expectations
and strategies, just as they have different artistic languages and bodies of work. And it might
just be these diversity that makes street art such a rich field of change.
Funding: This work was supported by FCT under Grant SFRH/BD/82506/2011.
References
Becker, Howard S. (2010), Mundos da Arte, Lisboa, Livros Horizonte.
Campos, Ricardo (2010), Porque pintamos a cidade? Uma abordagem etnográfica do Graffiti Urbano ,
Lisboa, Fim de Século.
Campos, Ricardo; Brighenti, Andrea Mubi; Spinelli, Luciano (orgs.) (2011), Uma Cidade de Imagens,
Lisboa, Editora Mundos Sociais.
Choay, Françoise (2006), A Alegoria do Património, Lisboa, Edições 70.
Delgado, Manuel (2011), El espacio público como ideología, Madrid, Catarata.
Ferro, Lígia (2011) Da rua para o Mundo: Configurações do graffiti e do parkour e campos de
possibilidades urbanas, Tese de Doutoramento em Antropologia, Lisboa, ISCTE/ FCT
Fradique, Teresa (2003), Fixar o Movimento. Representações da música rap em Portugal, Lisboa, D.
Quixote.
Hayden, Dolores (1995), The Power of Place: Urban Landscape as Public History, Cambridge, The MIT
Press.
Heinich, Nathalie (1993), Du peintre à l’artiste. Artisans et académiciens à l’âge classique, Paris, Éditions
de Minuit.
Lefebvre, Henri (2000), La production de l’espace, Paris, Anthropos.
Lofland, Lyn (1998), The Public Realm, New York, Aldine de Gruyter.
Low, Setha (2000) On the Plaza: The politics of Public Space and Culture, Austin, The University of Texas
Press
Stahl, Johannes (2009), Street Art, s/l, Ullmann Publishing.
Zukin, Sharon (1993), Landscapes of Power, Berkeley, University of California Press.
Zukin, Sharon (1995) The Culture of Cities, Oxford, Blackwell.
1.4. “Do it yourself”: Daniel Johnston’s demon
Fabrício Silveira 1
Marcelo Bergamin Conter 2
Abstract
This is an essay which describes and problematizes the homemade video for the song “Hard Time”,
by American musician and independent artist, Daniel Johnston. As a craftsman, Johnston have
been, since the late 1970’s, working on all instances to make his music known: recording, mixing,
mastering, copying from tape-to-tape, drawing the art cover and walking around to give his tapes
to passers. Although all this effort, he never made it to mainstream. His specific case justifies and
provides foundation for a discussion on Do-it-yourself culture, primitivism, precariousness, and
spontaneity in the range of pop music. As a result of the analysis of the mentioned video, a complex
myriad of matters to be debated emerges (of sociological, aesthetic, communicational and historic
character) proving to be a key subject to the understanding of DIY, for Johnston is, in a poetical
way, an example of a musician doomed to keep doing everything by himself.
Keywords: Do-it-yourself culture; Daniel Johnston; primitivism; spontaneity.
1. As from the decade of 1970, especially from the behavioral outburst provoked by the punk
movement, the motto Do it yourself reached unheard-of, even unexpected, proportions. That
which was, in its embryonic stage, a kind of existential flag to teenage musicians, that also
looked like an invitation to dilettante action and a prompt-defense argument against eventual
criticism to technical precariousness and inaptitude (to the lack of skills in the playing of
musical instruments, for instance), became little by little something much more serious and
representative: it became an effective political program, a critical proposition, a declaration of
3
principles, the ensign which was capable of summing up an in-the-making real ideology .
Nowadays, DIY can be understood as a conceptual formulation, in some occasions taken
as a kind of synonym or equivalent to the very idea of underground. It is as if it were impossible
to talk about alternative and independent music, aside from the big industry, without bumping
into, at any time, such expression and the set of meanings and cultural practices it comprises
and designates. In the extent of pop music, DIY is a powerful semantics-maker, a most strong
rubric, which aids to the comprehension of a huge gamut of genres, expressive forms,
1
Vale do Rio dos Sinos University, Brazil.
Federal University of Rio Grande do Sul, Brazil.
3
Punk is the product of a bunch of causes (Hebdige, 2004). It is risky (even worse: it is false) to isolate
one single igniting historic agent or seek to identify very “clean” or easily noticeable social processes
amidst the effervescence of lived life, be it in London or in New York, in the second half of the 1970s.
This said, it is good to admit that the anticipations, the dance of consequences, and the time deployments
we suggested might not have happened in the exact order in which they appear here. It is then more
indicated to think of a field of simultaneities (almost perfect ones), advancements and retreats, restraints
and accelerations which are ongoing and/or alternating. Most important of all is retaining the idea that
Do it yourself thrived, acquired forms and unthinkable translations.
2
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
production modes, affective and aesthetic displays, authorial and stylistic traces. From authors
such as Eloy Fernández Porta (2008, 2013) and Simon Reynolds (2010, 2012, 2013), among
others, we propose a brief discussion about DIY, looking to comprehend both some of its
significant variations, and also the network of conceptual affinities in which the expression is
inserted and acquires meanings.
The discussion shall not advance, however, without us having some level of factuality at
hand, a set of empirical occurrences that may come to help, providing a bigger basis (and
some additional sauce) to theoretical arrangements. In this fashion, the speculations of
conceptual character, the very thematic angle, will be given some circumstantial anchors,
defined according to the “quakes” that establish the igniting effect they exert on general
argumentations. It is specifically the case of “Hard Time ”, amateur video conceived and
4
starred by the American artist and independent musician, Daniel Johnston. Being authorized
by an essay, we are going to be moving freely around punk and its spinoffs, genres and subgenres in the horizon of massive popular music. We will be going through them, looking for
instances at times annoying, at times suspicious, but always rich and not well dealt with. This
way we hope to indicate, even if briefly – through a small list of names –, the field of forces,
the game of correlations in which the experience of Johnston will be inserted and taken as a
protagonist.
2. In an inspired study on Batman (or, more precisely, about the “Biennial of Gotham” ), Eloy
5
Fernández Porta concludes mentioning graphic artist and underground illustrator, Igor
Hofbauer’s work. For him, Hofbauer’s work had a very interesting peculiarity: it is as if it had
survived in there, in some way, an artist in an adolescent state, taking notes of the songs he
likes, inscribing them in the middle of deregulated images he creates; these images, by the
6
way, and their strong colors, their constructivist features , would be uncouth but filled with
passion, usually embodying not only the names of his favorite bands, but also the profiles of
his beloved comic heroes. It seems to be a rather intimate and introspective effort, made for
himself (better: for himself above all). It is as if he was trying to preserve a kind of “primitive
4
th
The video can be found in http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zoY2gOix0 s . In July 23 , 2014, it had
26,719 views.
5
“The Biennial of Gotham” investigates the way through which some contemporary artists (Nicolás
Uribe, Carlos Pazos, Öyvind Fahlström, Isabel Samaras, Mark Chamberlain, Terry Richardson, Joyce
Pensato, and Bill O’Neill make the list), in their personal creations, borrow from Batman’s figure and
mythology. The starting point is a scene from the movie Batman, directed by Tim Burton in 1989, in
which the Joker, played by Jack Nicholson, invades Gotham City’s art museum along with his evil gang,
and starts to vandalize that “sacred environment”, running over the exhibited works, scratching them
out as he wished, knocking them down, in a typical anarcho-pop performance. It is a reflection on the
tensions (and also the juxtapositions) between art and comic toons, institutionalized culture, and popular
mass culture in current times. It is a reflection on what to do before cultural tradition and about how we
should behave when going through the galleries of a museum (even if it is an imaginary museum).
6
Constructivism was an artistic movement which appeared in pre-revolutionary Russia. Their palette of
colors (strident red, black, and white, most of the time), their geometric forms, and the structural qualities
they developed in their paintings, banners, and illustrations, became very well-known and later on
influenced many designers and pop music groups. “Kraftwerk, German pioneers of electronic music,
had wide usage of the constructivist aesthetics with their famous cover for the record The Man-Machine
(1978)”, highlights Will Gompertz (2013, p. 202). Scottish band, Franz Ferdinand also gave constructivist
forms to the covers of their records and to the videos released in the beginning of the 2000s (Gompertz,
2013). [Translation of Gompertz’s quotation was made by the authors. The original, in Portuguese: “O
Kraftwerk, pioneiro alemão da música eletrônica, fez amplo uso da estética [...] construtivista com a
famosa capa do álbum The Man-Machine (1978)”]
1.4. “Do it yourself”: Daniel Johnston’s demon
51
joy”, derivative of the first and most tender contact with pop products (be them rock, comics
– pop culture, in general). Thus an intermediate style is created, says Fernández Porta (2013,
p. 101), characterized by “this synthetic and carefully dirty feature, ingenuistic more than
naïve, halfway between the school notebook and the art zine, that was made popular in the
7
last years by a whole kind of good bad drawers. ”
Hofbauer could be implying that pop imagery depends very little on any overproduction.
Actually it would be about an endeavor of young daydreaming adolescents, and, to some
extent, isolated and kept-to-themselves people, to their crises and their mental images. Their
practice very naturally seems to belong essentially to them, not to big corporations or
professional drawers. It could not be any further from the grown-up world. It could not be
more unacquainted to the world of formal and institutionalized markets. Therefore, it is not
by chance that the band Shellac is among one of the most frequent appearances in Hofbauer’s
illustrations. Since the mid-1980s, the guitarist and producer Steve Albini (currently in chief of
the afore-mentioned American act) has been working on kinds of soundscapes and musical
approaches which are as much as dirty as intentionally careless – positive sloppiness, we might
call it – that have been providing support and input to the new generations of punk music
(from Nirvana, in the beginning of the 1990s, to the band Metz, around 2010 – sticking to
8
two cornerstones of Sub Pop releases ).
Dealing with this, at our times, is dealing with the technical production of spontaneity, as
Fernández Porta says. Surely an artist such as Daniel Johnston – both a musician and an
illustrator – can be seen and can be better understood as a typical case of this very generative
process. A generative process, for that matter, whose valences – technique and spontaneity,
as we have seen – are also strength lines, important common threads for the more extensive
reflection on culture and pop music.
3. The Devil and Daniel Johnston, the biographical movie directed by Jeff Feuerzeig, in 2005,
might be the best calling card, the most viable introduction to the weird and difficult world of
the singer born in January of 1961, in Sacramento, California. Awarded at the Sundance Film
Festival with Direction Award: Documentary, the movie emphasizes Johnston’s mental
9
problems, who was diagnosed with schizophrenia and severe bipolar disorder . What emerges
from it, to some extent, is a heroic narrative, about artistic overcoming and redemption. But
there is another relevant aspect, recurrent throughout the plot, not dissociable to the previous
7
Translated by the authors from the original, in Spanish: “ese trazo sintético y cuidadosamente sucio,
ingenuista más que ingenuo, a medio camino entre el cuaderno escolar y el artzine, popularizado, en los
últimos años, por toda una estirpe de buenos malos dibujantes”.
8
Small record label held in Seattle, United States. A big portion of bands associated to the grunge scene
of the 1990s belonged to Sub Pop’s staff. It is possible to say that there is a “Sub Pop sound”, it being
very characteristic, forged with distorted guitars, and with references to punk and to the English heavy
metal of the 1970s. For Simon Reynolds (2010, 2013), DIY ideology had, as one of its main
consequences, the creation of an “anti-corporate micro capitalism”, not necessarily identified with the
left in the political-party spectrum, but disturbed by the sluggishness and lack of imagination of
commercial bureaucracy. Sub Pop might have been described – in its initial moment, at least – as one
label which assumed this model of catalyzing “productive unit”, more agile, more attentive, and more
organic.
9
Given the proportions, all necessary safeguards taken, Johnston could be compared to Arthur Bispo do
Rosário (1909[?]-1989), Brazilian visual artist, who also suffered from schizophrenia and produced all of
his oeuvre while secluded at Colônia Juliano Moreira, a psychiatric hospital in Rio de Janeiro, in the first
th
half of the 20 century (Silva, 2003). Both demand more accurate comprehension in regards to
associations between madness and artistic creation.
52
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
sub-text, concerning the representation of a self-built genius (and, by extent, “self-healed”)
amidst the social adversities and psychic confusion he battles against.
Even though he is depicted as “a genius defeated by his own genius” – as said by Leandro
Antunes, in a feature published in Rolling Stone Brasil magazine, which was made due to the
coming of the singer to Brazil in April, 2013 –, Johnston makes the classic symbol of the
American self-made man work. In a more complex and less glamorous register, it is quite the
truth. The myth is now inverted, translated to an image of physical decay, incorrigible romantic
love, and paternal dependence. Well, even in a market society, of ferocious competition, and
vigorous pragmatic precepts, success must not be seen as an absolute category, monolithic or
one-dimensional. On the contrary, it must be gauged in a more comprehensive calculation, in
an ad hoc equation, involving risks, available resources, misfortunes, and always incidental
pretensions.
The Devil and Daniel Johnston gives us the portrayal of someone who went to hell, faced
his personal demons – the title of the movie is not a mere coincidence! – and came back,
having fled the way he could, in a ragged mental health; someone whose oeuvre cannot be
evaluated coherently without the component of, let us say, being “subjective” or “clinical”. I.
e.: the kind of do-it-yourself experience that he incarnates occurs both inside and also outside
of stricter social demands and sociological reasons – some of it being diverse from those ones
which ruled the DIY practices of standardized punk, for example (Hebdige, 2004; Reynolds,
2013, p. 49-68). Here, as a last resort (or as in a first resort, as we wish to observe), it is about
finding a source of self-esteem, the gear to psychic stability.
The homemade forms of production, the studio as a workshop – the family’s house garage
as a symbolic premise, primordial ground –, the tactics of self-expression doubling over,
oscillating between illustration (naïve!?) and music ( art brut!?), the search for authorship as a
search for stability in the world are very sensitive topics, and Johnston’s case displays it as few
others do. At the same time, the low-budget production , personal distribution – the demo
10
tapes passing on from hand to hand, copied singularly [“– Holy patience, Batman!”] –, the
nearly empty concerts, in poorly appropriate places, and mouth-to-mouth publicizing were
also underlying the life story of that who is the great beautiful loser, the dearest white trash
of American indie and college rock in the decades of 1980 and 1990.
It is not surprising at all that artists such as Beck, and Jad Fair, bands such as Sonic Youth,
Nirvana, and Wilco – some were his actual partners, in varied adventures and varied musical
projects – have him in the highest regard. After all, Daniel Johnston’s sociologicallyunmotivated DIY, in spite of his roots and emotional foundations, can still work for an
ideological use, it can still be capitalized sub-culturally. Through it there is even another
manifestation of the mythic substrate, another inescapable bias – would it be another “deadend road”? – of aesthetical debate: the figure of the authentic creator, with the purity and
innocence of a child, the artist connected to the “soul of the world”. And what does he do?
How does he produce? It is worth following it.
10
Due to scarcity of financial resources, Johnston ordered big batches of already-recorded audiotapes
which contained sermons of Anglican and Evangelical pastors. Such tapes turned out to be cheaper than
blank tapes. In them he recorded his compositions in a direct fashion, playing it all live, with no cuts.
That was then the final product, a noisy product, permeated by hissing and very perceivable flaws
between songs. Every now and then, at any given interval, excerpts of the religious sermons originally
inscribed could be heard.
1.4. “Do it yourself”: Daniel Johnston’s demon
53
4. “Precariousness” and “amateurism” are not appropriate words to describe the video that
was made for the song “Hard Time”, in an imprecise moment between 1980 and 1990 .
11
Apparently, in an inattentive glance, they are useful expressions to us and – it is imperative to
admit! – hold good indicative power, they grasp with much precision that which is being
sighted on screen. There is no denial: we are before an amateur and precarious register. It is
almost embarrassing. Just open your eyes and see it. However, there is a driving dynamics over
there, there is an “imaginary engagement” – projective delirium (!) – that perhaps constitute
12
the more expected rocker component of any artist that intends to be recognized as such .
Here Daniel Johnston puts on a real show. It is at this level that assessments are insufficient
and crippling.
Harmony structure and repetitive phrasing of the song are not serious matters. Very little
is explained by the song’s lyrics (one among many to be dedicated to his eternal inspirational
13
muse, Laurie Allen ). But there is a rather suggestive emotional ambiance, seldom
approached: intimate, spontaneous and self-complacent. All of that is above – in its
phenomenological relevance sense, at least – its evident precariousness and amateurism, so
easily discernible.
Everything leads us to believe Johnston is at home, possibly at his living room, with his
closest friends only, no one but them. What do we see? We see the “artist” being introduced
by an impromptu master of ceremonies – it is the band’s own drummer, in a double role –,
we see an Elvis Presley poster used as a curtain, through which Johnston comes to public,
ceremonious and classy; we see musical instruments hanging on the wall – some others on
the ground, leaning on furniture; we see diverse objects (pillows, vinyl records, beer bottles),
loosed up, left alone to chance in the inside of the modest residence; we see the musicians as
laid-back and everyday-like clothed as possible (shorts, sleeveless shirts, flip-flops).
The spectacle begins. Promptly what comes to surface is background, complete and
sudden, which turns out to be explicit and gives us a funny feeling of proximity. Actually,
everything became background. The living room is the stage. The stage is the living room. Is
that a rehearsal? We do not know. It is quite tough and even unnecessary to tell it. Such
distinction does not make the slightest sense anymore. After all, the video for “Hard Time”
looks like a draft, an unfinished drawing. It is there – in this intimate sketch, made for oneself
– that an emotional trigger essentially connected to rock survives, unadulterated and
untouched, almost with no translation, leaving it to be synthesized on Daniel Johnston’s
11
“Hard Time”, the song, was recorded in 1986. It came out in an EP in 1991, released by Austrian label,
Seminal Twang. The video must have been shot around this time.
12
In the preface to the book Después del Rock. Psicodelia, postpunk, electronic y otras revoluciones
inconclusas (Reynolds, 2010), Pablo Schanton says that two “popemes” guide Simon Reynolds’ texts:
the impetus to deconstruct the ideological discourse of pop, and the temptation to give in to their
bewildering appeals (Schanton in Reynolds, 2010, p. 10). A “popeme”, if we well understand it, can be
equaled to that which Roland Barthes called photography’s noeme, in the book A Câmara Clara (1984):
the essential distinctive feature. Without the critic’s weapons and detachment, Johnston lies completely
subdued to the fatal hedonism of pop music.
13
“The Devil and Daniel Johnston” would not be such a worthy and elucidative documentary without
introducing us to Laurie Allen. And she is indeed there, with all the prominence she deserves. Allen is
Johnston’s first teenage crush, and by him has never been overcome, and never reciprocated. There is
an enormous repertoire of love songs dedicated to her, among which “True love will find you in the
end”, re-recorded by Beck Hansen, among others. Out of curiosity and as a complement – as initial
contribution to a future study on the experience of romantic love conditioned to the experience of pop
music -, check on Heatley and Hopkinson, 2011.
54
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
automatic gesture, his arm up, setting the strong measures, the rhythmic stresses, in deep,
trance-like concentration. It is the self-building of a fan as subject and rock star.
Suspended in a door-sized span, Elvis is the curtain-image through which one must go
through.
Figure 1 - Suspended curtain
Figure 2 - Johnston entering the scene
Camera movements – travelings, irregular closes, absence of editing – give us the narrower
sense of scenic scenario in which we are in. The performance of the band happens even in the
puny limits of a living room – at the back, there seems to be a kitchen, a dining table. Johnston
attracts our attention, as sole protagonist. He is literally at the center of the room – absolute
ruler of our line of sight. Most of the time, the camera follows him. It is of use noticing the
way he interprets the song, its highlights being, apart from the just-mentioned emphatic arm
gesture, the reverence and liturgical seriousness he conveys. There is no sense of humor
involved whatsoever. There is only respect. Deep respect.
The ghost of Elvis Presley has been clearly evoked: it is manifested in the way to hold the
microphone, before a single pedestal for the display of lyrics or any other papers; it is
manifested on the subtle way to bend his legs, to move his hips and lean on the ground in an
attack position – as one who, at any given time, will need impulse or retraction. As someone
who is receding in order to pray.
Figure 3 - Arm Gesture
Figure 4 - Receding in order to pray
1.4. “Do it yourself”: Daniel Johnston’s demon
55
In a private regime, of very restricted circulation and visibility, characteristic of the time it
was registered – MTV and VHS days –, Johnston’s performance is rather intimate, proving itself
worthy, without any need of exterior rationale or justification to legitimize it from the outside,
beyond the room – the living room – it occurs. It is nonchalant art. But what is the nature of
this work? Can we see it in fact as a work? What kind of investment does it demand? What
kind of investment does it dismiss? Little and much. It is hard to measure.
5. Labels and catalogs, tags and post-its. It is impossible to approach pop music without falling
within the handling of classifying categories. Among them, the category of “music genre” is
the most absorbing. Unmistakably it was the one which imposed itself in the course of history.
Obviously such rubrics bring us more functionality, give us more practicality to operate (to
guide our taste, to filter information) amidst heterogeneous and sloppiness production
(Silveira, 2013, p. 07-41). We live in “Tagstonbury ”, said Eloy Fernández Porta, a pun alluding
14
to famous music festival Glastonbury, held in England. Highly frequently, debating pop music
is debating “isms” (that is: genres and sub-genres) which inhabit it. Thereby, not even
Johnston’s exhibit in his private home can be separate from this recurrent analytical bias. So
how do we classify it then?
“Primitivism” is a good word. It may be an alternative. It is a pertinent variable, in a network
of similar conceptual variables. If we were to resort to aesthetic categories, we would say we
have a naïve artist, that his art is rough art, not polished up, no knots, no final arrangements,
no consciousness neither prepared concepts. It is pure nature and immaculate spontaneity. It
is the ingenuism that Fernández Porta (2013) spoke of. In Tagstonbury, Johnston is the naïf
made up into the primitive artist.
Some interesting complications arise then. The first one: Johnston is an amateur in
extremis, but even so he is not out of the cataloguist game; on the contrary, it is one of his
15
landmarks, it is perfectly antipodal to mainstream artists, overproduced and market-oriented .
Differently said: the ideological spectrum (where choices and aesthetic judgments are taken,
where genres and their frontiers fossilize, be them more or less fluid) will never be complete
without this demarcation. Therefore, Johnston is still an echo, a resonance chamber to what
he seems to deny. He points eloquently to the space from which he absents himself.
Second one: among the available labels, primitive seems to be the most self-evident, it
seems to be the least conceptual of all, it seems to be, weirdly enough, the most natural. “It
is a tag which presents itself as if it was not a tag: the label that was given by Nature” ,
16
comments Fernández Porta (in Guimerà, 2013). It is a stealthy ism, which is not taken as such
and, because of that, serves pretty well to the reaffirmation of old and strong stereotypes
14
For the Spanish author, Tagstonbury is “the experiencing of musical material in which the nomination
and the capacity to classify sound convert into an in-person and even Dyonisian social experience, which
is inseparable from the listening per se” (Fernández Porta as cited in Guimerà, 2013); [Translation made
by the authors from the original, in Spanish: “una vivencia del material musical en que la nominación, la
capacidad para clasificar el sonido se convierte en una experiencia social, presencial y incluso dionisíaca,
que es inseparable de la escucha propiamente dicha.”]
15
The DIY culture does not presents itself only as a resistance culture to mainstream, but also as a system
of propositions: it proposes to different genres of pop music – like folk, punk, and garage rock, most of
all – how to record, advertise, and organize shows on one’s own. At the same time, it models the system
of specialized magazines, stimulating the appearance of fanzines. Thus DIY acts as an invariable code,
shared by different cultural systems.
16
Translation made by the authors from the original, in Spanish: “Es un tag que se presenta como sí no
fuese un tag: la etiqueta que puso la Naturaleza”.
56
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
associated to art and artistic creation, such as the romantic artist, the misunderstood genius,
or the born poet. It is the idea of art for art’s sake in one of its returns.
Third complication: is it possible to perfect the art of being naïve? Can I gain naïveté? Can
I become voluntarily more puerile, throughout the years, getting closer and closer to the
romantic, lo-fi spontaneity of Daniel Johnston – as John Frusciante, for instance, does (or tries
to do) in his cult solo career? What implications does it have to do in relation to the very nature
of this primitivism? After all, the acted primitive, lived as a deliberate choice, a conscious
aesthetic option – let us face it! – does not seem to be the best primitive. The good primate is
a real unconscious, whose motor is imitation, conditioned reflection, and untamed instinct.
He does not opt. Does not wonder. Does not change. He does not know of himself. Therefore
there is a considerable difference between choosing for precarious, on one side, and on
another, extremely opposite, live it as real embarrassment, without even noticing it. Good
precariousness escapes to the stylistics of precariousness.
As we can see, Daniel Johnston’s demons are not few. There is yet a fourth complicating
factor: the historical variable. In a career of more than thirty years, the Californian singer has
seen the growth, the popularization, the breakdown, the contingent disappearance, and very
likely, the re-functionalized re-apparition of different technological regimes (musical
instruments, effect pedals, audio and video devices, sound gear and sound mixers,…), in
successive swift generations, one after the other. When it comes to pop music – it is worth
remembering –, spontaneity is also a matter of reach and technical intermediation .
17
Nowadays, spread in social networks, shown in flat-screen television sets or on crystalliquid computer monitors, the images of “Hard Time” sound even more curious, dorky, and
attractive. Before them, we feel nostalgic – taken by a “reflexive nostalgia ”, as Reynolds puts
18
it (2012, p. 30). We miss it all: that time, that haircut, the gauge of that camera – that lost
adolescence. That single moment, that single take, now met again on YouTube, became a
Monument of Culture (Reynolds, 2012) – perhaps a Monument of Barbarity (Benjamin, 1986).
6. However it may be, the homemade video we examined here, even if picturesque, is a great
source of matters to be problematized in the multi-layered debate on profile, there being
included the limitations and the power of pop music in our contemporaneity. As from it, or
because of it, diverse discussions are opened: 1) of sociological character – the policies of
17
DIY culture, to a good extent, derives from the invention of two media devices: audiotape and
PortaStudio. In mid-1960s, audiotape provided a bigger time of audio storage, allowing also new sound
signals to be recorded on previous inscriptions. Quickly consumers started to pass their discs over to
tapes, giving an exponential dimension to recorded music. Punk movement emerges at this process’
peak, with the proposal of musicians recording their songs on their own. Later, in 1979, PortaStudio is
made popular, a kind of portable audio recording studio which brought attached a 4-channel sound
mixer, one or two audiotape decks, and controls for in-and-out-of-signal buttons, volume control, along
with bass, mid, and treble. Adding four simple microphones, this device would give amateur musicians
the possibility to record a complete rock band, live, controlling and equalizing each instrument’s volume.
It was a great equipment for the production of demonstration tapes which would serve to try and
convince big record companies. Thus bands began producing their home tapes, with no need to worry
about the high cost of studio hours, neither about phonographic industries’ impositions. However, it
consisted of much lower audio quality, caused by the use of tawdry, low-priced, poorly adjusted, out of
tune, or even scrapped equipment.
18
Reynolds (2012, p.30) resorts to Russian theorist, Svetlana Boym to establish a distinction between
“restoring nostalgia” and “reflexive nostalgia”. The former stands on folklore and romantic nationalism
to feed collective ego, alluding to past glories. The latter is of personal tone, intimate, refraining from
entering the political arena, complying in a melancholic acceptance that the past cannot be retrieved.
1.4. “Do it yourself”: Daniel Johnston’s demon
57
identification through music genres, the policies of cultural resistance, the marginal existence
to the phonographic market; 2) of aesthetic character – such as the intrinsic estimation of
performance, the lo-fi and unpretentious stylistic, the amateurism as the last haven of
authenticity in rock; 3) of communicational character – about the systems of registration and
the media circuits necessary to autonomous production; 4) of historic character – be it as the
reinvigoration of a finished history, here revisited (in a retromania [Reynolds, 2012]), in a
recollection, as one who looks at an old photo album, be it as the register of a utopian search,
a trans-historic search, the rescue of a primordial drive, the real thing, which occurs out of
time, and will not change nor will be reached by it.
Each one of these threads of discussion could be even more explored, sub-divided, and
filled with many other topics, many other sub-items. Each one of them would end up meeting
consistent correspondences and articulations with the others. They would be unfolding one
into the others. And we have not even mentioned – in order not to insist in an even more
delicate debate – the more psychiatric-related functions and biases of excessive drive, and the
experience of self-publication of Daniel Johnston.
It is indeed incredible that such a simple and carefree video can be covered up with
significant relevance and a plethora of meanings nowadays, which it might be so
representative of our age, and brings up current questions. What we did here was no more
than a first scrutiny, a first try of approximation. An essay, only that.
In any case, we hope we have evinced that the cultures of Do it yourself, of lo-fi, of
sentimental protocols – the resistance through small rituals, such as friends in their revelry in
a mess of a garage, as “Hard Time” is, in a nutshell – always find ways to perpetuate, securing
the space they need, the symbolic power they produce before the majority pop, surviving and
oozing through the cracks of media systems and hegemonic culture (with their dictates, their
prerogatives, their expectations, and their ways of doing well). May Daniel Johnston and his
demons be with us for a long time.
Funding: This work was supported by the CAPES Foundation, Ministry of Education of Brazil, Brasília
– DF 70040-020, Brazil.
References
Antunes, P. (2013). Daniel Johnston encontra o amor em apresentação calorosa. Rolling Stone Brasil
[online]. Retrieved from http://rollingstone.uol.com.br/noticia/daniel-johnston-encontra-oamor-em-calorosa-apresentacao-em-sao-paulo.htm.
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Benjamin, W. (1986). Documentos de cultura, documentos de barbárie. Escritos escolhidos. Seleção e
apresentação de Willi Bolle. São Paulo: Editora Cultrix; Editora da USP.
Fernández Porta, E. (2008). Homo Sampler. Tiempo y consumo en la Era Afterpop. Barcelona: Editorial
Anagrama.
Fernández Porta, E. (2013). La Bienal de Gotham. In: VV.AA. Batman desde la Periferia. Un libro para
fanáticos o neófitos (pp. 69-102). Barcelona: Ediciones Alpha Decay.
Gompertz, W. (2013). Isso é Arte? 150 anos de arte moderna do impressionismo até hoje. Rio de Janeiro:
Zahar.
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medio”. Entrevista a Eloy Fernández Porta. In: Pliego Suelto – Revista de Literatura e
Alrededores. Retrieved from http://www.pliegosuelto.com/?p=5926.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Heatley, M.; HOPKINSON, F. (2011). Músicas & Musas. A verdadeira história por trás de 50 clássicos pop.
Belo Horizonte: Editora Gutenberg.
Hebdige, D. (2004). Subcultura. El significado del estilo. Barcelona: Paidós.
Reynolds, S. (2010). Después del Rock. Psicodelia, postpunk, electrónica y otras revoluciones inconclusas.
Buenos Aires: Caja Negra.
Reynolds, S. (2012). Retromanía. La adicción del Pop a su propio pasado. Buenos Aires: Caja Negra.
Reynolds, S. (2013) Postpunk. Romper todo y empezar de nuevo. Buenos Aires: Caja Negra.
Silva, J A. (2003). Arthur Bispo do Rosário. Arte e loucura. São Paulo: Quaisquer.
Silveira, F. (2013). Rupturas Instáveis. Entrar e sair da música pop. Porto Alegre: Ed. Libretos.
1.5.
Empowerment
through
design-doing
experiences: workshops on nurturing creative makers
for sustainability
Nicholas Torretta 1
Hessam Pakbeen 1
Abrstract
Transition towards sustainability entails dramatic changes in design and production. Accordingly,
The term “prosumption” coined by Alvin Toffler (1984) refers to a shift in consuming society in
which people become creators of their own products. As Anderson (2012) similarly argues that the
new industrial revolution concerns “creating creative makers”, empowering people through design
learning process is of a paramount importance. This paper is a preliminary attempt to examine how
people without design background can be empowered through design-doing experiences to create
products. To serve this purpose, we conducted two design-doing workshops in Brazil and Finland
in which designers played the role of facilitators throughout the learning, designing and making
process. The results from both workshops indicate that the participants felt a remarkable sense of
empowerment to design and make their own products, and achieved a new perspective on daily
life.
Keywords: Design-doing experience, Empowerment, Design learning process, Design for
sustainability
Sustainability has received widespread attention over the last two decades and has affected
various aspects of human life such as design and consumption. Consequently, design is
undergoing a revolution as a result of the recent concerns about sustainability. The transition
of design towards sustainability suggests that within the next few years, design is destined to
become inevitably sustainable (Shedroff, 2009). Recent developments in design for
sustainability have led to a variety of new approaches to re-think the traditional processes of
design and consumption. For instance, Walker (2006) underlines the importance of ingenuity
and restraint by stressing the necessity of “finding new solutions that requires less”. He
concludes that the concepts of extemporized design as well as self-made products are directly
connected sustainability. Walker’s view is in line with the well-known Maslow’s pyramid in
which self-sufficiency is listed as one of the main needs of human being. Consequently, human
tends to shift his role from purely passive consumer to an active producer in order to satisfy
his own needs (Atkinson, 2006). Since 1980, as a result of increasing concerns about
sustainability, the position of people has been changed from merely customers to co-creators
in the design process (Fuad-Luke, 2009). The shift from consumers to creators is also reflected
in the term “prosumption” stressed by Toffler (1984), indicating an approach to sustainability
in which consumers create (produce) for their own consumption. Arguably, prosumption
1
Aalto University School of Arts, Design and Architecture, Finland
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includes not only the process of production and consumption, but also remarkably meaningful
layers such as value creation. For this reason, prosumption can be described as an “activity”
initiated by the consumer in order to create values (Xie, Bagozzi and Troye, 2008).
DfS: DIY for sustainability
Prosumption activities include a wide range of approaches to self-sufficiency such as “Do It
Yourself: DIY”. DIY is recognized as being a type of prosumption (Wolf and McQuitty, 2011)
in which prosumers creatively make products for their own needs and desires
(Buechley,Rosner, Paulos and Williams, 2009). DIY is generating considerable interest in the
field of consumer behavior studies as well as design researches. However, there is still a need
for further studies in order to develop the concept theoretically and practically. An important
area in DIY studies includes the relationship between DIY activities and sustainability and “how
can DIY lead to the creation of sustainable societies?”. This relationship can be studied from
various perspectives. For example, DIY has been identified as being a process of value creation
(Wolf and McQuitty, 2011). A product that is made through a DIY process seems to be more
meaningful and valuable for the producer due to the use of his own creativity. For this reason,
the producer tends to retain the self-made product. Transition towards sustainability entails
new visions of value (Fuad-Luke, 2009). Thus, DIY activities as a source of value creation can
help individuals as well as communities to reach sustainability (Walker, 2006). In addition to
the concept of value creation, DIY activities are consistent with sustainability due to the use of
existing resources and repurposing materials. Given that, this paper focuses on how to
empower non-designers to participate in DIY activities through design-doing learning process
and consequently have a role in creating a sustainable society.
From the design point of view, the focal point of DIY activities is creativity. As previously
noted, DIY activities are consistent with value creation and making use of existing resources,
both entails creativity as a vital factor. Walker (2006) illustrates that DIY products are more
valuable for us due to the use of our own creativity in the making process. He also argues that
limited resources and scarcity can provoke creativity. Following that, Walker draws our
attention to the role of design in sustainability and underlines the necessity of creativity and
concludes that traditional approaches to creativity cannot result in design for sustainability.
Thereafter, he suggests that design is a process of creativity by “thinking and doing”.
Therefore, learning design through theory seems to be insufficient and practice should be
embedded in design learning process (Aylward, 1973). Conclusively, efficient learning can be
achieved through practice (Wenger, 1999). This reflects the old adage: “I hear and I forget, I
see and I remember, I do and I understand”.
Recent movements in design suggest a new industrial revolution in which everyone is
considered to be a designer (Anderson, 2012). For this reason, people should learn to think as
a designer (Lupton, 2006). This entails the development of design education and approaches
to learning (Harahan, 1978; Fleming, 2013). To serve this purpose, people should be involved
in the learning process through creative activities by Designing and Doing (Harahan, 1978;
Kilicaslan and Ziyrek, 2012). Anderson (2012) demonstrates that the current situation of the
world demands a new design culture by “creating creative makers”. He describes the core
criterion of the new industrial revolution as the age of “making of makers” that can be
achieved through practical design education. The author highlights the need to place “making
things” as a subject in the school programs to create designers for the new era.
1.5. Empowerment through design-doing experiences: workshops on nurturing creative
makers for sustainability
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While recent approaches to design tend to engage people in different phase of the design
process, the concept of new industrial revolution encourages people to become “designers”.
As noted, the changing position of consumers to the maker of their own products requires a
process of learning through design-doing practices. We believe that the concept of “creating
creative makers” demands a learning process that empowers people to design and make
products. The aim of our work is to empower non-designers to achieve a design-doing
experience within the framework of DIY activities. To serve this purpose, we initiated a
research by conducting two design-doing workshops, in which the participants were able to
experience the sense of empowerment through a learning-making process. The present paper
describes the design-doing practice as well as the learning approach provided through DIY
workshops.
DIY to design-doing
DIY (Do-It-Yourself) activity is identified as a process of using, modifying and repurposing
available resources to creatively produce an object (Buechley,Rosner, Paulos and Williams,
2009; Wolf and McQuitty, 2011). Regarding the relation between DIY activities and
Sustainability, Shultz (2011) demonstrates that DIY is remarkably an eco-friendly approach to
consumption due to the use of recycled and reused resources. In addition, DIY activities have
been proved to be value-creation processes since they create a personal attachment between
people and their own products (Hoftijzer, 2011). Consequently, people tend to care more
about their own creatures, which in turn leads to more durability of the product (Verbeek,
2000).
In the field of DIY studies, the term “community” is attracting considerable attention.
Wenger (1999) argues that one of the initiatives of community creation includes collecting
people to tackle a problem or to create. Therefore, connection with the community of creators
is known as the major benefit of DIY activities (Frauenfelder, 2011). Tapper, Zucker and Levine
(2011) underline the role of community in the process of learning. They argue that learning
can be achieved in the framework of social participation. Similarly, DIY is described as a
learning process, which provides the participant with opportunity to share ideas with other
members of the community (Wolf and McQuitty, 2011). Participating in community-based
activities can also encourage people to create new experiences by the support from the
community (Scott, Bakker and Quist, 2012). Frauenfelder (2011) illustrates further reasons for
the empowerment through DIY activities. He reaches the conclusion that participation in DIY
leads to more comprehensive understanding of the environment and consequently the sense
of control over that.
Fuad-Luke (2009) stresses the importance of participation in design activities in the
transition towards sustainability. We believe that the concept of participation in design
includes not only the design activities, but also the learning process of design. According to
Kimbell (1982) design learning process entails active engagement of participants, which results
in the development of their understanding of the environment. Thus, he proposes that design
learning requires a structured practical framework.
In the present research, we focus on a design learning process that aims at design for
sustainability. In recent years there has been growing interest in the development of learning
processes towards sustainability, suggesting that design learning should remarkably
emphasize eco-design and approaches to design for sustainability (McCannon, 2010; Griffiths
and O’Rafferty, 2010).
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The main question we try to address in the present study is how to construct a design
learning process, which can serve the desired purposes. Knott (2013) asserts that people must
learn their own ways of designing and doing. This is in complete agreement with Wenger’s
(1999) statement that design learning should focus on providing new perspectives rather than
offering a “recipe”. Accordingly, we believe that the design learning process entails
facilitation, as Wenger emphasizes facilitation in design learning process. Through facilitation
of learning process, participants will be empowered to experience new possibilities and
develop their creativity (Aylward, 1973).
Practice-based learning is recognized as being a markedly effective approach in design
education. It encourages students to become involved in thinking and doing creatively
(McCannon, 2010). Additionally, hands-on experiences are considered as reliable sources to
gain knowledge due to the practical nature of experience (Shultz, 2011). However, studies on
the efficacy of design-doing experiences in the context of design education seem to be
insufficient (McCannon, 2010).
Design-doing experiences empower the participants to realize their capabilities and fulfill
three goals within the process: (1) to design, (2) to make, and (3) to evaluate the work (Wolf
and McQuitty, 2011). In order to validate the concept of “empowerment by design-doing
experience”, we conducted the following workshops. Regarding materials and tools, the
project was based on using the existing random materials. This was in line with Walker’s (2006)
argument, emphasizing the effectiveness of making use of existing resources in design. He
points out the influence of “scarcity” on “creativity” and concludes that the lack of resources
results in more innovative outcomes since people try to “create something useful from very
little”.
Methodology: designing the framework of workshops
VOQ project (see: www.viraroque.blospot.com) was a practical research within the framework
of DIY activities in order to empower non-designers to recognize their design abilities by
thinking creatively and eventually making a product. The research project aimed to validate
the fact that people can have a considerable influence on their surroundings and consequently
on the transition towards sustainability.
The VOQ project sought to address how design-doing practices leads to the development
of learning and consequently encouragement of people to think, design and create. We
believe that the design-doing practices provided in VOQ project enable the participants to
replicate the experience by themselves due to the achieved empowerment.
This section describes the methodology employed in our research project, that is divided
into two subsections. Firstly, we give an overview of the theoretical foundations of our
methodology and define how the learning process in VOQ project was based on the previous
methodologies. Finally, the two design-doing workshops will be presented respectively, and
their differences in terms of the process applied in each experience will be explained.
Basis of the design-doing methodology
The methodology in VOQ design-doing experiences is initially based on two learning
processes: (1) the “Triangular methodology for art education” presented by Barbosa (1991),
and (2) the “Steps of the creative process” proposed by Von Oech (1987).
1.5. Empowerment through design-doing experiences: workshops on nurturing creative
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The triangular methodology (Figure.1) explains the process of art education in three phases.
The first phase includes the learning of the art history that initiates an understanding of the
connection between arts and everyday life. The second phase consists of the practice of art
critique. This practice enables students to understand and evaluate art works. In other words,
the practice of art critique empowers students to provide opinions about works of art. The
final phase is called “making art”, which aims at engaging students in the practice creating
an artwork. This creation is assuredly based on the knowledge and sense of evaluation gained
through the previous phases (Barbosa, 1991).
Figure 1 - Triangular methodology by Barbosa (1991)
In addition to the triangular methodology, we used the process of creativity proposed by
Oech (1987). He illustrates that the creativity process consists of four steps (Figure ure.2): the
explorer, the artist, the judge and the warrior. Each character represents a stage of creativity
process. Explorer mirrors the process of collecting necessary information related to a specific
topic. Artist represents the experimentation phase of the process in which the previously
collected materials is used freely to create a number of possible solutions for the topic. The
third character, judge, symbolizes the process of evaluation and critique in order to choose
the most appropriate solution among the proposed ones in the previous phase. Finally, the
warrior stands for the stage of applying the selected solution in a broader context.
Figure 2 - Creative process by Oech (1987)
Combining the triangular model and the creativity process, we developed the design-doing
methodology in VOQ workshops. Figure.3 illustrates the four stages of learning process in
VOQ project. Here we provide a brief explanation of each stage. However, due to the practical
nature of the project, more comprehensive understanding can be achieved through examining
how the methodology works in practice as applied in VOQ workshops.
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Figure 3 - VOQ design-doing methodology
The VOQ design-doing methodology demonstrates the interplay of thinking and doing and
experiencing throughout the four stages, within a problem-solving framework. To inform this
framework in proper way, the methodology supports on local issues. Therefore treating topics
which are common to the participants.
The first stage, namely “see”, consists of understanding the status quo of a proposed topic.
The second phase, “opine”, comprises critical analysis of information gained in the previous
phase. This is where the participant filters information from the previous stage and develops
a series of guidelines. The guidelines are prerequisites for the development of the design-doing
experience in the next phases. The third stage, called “create”, embraces practical
experimentations as well as exploration through experiences. “Analyze” is the fourth stage,
which aims at the evaluation of the practical work within the framework of the guidelines
created in the second stage. At the end of this stage, according to the result of the analysis,
the participants can enter the “cycle of improvement”. This cycle consist of returning to
previous stages in order to perfect the project until it matches the prerequisites.
We found that our methodology is practically in line with a variation of models proposed
by other scholars. For instance, Aylward, (1973) and Kimbell (1982) emphasize the skills one
should learn to accomplish a design task as: (1) enquiry/exploration skills, (2) communication
skills, (3) manipulative/constructional skills, and, (3) evaluative/discriminatory skills. Similarly,
Scott, Bakker and Quist (2012) stress the importance of doing and thinking articulation in
practice-oriented design. Finally, Kimbell (1982) and Baynes (1969) point out the importance
of facilitation in design learning process and argue that design-doing practices should be
facilitated by designers.
Design-doing experiences
Workshop 1
Topics: Furniture and Objects
Date: September, 2009
Duration: 4 hrs/workshop
Organizer: Design Possível NGO and Projeto Arrastão NGO
Project name: Design de Perifa (see: www.designdeperifa.blogspot.com)
São Paulo, Brazil
The first sets of workshops consisted of four separate design-doing modules in terms of
the theme: (1) to organize (2) to light (3) to sit, and (4) to support. Each workshop included 8
to 17 participants. Participants’ age ranged from 14 to 17, studying Art and Environment
complementary education programs, at the Arrastão NGO. The workshop was planned as a
part their study course, thus no pre-registration was required. None of the participants had
1.5. Empowerment through design-doing experiences: workshops on nurturing creative
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previous knowledge or experience in design. Therefore, the workshops were facilitated by two
industrial designers. Despite the difference of workshops’ themes, the structures were similar
(Figure. 4), varying only in the content. Each topic posed a problem to be solved during the
given time (four hours). The participants were asked to tackle the problem using simple handtools (such as hand saw, hammer, drilling machine and screwdrivers) as well as scrap materials
(such as wood pieces and broken objects, collected from surroundings).
Figure 4 - Process of Workshop1
Figure.4 shows the process of the workshop. The introduction phase consisted of
experiencing the actual problem (the main topic of the workshop). For example, to experience
the need for “supportive objects”, we collected the participants in an empty room in which
some images were installed in the middle of the space. Handing papers and pens, we asked
the participants to draw one of the images in five minutes while they were not allowed to use
walls or floors as support. The aim of the introductory task was to lead the participants to
work as a group in order to fulfill the task (Figure.5).
Figure 5 - Group performing the introduction task
Following that, we started a reflective conversation about their experiences. Expectedly,
students pointed out the lack of supportive objects such as table that could ease the task. As
the conclusion, we presented the main theme of the workshop: “to support” and asked them
to make a table to solve the existing problem. To prepare the students for the making phase,
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we designed the “theory” phase, which consisted of visual and verbal presentations.
Presentations included examples of the topic (in this case, table). We divided the examples into
three categories: (1) designers’ objects (products designed by famous designers) (2) designed
objects with sustainability features (in terms of materials and process of production), and (3)
up-cycle vernacular design objects (DIY products). Students were asked to make notes,
throughout the presentation, expressing their opinions about the images and explaining why
they liked or disliked them. Eventually, each of the participants prepared a list of criteria to
refer during the project (Figure 6).
Figure 6 - Presentation phase
In the making phase, participants were divided into groups and each group provided with
materials and tools (Figure 7-9). Afterwards, facilitators asked the groups to explore available
materials and experiment possible solutions. This stage consisted of the interplay between
experimentation and reflective thinking. Throughout the making stage, facilitators were
assisting the progress of the groups. In addition to helping the participants to use the tools,
facilitators were playing the role of creativity trigger. For example, they were trying to
encourage students to think and experience other possible solutions by asking “why not?” or
“How many other ways can it be done?”, as well as referring them to previous phases.
1.5. Empowerment through design-doing experiences: workshops on nurturing creative
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Figure 7, 8, 9 - The making phase
Simultaneously, each group was provided with media documentation devices such as
camera and computer. The computer was connected to twitter and blogger, enabling the
groups to document, publish and receive immediate feedback on the development of the
project (Figure 10).
Figure 10 - Students documenting their progress
Once the group was satisfied with the result, they focused aesthetical factors such as
painting, sanding, coating and drawing on the final object. Subsequently, each group
presented their product to the other groups. During the presentations they explained three
topics: (1) how they built the product, (2) how they worked to meet their prerequisites, and
(3) what changes they would make to improve the product.
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Finally, the products (total of 11) were transferred to the DDP exhibition at Arrastão NGO’s
premises in November 2009, for public visit (Figure 11-20).
Figure 11,12,13,14,15,16,17,18,19,20 - Final products of Workshop 1
Workshop 2
Topic: Trash and Creativity
Date: March, 2013
Duration: 2 hours
Organizer: Metropolia University of Applied Science, Environmental Engineering program
Course name: Environmental Arts
Vantaa, Finland
The second workshop was a part of Environmental Arts course in Environmental
Engineering program (Bachelor Degree). The aim of the module was to engage students in a
design and creativity process, and familiarize them with design for sustainability. A total of 15
1.5. Empowerment through design-doing experiences: workshops on nurturing creative
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students (17 to 20 years old) participated the workshop. They were divided into three groups,
with no background in design. The Environmental Arts course aimed at the production of arts
works by using trash, generated in the campus during a semester. The workshop consisted of
two hours teaching and experiencing, facilitated by one industrial designer. The major
difference between this workshop and the former one included the making phase, as for the
latter took place after the workshop. For this reason, we re-designed the module (Figure.????),
in which students were given two months to create their products.
Figure 21 - Process of Workshop2
The introduction phase started with an activity to create an informal atmosphere and
prepare the participants for creative thinking. For example, students had to throw an object
(Angry bird doll) as “speaker stone” to each other, meaning that the one who receives the
object should introduce himself (including name, one thing that he liked and did not like).
Afterwards, we described the structure of the workshops that started with theoretical
introduction to sustainability, up-cycling and recycling, trash re-use and DIY. Furthermore, we
presented examples of products made from up-cycling process or DIY in the VOQ project.
As previously mentioned, the making phase could not take place during the workshop
time. Therefore, we planned some exercise based on Oech’s (1987) model to prepare the
participants for creative activities. The first exercise, called “circle drawing”, focused on the
“explorer” perspective. We provided students with pen and paper and asked them to do the
following tasks respectively: (1) draw a circle, (2) put a dot inside the circle, and (3) draw a line
from one side to another side of the circle. After, the participants were asked to compare their
drawings with other ones. Expectedly, they realized that the drawings were remarkably similar.
Consequently, we explained the importance of exploring in creativity by pointing out
alternative ways of doing the task.
The next exercise, sought to address the “explorer” as well as “the artist” according to
Oech’s model. We handed a paper to the participants, on which 12 empty rectangles were
printed and asked the students to transform each of the rectangles into a new image (Figure
22). In other words, our main focus was to improve the explorer (examine what can be done)
and the artist (transforming into a new shape).
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Figure 22 - The “explorer” phase exercise
In the following exercise, we focused on three aspects of the creativity process: the
explorer, the artist and the judge. We asked the participants to stand in a circle, hold each
other’s hands and remember who the neighbors were. Then they were asked to release their
hands and freely walk around the classroom until they hear the “freeze” sound. At this stage,
they were asked to find their neighbors and try to catch their hands again without making a
circle. As a result, the participant created a sizeable knot. Thereafter, students were asked to
re-create the initial circle, holding each other’s hands. The purpose of this exercise was to
enable the students to experience the “cycle of improvement” in the VOQ methodology.
Consequently, the participants could experience the explorer (understand the situation), the
artist (create the knot), and the judge (compare it with the initial circle) (Figure 23-25).
Figure 23, 24, 25 - Students performing the circle exercise
1.5. Empowerment through design-doing experiences: workshops on nurturing creative
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In addition to the workshop, the learning process was supported by complementary
activities based on the VOQ methodology: (1) see: they visited art museums and investigated
the waste issue in the campus, (2) opine: students evaluated the results of the previous stage,
(3) create: students had the opportunity to experience the materials during the course, and (4)
analyze and finalization: they evaluated and prepared the product for the final presentation.
Figure 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34,35 - Final products of Workshop 2
Workshops’ results
The outcomes of design-doing workshops derived from the participants’ feedback as well as
the final presentations of projects. Feedback from Workshop 1 was collected through
interviews with participants by a TV program called Usina de Valor (HSM management TV) in
Brazil. In Workshop 2, feedback was taken by Metroplia University as a written form. Each
team received a feedback form in which the participants shared their feelings and opinions
about the following aspects of the workshop:
Theoretical part
Practical part
Teamwork
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Cognitive outcomes
Emotional Influence
Analysis of workshop 1
The final production of groups underlines the importance of community in design-doing
learning process. Our observation from team works as well as feedbacks indicated that Groups
with strong connection and communication experienced a more joyful activity and
consequently more successful outcome. The presence of media also helped the groups’
performance considerably. A team member who was not completely involved with the making
phase, took the responsibility for the project documentation. Therefore, we were able to see
the workshop through the lens of participants.
Interestingly, students showed significant emotional attachment to their productions, as
they asked to take the objects home. However, they were not allowed to take the product
because of the exhibition. Nevertheless, the participants were impressively taking care of their
own creatures before and during the exhibition.
Stressing the role of empowerment by design-doing experiences, the last workshop (to
support) included some participants who participated in the first workshop (to organize). These
participants showed a better control over the process and were often leading their new groups
through the stages of the workshop. Obviously, these groups showed a higher performance
and accomplished the projects considerably faster. As a result, they had enough time to focus
on aesthetical aspects of the product such as painting and finishing.
Figure 36, 37 - Finalizing the products
Analysis of workshop 2
In the final presentation, students presented their approach to the design-doing practice
as well their achievements. They also presented their trial and errors and consequently focused
on how they overcame the barriers. This indicated the importance of “doing” experiences in
the learning process, which leads to empowerment. While two groups had a specific goal at
the beginning of the workshop, the third followed an open approach to the process. The
themes were as follow:
Group 1: Create a piece of art - increasing the awareness to preserve coral reefs
Group 2: Create a graphical piece - raising consciousness of the other students about the
waste generated in the campus
Group 3: Create useful objects – using the waste in the campus
1.5. Empowerment through design-doing experiences: workshops on nurturing creative
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The first two groups were straightforward on reaching the goal. They went through the
methodology with their strict aim in mind. Therefore, the outcome was not unexpected and
the goal was fully achieved. On the other hand, the third group chose an open approach and
based their work on experimenting materials in order to create any kind of useful objects. This
group had a more diverse result. Their objects ranged from baskets to bags and art pieces
(Figure 25 to 34).
Comparing the final products of each group, we did not identify any significant difference
in terms of being more creative. All groups reported that they experienced extreme fun during
the projects and interested in doing similar practices in their daily life.
Learning process outcomes – feedback on experiences
Participants’ feedback after the workshops reinforced the validity of design-doing
methodology in three categories:
1 – New perspective
According to feedback, most those participated in design-doing workshops commented
that the experience created a new perspective to their daily life. For example, a participant
from Workshop 1 strongly believed that the experience shifted her vision in life, “It is another
way to see things. Completely different from how I used to see. It changed my way of life”,
she said. Similarly, a group from Workshop 2 concluded that “The reality of things depends
on how you look at it, a complex thing may prove to be simple, when you change your point
of view”.
2 – Empowerment
The majority of respondents reported a sense of empowerment after the design-doing
experiences. For instance, a student from Workshop 1 commented, “so, (we did) things that I
could not even imagine that I had the power to do”. One of the groups in workshop 2 stated,
“First we did not know much about the topic and how to do, but the process was really
understandable and inspiring”.
3 – Practical experience
Interestingly, nearly all of the participants emphasized the importance of practical
experiences to deal with everyday problems. For example, a student from Workshop 1
described the experience as: “It was like, like a shock! We didn’t know… then you see that
thing lying down on the floor… and thought it is useless. And then after a short time, this
same thing, you take and transform in something different”, and another participant from
Workshop 2 stated that “It is extremely useful to see how your project relates to real life”.
Conclusion
This paper has underlined the importance of design-doing practices as examples of DIY
activities in the process of design learning. It has also portrayed the process of empowering
the participants to experience hands-on activities. In addition, the study indicates the
fundamental role of designers as facilitators in leading the learning process into desired
outcomes. Furthermore, we believe that the strength of our work lies in the methodology
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designed according to the framework of each workshop. Referring to the participants’
feedback, results have been noticeably promising, thus we think that our method could be
applied to similar design-doing practices with minor modifications.
Our work has led us to the conclusion that design-doing experiences result in creating the
sense of empowerment despite the differences of learning process. According to the students’
feedback, the sense of empowerment as well as achieving new perspective indicate the longterm effect of design-doing experiences on their daily life, which can eventually lead to a more
sustainable way of living. This supports Anderson’s (2012) idea about the new industrial
revolution as “creating creative makers”, in which people are encouraged to design and make
their own products.
We hope that our work will be helpful for future studies on the transition towards
sustainability on a wider level. Thus, to further our research about empowering people to
choose sustainable life ways, we are currently investigating alternative ways of living in
particular contexts such as Helsinki, Finland. The prospect of being able to empower general
public to believe in their roles in sustainability, serves as a continuous incentive for future
works.
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Photo given by Bárbara Cabral
PART 2 | Porto calling: meanings,
dynamics, artifacts and identities in
today's punk scenes
2.1. Punk comix : a journey through the “flirting” of
comics and punk in Portugal
Marcos Farrajota 1
Abstract
The communication is focused on the way punk is depicted in the Portuguese comics and what the
Portuguese comics tell us about punk in Portugal. It is an outcome of the work I have made with
KISMIF's project both as activist of independent publishing and a worker in the Lisbon Bedeteca.
The interest in this project is due to the fact that most of my work as author and publisher has been
influenced by the aesthetics and political logics of punk or the underground - not considering myself
punk because my crest only lasted a few weeks and if I've slept in an occupied house it wasn't on
purpose - maybe the underground culture in general is more significant to me than punk, whose
canons and dogmatism do not appeal to me.
Keywords: punk, Portuguese comics, underground culture
Questions and statements
This paper seeks to analyse the way in which Punk has been treated and portrayed in
2
portuguese comic books, and what these may have to tell about Punk . It is grounded on a
basis of a personal testimony, empiric writing and an investigation on the public and personal
records on the matter (especially those of the “Bedeteca” in Lisbon).
This article serves as a reference to those who wish to approach Punk, urban cultures,
music, DIY culture, graphical and editorial arts from a comic book perspective. Comics (from
the french bande dessinée) is subject to social and institutional recognition, related to as a
mass produced object, and aimed at an infant-juvenile target age group. It is seen as “freak
art”, for using simultaneously texto and image, which usually annoys the well behaved and
stationary things which could be placed on a literary or visual category. It is precisely this hybrid
1
Comics Library of Lisbon/ BLX, Municipality of Lisbon, Chili Com Carne Association, MMMNNNRRRG
label, KISMIF Project, Portugal.
2
It the the “Keep it simple, make it fast! Prolegomenons and punk scenes, a way into Portuguese
contemporaneity (1977-2012)” (PTDC/CS-SOC/118830/2010) shortened to KISMIF. It is under scientific
coordination of Paula Guerra. Besides the author of this text, other members of the project include: Ana
Oliveira, Ana Raposo, Andy Bennett, Augusto Santos Silva, Carles Feixa, Hugo Ferro, João Queirós, Luís
Fernandes, Manuel Loff, Paula Abreu, Pedro Quintela, Rui Telmo Gomes and Tânia Moreira. It is a project
financed by the Sciente and Technology Foundation and FEDER (COMPETE operational program),
developed in the Sociology Institute of the University of Porto (IS-UP), in partnership with the Centre for
Cultural Research (GCCR) of the University of Griffith e a Universitat de Lleida (UdL). Other participant
institutions include: Faculty of Economics of the University of Porto (FEP), Faculty of Psychology and
Educational Sciences of the University of Porto (FPCEUP), Faculty of Economics of the University of
Coimbra (FEUC), Centre of Social Studies of the University of Coimbra (CES) and Municipal Libraries of
Lisbon (BLX).
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
state in which it lives that makes it interesting to those who need images or texts in an
investigation on culture – such as that of KISMIF on punk.
Despite its bold and original begginnins, Portuguese comics has a lack of generalized
production forms, due to the little funding given by publishers both to commercial and author
books. Worse even is to note how few works tell us about Portugal and its people, even when
masked as fictions and self-fictions. One could blame Fascism or even the peripheral
geography of the country for the lack of content; but after the 25th of April, and until today,
very few works have taken the form of “reports”, “journalism”, “chronicle”, “journal” or
“autobiography”.
Furthermore, there is little observable regularity in the production of each author for a
continous analysis of evoltuion on a specific theme to take place. The works and authors seem
to skip through times – some authors make two comics albums separated by 17 years – and
there seems to be incipient dialog between author and work. To have a more complete
framework to think “Punk comics” it is necessary to access other sources, be them illustration
or the independente publication world.
Given these general limitations it is to access “all” of the productions surrounding
portuguese Punk comic books. Luckily, through the archives of the Bedeteca of Lisbon, it is
possible to access almost all editions (even the more underground ones) to work on this theme
– or any other for that matter.
Despite the Portuguese productive “misery”, one can find several curious and valid works
to study punk in Portugal.
Questions were raised as to who should investigate, study and answer on the importance
of the construction of comic books in Punk culture. From the beginning one can find New
Tork magazine Punk Magazine (1976/79) of John Holmstrom which is closer to an
underground comic book than a muci magazine. In Lisbon we have the case of the “Mundo
da Banda Desenhada” (later called Op) store, which, between 1977 and 1987 was a common
meeting place of lisbon’s punks and bohemians. The case pointed out by Paula Guerra, Pedro
Quintela and Júlio Dolbeth in catalog God Save the Portuguese Fanzines (2014) about the
importance of the comics found on the first Porto punk fanzine, Cadáver Esquisito (1986).
Are there works which approach punk in Portugal?
Yes there are and in several ways. The first comic book to depict punk characters did it in 1983
with a female character – something to be taken in consideration in such an androcentered
setting as comic books and punk. Sabina and Sangue Violeta are the characters/comics which
come to us through the hands of Fernando Relvas in the Se7e weekly publication. After that,
punks slowly fade out as other subcultures are born and raised in the last decades of the 20th
century, serving as “urban furniture”. They are brought back in the beginning of this milennia
with the arrival of the Autobriography of Portuguese comics. In this they are treated as more
than stereotypes, and seen, criticized, questioned and asked to testify real events and facts.
There is a greater proliferation of short stories, since they took their medium to be
“precarious” publications (such as fanzines), or as ephemeral “gags” in newspaper pages.
This is the case of the work of Nuno Saraiva. For the most cases, the role of punk is always
secondary to the comics, but in longer works it seems to take a greater protagonism, such as
the work of Relvas, 88 by Nunsky and Punk Redux by João Mascarenhas. It is however in these
2.1. Punk comix: a journey through the “flirting” of comics and punk in Portugal
81
same shorter comics that the most interesting and documental content can be found – authors
such as Teresa Câmara Pestana, Marcos Farrajota, José Smith Vargas.
Figure 1 - Sangue Violeta, Fernando Relvas, 2004
The first comics with Punks arrive in the newspapers – Relvas in Se7e and Diniz Conefrey
in Blitz – but its media presence fades out as it loses impact as an urban culture during the
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
90s. Comic books with punks come officially back with the reprint in book form, from 1996
onwards, catching the Portuguese comics boom of the time. In a savage calculation,
nonetheless, most Punk comics arrive in small scale editions such as fanzines and self-published
books by Rigo, T.C. Pestana, Associação Chili Com Carne, comics fanzines (Ritmo, Epitáfio,
Nuxcuro, Hips!, Mesinha de Cabeceira, KBD e Azul BD3), punk fanzines (Cadáver Esquisito,
Morte à Censura e LBN Punx Zine) and also punk comics fanzines: Over-12, Os Positivos e
Ezequiel.
What documentation do those works present on the reality
of punk?
Accordingly to the worries of the KISMIf project, there was an attempt to locate topics which
can help investigators of further studies proceed in their approaches: the bohemian portrait
of environments connected to the urban cultures of Portugal; the identification of punks
connected to music, bands and concerts; aesthetic and behavioural codifications; the
sociabilities with other urban tribes, especially the neo-nazi skinhead culture; sexual
behaviours, drug use, okupa movements and finally aging in punk.
In what concerns bohemia, Portuguese comics has several works which present realistic
cases of the places most frequented and the respective “fauna”. It pertains mostly to the
capital of the 80s and 90s, in the works of Relvas, Ana Cortesão (whose untitled 1993 work,
later reprinted in the álbum “My life is a sewer” is of the utmost importance to understand
cosmopolitanism and gentrification of the late 80s Lisbon), the collective álbum Noites de
Vidro (CML, 1991), about the Lisbon nightlife sites, and the three comic books of the (antiheroic) Ruivo by Diniz Conefrey in Blitz. As for the representation of punk musicians, one can
conclude that João Ribas (1965-2014) is the archetypical super-punk. He is the most portrayed
musician, by several different generations: Relvas in Sangue Violeta (in Se7e) in 1984 with the
band Kú de Judas; Diniz Conefrey in the Blitz newspaper (1992) and by Afonso Cortez-Pinto
and Marcos Farrajota in the disc Raridades (2009) in his time in Censurados. There are several
other bands represented, not necessarily punk but underground, mostly in the 90s.
Comics also proves excellent in representing behavioural and aesthetic codes of urban
tribes and we would find several works already mentioned (Relvas, Rigo, etc…) as well as later,
in the case of other tribes, portraying it. In the first volume of the series Loveboy by Marte and
João Fazenda, we can see the globalized behaviours of an “alternative culture” marked by
MTV. Surprisingly enough, the presence of skinheads in comics, mostly as figurines but
sometimes as antagonists to the main characters, is quite distinct, especially during the 90s.
The only realistic portrait of these individuals is given by the first comic book of Ruivo (by
Connefrey), which takes notice of a weird and stupid game of giving slaps to each other. Other
urban tribes (rockabillys, dreads, “vanguards”, freaks and metalheads) appear in other comics
in relatively pacific coexistence. Police violence is never portrayed, asides from a brief mention
in a comics by T.C Pestana in a Gambuzine.
2.1. Punk comix: a journey through the “flirting” of comics and punk in Portugal
Figure 2 - n/t, Ana Cortesão, 1993
83
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Figure 3 - Ruivo, Diniz Conefrey, 1991-92
We sought mentions to sex but there were few interesting results, asides from the same
standards of sexuality of all portuguese comics – a mostly heterossexual point of view. Among
fiction works, there are erotic fantasies in the punk imaginary space, as shown by Nunsky, in
two editions of Mesinha de Cabeceira. As for drugs it seems almost synonymous with Punk,
and therefore “she” (that is, heroin) is always associated to it, be it in fiction, humor or fantasy.
The most real case would be excellent work of Pestana – O meu vizinho in the Gambuzine of
2008 – which retells the personal experience of the author in an “okupa” in Hannover in
1989, amongst drug addicts. It is assumed that Portuguese punk okupas only took place in
the 90s, and maybe because of that they took a longer time to figure in comics. Only in this
millenia are there records of them, despite mentioning as far back as 1989, like the work of
Pestana, which, despite taking place in Germany, and needing a certain socioeconomic
distance, reflects its zeitgeist suitably. There are two cases of Portuguese “okupas”, one in the
book Boring Europa (Chilli Com Carne, 2011) about the destruction of the SPCC, probably
the last Lisbon “okupa”, and José Smith Vargas about the dismantelment of the building
where the social self-suficient Es.Col.A project took place, in the Alto da Fontinha, Porto.
Regarding “aging”, the situation is further complicated, since there is no parallel to the
work of north-american Jaime Hernandez, Locas, in Portugal. It is necessary to skip through
the magazines, in the records of several authors, to offer identical situations. The research will
need to be about authors who use autobiography as source for their work, such as Marco
Farrajota, Marco Mendes and Teresa Câmara Pestana. It is necessary to bridge them, though
there are real confrontations between two of these authors – Pestana criticizes Farrajota for
2.1. Punk comix: a journey through the “flirting” of comics and punk in Portugal
85
being an “office punk (…) almost authentic”, in a number of Gambuzine (2001). This is an
interesting situation, with an active participation in DIY culture and comics worlds in 1995,
2001 and 2011, collaborating in several zines about the “state of the art” of his life, on a
mostly professional level. Mendes has practiced an autobriographical work since 2007 and
2012, talking of themes such as Porto bohemia, precarious work and the misery of the
Portuguese social crisis of the XXIst century. Both situations are a worry of a “mérdia ” class
3
(using Pestana’s term) and not of punk culture, but can be analogous in the analysis of the life
of creatives in Portugal in the last decades. Finally, there have been “existential” questions
directed towards punk and underground culture by Farrajota in the brazillian zine Prego
(2011), in the booklet of the DVD of the 15th anniversary of the Barroselas Metal Festival
(2011) and the Slovenian magazine Stripburger #62 (2013)
Figure 4 - O meu vizinho, Teresa Câmara Pestana, 2008
3
Note of translator: this expression, left in the original portuguese due to the impossibility of translation,
is a play on the words “média” meaning average, and “merda” meaning shit.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Figure 5 - Soka, José Smith Vargas, 2000
In what way is punk treated in comic books?
Badly treated, of course! Mostly in fiction and fantasy genres, in the line of the oficial culture,
the punk individual is portrayed as a little street criminal, a marginal or a drug addict, generally
identified with a mohawk. Even the main characters of the works about punk themselves
portray less than human images of life – what does Violeta by Relvas tell us? As much as the
widely known “No Future” slogan. One could state that tere are no interesting punk
characters. There are no “anti-heroes” in Portuguese punk comics either – no Portuguese
Peter Pank, Tank Girl or Bob Cuspe to be seen.
Only by the late 90s and on this millenia are punks treated as people (Pestana, Boring
Europa, Farrajota) due to two reasons. First, because punk in Portugal started as something
shallow, an urban tribe to escape the post-PREC monotony, and only in the 90s did it transform
into a fully underground circuit, which include structures and militant lifestlyles; and second,
because only in the 90s did portuguese comics acess new paradigms of “Alternative Comic
Book” creation, both from north-america and europe. These were the pioneers of the
documental genre, until then forgotten or inexistente – oddly enough, when the pioneers
Rafael Bordalo Pinheiro and Carlos Botelho did chronicles exhaustively.
Are there authors who were/are punks?
The discussion on this topic is complicated because one would have to identify punk authors
in a very large list of Portuguese comics’ authors who are connected to a DIY ethic. This DIY
culture in national comics is justified by the lack of interested publishers who wish to dedicate
themselves to Portuguese authors, be it in commercial or non-commercial works. To identify
2.1. Punk comix: a journey through the “flirting” of comics and punk in Portugal
87
the artists who have published their fanzines or created indepedent structures of publishing
shows a true movement rarely seen in other creative áreas in this “country where nothing
happens”. More than to have existed punk authors, there were authors who “flirted” with
Punk and DIY culture, some more militant than others, rarely using a mohawk.
Trying to use international models to identify “punk authors” positions identical situations,
with the due reserves. The case of the British Simon Gange, the king of punk comics, that is,
of a genre comics in a very specific market niche, could be found in the case of Portugal in
authors such as Marcelão and Valter de Matos who published and still publish respectively the
fanzines Over-12 and The Positives. Circumscribed to the smaller circuit of portuguese
Hardcore and Straight Edge, it makes them nearly invisible to the “public eye”, compared to
the “fame” of Gane in the international underground. However, in this millenia, the
portuguese underground has professionalized, and despite its comics do not reflect directly a
punk lifestlyle, we find the names of André Coelho and José Smith Vargas to be recognized
more for their graphic work on posters, disc covers, skates, T-shirts of the underground music
international world. In the case of Jaime Hernandez, or a “comics with traditional looks which
portrays a scene”, the cases of Relvas, Conefrey, Loverboy and Mascarenhas have already been
mentioned, focused mostly on the situations of bohemian Lisbon, but grasping tenously the
phenomenons of aging and giving voice to a cultural minority. In the case of the french Matt
Konture, or “An autobiographical comics of the punk scene” there is TC Pestana, who is
situated in an underground lifestyle and a deep contact with this culture. And to match Gary
Panter (or “comics with a graphic style which originates in punk action”) we have found no
possible paralell.
In the case that there are punk authors, what grphic styles
do they employ? Is there a portuguese graphic style?
The graphic styles of Portuguese comics are severely personalized due to the lack of critical
productive mass. Each author, underground or even commercial, develops his own unique
graphic style, which is imitated by few and which reflects and unrepeatable carreer path,
impossible to be followed by others.
Increasing the observation spectrum to comics’ authors who did graphic work to
bands/discs/posters of punk bands, one cannot discern a single graphic pattern. This echoes
the fact that in the 80s and 90s few national bands were releasing discs, a fact that only
increased in this millenium and created a niche for authors like Coelho or Vargas.
We attempted to identify some common lines between national production with the base
characteristics of punk aesthetics. We concluded that “iconoclasty” and “humor” are not
characteristcs one can point out for similarly placed reasons. In the first case, because of the
scarcity of collage in comics, or rather, the exclusive employment of that technique; in the
second, the impact of hte brazillian magazine Chiclete com Banana (where Bob Cuspe figured)
by Angeli, went beyond the punk “ghetto” and was found on several humorous or generalistic
productions of portuguese comics. It is also to consider that scatological and silly humor is too
universal in punk production to be thought as a national exclusive.
The “brutism” (or spontaneous dirtiness of the drawing) and “DIY” (not an aesthetic value
in itself) are characteristics which bring together a series of authors of comics, punk or not,
which have dealt or not with punk questions since the 70s. In part this is due to the advent of
cheap reproduction rechniques (print machines), which allowed each and everyone to publish
88
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
without having to ask, and allowed the authors to explore the limitations of those same
technologies in the treatment of their images, which helped to develop their styles.
It would also come to be the technological development of digital means (starting with
text processing to Photoshop) which would mark the “cleaning” and graphic leveling of the
underground. It eventually created a professionalized environment which mixes itself with
oficial culture, from the mid 90s onwards
Finally, approaching the production and self-publishing of the fanzines, the “chicken or
the egg” doubt is born in portuguese comic books. To look at the great production of
portuguese fanzines which dates earlier than the 25th of April of 1974, it leads one to wonder
if the influence of Punk on Portuguese comics is nothing but a parallel phenomenon, subject
to something bigger which was happening. A question which undoubtedly merits its own
investigation. The portuguese production of comic books is built essentially on an amateur
setting, strongly DIY, and which seeks to exist throughout the times and especially after the
Carnation Revolution due to the low level of professionalism. Very few series are published in
newspapers and magazines, and even fewer the orders of books on the subject. Almost all of
the post-Revolution production is made of self-publications and small-scale publishers. One
could state, in a single slightly demented and exaggerated phrase, but one which nonetheless
deserves some though: the Portuguese comics is Punk!
References
Cortesão, Ana; A minha vida é um esgoto; Lisboa: BaleiAzul: Bedeteca de Lisboa; 1999
Deus, A. Dias de; Os Comics em Portugal: uma história da banda desenhada; Lisboa: Cotovia: Bedeteca
de Lisboa, 1997
Farrajota, Marcos; Komikazen: cartografia dell'Europa a fumetti; [Veneza]: Edizioni del Vento, 2007
Farrajota, Marcos; Noitadas, Deprês e Bubas; Cascais: Associação Chili com Carne; 2008
Farrajota, Marcos; Talento Local; Cascais: Associação Chili com Carne; 2010
Farrajota, Marcos; Metakatz; Bruxelas: 5éme Couche, 2013
Guerra, Paula; Quintela, Pedro (2014) – God save the Portuguese fanzines. Porto: Universidade do Porto
– Faculdade de Letras.
Holmstrom, John; Hurd, Bridget; The Best of Punk Magazine; Nova Iorque: HarpersCollins, 2012
Isabelinho, Domingos; Tinta nos nervos: banda desenhada portuguesa; Lisboa: Museu Colecção Berardo,
2011
Lisboa; Noites de Vidro; Câmara Municipal - Pelouro da Cultura; 1991
Marte; Fazenda, João; Loverboy, o rebelde; Lisboa: Polvo; 1998
Martins, Fernando; Pop dell'arte; Lisboa: A bela e o monstro, cop. 2011
Mascarenhas, João; Punk Redux; Sintra: Qual Albatroz; 2011
Mendes, Marco; Salão Olímpico 2003-2006; Porto: Fundação de Serralves, 2006
Mendes, Marco; Diário rasgado: 2007-12; Porto: Mundo Fantasma, 2012
Nunsky; 88; Cascais: Associação Chili Com Carne; 1997
Piedade, Luís; Raridades; [S.I.]: Zerowork Records; 2008
Relvas, Fernando; Sangue Violeta e outros contos; [S.I.]: El Pep; 2012
Ribeiro, Ana; Farrajota, Marcos; Martins, Ricardo; Boring Europa; Cascais: Associação Chili Com Carne;
2011
Rigo 23; Ganmse; Lisboa; 1986
Sá, Leonardo de; Lino, Geraldes; Dédalo dos fanzines: o catálogo das publicações amadoras de banda
desenhada em Portugal; Lisboa: Temporárias: 1997
2.1. Punk comix: a journey through the “flirting” of comics and punk in Portugal
89
Sabin, Roger; Triggs, Teal; Below critical radar: fanzines and alternative comics from 1976 to now; Hove:
Slab-O-Concrete, [2001?]
Saraiva, Nuno; Zé Inocêncio: as aventuras extra ordinárias dum falo barato; Lisboa: BaleiAzul: Bedeteca
de Lisboa; 1997
Spencer, Amy; DIY: The Rise of Lo-Fi Culture; Londres: Marion Boyars, 2005
SWR Barroselas Metal Fest; Farrajota, Marcos; The 15th rebellion of the steel warriors; Barroselas: Sonic
Events; 2012
Zink, Rui; Literatura gráfica?: banda desenhada portuguesa contemporânea; Oeiras: Celta, 1999
Newspapers and Magazines
- Blitz (1990-92). Lisboa: Lisboa: VASP Sociedade de Transportes e Distribuição
- Stripburger (2013). Ljubjana: Forum Ljubjana
Sites
- chilicomcarne.blogspot.com (da Associação Chili Com Carne)
- mesinha-de-cabeceira.blogspot.com (de Marcos Farrajota)
- rocknoliceu.blogspot.com (de André Nascimento)
Zines:
- Buraco (2012). Porto
- Gambuzine (1999-2008). Porto: Edição Infecta
- Mesinha de Cabeceira (1992-). Cascais: FC Kómix
- Prego (2011). Vila Velha: Alex Vieira
Interviews
- Diniz Conefrey (Abril 2014) by e-mail
2.2. What does the Balaclava stand for? Pussy Riot:
just some stupid girls or punk with substance?
Alexandre M. da Fonseca 1
Abstract
5 punk singers walk into the Cathedral of Christ the Savior in Moscow, address the Mother of God
herself, ask her to free Russia from Putin and “become a feminist”. They are stopped by the security
and three members are later arrested. The rest is history… Nevertheless, Pussy Riot have proven to
be more complex. This article aims to go beyond the dichotomies and the narratives played out in
Western and Russian media. Given the complexity of the affair, this article aims to dissect the
political thought, the ideas (or ideology), the philosophy behind their punk direct actions. Focusing
on their statements, lyrics and letters and the brechtian way they see “art as a transformative tool”,
our aim is to ask what does the balaclava stand for? Are they really just some stupid punk girls or
is there some substance to their punk? Who are (politically) the Pussy Riot?
Keywords: Pussy Riot; Punk and Direct Action; Political Thought; Critical Discourse Analysis; 3rd wave
feminism
Who are the Pussy Riot? Are they those who have been judged in court and sentenced to
prison? Or those anonymous member who have shunned the two persecuted girl? Or maybe
it’s everyone who puts a balaclava and identifies with the rebellious attitude of the Russian
group? Then, are Pussy Riot an “Idea” or are they impossible to separate from the faces of
Nadia and Masha? This is the first difficulty of discussing Pussy Riot – defining who their subject
is. Hence, we focus on their different “incarnations” to understand of which substance they
are made of.
But are their “ideas” easily perceived? Or is the geopolitical context an ever present
distorting feature? Is it possible to look at Pussy Riot for what they “truly” are or we can never
escape our material position? Are they part of a liberal, a feminist, anti-capitalistic political
project or all at once? And are we to look at Pussy Riot from a sort of “void position”, without
any knowledge of their social and historical context? How would this change our regard of
them?
After all, the greatest question guiding this article is: Do Pussy Riot have a political thought?
Or are they, in reality, just some stupid unconscious girls as the prosecutors of Masha, Nadia
and Yakaterina would have us believe? But, then again, what would we lose by looking only
at these three known member of the group? Isn’t anonymity part of Pussy Riot’s “Idea”?
Let’s take a step back. The history is well known. Three girls were arrested and judged, in
2012, a few weeks after a “performance” at the Cathedral of Christ the Savior in Moscow.
Although other members of the group had also taken part of the performance, they were
never been found. The three were judged and considered guilty of “hooliganism motivated
1
Centre for Social Studies, University of Coimbra, Portugal.
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by religious hatred”. Ever since they have all been released , and the 2 most famous took part
2
in a global tour to denounce the conditions of prisons in Russia.
This is what transpired to the “global public sphere” (Talanova, 2013:2), a brief and
superficial résumé of the whole Pussy Riot affair. But our goal as social analysts is, following
Foucault’s advice, to dig deeper and to retrieve the deeper meanings, the undergrounded
motives and to make them emerge.
Our angle of attack will be Pussy Riot’s own words and. In the first part, we will look at
both narratives of the Pussy Riot affair in the “west” and in Russia, only to see how, in both
places, there has been a misrepresentation of Pussy Riot. In the second part, we will take a
look at the group’s musical and political influences, as well as their social context. Finally, we
will study in careful detail and based on their song lyrics, statements in court and interviews,
their “Political Thought”.
Misrepresenting the riot?
As stated at the beginning of the article, one of the most difficult tasks of an article devoted
to Pussy Riot is to define the “subject” of Pussy Riot. In order to better define the task of
studying the narratives of the Pussy Riot affair, we will concurrently refer to both Pussy Riot’s
known members and the group as such (or anonymous who belong to the group) and we will
recur to a review of literature of mainly (though not exclusively) Russian authors writing in
English (Akulova, 2013; Bernstein, 2013; Chehonadskih, 2012; Talanova, 2013a; Talanova,
2013b).
The results of the research are unanimous in presenting a completely opposite treatment
of Pussy Riot in the West and in Russia, as well as the different dispositifs through which the
collective’s message has been downplayed or overemphasized, according to the objectives of
the mainstream ideology. Kolesova’s (2013:45) statement is illustrative of both narratives:
Though the dominant discourses around the Pussy Riot case in Russia and in the United States
were almost opposite in their content, there were some similarities: both of them presented
rather flattened versions, demonized or domesticated respectively, of the Pussy Riot collective
and largely ignored their political project. Both representations served to protect mainstream
ideology.
In the West
How were then the Pussy Riot perceived in the West? Kolesova (2013:vi) argues that the
case has been generally read in the West through the frame of “Human Rights and the Cold
War”, whereby Pussy Riot’s political content became that of “martyrs for western values”, in
an idealized struggle of good versus the “evil” Putin (see also Bernstein, 2013:234)..
Hence the interrelated narratives on Pussy Riot seemed to be mainly focused on: 1. the
case of a liberal collective fighting for freedom of expression in the cultural “Other” 2. the
myth of the Pussy Riot heroes versus an oppressive dictator 3. a cultural approach whereby
their feminism and their representation as women takes precedence over their political content
4. all of which leading to the negation or ignorance of the political message of the collective.
Rioting in Russia, the oppressive dark-age “Other”?
2
Yakaterina was found not guilty sooner than the other 2.
2.2. What does the Balaclava stand for? Pussy Riot: just some stupid girls or punk with
substance?
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In the article where she critically analyses the media discourses around Pussy Riot, Talanova
(2013b:11) notes that the BBC referred to the trial of the 3 rioters as a “return to the dark
ages” and that the Russian political system was “attacked…for its authoritarian nature”. This
seems to be the main trend of the whole affair, where other (geopolitical) factors have taken
precedence.
Russia has been considered a strongly conservative and despotic country not fitting “the
3
paradigm of western democracies” (Kolesova, 2013:40). Several deficiencies related to
freedom of speech, the role of church in society – thus ignoring the “tradition of atheist culture
in Russian and Soviet history” (Ibid.:40) – or other cases of state coercion have been presented,
thus reinforcing the broader orientalist portrait of oppression and conservatism.
References to the Soviet era and/or the Stalinist regime have also not been absent ( Ibid.:412) and as other recent political manifestations, e.g. the so-called Arab spring or the Ukrainian
stand-off, the demands or issues have been reduced to a call for democracy and more liberty,
seen as the standard western values.
While Pussy Riot have, in some occasions, reinforced these aspects themselves – using
western references in clothing, type of music and their name or in their speeches in court
(Ibid.:34) - another important feature supporting this production of an oppressive “Other”
4
has been the massive support campaign by western celebrities - who also ignored other similar
protests in Russia (Chehonadskih, 2012:2).
Putin, the “Oriental dictator” and villain?
A similar script followed the discourses around the affair, although centered around Pussy
Riot as the David of contemporaneity to the Goliath Vladimir Putin, or as Kolesova (2013:10)
states “in Western media…an idealized and oversimplified historical narrative of individualized
resistance to the tyrant government” has been constructed. Although in some contexts, the
Russian Orthodox Church also has played the role of Goliath, the main antagonist of Pussy
Riot has been, without a doubt, Putin.
Once again, this description was emphasized in some of the 3 rioters declarations and
mostly in their songs (Bernstein, 2013:16). But the media have been important in capitalizing
this “standard Hollywood format” where a “hero stands against the dark forces of evil…and
the result (is) a moral victory and ethical supremacy” (Talanova, 2013b:24).
This account is problematic, not only due to its simplification, but specially because it
obscures “the importance of mass protest that conditioned the emergence of the Pussy Riot
collective” (Kolesova, 2013:41) and reinforces the liberal ideology of individual resistance over
the collective struggle –especially if the main focus of the collective Pussy Riot is anonymity. It
also simplified the whole trial making it seem that sometimes it as Putin himself who was
manipulating every single outcome.
The women question
Even if they’re seen, most of the times, as the heroes of the story, the three members of
Pussy Riot on trial have also been pictured as victims (Talanova, 2013b:14; Talanova, 2013a:8;
Kolesova, 2013:43) of an all-powerful malevolent regime. Thus, BBC and others tried to
3
4
But specially its president Putin, as we will see.
And especially after their release and subsequent “tour” to see the conditions in prisons abroad.
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produce what Talanova (2013b:11) describes as a “human touch story”, where the age and
5
the fact that 2 defendants had children was prioritized .
The ambiguity of this account is very much present because the “cost” of their political act
is both portrayed as heroic and sacrificial. Their victimization or their heroism served as a
simplified portrait, denying the subtleties of their actions. In other accounts, their feminism/ty
also served to disregard their political points and by “giving them a voice”, the commentators
seemed to be also taking out “their” voice and agency, ignoring or overlooking their
statements (Kolesova, 2013:43).
Still, the most problematic description was the portrayal of Pussy Riot as the “beautiful
rebels” (Talanova, 2013a:22; Kolesova, 2013:42). In her article, Talanova shows the different
treatment and sensations transmitted by the trial photos in Russian and western newspapers,
with the “Independent” presenting “artistic portrait photography…highlight(ing) the youth
and the good looks of the convicted girls”, quite apart from the caged girls “like monkeys in
a cage”, in the Russian newspaper Trud.
Finally, there has been a clear differentiation of the attention given to the three women.
Nadja Tolokonnikova was and still is the “face” of the band, with her facial features being
overemphasized, concealing not only their other 2 comrades (Akulova, 2013:282), but also
their political gesture and specially the “idea” of anonymity of the band. The media has thus
presented an image of Pussy Riot in profound contradiction with the values of the collective.
Therefore it’s easily understandable that the media has not given the full picture of Pussy
Riot and ignored some of their messages – e.g. their anti-capitalist stance. Still, this is by no
means unique of the western media and also in Russia, many of their motives have been
snubbed and/or manipulated.
In Russia
Whether or not one agrees, Russia is our “cultural other”. Our lack of knowledge of specific
cultural particularities (or simply of the language) does impede the access to the discussion
and lived realities of the case. Regardless and trusting again the review of the literature and
the author’s insights, we can easily conclude that, as in the West, the case has also been
depoliticized.
During the trial, Russians could have been introduced to their political views, but that has
hardly been the case. Both the prosecution as well as Putin and most of the political class
denied their explicitly political act in the Cathedral and turned it into a moralistic matter
(Bernstein, 2013:230-234).
One such example is the accusation of “hooliganism motivated by religious hatred” for
which the accused were sentenced to jail. But also Putin rejected the gesture as political and
mentioned that they only tried “to desecrate a sacred space” (Ibid.:232). He recalled a previous
action by the group “Voina” – “Fuck for the Heir Puppy Bear” - claiming it as amoral and
“describ(ing) th(e) performance as an act of group sex…[for] personal gratification” (Talanova,
2013a:36).
Finally, similarly to the western accounts, the fact that the defendants were women served
to further diminish their actions – for some it even seemed impossible that they did not have
a man behind guiding their deeds. For others, their feminism was a further indication of their
will to “desecrate” the altar and the Church. Their agency and speech were denied and the
5
This also happened in Russia, although with completely opposite aims.
2.2. What does the Balaclava stand for? Pussy Riot: just some stupid girls or punk with
substance?
95
fact that Nadja and Masha are mothers caused further indignation and incomprehensibility of
their acts (Bernstein, 2013:234).
Influencing the riot
In order to be able to make the case that they are not “just some stupid girls”, we will take a
look at their influences, inspirations and previous belongings to grasp how the group emerged.
Distinguishing from other more casual inspirations, there seem to be 2 undeniable sources of
what the Pussy Riot “mean”: the Riot Grrl and the Voina group.
Riot Grrl, Guerrilla Girls and the 3 rd wave feminism
Pussy Riot members acknowledge their “tribute” and inspiration from the Riot Grrl
movement (Schwartzman & Maillet, 2013:180), a DIY punk girl movement, which emerged
on the in the early 1990s, part of the as the so-called “3 wave feminism” (Kolesova, 2013:3).
rd
A movement opposing our patriarchal society and breaking gender barriers (Tancons, 2012:4),
while also placing “an emphasis on the multiplicity of feminisms” and “replac(ing) attempts
at unity with a dynamic and welcoming politics of coalition” (Kolesova, 2013:15:183).
It’s therefore a feminism more focused on the individual(ity) (Schwartzman & Maillet,
2013:184) and open to the new media, exploring the possibilities of “cheap and accessible
modes of production” (Kolesova, 2013: 12). The exploration of other means of
communication is also related to their anti-commodification stance, as well as, paradoxically,
a claim for ownership (Mcmichael, 2013:100), as if, by rejecting their commodification and
allowing for the free dissemination of their content, they can own it more.
Thus through their defiant and atypical gestures, political stance, “artistic protests and
punk music”, Pussy Riot are considered as continuing the tradition of female empowerment
which emerged with the Riot Grrls (Schwartzman & Maillet, 2013:180) while also winking at
western audiences familiarized with this kind of performances (Talanova, 2013b:16).
Other very important feature of the Riot Grrls, especially of the so-called “Guerrilla Girls”,
which Pussy Riot has replicated, is anonymity. Much like the Guerrilla Girls, who wear gorilla
masks in every public appearance to “expose the hypocrisy and blatant sexism throughout the
art world” (Akulova, 2013:12), Pussy Riot adopted the balaclava to emphasize the same point
and to demonstrate that more importantly than their selves is an “Idea” (Zizek, 2012).
The only big difference to the Riot Grrls movement is that, contrary to them, Pussy Riot do
not hold sanctioned concerts, opting for illegal and unannounced “in your face” appearances
in public places, more close to the direct action style of actionists and, in Russia, the Voina
(meaning “war”) group, of which Nadja and Yakaterina were members.
The Voina group and the actionist tradition
One of the most known performances of the group Voina has been the “Fuck for the Heir
Puppy Bear...sexual acts that took place in…the Biological Museum in Moscow in front of a
taxidermy display of a bear… a pun of Russian President…Medvedev’s last name” (Kolesova,
2013:4), after the “farcical and pornographic elections’ in which Medvedev was to inherit
Vladimir Putin’s ‘throne’” (Talanova, 2013b:20-21).
Although the character of this performance, as we argued before, has been dismissed by
Putin as an act of pleasure, this and other Voina performances are inherently political. Among
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other performances criticizing the Russian political and juridical regime, have been the “Palace
Revolution” in 2011, where 2 members of the group overturned seven empty police vehicles
(Chehonadskih, 2012:7).
Another example of their direct actions was the “Cock held captive by the FSB”, the FSB
standing for the Russian secret services, with an image of a penis was drawn in front of the
FSB building. Finally, some of the girls in the group took part in another polemic action called
“’Kissing a cop”, during which they “forcibly kissed police women in the Moscow Metro”.
Although the aggressive content and “sexual violence” has been rightly problematized by
Akulova (2013:281), this constitutes an exemplary performance of the Voina collective.
In fact, one could argue that the political substance of these direct actions have been
transfigured into the words of the Pussy Riot album “Kill the sexist” and into their illegal
performances. With some slight differences, the rebellious spirit of Voina has migrated to Pussy
Riot, after the separation of some members of the group (Chehonadskih, 2012:3) and has
without a doubt influenced Pussy Riot’s political thought.
Political stupidity, political action, or political thought?
Pussy Riot seem to tread along three political lines – that of apparent “stupidity”, that of
aggressive action and that related to thinking of and about themselves and society as a whole.
After accounting for the diverse narratives about the “Pussy Riot affair” and their self-claimed
influences in the first part of the article, we will now focus on what we see as their political
thought.
In order to do that, we will firstly analyze their songs’ lyrics, their statements in court and
interviews, to end with the exchange of letters between the philosopher Slavoj Zizek and
Nadja. Departing from their anti-Putin and feminist stance, we will dissect among Pussy Riot’s
6
philosophical influences, as Kolesova (2013:3) cites “poststructuralist philosophy, anticapitalist theory…and LGBT movements” combined with a libertarian anti-authoritarian
posture and historical references to political dissidence – the dimensions most often
overlooked.
Anti-capitalist stance
No money for art!
One of the lesser known aspects ignored on both sides has been Pussy Riot’s anti-capitalist
stance. One of the most important aspects of this posture is the refusal to commercialize the
band (Masyuk, 2013:2) and to hold for-profit concerts, a practice that would lead to the
dismissal of both Nadja and Masha of the group.
This happened after their appearance as “Pussy Riot” together with Madonna and others
nd
for an Amnesty International benefit concert on the 2 of May of 2014, which led to an open
letter where anonymous members remembered that “selling tickets ‘is highly contradictory to
the principles of Pussy Riot’" and that they “never accept money for our performances". While
the commercial concert with Madonna is contradictory to the principles of Pussy Riot, it’s
important to note that both Nadja and Masha stopped being members, maybe even before
6
And the regime as a whole, including the close connections between the church and the state, a
dimension of their protest often ignored (Akulova, 2013:281)
2.2. What does the Balaclava stand for? Pussy Riot: just some stupid girls or punk with
substance?
97
that concert. Thus the contradiction is their acceptance of being referred to as Pussy Riot, not
in appearing in a “for-profit” concert.
Together with this artistic and political position, as some authors noted, Pussy Riot (as a
group), by holding concerts in “unpredictable locations and public places not designed for
traditional entertainment” seemed to demand, as other collectives which emerged recently, a
return to the public common. A demand of “transforming private spaces into a public ones
open for participation and discussion” (Kolesova, 2013:4) and to make “art…accessible to
everyone” (Tolokonikovoy, 2012a:3).
The black gold, the “regime” and western complacency
In order to spark a discussion about the nature of the “regime” in Russia, its usage of oil
and the connections between elites, especially businesspeople and criticizing also the
repression in the country, four Pussy Riot held a “performance” in an oil platform and called
the song “Gruel-Propaganda”.
In it, they not only criticize president Putin who has “distributed the countries’ richness to
his friends” in important companies and in “high places” – “Federal Penitentiary Service,
Interior Ministry, Emergency Situations Ministry, and Rosnano, LUKoil, TNK, Rosneft, and
Gazprom”, but also compare Russia to the Arab and Persian authoritarian regime:
You have a president like Iran’s ayatollah,
And your church is like it is in the U.A.E.
So, let everything be like it is in Qatar,
Evildoers at the oil towers,
Pumping till its dry
A physics university teaches theology.
Although this is a very raw but also very aggressive denunciation of regimes that function
based almost on “exporting nature” while repressing most of its citizens, in personal
declarations and in her letters to Zizek, Nadja goes a step further and argues that such regimes,
especially Russia would not be allowed to do that, if it weren’t for western buyers, denouncing
the hypocrisy of clamming high values, while doing business with the countries’ elites and
leaders.
I call for a boycott, I call for honesty, I call for not buying oil and gas which Russia may offer. I
call for applying all the humanitarian standards, traditions and rules which Europe speaks
about. That would be really honest. I am for truth and honesty.
Les pays ‘développés' font preuve d’un conformisme…et loyauté…vis-à-vis des
gouvernements qui oppriment leurs citoyens…Les pays européens et les États-Unis collaborent
volontiers avec la Russie qui adopte des lois moyenâgeuses et jette en prison les opposants
politiques…La question se pose: quelles sont les limites admissibles de la tolérance ? Et à quel
moment la tolérance se transforme-t-elle en collaborationnisme, en conformisme et en
complicité?…Voici la justification…typique du cynisme: Qu’ils fassent ce qu’ils veulent dans
leur pays. Mais cela ne fonctionne pas. Car les pays tels que la Russie et la Chine sont inclus,
en tant que partenaires…dans le système du capitalisme global
Pervert capitalism?
Why does Nadja make this point about Russia and western “collaborationism” and “tacit
approval” of the regime? In the exchange with Zizek, she’s refusing both the anti-hierarchical
and emancipatory character of capitalism, as well as the universalization these characteristics
to all countries and regions of the world. Taking the example of her own country, she claims
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that “the anti-hierarchical aspect of capitalism isn’t more than successful publicity” (Zizek,
Tolokonikovoy, 2013).
If on the consumer side, every wish seems possible – a point to which Zizek would agree–
on the producer side of capitalism “the logic of totalizing normalcy still functions on the
regions that assure the material basis of every creative, new and mobile things in late
capitalism”. Therefore, in these regions “workers are entitled to no eccentricity, only
unification and static rule”.
Contrary to the “fable” of “crazy dynamism”, the old and worn off mechanisms of
exploitation are present and still rule, if not only in Russia, where “old friends of…Putin get
the most important benefits of the Russian economy…(with whom) he studied…(or) was in
the KGB…Aren’t this frozen and rusty social relations? Isn’t this a feudal system?"
If capitalism is a perverted form of social ordering, Nadja’s answer is not to “reject it all
together” (Ibid.). According to her, is more productive to “play with it, and in playing it, to
pervert it, to turn it towards us, our beliefs and ideas, to recruit it”. Thus, although she criticizes
the Eurocentric and colonial approach of some thinkers, in an interview, she mentions that
while being disturbed by the “shortcomings of the consumer society”:
“we're not looking to destroy consumer society. Freedom is at the core of our ideology, and
our concept of freedom is a Western one. This is a fight for the right definition of freedom.”
(Alexander, 2013)
Libertarian and anti-authoritarian struggle
More than a rejection of capitalism altogether, Pussy Riot claim the “right definition of
freedom”, thus their support – here, of Nadja and Masha – for the “oil tycoon and Kremlin
critic…Khodorkovsky” (RFE, 2014) must be understood more in the sense of a fight against
authority than “capitalism”. This seems to be the true fight of Pussy Riot, if their punk attitude
is any indication (Mcmichael, 2013:103; Parker, 2012:2).
Thus, if the band itself is led by “anti-hierarchy” principles and “doesn't have any leaders
or faces”, the true test of their libertarian posture is their songs, such as “Death to Prison”
and “Raze the Pavement”. In the latter they appeal for “a Tahrir on the Red Square”, a claim
for both revolt and internationalism (Kolesova, 2013:5), a similar message to that of “Putin
has pissed himself”. As Kolesova (Ibid.) suggests, more than songs, these are “manifestos”,
and more than performances, they’re discourse in action. (Mcmichael, 2013:105).
One could argue that this revolt is the true aim of Pussy Riot, as showed by the song “Death
to Prison” where they profess anarchist principles: “the will to everyone’s power, without
damn leaders/ Direct action – the future of mankind!”. Their rejection of an oppressive
information state is also evident “The fucking end to informant bosses!” and, after the
imprisonment of their 3 comrades, the denunciation of the “prison institution” is more than
evident:
Death to prison, freedom to protest (…)
Make the cops serve freedom (…)
Take away the guns from all the cops
Taste the smell of freedom together with us.
This is a fight that both Nadja and Masha, even after their separation from the collective,
are pursuing, a struggle that other intellectuals, such as Foucault or Angela Davis have
2.2. What does the Balaclava stand for? Pussy Riot: just some stupid girls or punk with
substance?
99
pursued. Since they carry the belief that “the state of prisons reflects the state of society”,
they see prison as a:
“little totalitarian machine...Russia is really built on the model of the colony. Therefore it
is…important to change the colony now, so as to change Russia along with the colony.”
According to Nadja, the aim of prison is to make the prisoner become “an automate” and
to maintain them in a “state of stupidity” but also that this is the way “the system works…
(and) forms the slave-like mentality in people”. Thus, one could argue that there really isn’t a
distinction between their fight as “Pussy Riot” and their struggle in a NGO against prisons –
it’s all about unjustified and unruly authoritarianism (Oliphant, 2013:4).
History of dissent
During their trial, the three (ex-)Pussy Riot mentioned several times important and historical
figures of dissent, especially of the former Soviet Union, but also of philosophers, political,
religious and artistic activists. These allusions were made not only to state their case, but to
position themselves in “a genealogy of dissenters (who) cannot be silenced in a Siberian
gulag” (Carrick, 2014:278) and have the “support (of the) people and the flow of history”
(Kolesova, 2013:34).
Russian dissenters
There’s a long line of Russian or Soviet dissenters. Pussy Riot may remember them to
demonstrate that, unlike the human rights narratives, “the change will be done by fellow
citizens, who already succeeded in making several unfair regimes fall” ( Ibid.:35).
But they also do it to make the case that History is dangerous to any regime. Nadja, for
example, asked, during her trial: “who could have imagined that history, especially Stalin’s
still-recent Great Terror, could fail to teach us anything?” To strengthen their argument, they
made further references to “Stalin’s troikas or Khrushchev’s trial on the poet Josef Brodsky”
(Ibid.:34).
Furthermore, they have identified themselves with the “Oberiu poets”, exponents of
Russian absurdism, who liked “what can’t be understood” and claimed that “what can’t be
explained is our friend.” Nadja also presented Pussy Riot as “Vvedensky’s disciples”, who died
on a train for unknown causes, possibly “a bullet from a guard”, having “led art into the realm
of history”.
Other point of support, stated in an interview from Nadja (Masyuk, 2013:3), were the
“Russian religious philosophy…of the early XX century”, who back then demanded the
“modernization of the Orthodox Church”, rejected by the “Church people”. Why does she
make this analogy? She is, at the same time, explaining that she does not have any religious
hatred, but again, inscribing their struggle into History itself.
Philosophers and political dissenters
Deleuze said that philosophy is “engaged in a ‘guerilla campaign’ against public opinion
and other powers that be such as religions and laws” – isn’t this a good way to describe the
actions of Pussy Riot? Aren’t they though in action? Contrary to what some might think, the
3 convicted rioters have studied – philosophy, journalism and photography – and they are
keen to knowing their philosophers. Furthermore, their balaclavas are a powerful sign that
ideas do matter (Zizek, 2012).
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They have been influenced by feminist theorists, such as “be De Beauvoir with the Second
Sex, Dvorkin, Pankhurst with her brave suffragist actions, Firestone and her crazy reproduction
theories, Millett, Braidotti's nomadic thought, Judith Butler's Artful Parody” (Langston, 2012)
or “Judith Butler of ‘queer theory’” and “Alexandra Kollontai” (Penny, 2012), a Russian
feminist. Pussy Riot’s “mission” may be to open doors to other feminisms, and as Yakaterina
affirmed “Most Russian women are interested when you…talk to them about queer theory
and international women’s studies”.
In prison, Masha Alyekhina (2012) revealed that she also talked to other inmates “about
Orwell, Kafka and the governmental structure”, as well as “quotes from Foucault”. She also
“read the Bible and the works of Slovenian philosopher and Marxist Slavoj Žižek”. Yakaterina
had, in her home, a “book about Chinese concept artist Ai Weiwei, a book by Russian dissident
and winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature Joseph Brodsky, as well as ‘The Strategy of
Conflict’…by American economist Thomas Schelling”.
Their dissent is broader than the “regime” or Putin, although it might not have seemed so.
During the trial, they referred often to Marx’s famous maxim “Philosophers have hitherto only
interpreted the world in various ways; the point is to change it” (Tolokonikovoy, 2012b). As
Zizek (2012) stated “Pussy Riot are anti-cynicism embodied. Their message is: IDEAS MATTER.
They are conceptual artists in the noblest sense of the word: artists who embody an Idea.”
What the Balaclava did not hid…
Whether one agrees with Zizek or not, or one thinks he’s overoptimistic or even naïve about
Pussy Riot, it’s impossible to deny that the balaclava means something. They are the key to
unravel Pussy Riot’s thought and for Zizek ( Ibid.), they’re “masks of de-individualization, of
liberating anonymity” and an anonymous member of the group agrees “(we) choose to always
wear balaclavas—new members can join the bunch and it does not really matter who takes
part”(…). Other stated that “(our) goal is to move away from personalities and towards
symbols and pure protest” (Langston, 2012).
One can get stuck in their “stupid” costumes and attitudes, but that’s not what they’re
for: “Pussy Riot does not want to focus attention on girl’s appearances, but creates characters
who express ideas”. Or as Zizek claims “they’re not individuals, they’re an Idea”. Even though
Pussy Riot ended up becoming the “individuals” Nadja, Masha and Yakaterina, in this article
we argued that they are not – in any sense - stupid girls (the collective or those 3) but
furthermore that their political message was hid and distorted.
Therefore in the first part we studied both narratives about Pussy Riot in the west and in
Russia to see the different ways they depoliticized their actions and words. In the second part,
we referred to their political and artistic influences - the Riot Grrls and Voina. Finally, in the
third part, we devoted to the study of their political and philosophical thought in detail. Our
aim was to argue that, although fluid and shaky, it’s possible – from every angle of
interpretation – to learn from Pussy Riot.
References
“Pussy Riot: A punk prayer”, BBC storyville.
Akulova, Vera, 2013. “Pussy Riot: Gender and Class” in Post-Post-Soviet? Art, Politics and Society in
Russia at the Turn of the Decade. Dziewanska Marta et al (eds.) Museum of Modern Art in
Warsaw, pp. 279–287.
2.2. What does the Balaclava stand for? Pussy Riot: just some stupid girls or punk with
substance?
101
Alexander, Harriet, 2013. “Pussy Riot: 'We're not frightened -and we're not just stupid girls'”, in The
Telegraph.
Barthet, Elise, 2014. “Les Pussy Riot: ‘Les camps sont un îlot de totalitarisme dans un pays autoritaire’”,
in Le Monde.
Bernstein, Anya, 2013. “An Inadvertent Sacrifice: Body Politics and Sovereign Power in the Pussy Riot
Affair”,
Available
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at:
2.3. Aesthetics, anti-aesthetics and “bad taste”: a
brief journey through Portuguese punk record covers
(1977-1998)
Afonso Cortez Pinto 1
Abstract
Aesthetics, Anti-aesthetics and “Bad Taste” intends to be a brief journey through Portuguese punk,
by assessing the covers of records released between 1977 and 1998. Thus, within a critical and
historical approach, we will look at the courses taken during the first two decades, from the first
records released up until the widespread use of computers, emphasizing the awareness and
recognition of national and international ideas and, above all, their plastic fulfillment.
Keywords: Art & Design, Do-It-Yourself labels, Portuguese Punk, Record Sleeves.
Introduction
Winston Smith, the graphic designer of Dead Kennedys LP’s and other punk releases and
fanzines, in an interview, synthesized the importance of punk records cover art in a sentence,
and I quote it as the starting point for this paper:
Record covers can be a mirror to society... Something you can sink your teeth into... you could
bite into it... It is an opportunity for us to change the world.
Keeping this in mind, I bring forward an analysis of Portuguese punk record covers focusing
on both the relation between the ideas, ideals and the artworks; and how they relate to society
in general and to Portuguese society in particular. All this will be organized in a chronological
and historical way so that we can understand the changes that took place throughout the two
decades I’ll be focusing on and at the same time provide a brief journey through the
Portuguese punk scenes between 1978 and 1998.
“1978-1982”
Starting with a brief roundup of Portugal prior to the emergence of punk we shall go back to
1974 and settle the 25th of April revolution as the point that marks the opening of Portugal
to the world and the urgent need for forms, material forms, of freedom. The following years
Portugal saw a sort of invasion of all different sorts of cultural material among which music.
To cut a long story short and focusing on punk, it was in 1977, that a young Portuguese
emigrant living in London, named Rui Castro, who had a label and band named Warm, began
sending tapes and records that were being released at the time in the U.K. to António Sergio,
1
Institute of History of Art, Faculty of Social Sciences and Humanities, New University of Lisbon, Portugal
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
an already well-known Portuguese radio-host, who aired them regularly, thus introducing
punk to Portugal. Alongside with that radio-show, some major labels started to release new
bands (but no Portuguese bands), stores imported records, and those who had better
economic conditions began to travel abroad more freely, updating themselves with the latest
trends and bringing new sounds and ideas back to Portugal.
Influenced by all that was happening, with an urge to rebel and to create something they
could identify with, around 1978 new kids started to form bands, with more energy and ideas
than actual musical skills or professionalism. Among them, in Lisbon we had the Faíscas, Minas
& Armadilhas, Xutos & Pontapés, UHF from Almada, to name a few.
Paying attention to the new scene rising, Metro-Som, a small label from Lisbon specialized
in fado and folklore music that had also already released a couple of prog-rock bands decided
to contract an already existing rock band and release them as punk, in order to cash in on the
new trend. As so, what is now considered the first Portuguese punk 7” was released in 1978:
Aqui d’el Rock’s «Há que violentar o sistema». Out of the suburbs of Lisbon, Aqui d’el Rock,
were a former hard-prog band named Osiris, that by 1978 got a new line-up, changed their
name and started to deliver a more raw rocking act in the vein of The Stooges and M.C.5.
Despite some early conflicts with supposed “real” punks, since the ideas - punk ideas or April
ideals it’s up to us to decide – energy and lifestyle were alike, they were soon adopted by the
emerging scene and began sharing the same concert bills. Focusing on their first 7”, the sleeve,
signed by Aqui d’el Rock themselves, consisted on a painting of a blood-red lettering where
we can read the a-side music title, «Há que violentar o sistema» («We shall violate the
system»), and stains over a black background. Despite the poorly designed band logo,
probably inserted inside the red stain at a later stage by the record label themselves, and the
unnecessary “punk” round label, the sleeve managed to express the violence contained in the
th
title and to sort of visually translate their scream against the tedium felt in the post-25 of
April, post-PREC times. Unfortunately, the song is a never-ending epic, clocking 4:20, exactly
the opposite of the speed and duration that punk was craving for…
Figure 1 a/b – Aqui d’el Rock, Há Que Violentar o Sistema, 7”, Lisboa, Metro-Som, 1978
This record was followed by another single with two straight-forward, much more direct
songs. The sleeve, signed by Rui Santos consists on a photo that says little or nothing about
the band or the music except, maybe, a notion of speed that these two new songs, finally,
achieved. «Eu sei» («I know») counts 2 minutes; «Dedicada (a quem nos rouba)» («Dedicated
(to those who steal us») counts almost three minutes. No punk ideals or criticism were
expressed in this sleeve that looked no different from any other standard rock band. Maybe it
2.3. Aesthetics, anti-aesthetics and “bad taste”: a brief journey through Portuguese punk
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even looked worse with that new, colorful, neon-like, disco-sound inspired band logo that
might be misleading. A record label option which shows that they were paying more attention
to Saturday Night Fever than to punk.
Figure 2 a/b – Aqui d’el Rock, Dedicada (a quem nos rouba), 7”, Lisboa, Metro-Som, 1979
Aqui d’el Rock also ended up having a major role in the emerging scene, since it was
through them that a new band named UHF managed to get a record deal with the label
Metro-Som. Coming from the southern suburbs of Lisbon, across the river Tejo in the city of
Almada, UHF were also formed in 1978, and played their first show in that same year, in
Lisbon, along with Aqui d’el Rock, Minas & Armadilhas and Faíscas. A few months later their
first 7” cames out and sold-out fast, seeing a second pressing with a different sleeve shortly
after.
The first pressing sleeve was signed by Artur Guedes, and consisted on a drawing of city
buildings outlines with no definition nor details, just monochromatic solids. Although the city
is not identified, since the author insisted in reflecting it in a river, we can assume that that
the river is Tejo and therefore the portrayed suburb, Almada. Almada, and I quote the record
liner-notes was “a city poor in human contacts, a city made of concrete and indifference”,
which is completely the opposite to the traditional and picturesque city of Lisbon shown during
the fifty years of dictatorship. Despite the terrible artwork is, it was here that, for the first time,
an image of a suburb was portrayed. Music-wise, the record features a song named «A
Caçada» («The Hunt») that clocks 1:38, almost one third of the Aqui d’el Rock song, no solos
and with apocalyptic lyrics that makes it one of the first punk songs recorded in Portugal.
Figure 3 a/b – UHF, Jorge Morreu, 7”, Lisboa, Metro-Som, 1979
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For the second pressing Metro-Som conceived a new front sleeve. Using a photographic
negative of the band playing live they tried, with all the sombre and funeral feeling, to express
the mourning for the death of the character Jorge, whom the title track refers to. Poorly
conceived graphically speaking, this record, along with the second Aqui d’el Rock 7”, reveals
the total lack of cultural references and artistic skills by the designers at Metro-Som. And also
the fact that they had no idea about what punk was, or could be, about.
Figure 4 a/b – UHF, Jorge Morreu, 7”, Lisboa, Metro-Som, 1979
With these three records we close the first chapter of Portuguese punk. To briefly
summarize it, despite the fact that there were several bands at the time, and an audience to
listen to them, this early beginning of punk suffers from a lack of interest and investment by
record labels; and the visual or graphic side was not a priority nor a part of the bands’ agenda,
who failed to understand the possibilities of an artwork as a mean to express a message or to
express themselves or simply be creative.
If on the one hand, as seen, the emancipatory side, the freedom to create as one wished,
that the do-it-yourself ethics of punk could imply was not reflected in the record sleeves, on
the other hand, many people involved in this punk scene invested in multiple forms personal
expression through fanzines, posters or photography, or by organizing their own concerts and
creating their own independent labels. Once again, it would be António Sergio, the radio-host
and music critic, the person behind this wave of new-found creativity. Inspired by other do-ityourself labels in 1977 he came up with Pirate Dreams Records and, using one of the tapes
Rui Castro sent him from London, pressed an LP simply titled «Punk Rock 77» featuring the
Sex Pistols, The Jam, Screwdriver, among others. As far as the artwork goes, despite the quality
of the pressing, it would be the most interesting object released in this early years of punk in
Portugal. Signed by “Faustfried Rich'Ma” it would consist of a collage of band photos and
punk artifacts – from razorblades and safety pins to Johnny Rotten’s “Destroy” t-shirt along
with hand drawn lettering and bits of film -, all in negative to give the artwork a darker, no
future, tone and feel. Unfortunately, this was the first and only Pirate Dream Records release.
Because the bands were not licensed, the record was in fact a bootleg, and therefore copies
of this LP had to be confiscated and destroyed.
2.3. Aesthetics, anti-aesthetics and “bad taste”: a brief journey through Portuguese punk
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Figure 5 a/b – VA, Punk Rock ’77, LP, Lisboa, Pirate Dream Records, 1978(?)
After this very short adventure, António Sérgio began to work legally, creating the Da Nova
label, which among Portuguese pressings of international bands, released what would be a
reference record, marking the transition to the 1980’s: Corpo Diplomático’s «Música
Moderna». Formed by some ex-members of Faíscas – as previously mentioned, one of the first
Portuguese punk bands – they got together to form a new band with a concept, not explicitly
punk but still provoking, starting with the band name – Corpo Diplomático («Diplomatic
Corps») - or the record title – «Música Moderna» (“Modern music”) in already post-modern
years - ideas that would be worked lyrically and music wise but also on the artwork.
The front-sleeve consisted on a maoist image of Chinese individuals working out, and the
back-sleeve on a rhythmic collage by Fernando Cerdeira, with direct Dada influences, making
use of cut and paste techniques for the first time in a record sleeve. Over a new-wave blazer
suit we can see images of the band members stuck like pins and a rotating mechanical device
that divides the image in an almost constructivist way that at the same time gives a sense of
motion to the image.
They would also release a 7” at the time with an almost generic sleeve that includes a small
reproduction of the LP back-sleeve. They would disband shortly after and some members
would form Heróis do Mar, a project in which they would take aesthetic concerns much
further.
Figura 6 a/b – Corpo Diplomático, Música
Figura 7 a/b – Corpo Diplomático, A Festa, 7”,
Moderna, LP, Lisboa, Da Nova, 1979
Lisboa, Da Nova, 1979
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
1980: Portuguese rock boom
Corpo Diplomático was a sort of alien phenomenon in the Portuguese music scene and they
were only released because of António Sergio’s dedication and friendship. No one actually
heard or cared about them. But soon after record labels’ lack of interest in the late 70s new
bands would change. In 1980, due to a professional musicians’ strike - who demanded better
conditions and higher wages -, labels began paying attention to what was happening, thus
realizing that there were bands with just four people and no need for arrangements, desperate
to release and play, which would be a better and more cost-effective investment. An LP record
by Rui Veloso would soon sell thousands of copies and right after dozens of bands were
signed, generating what would be called “Portuguese rock boom”.
I won’t go in-depth about this phenomenon but it’s important to note that it was among
all this that we saw the birth of the independent label named Rotação, ran by, and once again,
António Sergio, now with the help of Cristina Ferrão. Punk was dead by then but a couple of
bands that this label released came from the early punk movement, or were highly influenced
by it, such as Xutos & Pontapes and Opinião Pública.
Focusing on Opinião Publica, a band from Lisbon, it was in 1981 that Rotação released
their first single, named «Puto da Rua» («Street Kid»), where the lyrics outline part of the
social context of Portugal in the early 80’s, a city and society in development, no longer
euphoric with the ideals of the revolution, trying to set the pace with what was happening
outside. It was Portugal, in the South of Europe, as they named their LP where, as they
described and I quote, “we already have rock, we have disco, coca-cola, flippers and the slums,
invasions and class war”, in a list that also includes color TV, lack of space in the subways,
nudism in the Algarve, thousands of miles of highways and tourists. Back to “Puto da Rua”,
street kids were also part of the new Portuguese society and synthesized the angst of a new
generation, dealing with gaps and the discovery of “alcohol and substances”, to quote the
lyric.
The sleeve translates the music and lyrics into a photo - no author credited - and for the
first time we can see a direct relation to a reality. Shot near Praça de Espanha / Sete Rios we
can see the Lisbon suburbs in the back, with their 70’s /early 80’s architecture. Unfortunately
the photo was ruined by the artwork which framed it with a band logo, an enormous yellow
label logo and song title. The back sleeve showed the band in a late-70s, New York punk-like
pose, in the vein of Television or similar to U.K. power-pop bands.
Figure 8 a/b – Opinião Pública, Puto da Rua, 7”, Lisboa, Rotação, 1981
2.3. Aesthetics, anti-aesthetics and “bad taste”: a brief journey through Portuguese punk
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109
Also released by Rotação were Xutos & Pontapés, nowadays a major rock act but at the
time still inspired by the punk rock scene they helped to develop. Their first 7”, «Sémen», is
released in 1981, three years after they started playing. By then they had already changed
their music style, more rock and less punk, as the Joe Jackson inspired sleeve can confirm.
Their second 7”, released in 1982, shows a generic live photo signed by António Pedro and
the back sleeve also a photo, this time by Jean Jacques.
Figure 9 a/b – Xutos & Pontapés, Sémen, 7”,
Figure 10 a/b – Xutos & Pontapés, Toca e Foge, 7”,
Lisboa, Rotação, 1981
Lisboa, Rotação, 1982
A quick note before closing the Rotação chapter: they would also release a 7” of a new
band by former Aqui d’el Rock members, now called Mau Mau, who by then were playing a
more new-wave sound.
Another band worth mentioning from the early 1980’s “Portuguese rock boom” are Street
Kids. Focusing solely on their «Tropa, Não!» («Army, No!»), this would be the first explicit
anti-militarist lyrics, a theme that would reemerge in the 1990’s punk/hard-core scene. And
the fact that the record has probably one of the best photos from those days where we can
see a clear notion of photographic pose, a concept translated to image and a work of the
mise-en-scène.
Figure 11 – Street Kids, Tropa Não, 7”, Lisboa, Vadeca, 1982
To this small discography, which is already diverging a bit from punk, we could also add
bands like Tilt, Grupo Parlamentar and Speeds for the energy or rawness, although it seems
this was more due to recording and other technical incapacities than ideals or ethic. None of
them managed to conceive a single slightly interesting artwork. The Stratus 7” might be the
only cover worth a closer look, «Um Chuto no Quarto» («A fix in the room»), that explicitly
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
features drugs on the front sleeve. Curiously, although drugs were a major issue in the early
80’s, and during all that decade, especially when heroin became more easily accessible, this
theme would rarely feature on songs or artwork.
Figure 12 – Tilt, Só Quero o
Figure 13 – Tilt, Bolinhas de
Figure 14 – Tilt, Play-Boy, 7”,
Rock, 7”, Porto, Roda, 1981
Sabão, 7”, Porto, Roda, 1981
Lisboa, Materfonis, 1982
Figure 15 – Speeds, Today’s Not
Figure 16 – Speeds, She’s Gonna
Figure 17 – Stratus, Um Chuto
a Good Day, 7”, Lisboa, RPE,
Leave Me, 7”, Lisboa, Gira,
No Quarto, 7”, Lisboa, Vimúsica,
1980)
1980)
1982
Much more interesting, graphic-wise, would be the fanzines and demos, which visually
translated the chaos, violence and confusion of the times during which they were published
as we can see in the front sleeve of Estado de Sítio (1978) fanzine, done by a member of the
punk band Minas & Armadilhas in the late 70’s, Desordem Total (1978-1979) or Leitmotiv
(1980).
2.3. Aesthetics, anti-aesthetics and “bad taste”: a brief journey through Portuguese punk
record covers (1977-1998)
Figure 18 a – Borges, Paulo, Estado de Sítio, nº 1,
111
Figure 18 b – Leitmotiv, nº 1, Lisboa, 1980
Lisboa, 197?
Back to records and bands, in 1982, Xutos & Pontapés released an LP compiling their
material from 1978 until then. Closing a period in their career, 1982 can also be read as a
closing year of rock in Portugal. Heróis do Mar were sort of taking all the attention as well as
other small rock bands that were getting bigger, more professional and backed by majors.
From punk to rock
In the meanwhile, among the new-wave and new-romantics, a new punk scene was forming,
highly influenced by English street punk and oi but also by the likes of The Clash. This
generation would have more politically concerned and “in-your-face” lyrics, but also, and this
is something rare in Portuguese punk, a sense of humor.
With a venue in Lisbon to back and support them, Rock Rendez Vous, it was there that
many of the forthcoming punk bands - Crise Total, Kú de Judas, Condenação Pacífica, Mata-
Ratos, Jardim do Enforcado, to name a few - started or got bigger opportunities, not only by
being allowed to play live and in decent conditions, but also due to the record label that they
also ran which would release LP’s compiling live songs from the bands.
Figure 19 a/b – V/A, Ao Vivo no Rock Rendez Vous em 1984, LP, Lisboa, Dansa do Som, 1984
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Focusing on the bands from that generation that would later release records, we shall start
with Peste & Sida. Formed in Lisbon in 1986 they would release their first LP in the following
th
year, after gaining some visibility with the 4 edition of the Rock Rendez Vous contest where
they would reach the finals. Highly influenced by The Clash music wise, their first record would
pay tribute to them in the artwork - and therefore to Elvis too - although the chosen image
ended up being four street dogs, most likely representing the four band members.
Figure 20 a/b – Peste & Sida, Veneno, LP, Lisboa, Transmédia, 1987
Their second LP, released in 1989, immediately became a landmark in the Portuguese scene
for being one of the few coherent punk albums, featured one of the best artworks to date, a
group of nuns cheering – the use of religious imagery was still provocative by then – with the
ironic saying «Portem-se bem» («Behave yourselves»). Signed by Manuel San Payo, brother of
João San Payo, Peste & Sida guitarist, this simple, direct and humorous image would be
complemented by the inside booklet, very much inspired by the Dead Kennedys, with collages
and drawings.
Figura 21 a/b – Peste & Sida, Portem-se Bem, LP, Lisboa, Polydor, 1989
A later Peste & Sida release, «Orgia Paroquial» («Parochial Orgy»), a cover of an 1980’s
Lisbon punk band named Vómito, would return to the same imagery but in the meanwhile
that band was already moving from punk to rock, a shift that would be reflected in the evergrowing uninteresting artwork.
2.3. Aesthetics, anti-aesthetics and “bad taste”: a brief journey through Portuguese punk
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Figure 22 – Peste & Sida, Orgia Paroquial, 12”,
Figure 23 a/b – Peste & Sida, É que é!, LP, Lisboa,
Lisboa, Ariola, 1992
Polydor, 1990
Figure 24 – Peste & Sida, Eles andam aí, LP, Lisboa,
Figure 25 – Peste & Sida, Tu queres ecus, 12”,
Ariola, 1992)
Lisboa, Ariola, 1992
Like Peste & Sida, the next band we will focus on, Mata-Ratos, was crucial for the
Portuguese punk scene and also got more visibility thanks to the Rock Rendez Vous contests.
Formed in Lisbon 1982, after several line-up changes and a few demos, Mata-Ratos managed
to build a name in the scene and in 1990 they released their first LP. Out on a major label,
produced by Paulo Pedro Gonçalves - former member of Faíscas -, this LP would have one of
the best cover arts among Portuguese releases. Managing to capture the energy of Mata-
Ratos live concerts – the bomb represents it all -, the author, Nuno Saraiva, in one of his first
works in a career dedicated to illustration and comics, didn’t forget to reproduce the audience,
which at the time, at least in Lisbon, comprised of a mixture of punks, rockabillys and
skinheads, carefully drawn with attention to detail from clothes to hairstyles.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Figure 26 a/b – Mata-Ratos, Rock Radioactivo, LP,
Figure 27 a/b – Mata-Ratos, Expulsos do Bar, 7”,
EMI / Valentim de Carvalho, Lisboa, 1990
Drunk Records, Lisboa, 1994
The next record would be «Expulsos do Bar» («Expelled from the Bar»), released four years
later, in 1994, distributed on a new independent label, Fast & Loud, and the sleeve illustrates
the content: songs about drinking, partying, farting and puking. The next record follows the
same approach musically and artwork wise it is practically irrelevant to our argument, as no
social comment, aesthestic concerns or ideologies are expressed, except maybe for the backsleeve of the «Bebedeiras e Miúdas» («Drinking and Girls») 7”, that amisdt the confusion
features a drawing of two skinheads, Portuguese and Brazilian, easily identified by the dress
codes, cheering and drinking.
Figure 28 a/b – Mata-Ratos, Estás Aqui…Estás Ali…,
Figure 29 a/b – Mata-Ratos / Garotos Podres,
CD, Lisboa, Drunk Record, 1995
Bebedeiras e Miúdas, 7”, Alemanha, Walzwerk
Records, 1995
In parallel to all this, a new independent label is created, Ama Romanta. Highly influenced
by do-it-yourself and punk ethics – some of the people involved were part of the early punk
scene – they soon would put out all sorts of records, from punk to jazz to electronics.
Concerning this label we will only look at two of their releases. Firstly, a compilation named
«Divergências», released in 1986, where, among others, we can hear the punk band Grito
Final. While the front-sleeve expresses nothing, the back sleeve, hand-drawn by one of the
first female punks in Portugal, Ondina Pires, doesn’t follow regular graphic structures making
a free use of the space, working the lettering and adding small details.
2.3. Aesthetics, anti-aesthetics and “bad taste”: a brief journey through Portuguese punk
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Figure 30 a/b – V/A, Divergências, LP, Lisboa, Ama Romanta, 1986
Secondly, the punk rockabilly band from Porto, Cães Vadios, whose 7” came out in 1987,
being one of the few releases from a band outside Lisbon. The poorly drawn almost childish
sleeve, created by the band themselves, consists of a joke inspired by Hanna-Barbera’s Top
Cat where the cat is replaced by a psychobilly dog, as we can see by the haircut, where the
filth and violent scenery can help build an atmosphere for the music. The back-sleeve has the
classic, almost uninteresting, collage with photos of friends, where the clothes and hairstyle
might be the only thing interesting to look at after all these years.
Figure 31 a/b – Cães Vadios, Cães Vadios, Lisboa, Ama Romanta, 1987
Punk was generally associated with anarchist, or extreme left-wing politics, but in all the
freedom they reclaimed there was also space for other political wings which soon would use
the same music style to express themselves, with similar energy and rage. Focusing on the not
very prolific right wing skinhead scene there are two bands we must look at: Guarda de Ferro,
for being the first skinhead band, and Lusitanoi.
Even if in the beginning Guarda de Ferro did not assume an extreme political agenda, on
their first 7” released in 1991, a typical skinhead imagery is used to portray strength, and to
impose fear: shaved head, army boots, bomber jackets, baseball bats. This photograph is
framed by an uninteresting graphic design. For the back sleeve a band symbol was created,
like a montage of several elements that concerned the band – celtic cross, skulls, medieval
axes, and also a few Japanese characters left unexplained. On their first LP released in 1992,
they display a clear nationalist stance with ideals expressed in songs such as «Portugal aos
Portugueses» («Portugal to the Portuguese») and on the sleeve’s chosen image – a
reproduction of a painting of the historical Aljubarrota Battle.
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Figure 32 a/b – Guarda de Ferro, Short Hair, Heavy
Figure 33 a/b – Guarda de Ferro, s/t, LP, France, Boot
Boots, Big Beat!, 7”, U.S.A., Steve Priest Fan Club,
Boyz Records, 1992
1991
As for LusitanOi!, the front sleeve of their «Olho por Olho, Dente por Dente» («Eye for an
eye, tooth for a tooth») shows a drawing of a typical skinhead, again identified by his dress
code, fighting against a riot police officer, which can parallel to some anarchist graphics that
will be seen in the future. The lyrics inside explain the band’s position against the corrupt
governments at the time, demanding another regime.
Figure 34 a/b – LusitanOi!, Olho por Olho, Dente por Dente, 7”, Italy, Tuono Records, 1994)
1990’s a brand new age
In the transition from the 1980’s to the 1990’s a new band was formed with Ku de Judas
members, Censurados. Releasing their first songs on an independent compilation named
«Feedback 001» they would soon get signed by a new label, El Tatu Records ran by Tim of
Xutos & Pontapés.
Figure 35 a/b – V/A, Feedback 001, LP, Lisboa, Feedback, 1990)
2.3. Aesthetics, anti-aesthetics and “bad taste”: a brief journey through Portuguese punk
record covers (1977-1998)
117
In 1990 they released their first LP, a straight forward punk rock album, more melodic than
Kú de Judas, still with political lyrics but on a more personal perspective. The front sleeve for
this LP would be a black and white photo of the band members, with special emphasis on the
leather jacket, capturing a small movement that translates the band’s live energy, for which
they were already known. The army type lettering would add punk credibility.
Moving fast from an underground to a more mainstream circuit, thanks to Xutos &
Pontapés, on the second LP, «Confusão», sleeve, which came out in 1991, Censurados
revealed a more serious approach to music. The front featured a mixed media artwork and
the back-sleeve featured four live photos that represent a maturity that the sound confirmed
but also a departure from their punk rock roots. Their third and last album, «Sopa» was
released by a major label in 1993 but by this stage, Censurados were nothing but another
rock band, that fortunately split right afterwards.
Figure 36 a/b – Censurados, S/T, LP, Lisboa, El Tatu
Figure 37 a/b – Censurados, Confusão, LP, Lisboa, El
Records, 1990
Tatu Records, 1991
Figure 38 a/b – Censurados, Sopa, LP, Lisboa, EMI, 1993
As previously mentioned, in the late 1980’s an underground punk/hardcore scene was
emerging. Much more informed, with a more political and critical conscience, they would
reclaim a set of ideals imported mostly from the United States hardcore scenes, crossed with
English anarcho-punk. For the first time, a music scene was connecting to organizations or
collectives nationwide – from anarchist centers to animal rights -, or even worldwide, trying
to build a more solid scene, not exclusively musical. It was a new generation, most of them
born after the April 1974, this time coming not only from Lisbon suburbs but also from nearby
urban centers Sintra and Cascais (and their respective suburbs), who by building a strong
network, soon extended all over Portugal. Among bands, concerts, demonstrations, squatting,
opening of social centers, debates, etc there were also do-it-yourself record labels to back the
bands and spread the ideals.
The first record releases came out on a previous trash/death-metal small label named Slime
Records that shifted to punk hardcore and released a 7”, in 1992, compiling five of the new
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
bands. Corrosão Caótica, Inkisiçao, Alcoore, Subcaos and X-Acto. All of them had previously
released demos and were for the first time on vinyl and as a sample of something new that
was emerging. The inner sheet filled with lyrics, contacts and manifesto would reinforce this
new ethos. The compilation name was Change and on the front sleeve, a poster stated
«Velhos Tempos, Novos Tempos» («Old Times, New Times») predicting that something was
about to happen. The photo itself would be the first of many appropriated from books with
no identified author, trying to either “show reality” or question it, illustrating the music,
synthesizing the band’s agenda.
Figure 39 a/b – V/A, Change, 7”, Lisboa, Slime Records, 1992
Analyzing one by one the bands featured in the compilation – it would be these bands
who would release records in the following years – and starting with Corrosão Caótica, from
Lisbon, they were formed in 1988, released their first demo in 1990 and in 1992 Slime Records
releases their 7” «União e Okupação» («Unity and Squatting»). The front sleeve, a black and
white drawing by Johnny, inspired by Spanish punk comics, consisted on a visual manifesto of
all the ideals that the band sung about. From the “Resiste” t-shirt to the writing on the wall
that includes the “anarchy” and “squat” symbols, the stance against police and against hard
drugs, and not forgetting punk iconography - leather jackets, spiked hair and studded belts
and army boots – the drawing had all the elements of the new punk hardcore scene. The
back-sleeve was inspired by anarcho-punk, with a Crass-like photomontage about the dangers
of nuclear power, something completely displaced if we look at Portuguese society in those
days (it’s worth mentioning that there was never the threat of a nuclear plant being built in
our country).
Figure 40 a/b – Corrosão Caótica, União & Okupação, 7”, Lisboa, Slime Records, 1992
2.3. Aesthetics, anti-aesthetics and “bad taste”: a brief journey through Portuguese punk
record covers (1977-1998)
119
Settling a name within the scene due to constant live shows, Corrosão Caótica would invest
in their sound, crossing punk and trash metal, and also by becoming more professional as the
back sleeve of their first album, a photo of a recording studio, suggests. But they would soon
split.
Figure 41 a/b – Corrosão Caótica, S/T, CD, Lisboa, Projecto Global, 1994
Also in 1992, Slime Records releases a split CD with two other bands featured in the
Change compilation: Inkisição and X-Acto. Here would be included both new and previously
demo-released songs. The sleeve was, again, a stolen photo. Author not credited, as most of
the artwork of the punk hardcore scene that believed that everything could be disposed of, it
was in fact a photo taken during the Pacific Campaign, 1944, by Eugene Smith, here highly
contrasted or simply badly reproduced. On a quick side-note, it has to be said that it’s ironic
that one of the first straight-edge releases includes a photo taken by a person who would
become an alcoholic and drug addict.
Back to the artwork, the back-sleeve was an uninspired piece with a track-list, two band
logos, a stolen illustration. This austerity can either be seen as stance against luxurious
packaging and commercial releases or just a lack of graphic ideas from bands and labels, more
concerned with the written message. Something that would affect the majority of the releases,
the bands didn’t seem to know how to deal with new possibilities, and to the fact that there
were no restrains to their freedom to create. Still, if we look at the song titles we can see this
back-sleeve as the tablets of the commandments of the hardcore scene: «Meat is Murder»,
«Bull fight is torture», «Fascist Pigs», «Clean Planet», «War on Drugs».
Figure 42 a/b – Inkisição / X-Acto, CD, Lisboa, Slime Records, 1993
After this release, Inkisição would release a split with a Japanese band and would split
shortly after as two band members would die in a car accident. Others would make a new
band years later named Intervenzione.
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Figure 43 – Inkisição / Battle of Disarm, Ordem,
Figure 44 – Intervenzione / Yuppiecrusher, 7”,
Racionalidade – Não, 7”, Lisboa, Ataque Sonoro,
Sweden, Dod & Uppsvald, 1998)
1995
One year after the first bunch of Slime Records releases, a new label from Cacém starts to
release some of these bands, and in 1993 we can see a new Alcoore record out. Also from
Linha de Sintra, Cacém, Mem Martins, Alcoore formed in the late 80’s and in 1993 released
their first and only 7”, «Terra das Flores» («Land of Flowers») with a poetic, metaphorical or
simply uninteresting artwork which reveals nothing about their sound or ideas. Luckily the
booklet would clarify their positions and concerns, namely regarding drugs, in a much more
mature way than society in general.
Figure 45 a/b – Alcoore, Terra das Flores, 7”, Cacém, Rage Productions, 1993
Also out on Rage was Subcaos second 7”, released in 1994, and there we could see, on
the sleeve and music, all the anarcho-punk / crust clichés. No originality found in the music,
lyrics or graphic work, Subcaos soon became known for their live energy and punk lifestyle.
The sleeve consisted on a collage – which surprisingly was not a very common practice among
the vinyl releases, only on demos – and an original drawing of a punk, with all the identifying
symbols, dreadlocks, bullet belt, peace punk patches, setting the model of the crust-punks to
come. This was pasted over newspaper photographs of chaos and disorder.
A brief round through their sleeves, the first 7”, a split with Hiatus was a stolen photo of
riot police and band logo, a not so creative do-it-yourself artwork. Other releases were a CD
that showed another poor intervention on a photograph, still it made clear about the contents,
and the last 7” would be a ninja, which shows their then obsession with Japanese punk.
2.3. Aesthetics, anti-aesthetics and “bad taste”: a brief journey through Portuguese punk
record covers (1977-1998)
121
Figure 46 – Subcaos/ Hiatus, Police Riot, Lisboa,
Figure 47 a/b – Subcaos, Revolution, 7”, Cacém, Rage
Slime Records, 1993
Productions, 1994
Figure 48 – Subcaos / Genital Deformities, Who
Figure 49 – Subcaos / Battle of Disarm, Disarm or Die!,
Did This to My Sister?, CD, Lisboa, Ataque
7”, Japão, D.I.Y. Records, 1995
Sonoro, 1994
No Oppression, from Cascais, were formed in the early 90’s and released their first 7” in
1995. With a highly engaged political agenda, the front cover would express this stance
through a photomontage made with plundered photographs. This would be one of the first
uses of computer in the punk scene and amidst the confusion we can see a priest and the face
of an Indian. Indigenous rights were part of the anarcho-punk international agenda by then,
and would be a concern rapidly adopted by the Portuguese scene, which made some sense
th
especially on the eve of the 500 anniversary of the Portuguese Discoveries during the 1990s.
The back sleeve would be an art work inspired by Monty Python, with a slight Dada or
Surrealist feeling, which could be reclaimed as influence if any of them knew what Dada was.
Figure 50 a/b – No Oppression, Change! What
Figure 51 a/b – Simbiose, S/T, 7”, Cascais, Creative
Destroys You!, 7”, Portugal / Espanha / Austria,
Conscience, 1995
Creative Conscience / Our Struggle / VDP-CDE,
1995
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
The first Simbiose 7”s was out at the same time on the same label, Creative Conscience,
with an uninspired artwork that showed a screaming face in the front sleeve and in the back
sleeve, like many others crust bands, a third-world child reminiscent of Nausea’s «Extinction»
LP. Simbiose would become the most prolific punk band in Portugal still playing nowadays but
with a completely different line-up.
Back to X-acto, after their split CD with Inkisição, in 1994 Rage Productions released their
first record, a five songs 7” where they would continue to settle down what would be the
rules of the hardcore scene. This time there was an anti-nazi song, anti-fur song, a song about
unity, among others, all inside an artwork that expressed their strong stance on animal rights
and veganism, with two images of a slaughterhouse in the front sleeve and a free cow on the
back sleeve.
Figure 52 a/b – X-Acto, S/T, 7”, Cacém, Rage Productions, 1994
Achieving a cult status and a horde of followers, in the following year Ataque Sonoro, exSlime Records, released the much expected full album, named «Harmony as One», where an
aerial photograph of the sea and earth tried to illustrate and confer deeper meaning to the
album title. The back-sleeve showed a new attention to design. In the following two records,
both from 1997, a split CD with the American band Ignite and a 7”, the artwork tries to
capture the band’s live “positive” energy and since some band members became graphic
designers for the first time a punk band achieved a professional look. As so, this last X-Acto
record can be seen as the definitive end of an era of cut-and-paste and hand-drawings made
by friends, and the shift to computer design and investment in cover art, not necessarily
creating better artworks, the beginning of a new hardcore scene.
Figure 53 a/b – X-Acto, Harmony as One, CD,
Figure 54 a/b – X-Acto / Ignite, CD, Lisboa, Ataque
Lisboa, Ataque Sonoro, 1995
Sonoro, 1997
2.3. Aesthetics, anti-aesthetics and “bad taste”: a brief journey through Portuguese punk
record covers (1977-1998)
123
Figure 55 a/b – X-Acto, The New Child, 7”, Lisboa, Ataque Sonoro / Bee Keeper / Milk-Shake, 1997
To list some conclusions from this brief journey through two decades of Portuguese punk:
-Cover art was rarely a concern in bands’ agendas. Music and lyrics were always the
priorities. As so, there’s neither an aesthetic nor an anti-aesthetic developed. This is something
that is easily explained as there were no artists or illustrators in the scene, nor collaborations
with artists abroad. And usually the friend invited to conceive an artwork would never be
invited again.
-The freedom punk bands sung about in their songs was rarely reflected in the artwork.
Portuguese punk record sleeves were usually a montage of clichés, an abuse of visual codes
and an imitation of what was seen in imported records.
-Very rarely do bands deal with their own daily realities, concerns, angers or frustrations,
preferring to focus on more generic realities such as war, famine in third world countries, state
violence. The artwork is never thought-provocative, and their perception of do-it-yourself
seemed to be about stealing images.
Acknowledgements: André Nascimento; Luís Futre; Luís Piedade; Marcos Farrajota; Paula Guerra;
Tânia Moreira. Some records sleeves were downloaded from minasarmadilhas.blogspot.pt;
rocknoliceu.blogspot.pt; underrrreview.blogspot.pt. Thank you.
References
Volumes:
Bérniere, V. (2013). Punk Press: Rebel rock in the underground press: 1960-1980. New York: Abrams.
Bestley, R. & Ogg, A. (2012). The Art of Punk. London: Omnibus Press.
Castelo-Branco, S. E. (2010). Enciclopédia da Música em Portugal no Século XX. Lisboa: Círculo de
Leitores.
Duarte, A. A. (1984). A Arte Eléctrica de Ser Português: 25 Anos de Rock ‘n’ Portugal . Lisboa: Livraria
Bertrand.
Futre, L. & Raposo, E. (eds.). Portugal Eléctrico: Contracultura Rock 1955-1982. Lisboa: Groovie Records.
Vieira, J. (2007). Portugal Século XX: Crónica em Imagens: Anos 80. Lisboa: Bertrand Editora.
Magazines and newspapers:
Blitz
Música & Som
Musicalíssimo
Rock em Portugal
2.4. I’ve got straight edge: discussions on aging and
gender in an underground musical scene
Jhessica Reia 1
Abstract
The straight edge movement first appeared in the United States around the 1980s, having a
remarkable influence from the punk scene. They opposed the “live fast, die young” approach of
the punks, but incorporated its sonority and the strong DIY culture. More than three decades after
the band Minor Threat sang “I’ve got straight edge”, we still have an important and dynamic
underground hardcore-punk scene in Sao Paulo (Brazil) tied to the straight edge values: veganism,
sobriety, political activism and the DIY as a way of life that goes beyond the musical production.
This article is part of a research carried out over the last three years that aims to discuss the
importance of the straight edge identity to this urban youth culture that spins around the Verdurada
festivals. Here, the approach is focused on the debate of two problematic questions that cannot be
seen separately: the doubts surrounding aging in this scene – since most people that started it on
1996 are still actively producing music and festivals – and how gender issues still permeate this
context, even after many years of dialogues with feminism and queer activism. Even with the
emergence of new technologies, such as the Internet, the scene keeps its dynamics and maintains
much of the energy and processes of the previous days.
Keywords: Straight edge; DIY; Verdurada; Gender; Aging.
Straight edge (sXe) is usually characterized as a movement that started on the 1980’s at
the USA, specifically at Washington, D.C. It has Minor Threat, former Ian MacKaye’s band, as
its prominent trigger when they sang, back there in 1981: ‘I'm a person just like you / But I've
got better things to do / Than sit around and fuck my head / Hang out with the living dead /
Snort white shit up my nose / Pass out at the shows / I don't even think about speed / That's
something I just don't need/ I’VE GOT STRAIGHT EDGE’. The straight edge arise in some way
as a contraposition to the punk scene of the period, searching for a life free of drugs, alcohol
and tobacco; another aspects on the delimitation of the straight edge identity can change
from scene to scene, depending on the country, such as veganism/vegetarianism, DIY culture,
political activism and a sort of anti-promiscuity attitude, for example. This movement has been
known for decades by its militancy for a sober, drug free life, adopting the X as a symbol of
representation and mutual recognition on hardcore punk scenes. The X was initially used to
mark the back of youngsters hands, in order to allow then to enter the hardcore punk shows
in places that commercialized alcoholic beverages in D.C, but it ended up being incorporated
by the straight edgers to represent the choice for sobriety (Haenfler, 2009; Wood, 2006).
Very quickly, the straight edge was spreading its principles of sobriety on other corners of
the world, arriving in Brazil at the same decade – the first reference to straight edge in the
1
Getúlio Vargas Fondation, Brazil.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
country is from 1982, on the cover of the Grito Suburbano album. Sao Paulo, the largest city
in Brazil and home of a diverse range of scenes and subcultures (staging punk versus
headbangers fights, eventually) housed a very active straight edge subculture that is still
organizing gigs, festivals and other events until these days. They are organized around a
collective named Verdurada, created in 1996, that promotes an homonymous festival
featuring sobriety, hardcore punk bands, veganism and political activism, all done on the DIY
principles – which is claimed to be the largest DIY event in the country. The DIY ethics mark
out several aspects of the collective, the festivals, as much as the other agents involved in the
broader hardcore punk scene, such as labels, bands, and vegan food providers. On a regular
Verdurada day of shows, you can find a wide range of DIY culture, from a small stand selling
feminist material with DIY herbal abortion methods to merchandise, recordings and people
that sell vegan food made by themselves between one show and another (you can find
burgers, cupcakes and the traditional soy drink, Mupy). Often, before the last show, there is
an informal talk on topics seem as important to the collective: women rights, direct action,
real estate speculation and squatting groups, current environment issues, etc.
Although all this political involvement, gender issues still appear like a constant tension
among straight edgers: few girls are part of the bands that play in the scene while the mosh
pit is still dominated by boys dancing furiously. There are few women at the collective,
especially among those who have been part of it for a long time. Several debates around
exclusion and prejudice arise, both on the straight edge subculture and on the broader
2
hardcore punk scene. This article is part of a research carried out over the last three years that
aims to discuss the importance of the straight edge identity to this urban youth culture that
spins around the Verdurada festivals. Here, the approach is focused on the debate of two
problematic questions that cannot be seen separately: how gender issues still permeate this
context, even after many years of dialogues with feminism and queer activism; and the doubts
surrounding aging in this scene – since most people that started it on 1996 are still actively
producing music and festivals, and few of them are women.
Being part of a three decades movement
Aging in straight edge is a sensitive issue, since there is a belief/joke that you can only be ‘true
till twenty one’. After this age you grow up, become an adult, eventually start a new family
and it would be difficult to keep up with the sobriety-activist-hardcore identity. Straight edge
has now more than three decades since it appeared and people who were part of it at the
beginning usually change their perspective on identity issues related to ‘being a straight edger’.
In Sao Paulo, there are people involved with the Verdurada since 1996. The motivations to
continue defining themselves as straight edgers are multiple, but they converge at some
points, such as: they believe in the value and importance of this event both to the underground
hardcore scene and the youngsters living this experience, they want to be with their long time
friends, and they are living for something that make a difference:
2
The research was carried out between 2011 and 2013 and it is a result of my Master’s thesis. The
methodological approach was both theoretical (based on previous works in the field, as much as
discussion of Cultural Studies on subcultures, scenes and identity) and empirical (two years of fieldwork
with the object, consisting in participant observation, interviews, survey and nethnography).
2.4. I’ve got straight edge: discussions on aging and gender in an underground musical
scene
127
This is an event as no other I’ve known, since it goes beyond the music. I think this is the most
important thing about it. It is not a show, it is an event that addresses interesting topics that
we think should be discussed anyway. I still believe on the importance of Verdurada, as much
as on the importance of the topics that we bring here to be debated – and we are a very
3
united and cool group after all. (D.M., 31 years old, woman).
I really like Verdurada, because it is not only a rock show for the kids; I think it has something
more, it has a clear political goal: move the do it yourself forward. We always try to show that
DIY is possible. I like being part of it (F.M., 37 years old, man).
Here we can spread the vegetarian lifestyle and do something that goes beyond the
established rules. Hardcore gives you two lifes: the everyday life (with its standard routine) and
the other. At Verdurada we can have this other life just as we are, more honestly. Also, there
is the music – something that I love. There is this desire to get things done, to spread the DIY,
to show that we can do lots of things without tying ourselves to the government neither to
the market – we can make our scene grow, musically and artistically. (X., 22 years old, man).
I always imagined how it would be like to age inside a scene. This is a motivation for me. I
want to be linked to this when I become 40 or 50, I don’t know. I want to be still involved in
some way. If I eventually get tired, that is ok, but for now it is important, I’m experiencing a
unique sensation: I’m getting old while I’m involved with all this. Seeing people taking their
sons to a hardcore show… I feel good about that. (A.M., 34 years old, man).
Few women have been participating at the Verdurada collective for a long time, and their
motivations to continue in the group are very similar to those pointed out by men: the feeling
of belonging to a scene, to a subculture, to a group of close friends working together to build
a better world, etc. Also, this question is closely linked to the identity boundaries of being a
straight edge, since after the 30’s, usually, you no longer belong to the youngest groups of
the scene and you have a family, a job and carry out a ‘regular life’ to pay the bills. The idea
of two lifes comes up eventually, together with the idea that these two sides of their life
complement each other and let them move on without ‘losing the edge’.
Straightedge and the gender issue
One of the few female authors writing about straight edge in the U.S., Beth Lahickey (2007),
compiled interviews and interesting information about the straight edge subculture in New
York. In her words:
Like any musical movement, straight edge has its pros and cons. I have never seen any live
bands that can match the level of physical energy put forth at straight edge shows. The lyrical
suggestions of a positive outlook, unity, and basic clean living are admirable, though not
necessarily heeded. […] I definitely tout the motivation behind the straight edge, but at the
same breathe denounce its male-based egocentricity. At any rate, I chose to stand at its
sidelines and support its players. And more importantly, I found the subject worthy of
documentation” (Lahickey, 2007, p. xvii).
The author points out a common discussion about the straight edge subculture: its male
dominance and sexist approach. Robert Wood (2006), who studied this subculture in the
United States, affirms that the people who identify themselves with this subculture can be
characterized as predominantly male, Caucasian, young (under 30 years old), from urban
centers and belonging mostly to the middle class. Ross Haenfler (2009) states that straight
3
The interviews were conducted in Sao Paulo, between 2011 and 2013. The ages shown represent how
old people were at the time I interviewed them. Here I opted to use the initials, instead of the names, in
order to keep them anonymous.
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edgers, today, face dilemmas on the gender subject, since some boys are trying to re-think
their role, as much as their position inside the subculture, in order to redefine their meaning
for masculinity. According to this author, we can found some contradictory masculinities
within the subculture, since the ‘progressive, idealistic, anti-sexist, pacifist, animal rights
activists coexist with hypermasculine, domineering ‘though guys’ who resemble the
stereotypical ‘jocks’ they claim to resist’ (Haenfler, 2009, p.103). Sometimes, young cultures
opposing the hegemonic gender roles end up reinforcing the values they are trying to deny:
Like punks, sXers seek to create an alternative to sexism and patriarchy and question what it
means to be a man, but the pull of dominant society is difficult to overcome. Straight edge
presents two general faces of masculinity, one proposing a more progressive vision of
manhood, the other reflecting ‘hegemonic masculinity’. Multiple expressions of masculinity
emerge within any single men’s movement and faces problems of reconstructing manhood in
a masculine context (Haenfler, 2009, p.104)
To this author, the straight edge movement usually offers two perspectives on gender
issues: in an extreme, the pro-feminist approach and at the other, a reproduction of the
hegemonic masculinity. Men roles among straight edgers vary widely, producing many
fragmented masculinities (Haenfler, 2009). The progressive face of straight edge, as a
subculture, tries to resist oppressions, challenging sexism and homophobia, for example; also,
it intends to ‘break patterns of abusive masculinity’ and empower women inside its dynamics.
Some women are very critical to the men-only bands that raise gender issues on stage, but
part of them think that it is valid, indeed, that men take the initiative to transform both the
scene and the world in a better place for everyone (Haenfler, 2009, p.107-121).
There are several engaged girls, such as Jenni Ramme, interviewed by Gabriel Kuhn (2010).
She funded the Emancypunx Records in 1997-98, a project developed in the anarcha-feminist
hardcore punk scene (from a group called Women Against Discrimination and Violence), at
Warsaw (Poland), which ended up becoming a very important reference of feminist and queer
politics with a straight edge approach. According to her, Emancypunx arose from the need to
distribute feminist materials (pamphlets, books, zines and music), since there was no internet
back then and Poland did not have a consolidated movement; the name derives from
‘emancipation in punk’ or from ‘suffragettes punk’ (which in Polish is emancypantki) (Kuhn,
2010).
Issues of discrimination for sexual orientation are quite common in straight edge, as well
as activists fighting for respect and equality, combined to the principle of sobriety. Nick
Riotfag, an activist and writer that was also interviewed by Kuhn (2010), tells his difficulties to
connect his sXe side with his queer side, since he faced resistance in both scenes (for his
sobriety, in the queer world, and for being queer, among sXers), claiming to be very difficult
to counteract the exaggerated masculinity of the hardcore-punk-straightedge scene (Kuhn,
2010, p.200-212). Nevertheless, some bands challenged homophobia in their music
production, such as Outspoken, Good Clean Fun and Earth Crisis.
One of the approaches in the straight edge scene that tries to revert these problematic
gender issues is the idea of women empowerment, managing to include women and give
them an active voice inside the scene. Haenfler (2009) shows that the women he interviewed
in his research told him that they indeed felt empowered by the movement. One of the
interesting discoveries made by the author is that straight edgers girls usually put themselves
not only in an opposition to girls that drink and use drugs, but also to mainstream culture girls,
and independence in relation to men is an element they proudly defend – along with a
2.4. I’ve got straight edge: discussions on aging and gender in an underground musical
scene
129
rejection to some aspects of femininity such as passivity, a constant necessity to impress men,
competition with other girls and an exaggerated focus on appearance (Haenfler, 2009).
Anyway, it is clear that there are problems that follow the hegemonic culture tendencies, such
as the lack of an effective inclusion of women in the scene and its consequences.
The only possible way to change these patterns would be through a persistent action,
thanks to the diffuse nature of sXe, and one cannot exclude women from defined positions;
however, one can only discourage them to assume important positions in the scene – like
being a band member, for instance. Even in a scene that offers quite opportunities for girls to
be involved, to be in a band is certainly one of the most prestigious roles, since the bands are
responsible to define the sXe ideology, to create new meanings for the movement and have
a big admiration by the fans (Haenfler, 2009).
Haenfler (2009) says that, in the scene he observed, there was this situation where girls
were called ‘coat racks’, referring to those who held their boyfriends coats when they went to
the mosh pit to dance during the shows – an attitude very ill-seen by girls who questioned
women authenticity inside the sXe. The dance itself is quite violent and turns away much of
the girls, who fear getting hurt among the boys punching and kicking each other in front of
the stage.
The girls that join the straightedge end up feeling special exactly because they are women
in the scene, since this is rare; a lot of members believe that the aggressive and furious musical
style can turn women away, at the same time that women aren’t socially educated to
appreciate such kind of music – a belief that reinforces the dominant gender pattern (Haenfler,
2009).
It is considered that the most accepted girls in the scene are those that, someway, fit as
‘one of the boys’ – what turns out to be problematic at the moment that women must
conform to a masculine performance, and that some women will never be able to fit this role.
Regarding relationship among women, it is believed that, in face of so many adversities, they
end up uniting themselves in strong friendship bonds – building up the idea that girls must be
united to win their space inside straightedge (Haenfler, 2009).
Haenfler (2009) makes a reference to the Brazilian straightedge scene (which, according to
him, is one of the biggest in the world) and to the band Infect, composed only by girls that
sang against sexism and homophobia. In their music ‘Homophobia’, originally sang in
Portuguese, they say: ‘End up homophobia / We support free choice / of sexuality’ . Social
criticism against sexism is clear in their musical production.
Besides participating in bands, in these male-oriented subcultures, girls often use fanzines
4
for their creativity and political views. The Riot Grrrl movement, for instance, gave more
visibility to feminist fanzines inside subcultural spaces. After the Internet diffusion, some
women started the creation of feminist websites about sXe: the two most popular in the
2000’s were Girls with Xs on their hands and xSisterhoodx. These sites had a lot of elements
from a conventional website, with discussion forums, interviews, musical reviews and links to
other sites.
Other important roles are added to these, like scheduling shows, producing the festivals,
advertising the shows, helping touring bands to find some place to stay, photographing and
4
Riot Grrrl is a movement that ranges from fanzines to festivals and hardcore-punk-feminist bands,
whose intention is to make women become aware of and claim their rights, having music as their primary
form of expression.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
documenting the history of the scene, among other things – showing that some scenes only
work thanks to women participation.
There is a feminine adhesion inside the straightedge scene that ends up blending with sXe
identity – with many men ending up being at least friendly to principles and attitudes claimed
by feminism. However, there are still those that do not see homophobia and sexism as obvious
inside the scene, as an issue that should be discussed and changed; there are also lots of girls
who believe that opportunities are equal and the main reason for women not assuming more
prestigious roles is a lack of interest.
Straightedge in Brazil: limits and opportunities to discuss
gender issues
São Paulo has one of the largest hardcore punk scenes in the world and since the emergence
of straight edge subculture in the 1980’s it has been playing a renowned role on the
international scenario – principally after people started Verdurada, a music festival organized
by the homonymous collective since 1996. Nowadays, Verdurada is a festival, with shows
(mostly from hardcore punk bands) and lectures/conversations about political issues, in
addition to workshops, debates, video and art exhibitions with a political and divergent
content. At the end of the day, they distribute a free vegan dinner for all the participants.
These festivals happen periodically, without a fixed address (in fact, they’re facing problems
to find a place, due to the changes in Brazilian real estate speculation over the last years), but
always close to the public transportation system. Besides the shows, there is always vegan
food, water and Mupy for sale, as much as merchandise material from DIY and independent
labels – like t-shirts, zines, recordings, etc. The festival brings together several bands, most of
them being outsiders even for the ‘independent’ circuits and are not part of the recent trend
of new business models on the music industry. They claim to be DIY, delimitating clearly that
they are not part of an alternative network of independent rock scene gaining strength in
Brazil – such as Fora do Eixo .
5
During the fieldwork at Verdurada one of the most sensitive subject to be addressed was
the gender issue – specially regarding sexism – inside the hardcore punk scene and, mainly,
inside the straight edge subculture. There are several discussions on the male predominance
at straight edge gigs, a fact that can be confirmed just by taking a look at who is attending
the event and who is dancing in the mosh pit. Also, I heard people from outside the subculture
affirming that sexism and homophobia are remarkable among these straight edgers.
Most part of the above discussed issues was reproduced at Sao Paulo’s straight edge
subculture. During interviews and participant observation I noted that the perception hold by
the collective’s members over the treatment given to gender issues differ significantly from
the rest of the scene, since several members believe that the scene is neither sexist nor
5
Fora do Eixo (FDE) is a Brazilian network of cultural collectives created in 2005, which has been
dramatically growing since then. Having Pablo Capilé as a “founder”, along with other artists and cultural
producers, it has the goal of promoting cultural exchange in regions located outside the axis of Rio de
Janeiro/Sao Paulo. It focused initially on independent musical production, but is now also engaged with
other artistic expression, such as cinema, visual arts and theater – at the same time that it is now also
expanding its actions through Latin America. Criticism has been directed at their so-called independent
network of cultural production, for the fact it receives money both from the government and from private
initiatives, to the organization, and that it is said to be horizontal, decentralized and collaborative, but
raised many recent debates around authorship and appropriation of works inside the collective.
2.4. I’ve got straight edge: discussions on aging and gender in an underground musical
scene
131
homophobic. They suggest that what create this animosity against straight edgers would be
the results of uncontrollable individual actions towards a sexist/homophobic attitude. It is also
remarkable, in some discourses, affirmations that girls should ‘make themselves respectable’
and stand for themselves, which means, they should earn the boy’s respect, as if respect were
a reward or recognition of pre-determined efforts, attitudes and so on. It is also common to
hear from girls that they have a tougher way to conquer their own space in the subculture,
passing through a process of ‘masculinization’, eventually becoming (or being seen as) ‘one
of the boys’.
For C.M. – who has recently been integrated to the Verdurada collective – one of the
biggest problems inside the straight edge subculture is the sexist jokes made by the guys.
According to her, these jokes are not made to offend or sound sexist, but this culture is so
deeply rooted on people’s imaginary that ends up appearing even among those who claim to
resist it, such as the Verdurada. The opinion from other members who are also part of the
collective shows a diverse perception:
We always promote debates, but sometimes we see these jokes; maybe the person does not
think that way, but these are kinda annoying jokes. (...) I agree with the talks between the
shows; I think it's always worth to discuss these gender things. It is one of the topics we talk
most because lots of people say that the Verdurada is sexist; and this is something that we
always try to demystify, because we have the ‘Verdurada show’ and the ‘collective Verdurada’.
It's a hardcore show and the boys that hang out with us are not like that, but it has some
young boys who go to the mosh pit and dance violently, clueless and end up hurting the girls.
But they belong to the same hardcore scene, and not the collective. We always try to discuss
this, because it [Verdurada] is not sexist. (C. M., 18 years old, women)
The Verdurada always tried to confront homophobia and sexism, both in everyday life and in
specific policies, debates, supporting some groups and initiatives, and everything else. We
always made an effort to keep these things on the agenda. What also happens is that society
is sexist and homophobic, and we can not pretend that this is not reflected in any way among
us. These problems are reflected even in those who are consciously resisting it. We live in a
world like this, which is slowly changing. I think it is an illusion to believe that hardcore is a
bubble that protects people from the outside culture, like a field of cultural strength that we
live daily; we exist in social relations that propagate and perpetuate this kind of prejudices.
We fight, keep it on the agenda, stand up against homophobia and sexism. The best way we
can (P. C., 34 years, man).
I think there are more sexism, homophobia and prejudice outside of this scene, than within it.
I think it is a mistake to try to understand the straightedge hardcore punk scene as a perfect
scene, this is what ends up confusing the kids - they want to create a perfect utopia to live in,
and this will never happen. You'll have to deal with some difference inside it, you will have to
deal with opinions very different from yours. (F. M., 37 years, man)
According to C.M., one of the biggest challenges of being a woman in this context is the
fact that you have to prove that you are really interested on music, on activism and on
whatever the subculture can offer to you – in other words, that you are not interest only in
meeting and hanging out with the boys:
I was talking to the girls about it - and we agree - that some girls really come here because
they think the boys are handsome and want to hook up with them. But I don’t. When I started
to come here I had already read about straight edge, I had listened to some bands and I
wanted to enter the scene for the music. When you arrive, the first thing that some boys do
is to flirt with you; but then I continued to come here and tried to show that I knew stuff –
and was not here just because of men. When they realized it, everyone welcomed me, even
the boys that flirted on me ended up supporting me, sending me new songs and bands. But I
really think that at the beginning everything is much more difficult for the girls, because it
seems to me that men have to prove themselves just once to be accepted in the scene, while
women have to prove themselves twice: prove that they like being there and that they are not
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
only looking for boys to hook up with. I think women always have to make a greater effort.
(C. M., 18 years old, woman)
When questioned about the necessity of becoming ‘one of the boys’, i.e., the process of
adopting certain masculinities in order to be accepted among the guys, she affirms that this
happens more often that she would like – even because hardcore is an aggressive way of
expression, and girls are educated to follow some stereotypes that tell them to keep a safe
distance from this kind of sonority and ambient:
I think we don’t have to show it [being one of the boys], but as we hang out with them it ends
up becoming something like this. I faced many situations where the boys were talking about
stuff as if I was one of them, even some embarassing things. This ‘women issue’ is very strong,
for us to stand there is a much greater effort than if we were men. Because hardcore is a kinda
sound that men are created to listen to, we usually grow up to listen to fluffy music. Then, the
girl enters the scene and the guys think they are looking for them. (...) There is plenty of cases
of girls who come here with these intentions. But I do not care. There are also girls who come
here while they are dating some of the guys, and when they break up, the girls just stop
showing off at shows. (C. M., 18 years, woman)
C.M. is one of the girls who participates at the mosh pit, dancing and performing stage
dives. For her, being recognized by these actions, by her engagement with the scene, is the
best part of the straight edge subculture:
The best part - I feel that it is silly to talk about this – is that the scene does not have many
girls, but those few are your friends, and it is very cool when the guys say: you ‘represented’!
Giving a stage dive, for example, and hear that you ‘represented’ is the best part, because the
guys are recognizing your efforts. (C. M., 18 years, woman)
In her opinion, the relationship between the girls goes beyond gigs, becoming part of
everyday relationships – going out to talk, visiting each other and skating, for example. Also,
at the time of my fieldwork, there was a Facebook page that the hardcore girls used to talk
and exchange information. The use of new technologies and its platforms facilitate the
interaction and information available. Some of the girls that I talked to affirmed that they feel
different from the ‘regular’ girls outside the subculture, since these straight edgers allege to
not care that much about their physical appearance or ‘superfluous’ and ‘empty’ things.
Furthermore, straight edge can evoke, according to these girls, empowerment and security
feelings, since sobriety allows the control over their own body in situations where you will
need to stand by yourself, such as parties: “I like to have control over my actions, knowing
exactly what I am doing, with my mind fully working; I feel safe as a straight edger”, affirms
C.M.
Both for her and for P.C., the fact that men dominate the scene is natural, since it reflects
the reproduction of outside notions that the music played there, as much as the aggressiveness
involved in the dances and performances, belongs to the male imaginary. However, P.C.
believes that the violent dancing at the mosh pit is an expression of anger, which is not directed
specifically to somebody; according to him, people rarely get hurt. He thinks that we should
discuss if the dance excludes people, but we cannot prohibit people from dancing.
But according to the general public that attend the festival, several perspectives on gender
issues can be addressed, without a homogeneous point of view:
Sexism is well addressed, mainly because of the feminist bands, hitting hard against this, but
I still think there is resistance on homophobia. They are not homophobic, but this topic is not
as addressed as sexism is (B.J., 31 years old, man).
2.4. I’ve got straight edge: discussions on aging and gender in an underground musical
scene
133
It's a very male-dominated and sexist scene; only men stay at the mosh pit. In theory nobody
is sexist or homophobic, but when a homosexual appears you can see the strange looks he/she
gets, people pointing at the person. The same thing that happens in the streets (C.B., 20 years
old, man).
I think this issue [gender issues] is not properly addressed, nor by the organizers neither by the
public. You can still see a lot of sexism and this is not only in sXe, other scenes also have it. I
think this is a problem that is rooted in Western culture, and if we take it - just as we already
do - into the counterculture, it gets worse. I think it is extremely important to address these
issues and to promote productive conversations, and mainly, to support who was sexually
harassed - it's hard to see such support or any emotional structure within the scene (L.A., 21
years old, man).
I cannot remember at least one homosexual couple at Verdurada – maybe girls, but never
boys. Sexism reigns, since the girls have to fight a lot to conquer some space in which they are
not “the girlfriend of…”. The guys are pro-equality in theory but in everyday life this is way
more complicated. The jokes about gays appear as in any other place (B.K, 25 years old,
woman).
I know I am not as active as I would like to, I don’t have a band, zine or organize events, but
sometimes I saw the guys saying hello to other people that were with me, but just ignored me
for being a woman. This upsets me a lot. I also saw people spread an idea in their music and
bands, but outside the stage they adopt totally controversial attitudes. (S., 26 years old,
woman)
Obviously, it is not possible to generalize the whole scene situation through these
testimonies, but it is symptomatic that some people can perceive, or suffer, different types of
sexist discrimination. There is a spectrum in these testimonies that initiates with the belief on
the underground scene in promoting equality, debating the controversial topic and changing
some bad attitudes; at the same time, it is possible to see, for example, girls affirming that
usually the discourse does not match with the scene’s reality, as they had problems related to
their gender. Some of these young women say that they had to change themselves in order
to be accepted by the group of straight edgers:
Today I realized how much I became “masculine” in order to be accepted. Dominatrix
[Brazilian Riot Grrrl band] used to say that we should not worry about our appearance, but
accepting this as the truth continues to tie me to the dialectic. Now I understand: to free me I
need to know different points of views and make choices. Choosing to wear lipstick – or not
wearing it at all – is something that makes me a victim of a discourse at the same extent. It is
clear that Verdurada has more men than women participating and I feel the urge to assume
a masculine attitude in order to protect me, which really sucks and I am trying to change this.
(…) I don’t dance in the shows anymore, nor do I go to the stage; besides my desire, I feel
uncomfortable and this is something that decreased significantly my frequency to the shows
over the last years (B.K. 25 years old)
We can see that, despite the anti-sexist discourse, some girls still feel uncomfortable for
having to assume masculine roles to be accepted, and also the caution that they think is
necessary when dating one of the sXers boys, because it is easy to become “ill-spoken”. The
feeling is that there is some anxiety on the part of these girls, in this transition of being
accepted or not, to have a relationship with any other individual in this scene – of any gender
– and still to manage to make it clear that there is no other reason for being there than to
enjoy the shows, their friends or even the vegan food.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Conclusion
We saw, briefly, that much of the issues being reproduced about gender at Sao Paulo’s straight
edge subculture were already observed and discussed in other similar underground scenes.
There is clearly a gap between people directly involved with Verdurada and its organization who aged inside the sXe subculture - and the people that belong to the hardcore punk scene
of the city. Perceptions on sexism and homophobia vary significantly, but it is not possible to
negate that, besides all the efforts to resist them, they are still sharing the space with sobriety
and other questions. Probably because hegemonic discourses, and the actions and positioning
that derives from them, are rooted in our culture – and of course, have its roots on the scene
and in Verdurada. Even though increasing the spaces for debate that were made possible by
the organizers – facilitated by new technologies – as well as the attempt to politicize
discussions and to foster social/cultural change, by now, these actions are not so effective to
reach everyone and to decrease contradictions and oppressions.
Funding: This work was supported by the Fundação Carlos Chagas Filho de Amparo à Pesquisa do
Estado do Rio de Janeiro (FAPERJ)
References
Bittencourt, J. B. M. (2011). Nas encruzilhadas da rebeldia: etnocartografia dos straightedges em Sao
Paulo (Unpublished doctoral dissertation). IFCH-Unicamp, Campinas.
Haenfler, R. (2004). Rethinking subcultural resistance: Core values of the straight edge movement.
Journal of Contemporary Ethnography, 33, 406-436, 2004.
Haenfler, R. (2009). Straight Edge: Clean living youth, hardcore punk, and social change. New Jersey:
Rutgers University Press.
Kuhn, G. (2010). Sober living for the revolution: Hardcore punk, Straight Edge and radical politics.
Oakland: PM Press.
Lahickey, B. (2007). All ages: Reflections on Straight Edge. Huntington Beach, California: Revelation
Books.
Wood, R. (2006). Straighedge Youth: Complexity and contradictions of a subculture. New York: Syracuse
University Press.
2.5. Between drums and drones:
experience in São Paulo's punk music
the
urban
Débora Gomes dos Santos 1
Abstract
The advent of punk marked a turning point amidst the pop culture universe. Punk music, as the
centralizing element of the movement’s identity, emerged with the proposal of breaking-up the
conventions of musical expertise and technique increasingly present in rock compositions of the
early 1970s. The return to a simple musical form combined with an emphasis on the dynamics of
everyday life’s ordinary reality brought to the composition core both the particular sonorities of the
great cities – the general hum of the city – as well as narratives of urban daily life, establishing
music as a powerful vehicle of transmission of urban experiences. Therefore, this paper aims to
explore the punk movement as a lens of analysis of urban phenomena, particularly by observing
which questions punk casts over the peripheral urban context of Sao Paulo city, Brazil. The Brazilian
punk bands that emerged in the early 1980s, a period essentially marked by an inconclusive process
of political redemocratization, show a particular accent over the issues raised by punk in the US
and UK, for instance. The Brazilian context enhanced the rudeness and aggressiveness of the punk
language, for it embodied a possibility of eagerly expressing the experience of crisis amid the
complexity of the urban environment. The over-accelerated rhythm and the poetic density of Sao
Paulo’s punk draw attention to the tensions and relations tacitly present in the city space as they
were perceived and experienced in everyday life, therefore allowing a more complex investigation
of contemporary urban phenomenon in Brazil.
Keywords: punk rock; urban space; urban experience; Sao Paulo city.
Introduction
Unlike other forms of art that touch us through the most rational sense which is sight, music
reaches us through the most sensitive one, which is hearing. In order to turn away from a
picture that does not please us, it is much easier than with a song. Its range of action in space
seems to be much more open, almost infinite, because the notes are spread over larger waves
than the traces attached to the concrete limits of the frames. In this sense, within music, a
distorted guitar note seems to reach not only the ear and the brain, but every single cell of the
human body (Chacon, 1983, p. 13).2
As a means of cultural expression, music has an inherent spatial dimension. The musical
language is able to incorporate and convey spatial images, as both the medium and the
outcome of environmental experiences, simultaneously producing and reproducing social
systems (Kong, 1995, p. 4). In this sense, the massive diffusion of music in almost every
situation of urban daily life, makes it one of the most powerful vehicles for the understanding
of the character, the identity, the tensions and relations tacitly present in the city space. In
1
2
Institute of Architecture and Urbanism, University of São Paulo, Brazil.
All citations were freely translated from the original in Portuguese.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
spite of the strong presence of elements such as space, place and city in musical language,
music itself has been little explored as a source for the comprehension of urban issues,
especially in the field of urbanism.
In parallel, the traditional means of apprehension and analysis of urban space employed in
the field of urbanism have significant limitations given the complexity of the contemporary
metropolis. The technocratic objectivity of their methods alienates from the small ordinary
events of everyday urban life, i.e., the experience and practice of the real city. Thus,
understanding the contemporary city from the bonds between social life and urban space as
expressed through music, enables a whole new set of layers to the apprehension, analysis and
research of the urban phenomenon, going towards "decisions linked to the movement of the
real actors who design the city” (Rolnik, Kowarik & Somekh, 1990, p. 15).
In this context, punk presents itself as one of the best investigative objects for addressing
the urban space from a musical point of view. Born in the United States and England, around
the cities of New York and London, and in the midst of deep political, economic and social
crises of the 1970s, it is connected to a political, economical and social system in deep and
disorienting transformation. By keeping distance of an utopian revolutionary positioning, punk
sought in the reality of urban chaos, the basis for its constitution.
Punk music, the centralizing element of the whole punk culture, emerged with the
proposal of breaking the traditional assumptions of competence and technique increasingly
present in the music of the early 1970s. A return to a simpler musical form in combination
with an enhancement of everyday life ordinary reality, brought to the centre of the
composition both sonorities of great cities as well as narratives of urban daily life, making
music a powerful vehicle of transmission and absorption of daily urban experiences.
If ever since the early days of popular music, particularly in the 1950s rock'n'roll, the city is
a constant theme in musical compositions, in punk it becomes central whether in textual terms
(lyrics), whether in formal and structural terms (instrumentation). Thus, the punk has produced
an extensive symbology that differed from any other movement, signalling a manner of being
in the world accentuated by the conditions of urban space and establishing a repertoire that
appears constantly mixed and confounded by city description.
Despite the peculiarities of the Brazilian cultural context, the frank appropriation of the
aesthetics, the attitude and the whole musical proposal of punk in Brazil, potentializes the
possibilities of the movement's analysis as it permits a parallel analysis between different urban
and social realities. Therefore, the analysis of musical pieces of the first punk bands of Sao
Paulo, the place where the movement emerged in Brazil, permits the examination of which
regards and questions punk casts over the peripheral Sao Paulo city urban context in the
passage from the 1970s to the 1980s.
With the purpose of understanding how the experiences of everyday life and cultural
expressions influence each other so as to render explicit certain urban issues, this paper
proposes to develop a study of urban space through music. Therefore, it is brought into debate
a set of musical elements that emphasizes the potential of music in revealing different
perceptions of daily urban life, so as to set it as an important tool for examining the
contemporary city.
2.5. Between drums and drones: the urban experience in São Paulo's punk music
137
São Paulo: a different kind of tension
As well as in the original punk contexts, the Brazilian social environment in which was born
"one of the most representative punk scenes outside of the English language" (Alexandre,
2004, p.62) was certainly tense. A different kind of tension, however, very specific and
distinctive from the one existing in Ramones’ and the Sex Pistols’ countries. The Brazilian
3
specificities of this period, manifested by military dictatorship scenario , economic dependency
and social inequality, resulted in a very peculiar appropriation of punk’s language, aesthetics
and attitude as a manner of expressing the everyday struggle of the urban peripheral youth.
By the end of the 1970s, after doubling its population in less than two decades, heading
4
8,5 million inhabitants , Sao Paulo became the largest city not only in Brazil but throughout
South America. This vertiginous and recent process of metropolization, as a consequence of
the intense industrialization in the mid-1950s (Rolnik, 2003, p 43), reconfigured not only Sao
Paulo’s sociocultural environment, but also the very perception people had about its space.
If since the beginning of the 20th century, when the city experiences its first industrial
boom, there has been a concern on the part of Sao Paulo's cultural elite in building an identity
5
for the city based on the ideas of modernity and urbanity, which the Week of Modern Art of
1922 is exemplary; it is from the 1950s that this imaginary definitely consolidates itself: what
seemed to be an exceptional prospect in the 1920s became an undeniable reality thirty years
later. From this moment on it is established a proper paulistan culture in a broader sense
(artistic, architectural, mediatic, industrial), distinctive from any other Brazilian regionalism,
especially the one around Rio de Janeiro.
Furthermore, the inauguration of the first segment of the Sao Paulo Metro system in 1975,
with a line connecting the northern and southern zones passing through the downtown area,
definitely attested to the cosmopolitan imagery of Sao Paulo. Although the installation of the
Metro did not represent, at first, a significant change on the traveling dynamics of the city,
which would continue to occur on a large scale by buses and private cars, the introduction of
the metropolitan transport system had an important symbolic effect, introducing the city to a
new era of technology, speed and efficiency without precedents in Brazil. In this manner, it
reinforced the idea of an effectively modern Sao Paulo way-of-life, comparable to those
experienced in the largest and most important urban centres of the world.
However, the contradictions highlighted by economic, political and social conditions on a
local, national and global level, elapsed in Brazil by the experience of the military dictatorship,
resulted on a general pessimism towards the gigantism and urgency of Sao Paulo, the city
6
"that cannot stop" , a new socio-cultural scenario from which would unfold the Brazilian punk
movement.
One of the major incongruities of Sao Paulo's context is exactly the configuration of its
urban area, predominantly consisted of poor and precarious suburban neighbourhoods – the
peripheries (periferias) – constructed in the form of dormitories cities and in which overlaps
3
The Brazilian military regime occurred between the years 1964 and 1985. Characterized as an
authoritarian period, it suppressed the civil freedoms and censured media and individual expressions.
4
Source: http://infocidade.prefeitura.sp.gov.br/htmls/7 populacao recenseada 1950 10552.html (last
access: 12/05/2014).
5
The Week of Modern Art (Semana de Arte Moderna) was an event held in Sao Paulo in 1922 with the
purpose of promoting the Modernist movement amongst Brazilian art.
6
São Paulo não pode parar was a popular expression created by Ademar de Barros, mayor of Sao Paulo
between the years of 1957 and 1961 (Rolnik, 2003, p. 48).
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
numerous exclusion factors such as "poor education, high unemployment rates, deficient
urban services and radically outcasted from the places where the opportunities circulate"
7
(Rolnik, 2003, p. 51). Amidst the Brazilian Miracle that followed the military coup, at which
time that Sao Paulo city (in addition to its metropolitan area) becomes a major focus of public
investment and establishes itself as the dynamic centre of the richest state in the country, this
acute process of peripherization and spatial segregation denounces a situation of deep social
inequality in which "are juxtaposed and superposed traces of opulence, due to the strength
of the economic life and their material expressions, and signs of demise, due to the delayed
state of the social and political structures" (Santos, 1990, p. 13).
Periphery: "the subterranean, invisible city" in the words of geographer Milton Santos
(Santos, 1990, p 53.). Thus, this condition of socio-spatial marginality and invisibility of the
peripheral population, especially under the tense conjuncture of military control, repression
and censorship of the military dictatorship, ultimately represented an obstacle for accessing
the opportunities of human development that were mostly offered at the centralized areas of
the city.
Therefore, it is by appropriating its own circumstance of inferiority that Sao Paulo's punk
builds its identity, "they insist on stating that they are from the periphery, that they are in a
bad situation, at the intestine layers of society, at the lower levels of all hierarchical scales"
(Abramo, 1994, p. 101): by affirming and accentuating this condition, punk builds its
complaint. It is symptomatic of this construction, for example, the first Brazilian punk record
ever made, the compilation entitled Grito Suburbano (Suburban Scream), soon followed by
the compilation entitled SUB. The lyrics of the song Periferia, by the punk band Ratos de Porão,
this statement is even more explicit and emphatic:
Everything happens at the periphery/ Fights, death at the periphery/ Shots, blood at the
periphery/ At the periphery/ Everything happens at the periphery/ Everything happens at the
periphery/ Stuff runs straight through at the periphery/ We keep the anarchy at the periphery/
8
At the periphery (Song Periferia by Ratos de Porão, 1984).
7
The Brazilian Miracle (Milagre Brasileiro) is an expression that concerns the exceptional economic
growth observed in Brazil between the years of 1968 and 1973. This period was also marked by the
hardening of the military dictatorship repressive apparatus, as well as by the remarkable increase of
wealth concentration and poverty.
8
Original Portuguese lyrics: Tudo acontece na periferia/ Brigas, morte na periferia/ Tiro, sangue na
periferia/ Na periferia/ Tudo acontece na periferia/ Tudo acontece na periferia/ Bagulho corre direto na
periferia/ Mantemos a anarkia na periferia/ Na periferia/ Tudo acontece na periferia.
2.5. Between drums and drones: the urban experience in São Paulo's punk music
139
Figure 1 - Back cover of the album Pior que Antes by Garotos Podres, 1988
Internationally, the broad cycle of structural changes of the industrial society initiated in
the 1960s which featured a complete review of the practices and control of social and
economic spheres - from labour relations and consumer behaviours, to technologies and the
general configurations of political power - ignited a deep and generalized state of crisis.
According to Elsa Vivant (2012), pioneering industrial cities such as New York and London,
"were those that suffered the most with the industrial crisis: in face of rising unemployment,
capital flight and the constitution of vast voids in former industrial properties" (p. 9). As from
the 1970s, however, these new configurations came to present themselves through a large
variation of discourses and practices of social phenomena, triggering unprecedented cultural
processes, particularly with regards to the perceptions of urban citizens in relation to their
environment.
Amidst this scenario of crisis and reconfiguration of social systems, punk emerged by
placing itself in a rupture position with previous forms of youth cultural action, especially the
precepts of the hippie generation, one of the major movements of the 1960s. At this moment,
a new reality was imposing itself upon the libertarian and utopian hippie essence, destabilizing
its main ideological pillar: the construction of an alternative and renewed society, communal,
rural and self-sustained (Pereira, 1983, p 82; Abramo, 1994 p. 20). Its music shows mythical
and surreal spaces, great psychedelic trips:
So we sailed up to the sun/ Till we found the sea of green/ and we lived beneath the waves/
in our yellow submarine (Song Yellow Submarine by The Beatles, 1969).
In England, however, as from the 1970s, the English Labour Party begins to collapse and is
no longer able to ensure a social welfare state. Numerous strikes of civil servants erupt in the
city such as garbage collectors that leaves piles of waste on the streets, public transportation,
140
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
creating huge traffic congestions and paralyzing the city, besides the closure of hospitals and
airports. In short, the city becomes intolerable and absolutely chaotic. The situation in New
York did not differ, particularly when in 1975 it was considered bankrupt and unmanageable
(Harvey 2011, p 137.). This situation was perfectly illustrated by the infamous message of
President Gerald Ford that ended up printed as the headline of the New York Daily News:
9
"Ford to City: Drop Dead" .
I mean, New York City declared bankruptcy! Compared to what was going on in the real
world, decadence seemed kind of quaint. So punk wasn’t about decay, punk was about the
apocalypse. Punk was about annihilation. Nothing worked so let’s get right to Armageddon
(McNeil & McCain, 2006, p. 256).
10
Additionally, in a world in a constant process of urbanization , the dichotomy between
rural and urban weakened, in a way that escaping from this urbanity was no longer an option
(Benfatti in Benfatti & Schicchi, 2004, p. 9-11). Therefore, the myth of a paradise made of
peace and love built over an egalitarian society and without borders begins to sound absolutely
anachronistic (Sousa, 2002, p. 17).
The original punk movement, whose stance is closely tied to this complete transformation
hitherto hegemonic paradigms in the context of advanced capitalist societies, is, therefore, a
result of a new relationship between the urban youth and the city space, structured by
negativity. The same can be said about the Brazilian case; however, an important distinction
is necessary. While in the cases of New York and London punk is dealing with a circumstantial
situation, in Sao Paulo the punk attitude towards the city is related to the very structure of the
Brazilian society, it derives from a historical construction. This difference is felt both in terms
of sound and of critical content, as will be seen below.
Vivo na cidade: living and alive in the city
The first bands emerged from your need to talk... You heard a song of the Sex Pistols talking
about "Anarchy in UK" or “I was on the street in London” and there was no one talking about
Carolina’s hood, about what was happening with you, talking about you, about what was
going on in your reality… (Clemente apud Moreira, 2006).
At the peak of the punk movement in 1977, groups such as the Ramones, Sex Pistols, The
Jam, Eddie & The Hot Rods, among others, had some of their songs selected and assembled
on the record A Revista Pop apresenta o Punk Rock (organized by Revista Pop, a magazine
and one of the main vehicles of youth culture of the time) which would be the first official
record of punk in Brazil.
The advent of punk with its strength and simplicity signalled an opportunity of expression
for the marginalized youth, which had been historically excluded of any traditional vehicle of
manifestation. "It was the first time the working class decided to organize itself without the
'approval' of the artistic middle class [...] and the first time since the 60s that Brazilian
teenagers and youngsters had a common voice amid the darkness of the dictatorship"
(Alexander, 2004, p. 62).
9
October 30, 1975 (Taylor, 2006, p. 19).
In 1975 the urbanization rate had reached 38.5% of the world population and the number of cities
with over five million inhabitants such as London, New York and Sao Paulo, more than tripled
10
2.5. Between drums and drones: the urban experience in São Paulo's punk music
141
As opposed to the international punk scene, however, the Brazilian movement did not
constitute itself as an opposition towards a decadent rock scene, after all, the perspective of
Brazilian rock was formed by "diligent poor devils, playing at small theatres, in 'cursed' hours,
loading the banner of 'rock' for 200 people a night, with no hits, no money, no decent
instruments, no prestige" (Alexander, 2004, p. 62). If there was any opposition, it was towards
the MPB [Brazilian Popular Music] whose themes and melodic lines were overly hermetic and
"far from the reality of punk and of the subtropical climate of the city the movement lives in"
(Bivar, 2001, p. 101). Thus, punk music represented to the peripheral youth a possibility of
abstracting its invisibility condition and fulfilling its "legitimate and unconditional desire to
express themselves through music" (Alexander, 2004, p. 65).
We found in punk a way of saying everything we wanted, it was something that fitted like a
glove. But, if there was no punk, we would find something else, because we needed to put
all of those things out (in ALEXANDRE, 2004, p. 62).
With the emergence of punk came a recovery of the synthesis in pop music, of the simple,
circular and repetitive structure of rock, instantly recognizable and reproducible. This return
was a response to the rock music scene of the time, dominated by a growing appreciation of
concepts such as musical virtuosity and technicality which was ultimately responsible for the
demise of rock'n'roll spontaneity and also made it increasingly unaffordable to the vast
majority of urban youth, both in terms of reception and production. But more than a mere
return to basics, punk was responsible for radicalizing the principles of rock by incorporating
elements of immediate everyday reality. Few power chords, nervous rhythm, maximum
distortion effects. In this simple musical structure there was no space for an intricate melodic
line so the guitar solos were purged, leaving only one big block of fast, noisy and rhythmic
sound in a mimetic relation to the impact of the urban cacophony. If it was not for this, there
would be nothing, because life was too short and time was too valuable to spend it learning
how to play any supposedly "real" music.
Four really pissed-off guys in black leather jackets. It was like the Gestapo had just walked into
the room. These guys were definitely not hippies. Then they counted off a song – “ONE, TWO,
THREE, FOUR!” – and we were hit with this blast of noise, you physically recoiled from the
shock of it, like this huge wind, and before I could even get into it, they stopped (McNeil &
McCain, 2006, p. 205).
Thus, the brutality of the punk repertoire synthesizes the experience "of the city with its
violence, its deterioration as a physical environment. (...) The style is not an artistic condition
but personal; a certain needed characterization is assumed in order to cope with the urban
reality" (Bassani, 2003, p.113). The punk appropriation of the most degrading aspects of the
metropolitan city are present throughout its aesthetics – from music and garment to a
behaviour pervaded by a tangible sense of negativity – and also operates as a stylistic device
with the purpose of highlighting the reality of life that happens in the depths of the cities. This
condition is synthesized by Mark P., editor of the important fanzine Sniffing Glue: "no one
can define punk rock; it is rock in its lowest form – at a street level" (apud Bivar, 2001, p.51).
The specificities of Sao Paulo context accounted for further radicalising both structure and
form of punk music, as well as its critical content. Therefore, Brazilian punk music has a very
particular accent, determined by an overly accelerated rhythm, a large incorporation of noise
and distortion, an extreme short duration of the songs and by the use of a darker tone than
New Yorkers and British bands. The lyrics are focused on subjects of denounce on many levels,
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
from oppression and lack of freedom, to exploitation, unemployment and poverty. The space
of the city is a permanent target of criticism; however, their actions and demands cannot
happen in any other place than it.
I live in the city/ The air is negative/ The trees are dying/ Concrete surrounds me/ I look at the
city, at all of its faces/ Garbage and people mixing together/ I protest to find/ The other side
of this life/ I live in the city / Look at the avenues, people lots of people/ They don’t express
anything, they run nonstop/ I protest to find/ The other side of this life/ I live in the city (Song
Vivo na Cidade by Cólera, 1986). 11
In the song Vivo na Cidade there is a duplicity of meanings that can be perceived from the
word "vivo". In Portuguese it means both "to live in" which contains a sense of being a city
dweller; and also "to be alive" in its space, participative and present. This two-layered
semantics pervades the Brazilian punk, in which the city is not only the space of the house but
also and above all the space of expression about life itself. The urban space appears as the
necessary field for the action of appearance [ aparecimento] (H. Abramo, 1994), operated
through the spectacularization of one's own condition. Through the action of public selfexposition, the peripheric youth leaves its zone of invisibility and circumvents its lack of access
to the traditional channels of expression – from mainstream media to student movement –
making the public space their own platform of expression.
In the case of punk, by appearance H. Abramo (1994, p. 106) understands the public
display of signs of shock and provocation, intended to assert, through the very physical
presence in space, the existence and necessity of care for certain social problems. Therefore,
the appearance draws attention and obliges society to recognize and inquire over issues that
would otherwise be submerged. In Sao Paulo, the main spots of gathering and circulation of
punks groups are concentrated in the city centre, the areas of maximum visibility. Also "it is
that part of town where it still remains the urban aesthetics of the 40s and 50s, with its elegant
but decadents buildings [...] The youth turn to the decayed centre to install their new
relationship with urbanity and modernity" (H. Abramo, 1994, p. 146).
Sao Paulo has alleys, constructions/ It has Mohawk’s punks, Mohawks or not / It has crazy
people talking aimlessly/ Sao Paulo is cold weather with sun or drizzle/ Walking by the centre
through the crowd/ The Mohawks are protesting, people are passing and looking/ There is all
sorts of visuals/ But what matters is the general content/ Sao Paulo is huge/ It is the great
12
underground (Song São Paulo é Gig by Cólera, 1986).
11
Original Portuguese lyrics: Vivo na cidade/ O ar é negativo/ As árvores vão morrendo/ Concreto a me
cercar/ Olho a cidade todas as suas faces/ Lixos e pessoas a se misturar/ Quero protestar para encontrar/
O outro lado desta vida/ Vivo na cidade/ Olhe as avenidas, gente muita gente/ Não expressam nada,
correm sem parar/ Quero protestar para encontrar/ O outro lado desta vida/ Vivo na cidade
12
Original Portuguese lyrics: São Paulo tem becos, tem construções/ Tem punks moicanos, moicanos ou
não/ Tem gente louca falando à toa/ São Paulo é frio com sol ou garoa/ Andando pelo centro, pelo
formigueiro/ Moicanos protestando, o povo passa olhando/ Tem todo tipo de visual/ Mas o que importa
é o conteúdo geral/ São Paulo é gigante/ É o grande underground
2.5. Between drums and drones: the urban experience in São Paulo's punk music
143
Figure 2 - Back cover of the album Adeus Carne by Inocentes, 1987. The Picture in the sleeve shows the
group members standing inside Catedral da Sé, a church symbolic of the historic city center of Sao Paulo.
Also, the inauguration of the Metro in this moment reinforced the physical centrality of
punk's range of action, since around the stations suddenly appeared a series of public spaces
hitherto virtually non-existent and with potential of becoming eventful. This way, new
possibilities of action are seen in the city, firstly by the immediate dissolution of territoriality
brought by this new kind of fast flows and by the easy access to multiple locations, rendering
the city more permeable and accessible; and secondly by the fact that the agglomeration itself
can lead to new sorts of cultural developments of this places.
Furthermore, the Metro itself conveys an imagery of an international and cosmopolitan
way of life, forging ties between different punk contexts: "in an obviously exaggerated
manner that betrayed a certain provincial dazzle, it felt as Sao Paulo was a sister-city of New
York" (B. Abramo in Campos, Gama & Sachetta, 2004, p. 193). In this manner, the peripheral
youth is no longer restricted to their neighbourhoods of origin; it now belongs to the
multiplicity of crowds.
Wandering the streets they try to forget/ All that oppresses them and prevent them from living/
Maybe forgetting would be the solution/ To dissolve the hatred they have in their hearts/ The
desire to scream is choked in the air/ The fear caused by repression/ All of that tries to prevent
the suburban boys from existing/ Suburban boys, suburban boys/ You cannot give up on living
13
(Song Garotos do Subúrbio by Inocentes, 1986).
13
Original Portuguese lyrics: Vagando pelas ruas tentam esquecer/ Tudo que os oprime e os impedem
de viver/ Será que esquecer seria a solução/ Pra dissolver o ódio que eles tem no coração/ Vontade de
gritar sufocada no ar/ O medo causado pela repressão/ Tudo isso tenta impedir os garotos do subúrbio
de existir/ Garotos do subúrbio, Garotos do subúrbio/ Vocês não podem desistir de viver
144
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Figure 3 - Record inner sleeve of the album Descanse em Paz by Ratos de Porão, 1986. The Picture shows the
group members standing inside a random urban tunnel
The Metro importance in this moment is therefore more symbolic than objective, because
even after its installation almost all the daily journeys of punk groups remain being done by
bus or by foot. Also, the very act of displacement is appreciated in punk, the promenade as a
speculative and subjective experience. Its excursions through the cities underbellies integrate
this strategy of appearance; there is an eagerness in knowing new places and overcoming
barriers. By exposing itself, punk gains territory and domain over its environment. Thus the
spectacle punk is complete:
And the punks are going, in pairs, trios, bunches, like warriors after the battle, all in black
uniforms, on foot, from PUC [Pontifical Catholic University] at Perdizes, until the São Bento
square, through Francisco Matarazzo and São João avenues. Something like 200 punks [...],
an impressive theatrical show. [...] And the punk march continues. It's five o'clock in the
morning from Saturday to Sunday. The punks are now passing by the corner of Ipiranga with
São João [...]. A little more and they go through the Paissandu square, turn, cross the viaduct
of Santa Ifigênia and gain São Bento square. Exhausted but alive. Some fall on the benches
and go to sleep, others fall with their girls, cuddled; one will sleep in the school door [...]. And
while waiting for the first subway train, they chat and comment the show and the stuff that
happened. [...] It dawns, it is Sunday. One by one, everybody is taking their way home. All of
them are little more than children and, although they already work, they are still living in their
parents’ house. But, as it is Sunday, after lunch the punks will be coming back to the square"
(Bivar, 2001, pp. 112-114).
Finally, there is a particular appropriation of a subterranean image, the underground, the
underworld – a world that cannot be seen. On one hand this comes from the decayed
scenarios where inhabits punk's identity: images of wreckage and rubble. "An subterranean
venue is also a place apart, as opposed to the normal plan of the city, and by adopting it,
these young people want to proclaim their difference” (H. Abramo, 1994, p. 146).
Urban Animal/ Crisis, violence/ Sad existence/ We perform the decay/ Urban Animal/
Subterranean dweller/ Among the rubble and ruins/ Your soul is hungry/ It howls for you (Song
Animal Urbano by Inocentes, 1989).14
14
Original Portuguese lyrics: Animal urbano/ Crises, violência/ Triste existência/ Realizamos a decadência/
Animal urbano/ Habitante subterrâneo/ Entre escombros e ruínas/ Sua alma está faminta/ Ela uiva por
você
2.5. Between drums and drones: the urban experience in São Paulo's punk music
145
On the other hand, the adoption of this "sub" condition does not mean a detachment
from reality or an intention of constructing an alternative social system, but a strategy of giving
an even greater emphasis on the reality. In this way, the subterranean could also be situated
at the very city centre - the centre of all events, opportunities and attention. This ambivalence
is essential and defines all facets of the phenomenon punk, with even greater emphasis on
Brazil.
Final considerations
By moving away from a strictly objective and technical study of the urban environment, it is
possible to create a more human comprehension of places and spaces, qualifying them in
terms of discursively constructed arenas and also apprehending them through a wider web of
social relations, thus rendering a more representative reflection of the divisions and tensions
present in society. The analysis of the interface between space and music from the point of
view of the punk culture in the Brazilian context, allows not only the establishment of a
dialogue among different punk panoramas, but also the observation of which considerations
over the metropolis are revealed by these different configurations.
Regarding the space of the city, there is in punk phenomena the appropriation of the
decay, the marginality and all the perversions that constitute urban life, thus constructing an
cultural imagery attuned to the human conditions in the context of the metropolis.
Acknowledgments: Academic Counselor PhD. Prof. Ruy Sardinha Lopes, NEC [Center for Studies
of Contemporary Spatialities], IAU [Institute of Architecture and Urbanism], USP [University of Sao
Paulo].
Funding: This work was supported by CNPq (National Council for Scientific and Technological
Development) under Grant number 133853/2012-8.
References
Books, chapters, articles, thesis
Abramo, H. W. (1994). Cenas Juvenis: punks e darks no espetáculo urbano. Sao Paulo: Página Aberta.
Alexandre, R. (2004). Punk. Sao Paulo: Abril.
Bassani, J. (2003). As linguagens artísticas e a cidade: cultura urbana do século XX. Sao Paulo: FormArte.
Benfatti, D. & Schicchi M. C. (2004). Urbanismo: dossiê São Paulo - Rio de Janeiro. Campinas:
PUCCAMP/PROURB.
Bivar, A. (2001). O que é Punk? Sao Paulo: Brasiliense.
Campos, C. M., Gama, L. H. & Sachetta V. (2004). São Paulo, metrópole em trânsito: percursos urbanos
e culturais. Sao Paulo: Senac.
Chacon, P. (1983). O que é rock. Sao Paulo: Brasiliense.
Harvey, D. (2011). Condição pós-moderna: uma pesquisa sobre as origens da mudança cultural. Sao
Paulo: Edições Loyola.
Kong, L. (1995). Popular music in geographical analyses. Progress in Human Geography, Colorado
University, Vol. 19, June, pp. 183-98.
McNeil, L. & McCain, G. (2006). Please kill me: the uncensored oral history of punk. New York: Grove
Press.
Pereira, C. A. M. (1985). O que é contracultura? Sao Paulo: Brasiliense,
146
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Rolnik, R. (2003). São Paulo. São Paulo: Publifolha.
Rolnik, R., Kowarik, L. & Somekh, N. (1990). São Paulo: crise e mudança. Sao Paulo: Brasiliense.
Roszak, T. (1972). A contracultura: reflexões sobre a sociedade tecnocrática e a oposição juvenil.
Petrópolis: Vozes.
Santos, M. (1990). Metrópole corporativa fragmentada: o caso de São Paulo. Sao Paulo: Nobel, Secretaria
de Estado da Cultura.
Sousa, R. L. (2002). Punk: Cultura e Protesto: as mutações ideológicas de uma comunidade juvenil
subversiva, São Paulo 1983-1994. Sao Paulo: Pulsar.
Taylor, M. J. (2006). The Downtown book: the New York art scene, 1974-1984. Princetown, NJ:
Princetown University Press.
Vivant, E. (2012). O que é uma cidade criativa? Sao Paulo: Senac São Paulo.
Records
Cólera (1986). Pela Paz em Todo o Mundo [Vinyl]. Sao Paulo: Ataque Frontal.
Cólera et. al. (1983). SUB [Vinyl]. Sao Paulo: Estúdios Vermelhos.
Cólera, Inocentes & Olho Seco (1982). Grito Suburbano [Vinyl]. Sao Paulo: Punk Rock Discos.
Ratos de Porão (1984). Crucificados pelo Sistema [Vinyl]. Sao Paulo: Punk Rock Discos.
The Beatles (1969). Yellow Submarine [Vinyl]. London: Apple Records.
VIDEOS
Moreira, G. (Director). (2006). Botinada: a origem do punk no Brasil [Motion Picture]. Brazil: STA.
2.6. What is punk rock? What is DIY? Masculinities and
politics between l'art pour l'art and l'art pour la
révolution
Martin Winter 1
Abstract
Punk Rock is dominated by (white, heterosexual) males. This imposes the question how male
domination is established in spite of the political stances of active Punk Rockers. To deal with this
question, my starting point is to ask how the musical genre Punk Rock and gender are co-produced.
Drawing on ethnographic field work and two focus group discussions in the Punk Rock and DIY
scene in Graz (Austria), I will show how Punk Rock is distinguished from so called “tough” genres
by context-dependent references to music, political views, modes of production and distribution,
or most notably gender. Punk Rock is related to a specific anti-hegemonic masculinity. On the one
hand, however, the male domination prevalent in most rock genres is reproduced. On the other
hand, masculinity within Punk Rock is contested. Punk Rock is either understood as l’art pour l’art
or as l’art pour la révolution – an emancipative and political means to tackle male domination.
“Indie sux, hard-line sux, emo sux, you suck!
– But what about Punk Rock?
– Hahaha”
(Anti-Flag)
What is Punk Rock? This simple question is not so easy to answer. Or rather: everyone might
have an answer to this question, but the answers will differ a lot – depending on who we ask
when, where and in which context, e.g. about which band. The above quoted Band Anti-Flag
differentiates itself from Indie, Hard-Line, and Emo. And what about identifying themselves as
Punk Rockers? They laugh. I would argue that they do this because they do not want or can
define what Punk Rock actually is. They rather say (or sing) what Punk Rock is not. In its
contrast to the named three other genres, Punk Rock is at least not for “a bunch of snobs”,
not “anti-choice” and sounding “like metal tunes”, and not “really weak”, as the lyrics of
that song continue (Anti-Flag 2002). What this example indicates is that the boundary
between Punk Rock and other genres is drawn on the basis of quite different things. Musical,
social and political aspects come into play. And that struggles of inclusion and exclusion might
be bound to the definition of the music one plays. “You suck”, if you like indie, hard-line, or
emo.
In this paper I will trace the ambiguity and the contested character of the categorisation of
the musical genre Punk Rock. My aim is to show how the categorisation of music into
1
Department for Sociology, RWTH Aachen University, Germany.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
differentiated genres is related to different constructions of gender and related (scene) political
attitudes. The denial of hard-line is for example related to their “anti-choice” attitude and
their “metal tunes”, and thus related to gender and sexuality politics as well as musical
practices. My starting point is the thesis that the differentiation of music into genres and the
differentiation of subjects into gendered categories are simultaneous and interwoven social
processes. I will show how different constructions of masculinity and Punk Rock can be
regarded as co-constructed in social practices. At the same time, the understanding of musical
practices and the meaning of Do-It-Yourself (DIY) is at stake and the subject of scene-internal
struggles.
The work of many inspiring scholars indicates that gender is a central domain of conflict
within the Punk Rock scene. In spite of the claim to be a socio-political counterculture (cf.
Büsser, 1998; Calmbach, 2007), gender inequalities remain to persist in the Punk Rock
universe. In the 1990s the Riot Grrrl movement in the USA attempted to end male domination
in Punk Rock and Hardcore (Gottlieb & Wald, 1995). But gender is still a domain of struggles
within the scene. Schippers (2002) coins the term of “gender manoeuvring” to describe the
political action of scene-goers to shift the gender order within the alternative hard-rock scene.
Punk Rock activities and DIY-practices are not in itself politically emancipative, conclude Císa
and Koubek (2012). They map the DIY-scene of Brno along the axes of politicization and
commodification with the result that DIY can be highly political or highly commercial and nonpolitical. In this paper I want to investigate how these lines of conflict about the intention of
DIY musical practices within the scene do relate to questions of gender. Haenfler (2006) for
example speaks of “manhood in contradiction”, that the Hardcore and Straight Edge scene is
characterised by a pro-feminist and progressive masculinity on the one hand and a rather
macho-masculinity on the other hand. But how may gender be related to the conception of
diy and musical activities? In this regard the symbolic meanings of musical practices and their
categorisation into musical genres offers interesting insights. As Strong (2011) can show, riot
grrrl became the “women-genre” over the years, subsuming all alternative rock bands with
female musicians. Bands that were known as Grunge bands in the beginning of the 90s, such
as Hole, were nearly 20 years later seen as Riot Grrrl bands. The symbolic labelling and
categorisation of the music changed during the years. This indicates that political ambitions
and gender constructions relate highly to the symbolic categorisation of music: to the question
what is Punk Rock?
Musical genres as boundary work processes
I do conceive musical genres not as inherent to musical properties, but as concepts of
knowledge (cf. Foucault, 2002, p. 63) to deal with musical material. Further, I regard distinct
genres as the product of boundary work. According to Bourdieu (1996, pp. 223–227), the
struggle about classification of art is the very stuff of artistic fields. What is art and what not?
And if so, what kind of art? This classification struggle involves a serious game between the
actors about their position in the particular field. Not for alternative Rock music but for Jazz,
Appelrouth (2010) has shown how the boundary work to demarcate Jazz has been loaded
with social and political/moral attributes. The development of Jazz from a so called “Black”
music to a so called “White” music also involved an increase of social status. Following this
view, we cannot conceive musical genres as a fixed and given categories. Genre differentiation
is not solely grounded in the musical practices and related to social differentiations and power
2.6. What is punk rock? What is DIY? Masculinities and politics between l'art pour l'art and
l'art pour la révolution
149
relations (cf. e.g. Curran, 1996). Hence, I understand musical genres as contested knowledge
areas that are produced in continuous boundary work processes.
The sociological concept of boundary work was introduced by Thomas Gieryn in Science
and Technology Studies (Gieryn, 1999). Gieryn defined boundary work and the demarcation
of knowledge territories as “a contextually contingent and interest-driven pragmatic
accomplishment drawing selectively on inconsistent and ambiguous attributes.” (Gieryn,
1995, p. 393) Applying this to musical genres, what constitutes a genre varies from context
to context, from situation to situation, and is directly related to struggles for power. In
combination with field theory according to Bourdieu (1996), these struggles are practices
situated in the social field of music. Thus musical practices are structured by specific habitus
and schemata of perception, action and valuing. These schemata are directly related to the
symbolic-discursive order of musical genres (for the relation of practices and discourses cf.
Reckwitz, 2008; Paulitz, 2012, pp. 50–58). To sum this up, I grasp musical genres as symbolic
order that is produced and reproduced in practices of boundary work by actors in the social
fields of music. Genres structure musical practices at large and get incorporated as practical
knowledge by social actors.
To connect the boundary work concept to gender constructions, I draw on recent
advancements of this concept in feminist Science and Technology Studies (Paulitz, 2012).
Following this theoretical framework, I will draw on the concept of hegemonic masculinity
(Connell, 1995) as the generative principle of male habitus to analyse masculinity constructions
that is discussed recently in German Gender and Masculinity Studies (Scholz, 2004; Meuser,
2009, 2010). Thus I understand masculinities as multiple and constructed in relation to other
masculinities on the one hand and to femininities on the other. Masculinities are constructed
in relation to a context specific model of hegemonic masculinity that functions as a cultural
norm. In this theoretical frame, the context specific masculinity norm is inextricably intertwined
with the symbolic order of musical genres. Therefore I draw on the concept of co-construction
of gender and technology (Paulitz, 2012, p. 60; Singer, 2005). Music in its materiality (DeNora,
2000) and genre as knowledge and symbolic order are constitutive for specific gender
constructions and vice versa. Musical genres and masculinities occur as concurrent and
interdependently construction: certain musical practices are bound to specific masculinity
constructions and vice versa. Musical genres are demarcated by references to masculinity
models, while the symbolic reference to a context-specific model of hegemonic masculinity
can be understood as a resource in the game in the social field of music to gain power (cf.
Paulitz, 2012). Gender and especially masculinity constructions function as my critical lens
through which I analyse norms and practices in the Graz Punk Rock scene.
Empirical methods – group discussions and participant
observation
Based on the assumption that knowledge can be explicit or implicit, I combine two different
approaches to grasp gender norms and images in both types of knowledge. Explicit knowledge
is directly accessible via discursive practices. Implicit knowledge is only partly accessible via
discursive practices and has to be reconstructed via the observation of social practices in which
this knowledge is activated (Kalthoff, 2003, p. 74). Discursive and non-discursive practices
need not to correspond to each other, but rather can also be characterised by specific cracks
and tensions between them, or towards other practices (Reckwitz, 2008).
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2
My enquiries took place in Graz, mainly in an autonomous youth centre called Sub . I have
conducted two focus group discussions with participants from the Graz Punk Rock and DIY
scene. I did not stimulate the discussions with words, but played pairwise different songs at a
first stage and showed a collage of different pictures at a second stage. This approach was
influenced by the intersectional study of Degele and Janz (2011), who used a collage of
different pictures, on the one hand and the technique of the sounding questionnaire on the
other hand. With this empirical design I left it as much as possible to the participants of the
discussions how to verbally categorise the music. As a second method I conducted participant
observations at 17 concerts. All materials were analysed according to the coding strategies in
the sense of Grounded Theory (Strauss & Corbin, 1998). My following analysis mainly focuses
on the symbolic level and the statements in the focus groups.
So, what is punk rock?
I will first deal in this section with how Punk Rock is characterised and distinguished from other
genres and how thereby the position of Punk Rock (as a subfield) and its actors in the field of
music is contested. In a second step I will proceed to discuss struggles within Punk Rock for
the “right” interpretation of what DIY means.
Three chords: the “classical definition”?
The first pair of songs (by the bands Ruidosa Inmundicia and Leons Massacre) I played to
stimulate the group discussion, was chosen by the contrast between different kinds of
hardcore punk. Talking about these two songs, they are at the same time categorised into
different genres while these are hierarchically positioned in the field of music.
E: Well, for me this was a mix between Nu-Metal and typical Beat-Down Hardcore. (…) In your
face!
Q: Maybe the first one was what one rather calls Punk Rock, if it is possible to categorize that
way, and the second song is maybe a mixture that once originated out of it.
T: From Punk Rock and five other musical genres
Q: From Punk Rock and five other musical genres, right.
Punk Rock is described as music that once originated and stayed ‘pure’ ever since, some
even say the DIY-practices “came out of nothing” (T) in the USA in the 1980s. Punk Rock is
seen as an authentic musical style, while other genres are composed out of other musics. What
is classified as Punk Rock is thus seen to be the only legitimate representative of the values of
Punk Rock and DIY in the way the actors ascribe them to the musical practice of the founder
generation. The other named genres have their relation to Punk Rock, since they once
originated from it, but due to their mixture with other genres they are not seen as Punk Rock.
Only what is seen as Punk Rock today can legitimately claim to stand in the highly valued DIYtradition. Additionally, Punk Rock is loaded with higher symbolic value, because it is a genre
that does not owe its existence to other genres, in oppositions to others.
The struggle for symbolic weight in the musical field goes further than the categorization
of music. The mentioned Bands I used as a first stimulus also played concerts in two different
2
You can find information on this venue here: http://subsubsub.at [27.08.2014]. Most of the concerts
are organised by the collective “No Punx in Gradec”, you can find information here: http://diy-gradec.at
[27.08.2014].
2.6. What is punk rock? What is DIY? Masculinities and politics between l'art pour l'art and
l'art pour la révolution
151
venues in Graz. Interestingly this was recognized and of high importance for the participants.
How music is categorized is related to the symbolic connotation of infrastructure, especially
the different venues, that are linked to different genres. And this implies claims to legitimately
use and shape these locations.
E: Another rather problematic topic is the Explo[siv].
Q: Yes!
E: I don’t know if the Explo[siv] would still exist without Punk Rock. Or without people, who
attended the Punk Rock shows in the Explo[siv].
Q: Yes, certainly not!
The “Explosiv” is related to the second song and thereby excluded from Punk Rock by the
participants. In this representation it is not only the music that originated out of Punk Rock,
but also the necessary venues used to be Punk Rock venues once. Similar to the DIY-practices
in the US-context, this implies that Punk Rockers once established the rooms and formed the
necessary infrastructure for youth (sub)cultural activities that are used nowadays by musicians
of other genres. The important point is that these venues would not exist without Punk. This
connects Punk Rock with originality that functions as a resource to gain higher symbolic value
in the musical field. Further, the Explosiv is criticized for offering a stage to bands that are seen
as openly sexist. Since sexism is explicitly excluded from Punk Rock (see next section), the
Explosiv is questioned as a relevant venue for Punk Rock.
But what actually are aspects that characterize Punk Rock? The participants of the group
discussions do not come to a clear definition. But for another participant, also music with other
influences can be punk, while there is also the “classical” definition, obviously the “original”
Punk Rock:
S: I would also see music as Punk Rock that does not fit into the classical three or four chord
Punk Rock definition, but also have some electronic elements or something like that.
For the participant S. Punk Rock is not bound to musical aspects. Thus, also “electronic
elements” can be part of Punk Rock, although they do not belong to the “classical” definition.
This “classical” kind of Punk Rock rather represents a dilettantism and minimalism as a musical
style. But how can further elements be added to this constitutive basis, without becoming a
different music that is mixture out of “Punk Rock and five other musical genres”? The
discussion of a Weston-song I played during the focus group offers interesting insights:
Z: But why is it a Punk Rock song?
Q: Because of the chords.
All: *laugh*
The interesting part about this sequence is the laughter after the statement that the chords
make this song to be a Punk Rock song. Obviously the difference is not based solely in the
music. One major aspect here is politics, but discussing the Ramones, the contradiction
becomes obvious to the participants:
T: No one would say the Ramones are not a Punk Rock band.
Q: I would rather say the Ramones are punk than Blink [128] is punk, because of the influence
the Ramones had on other Bands.
Z: And they had their statements. Standing on a stage with unkempt hair
T: But on the other hand, two of them were Republicans. And that is definitely not punk!
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At this point of the discussion, there is a clash between the consensus that seems to exist
in the scene, since no one would deny that the Ramones are a legitimate Punk Rock band,
and their political engagement on the right side of the political spectrum. Another participant
(R) solves this contradiction by stating that Punk Rock is defined by some sort of
“rebelliousness”. This discussion of what defines Punk Rock shows that it is indeed dependent
on the actual context that is discussed and even for the participants themselves no clear-cut
and definite boundary around Punk Rock exists. Sometimes musical aspects are brought
forward, sometimes political, sometimes the sheer number of sold records. Some aspects
might sediment and stabilize the boundary and mark the symbolic land of Punk Rock,
encompassing certain aspects. But it is still contested and the line is drawn in every statement.
For example, “electronic elements” are seen as possible parts of Punk Rock, while other music
are differentiated as other musical genres because of being composed. What is at stake in
these processes of negotiation is for example the access to infrastructure like venues (and
audiences) to play concerts. In the following section I will show that the boundary work
demarcating genres from each other builds upon musical and social aspects at the same time.
The genres excluded from Punk Rock are not only excluded on a musical basis, but the musical
practices are directly linked to a specific kind of masculinity and thus named “tough”.
“Tough“: what punk rock is not
“Tough” encompasses various genres and labels a specific symbolic terrain that is demarcated
from Punk Rock. The participants speak for example of “tough sound”, “tough concerts” or
“tough behaviour”. “Tough” is always negatively connoted and explicitly gendered as
masculine. For example a participant states that at “tough” concerts are “nearly only guys
that perform their macho-masculinity-whatever-thing” (A.). Thus, “tough” functions as a
negative against which Punk Rock is constituted. This negative is mainly characterised by an
orientation towards becoming a rock star and explicit sexism that is ascribed to “tough”
musical genres.
“Tough” genres are described as hyper-masculine, while Punk Rock is seen as genderneutral. This “tough“ masculinity and a related exclusion of women are mainly seen in a
competitive logic of musical practices.
A: That is the point of these [tough] concerts: who has the hardest sound, who has the coolest
tattoos, who moshes the most aggressive, who screams the most brutal? And here I am
missing the punk! They do it not because of frustration or anger, but to distinguish one and
to compete against others. And I think that is something extremely masculine. And thus I can
explain why female persons might not feel welcome in such an environment.
It is assumed that the participants of “tough” concerts are mainly interested in the
competition with others and that this competition is the reason, why these concerts are seen
as mainly masculine. Again, Punk is positioned as ‘authentic’ against other genres, since in
Punk Rock the performance is hard because of legitimate feelings like frustration and not
because of the selfish aim to gain reputation. This competitive logic and the aim to be better
than others correspond to the ascription that “tough” musicians aspire to become rock stars.
It is ascribed to the (wannabe) rock stars that they foster the hierarchical division of musicians
and consumers, while the musicians feel as something better because of their musical skills
(which are a domain of competition as well).
Furthermore, in the description of the Punk Rockers, “tough“ musicians employ explicitly
sexist accounts strategically (like calling their band “Bitch-Slap”), to gain attention and
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l'art pour la révolution
153
commercial profit in the rock musical field. It is stated that this “sexism is a stereotype or
blueprint for some tough (…) Hard-core bands to do some marketing” (E.). Competitiveness
and sexism are connected and associated with the (mainstream) rock musical field. Both are
strictly opposed in Punk Rock. Practices like these are sanctioned and anti-sexism is established
as an alternative norm. The symbolic reference to the hegemonic model of the rock star does
not promise benefits in the subfield of punk. To be acknowledged as a proper Punk Rocker,
you may not join this kind of competition in this context. In opposition, Punk Rock is connected
with a do-it-yourself attitude, minimalism and dilettantism, and the claim that everyone can
grab a guitar and play. On top, as we have seen, against the description of “tough“ practices
as masculine, the expression of frustration or anger on a stage in Punk Rock is not seen as a
gendered practice. However, Punk Rock is not described as free from gender inequality.
Rather, the boundary work towards „tough“ genres is put into effect by a reflexive practice
and the demonstration of critical awareness of male dominance and sexist structures in rock
musical contexts. Discursive practices of reflexion are main building blocks of the construction
of a progressive and anti-hegemonic masculinity in Punk Rock. References to this kind of
masculinity construction do promise profits in the game in this subfield of music.
By rejecting the „tough“ masculinity, an anti-hegemonic masculinity is constructed.
However, this does not mean that this supposedly progressive masculinity does not go along
with male dominance. In statements that do not engage in boundary work towards other
genres, it is femininity that represents the “other” that “actually” does not belong to Punk
Rock.
A.: Especially in the area that we [his band] play, it is strange, but it is absolutely not an easy
music to listen to, or not a hard kind of music. But however, we often play with bands that
still are male dominated, but women also do play active roles in these bands.
This statement reflects an image that is anchored in everyday knowledge and that indicates
that women rather prefer “softer” and easily accessible musical styles. The astonishment of
participants, saying that it is strange that women actually are active participants, also in
“harder” Punk Rock styles, reveals the norm that femininity is usually not connected with Punk
Rock - especially not with “harder” styles. To sum this up, in the case of Punk Rock an accepted
masculinity must be positioned anti-hegemonic and references to this model of masculinity
promise profits in the game of prestige – but still at the expense of the symbolic exclusion of
women.
…and what is DIY?
But this does not mean that Punk Rock encompasses one uniform model of masculinity. I will
proceed in this section with differentiations within Punk Rock. In the specific context that I
researched in Graz I found two competing forms of interpreting DIY that are mainly divergent
in the connection of the do-it-yourself-paradigm with gender and the wider field politics. I
found two positions that I called the “self-made-man” and the “activist”.
The self-made-man: punk rock and DIY as a l’art pour l‘art
The “self-made-man” can be characterised by the acceptance of musical quality as a legitimate
criteria in a vertical order of bands. But in contrast to the rest of the musical field, musical
practices are not related to the aim of commercial success. However, the aim in this sense is
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to “come around”, to play as many shows across Europe as possible. To meet their friends as
several musicians said on stage. Musical practices are an aim in themselves and not a means
to challenge gender order or other inequalities directly, but rather mediated by calls to
participate in demonstrations or squatting activities. But discussing the possibility of
challenging male dominance in Punk Rock bands by introducing a kind of quota of women –
as practiced by the band RVIVR –, the “self-made-man” refers to musical quality as the only
legitimate criteria of choosing support bands.
T: For example RVIVR, as far as I know, they asked the booker to book support bands in which
a women or a homosexual person plays an instrument.
Q: That is complete nonsense, from my point of view.
T: Definitely!
Q: Somehow, because they should look for good bands or young bands that need a gig, and
not for a specific gender.
Instead of seeing the “quota” as a possible feminist action, the musical practice is
presented as gender-neutral (similar to the frustrations expressed on stage) and maledominance is traced back to punk-external factors. Therefore the “self-made-man” is not
interested in changing the gender order within Punk Rock. This is also related in the
understanding of do-it-yourself as a kind of ethic of hard work. Musical quality and success
(that is seen in playing many tours and shows) must be achieved by one’s own initiative. It is
(implicitly) denied that gender is a structuring order of gaining reputational positions within
the Punk Rock scene:
T: But that is how it works. Many bands have connections because they invest a lot of time
and come around a lot. From nothing nothing comes. All the work you invest will be rewarded
sometimes.
Furthermore, against this claim, to play Punk Rock concerts musicians often use expensive
and professional music equipment that contradicts this symbolic claim of a low-budget
minimalist attitude. Also, these instruments can be described as masculine status symbols.
However, Punk Rockers have invented strategies to bridge this gap between symbolic claims
and material practices. They decorate their instruments and especially the instrument’s cases
with stickers of other punk bands and/or with political messages as a way to integrate the
professional instruments into amateurish punk contexts. DIY appears to be a symbolic attitude
that many bands rather perform on the surface of their instruments. It seems to be an
obligatory symbolic reference, necessary to fit into Punk Rock venues to play as many concerts
as possible.
To sum it up, regarding musical practices and the conception of what is “success”, the
“self-made-man” privileges musical quality over political impact. Although gender inequality
is reflected as prevalent within the Punk Rock scene, musical practices themselves are not seen
as a possible point of action. Rather they are described as gender neutral, mainly in comparison
and distinction from so called “tough” genres. It is some kind of hard work necessary to
achieve a prestigious position. And it fits to this conception that then a kind of “quota” is not
a (legitimate) way to reach this position. This implicates that those who take advantage of the
quota do not invest the same hard work or reach the quality of other bands.
2.6. What is punk rock? What is DIY? Masculinities and politics between l'art pour l'art and
l'art pour la révolution
155
The activist: punk rock and DIY as a l’art pour la révolution
The second interpretation of DIY criticises this position. DIY should be inherently political. It is
described as a network that should revolutionise society and should not be there to benefit a
few people:
A: To be honest, DIY is not a threat for the society when [name of the band] plays in a squat
and is in a small van on tour in Europe.
S: Yes, then DIY means that this band comes around, but that‘s it.
Punk Rock is not understood as a practice to gain a prestigious position in the musical field,
but as a practice to change society. And in contrast to the “self-made-man”, the “activist”
does not exclude musical practices from this claim. Music is not (only) a medium to spread
political beliefs and initiate actions, but seen as political action itself. Thus, the “activist”,
connects musical practices and performing on a stage as political acts and therefore as
potentially emancipative. One of the aims is to change the gender-order within Punk Rock and
in society as a whole through musical activism:
E: Well, all the bands like Limp Wrist and so on. In my view they can be seen as the queer or
gay equivalent to the riot grrrl movement. They say: ‘we are here and we are present and we
muddle in your fuckin’ heteronormative matrix!’
In this practice masculinity is questioned as the dominant gender. The relevant criterion is
political activism and the potential for emancipation, while musical quality is (symbolically) not
relevant. The practices that are referred to here can be described as a means to occupy a place
that is otherwise mainly reserved for straight white males. The (straight) male domination in
the Punk Rock scene is questioned and its reproduction disrupted. The act to go on stage and
to perform alternative, e.g. queer, identities is seen as a way to actively change the order of
gender and sexuality in the Punk Rock scene and beyond. This quality of musical practices is
put in the foreground and more relevant than the sound and “quality” of the music. Music is
not only a medium to spread political views, but a realm for political activism itself.
Resume: ambiguities in punk rock
I have shown in the first part of my analysis that Punk Rock is not defined by some musicinherent features but the result of constant boundary work processes. These boundary work
processes are strongly connected to gender constructions. A progressive masculinity
construction is related to Punk Rock, mainly constructed by the demarcation and devaluation
of so called “tough” genres. However, while Punk Rock is defined as progressive and antisexist, the related model of masculinity also builds upon the symbolic exclusion of women. A
central point here is that gender-inequality is not seen as grounded in the musical practices.
But there is not a uniform gender construction privileged in Punk Rock. Also within Punk Rock
there are struggles about what DIY and musical practices as such mean. Within Punk Rock,
gender order is challenged by an understanding of musical practices as political and
emancipative acts.
Still, the construction of masculinity in Punk Rock is bound to practices that produce the
exclusion of marginalised gender constructions due to their masculine connotation. The
“serious games among men” happen more subtle under the surface of a pro-feminist
discourse that only partly finds its counterpart in practices. This shows that this pro-feminist
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discourse has certain effects. But besides this it is apparent that the symbolic reference to antisexism can paradoxically also be seen as a resource in the “serious games among men”.
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2.7. “Fallen fallen is Babylon”. Polish punk rock scene
in the 1980s
Piotr Zanko 1
Abstract
The 1980s were in Poland a time of crucial changes occurring in society. It was when Solidarnosc,
a trade union and a democratic opposition movement, emerged, and when the communist regime
introduced martial law to stop democratic transformation. Poland faced economic crisis and almost
a million of its citizens chose emigration, both because of economic and political reasons.
In the background Poland experienced then an extraordinary boom for rock music. It was also a
time of huge popularity of punk rock – crude, uncompromising music. In my article I want to bring
nearer a production of chosen bands of Polish punk rock music from the 1980s, among them
Dezerter, TZN XENNA, Brygada Kryzys, Smierc Kliniczna, Siekiera, Moskwa. I will focus especially
on selection of the lyrics of these bands. I will show how these bands criticized the social reality of
that time, and what alternative visions they created in their artistic production. After Stephen
Duncombe (2002), I assume that Polish punk rock music in the 1980s was indeed “a haven in a
heartless world”, a way of escaping from politics, as well as a means to set free a feeling of
discontent with dull reality, but on the other side it created, in spite of the censorship, some kind
of a “free space”, a place where new language and new meanings could emerge, as well as where
communities might be built.
Keywords: Polish punk rock, cultural resistance, DIY, communism
Poland after World War II became a satellite country of the Soviet Union, but in the 1980s it
experienced important social changes. The growing economic crisis caused by extravagancy
of Edward Gierek, who governed Poland as a first secretary of the PZPR (Polish United Worker’s
Party, a party that ruled Poland from 1948 to 1989), caused the emergence of Solidarno ć
(Solidarity). Built in Gdańsk shipyard, it was a first independent trade union in communist
Poland, and at the same time one of the most important centres for democratic opposition.
The emergence of Solidarno ć brought about an astonishing boom in Polish rock music and
materialization of punk rock, new uncompromising form for musical expression. Although the
period of “carnival”, how the tremendous time of legal Solidarno ć was known, lasted only
until the government introduced martial law in December 1981, Polish underground music
continued and productively developed its “spaces of freedom”. It appears that rock musicians
criticized the government and distanced themselves from the conservative “Solidarno ć”, too.
It may be seen in the first version of Dezerter’s song “Half-baked generation (analyzed below)
which in English translation goes as follows: “There’s no hope, no future, either in the party,
either in Solidarno ć” (Grabowski 2010, p. 8-9).
1
University of Warsaw, Poland.
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In this article I refer to the produce of some most renowned Polish punk rock bands of the
1980s. Using an interpretative analysis of the cultural texts (McKee 2006) I will demonstrate,
on the basis of the lyrics, how the bands such as Dezerter, TZN XENNA, Brygada Kryzys, mierć
Kliniczna, Siekiera and Moskwa criticized the social and political reality of these times and
what kind of alternative visions they created. While choosing particular songs I tried they were
of semantic and stylistic variety. All the songs come from the early 1980s. I regard punk rock
music as a form of cultural resistance, which “…is used consciously or unconsciously,
effectively or not, to resist and/or change the dominant political, economic and/or social
structur” (Duncombe 2002, p. 5).
But before the analysis itself, I want to say few words on the genesis of the Polish punk
rock music.
The beginnings of punk rock in Poland
Although the zenith of Polish punk rock took place in 1980s, the beginnings of this
(sub)culture may be traced back already in the 1970s. The Polish public discourse witnessed
first mentions of punk rock in 1977. According to Remigiusz Kasprzycki (2013, p. 113) Polish
youth learned about this revolutionary current in rock music from: official press that was
mostly hostile to punk rock, western music magazines (despite the fact that they were almost
unavailable and written in English which was not commonly known as it is today), Polish Film
Chronicle – a newsreel shown in cinemas prior to the film, Polish radio (punk rock was
occasionally broadcast on Channel 3), western radio (for example Radio Luxemburg),
accidental visits to Great Britain – the motherland of punk rock, and local exchanges of long
plays, very popular in Polish cities. Such exchange offered not only a possibility to buy western
music, but also was a place of real swap of information and thought and therefore served to
materialization of certain cultural communities around music (Kasprzycki, 2013, p. 123).
One of the first punk rock bands in Poland was Deadlock, founded in Gdańsk in 1979 (Lizut
2003, p. 49). In 1981 the band recorded their only LP “Ambition”. Thanks to the French
journalist Marc Boulet, it was published in France by Blitzkrieg Records in the same year. Boulet
was a punk rock fan, who travelled across Eastern Europe and searched for bands that could
not get through to the western music scene, for obvious political reasons. It is worth
mentioning that Boulet published this music without legal permission of the artists. It was the
case of Deadlock, as well as other punk rock band, Warsaw-based Kryzys, which did not
authorized Blitzkrieg edition until this day (Chosiński, 2012).
“Ambition” was actually published in Poland twenty years after its initial edition, in 2003.
It is a mix of postpunk, reggae and ska. Its crude, uneven rhythm of percussion, crude unturned
guitars, singing out of tune, together with poor sound realization, give the album a strong
garage character. The most renowned piece from it is “Ambition”, that takes a lot after
reggae. Its lyrics warn in simple words against consequences of looking for prestige and fame
which the author of the text perceives as something sacred, a kind of modern (today we would
say: postmodern) religion: “Ambition, it’s your fucking religion, ambition is your god. Your
ambition kill you baby”. Deadlock seized to exist in 1983, so it did not continue long at the
underground scene.
As Robert Brylewski, a legend of Polish musical underground and long-time leader of
Kryzys, later Brygada Kryzys, brilliantly pointed out, what Deadlock did was “a spark thrown
on a flammable material” as “the punk wave moved from Gdańsk and covered the whole
2.7. “Fallen fallen is Babylon”. Polish punk rock scene in the 1980s
161
country” (Lizut 2003, p.49-50). The songs of Kryzys: “Television”, “Star wars” or “The Dolls’
valley” entered into the Polish rock canon. In the same time KSU was formed in provincial
Southern-Eastern Poland, a band that soon became a legend of Polish punk rock. The punk
rock was also promoted during Jarocin Festival – an event that every year gathered thousands
of rock fans. It was the biggest rock festival in Eastern Europe, and it took place even in 1982
– half year after introduction of martial law in Poland. It witnessed many punk rock
performances made by Dezerter (primarily named SS20, after Soviet missiles), Siekiera, mierć
Kliniczna and Moskwa (Lesiakowski, Perzyna, Toborek 2004, p. 14-37). The selected lyrics of
these bands, together with the lyrics of TZN XENNA and Brygada Kryzys, are analysed in this
article. All of the aforementioned formations were created in the early 1980s, some of them
are still active (Dezerter, Moskwa, Brygada Kryzys, TZN XENNA).
“Our world”
Most of the texts of the punk rock formations from the 1980s relate to existential problems
of the young. One of their topics is the alienation and loneliness in the world of the adults,
which the young perceive as “the world of apparent, archaic and unrealized virtues” (Pęczak,
Wertenstein- ułwaski 1991, p. 264). Such a vision is manifested in the lyrics of “Grey reality”,
song by Dezerter. The leitmotiv of this text is the inner emigration that constitutes a tool of
contestation, and rebellion towards the alleged “grey reality”. Furthermore, the lyrics creates
a space of independence and freedom: “I don’t need you, wanna be alone. Leave me alone –
get the fuck of! I have what I have, I want what I want. Leave me alone – Get the fuck of! I
don’ t think as you do, I’m not what you are. I don’t give a damn about your thoughts nor
dreams. This grey reality, your reality. I don’t give a damn. Get the fuck of! I don’t give a damn
what you think of me. Get the fuck of! I want my own life. Leave me alone, don’t want your
stupid advice. I won’t do you any harm, just wanna be alone!”.
In this song the resistance consists of escape from the grim world of the adults, whereas
another production of this band, titled “Brothel”, indicates also its direct opposite: different
character of the young, manifested with irony, unconventional look, lack of humility,
susceptibility to conflicts and eager questioning of social roles. “I am stupid and fucked up.
Wearing earrings, all messed up. They complain ‘bout me a lot. So I Cash with them All Day
long. […] Won’t be working in any office! Wont’ be wearing any suit! Won’t be going on the
buses! Nor work only “’cause it’s my lot’! […], Mother, father, I am different. Will you beat
me up for this? My brain is swollen, I’m fucked up! Like a beast I feel nothing. I only wander
and consume. I think nothing, I do nothing. My brain is all messed up! They don’t like me. I
incense or frighten people. They want do me lobotomy, as I’m abnormal for them! Yes, I’m
all the wicked idler”.
The world shown by Polish punk bands is the world where there are no perspectives. It a
repressive, schematic world that is lacking feelings. This pessimistic and decadent feeling fills
“Dark room” by TZN XENNA and “Half-baked generation” by Dezerter. The “dark room” of
the title in this first song may be seen as a metaphor of the gloomy world that young people
struggle with every day. Although sometimes the door of the room opens and a little bit of
light (metaphor for hope) comes in, it is soon cut by the “dark lords” (those in power): “Dark
room, closed room, dark walls, dark sky, dark people, dark earth, dark around, you see
nothing. Somebody cried: Open that door!, but the dark lords won’t let it. There’s no day, no
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night – all we know is this dark world. Sometimes a small ray of light comes in, then you see
how dirty is our room, but soon the door gets closed, shut with the heavy boot.”
Meanwhile Dezerter shows in its lyrics the feeling of being a lost generation that dominated
among the young in the 1980s. All the attempts to change the social world was buried and
the young were left with their frustration and a feeling that they are a members of the
bankrupt generation: “No satisfaction, too much frustration. This is my generation. No aims,
no future. No hope, no freedom. We’re half-baked generation. […] You wanna fight, wanna
change something, wanna stamp out all the evil. There’s no chance, All is gone. Your
generation will be over. Half-baked generation. […] You watch TV, you know what the crisis
is. Iran’s war, Western gold. Your future is destroyed. Your generation is lost. Half-baked
generation”.
In punk rock lyrics the emphasis is also put on the schematic and mechanic character of
the society. “Standardization” of mierć Kliniczna manifests that this world is lacking feelings
and spontaneity, and reminds the vision of Aldous Huxley’s “Brave New World”. The band
sings about automatic procreation and masturbation, automatic sexual relations, children
behaving like perfect machines, synthetic dreams that are shown on TV, programmed nerve
impulses, and encrypted conditioned reflexes. This terrifying vision of the soulless world
encounters in the song a opposition in a recurring lines: “Yes, I’d like to move beyond the
schemes, do something against the plan. I cannot, they won’t let me. Human machines under
remote control.”
Despite all the dullness and cruelty of the world manifest in punk rock lyrics, in some of
the text we may find certain elements of hope. In “Fallen, fallen is Babilon” Brygada Kryzys
forsees the decline of this totally repressive reality. Babilon is a symbol of the system that
represses people (in Polish context may be identified with communist regime), but it cannot
win with the love people have in themselves. Love is a remedy, love sets people free: „Fallen,
fallen is Babylon. […] And the wall of Babylon is fallen. Love is the shelter, love is the key. Love
is all creation. Reality is living free. Love is our liberation. Fallen, fallen is Babylon.”
As the 1980s are the a climax of military competition between the capitalist West and
Soviet-controlled East, a time endangered by the nuclear war and holocaust, those topics are
present in the analyzed lyrics as well. “Atomic holocaust” by Dezerter is blaming politicians
on both sides for the arms race: “We need more arms. We cannot let them outrun us. New
atomic bombs. They make the Earth smaller. They build new atomic bomb. They build new
neutron bomb. More brand new missiles. Scoundrels of West, scoundrels of East. Atomic
death comes from both sides, atomic death is on both sides”. Moskwa recorded “Light” in
which similar apocalyptic vision is articulated. The band emphasizes tragic consequences of
the atomic bomb and the fact we cannot defend ourselves from its devastating power:
“Atomic light kills children’s sight. Bodies are quiet and covered with blood. Atomic light
squeezes the brain. Bodies are quiet, one step from death. Bombs, mines, weapons and tanks.
It’s history now! Atomic explosion, atomic cloud. We can’t protect ourselves!”
This rhetoric is present also in a song by Siekiera titled “The war is coming”, probably the
most warning in the Polish punk rock music. It manifests an apocalyptic poetics that refers in
the suggestive visions to Hieronim Bosch’s paintings, and visualize the coming of a slaughter:
“Warm human blood is covering the stairs. A gnome pulls woman’s dead body – that is what
he likes. Oh, my god! Just look at this! Death and blond is everywhere. War is coming. War is
coming. Slaughter’s coming. A head lays on the field and there’s a rat’s corpse. An insect rapes
a crocodile. A dog bites a monkey. The war vampire is close. War is coming. War is coming.
2.7. “Fallen fallen is Babylon”. Polish punk rock scene in the 1980s
163
Slaughter is coming.” Perhaps in a less psychodelic or even less poetical way, but still with a
force Brygada Kryzys sings about war consequences in their song called simply “War”.
Extermination, pacification and pillage are some of the most typical characteristics of the war
in this song. In the lyrics blame is put on paranoid visions of politicians: “War! The slaves are
marching. War! They’ll hunt for you. War! They’ll kill you! War! They’ll exterminate you.
Paranoid halucinations. Political degenerations. War! They’ll be invincible. War! They’ll burn
and rob you. War! They’ll destroy your house. War! They’ll pacify!”
In the analyzed lyrics there is also a critique towards the national institutions. In “Educationcopulation” of
mierć Kliniczna Polish educational system is being condemned. School is
shown as a place that does not allow for independent thinking nor interest in the world. It is
permeated with vulgar knowledge, conformism and discipline. Teachers treat youth with
contempt, while all the independent reflections are laughed at. mierć Kliniczna sings: “If we
want it or not, we know everything by heart. Professor likes it. Education-copulation. We don’t
think anything new, ‘cause headmaster would be screwed. Discipline and order. Educationcopulation. They don’t believe what they hear. But still everyone agrees. And for better notes
proceeds. Education-copulation. […] Those who suck up to the teachers. Get promotions,
privileges. That’s our life till its end. Education-copulation. […] We want to know something
of life. But professor keeps us in dark. Bastards, morons, bandits. Education-copulation. […]
We’re slaves at school. Our brains are drilled. Get lost with such education!” The recurring
„Education-copulation” suggests that learning in Polish socialist school is a „mechanic fucking
bullshit”. Such form of education may only destroy young brains: “Our brains are drilled with
this stupid edu-fill.”
While mierć Kliniczna criticizes school as an institution, Dezerter in „Ask the militia man”
(in socialist Poland the police was called Milicja Obywatelska, MO) mocks this repressive force.
The Poles perceived Milicja as a means to sustain communist regime for it took active part in
pacifications of demonstrations in the whole country. Its most brutal force, and therefore most
hated by the society, was so called ZOMO. People dubbed it “a beating heart of the party
(PZPR)”. Militia man is a figure that Dezerter is ironic about in their song: “Which way is right,
according to law and order? Who leads me to happiness and praiseworthy duties? Ask the
militia man. He’ll tell you the truth! Ask the militia man. He’ll guide you through! […] I wanna
get to know the world. But I don’t know how. Who will help me? Who will show me? Ask
the militia man. He’ll tell you the truth! Ask the militia man. He’ll guide you through! […] How
to become perfect? Manly, handsome, strong? Which way should I go? And remain unspoilt?
Ask the militia man. He’ll tell you the truth! Ask the militia man. He’ll guide you through!”
„To the future”
Of course, this analysis of lyrics deals only with part of production of Polish punk rock in the
1980s. In this article I focus on showing the most recognizable bands and the topics present
in their texts. The analysis demonstrates nevertheless that Polish punk rock in the 1980s was,
as a form of cultural resistance, what after Stepehen Duncombe (2002, p. 5) we would call “a
haven in a heartless world”, an escape from politics and a way of liberating the discontent.
The social world manifested in these texts is grey, dull, dark, brutal, schematic. All the attempts
on spontaneity or creativity are repressed. It is also a world without future nor perspectives for
better time. In this world inner emigration is one of the strategies of survival. What is more,
this world lives in the edge, is threatened by war and even by an atomic holocaust.
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But on the other hand, despite the censorship in communist Poland, punk rock created a
kind of “free space” (after Duncombe 2002, p. 8), where new language and new meanings,
as well as a cultural community, were born. Many of the analyzed texts are filled with
metaphors. “Babylon” and “Dark room” are symbols of repressive system. There are also
blasphemic comparisons: education – copulation, or irony (as in “Ask the militia man”). Some
of the lyrics may be easily called poetry (“War is coming” of Siekiera) which is a challenge to
the common notion of punk rock as a simple music accompanied by screams. Polish censorship
was often helpless when dealing with metaphoric, ironic, poetic forms of punk lyrics. It is also
worth mentioning that the omnipotent censorship institution was one of the means of shaping
the punk rock lyrics with all their veiled meanings.
Although the analyzed punk rock lyrics are already 30 and more years old, they did not
actually become out of date. Despite the fact that in 1990 communist Poland seized to exist
and the country started its democratization, soon a new kind of repressiveness appeared –
“neoliberal Moloch”. A new, this time colourful not grey, Babilon gradually ”commodifies”
all the aspects of our lives, developing a myth of “brave new world”. Dezerter in 1993
recorded a new version of their song “To the future”. In the 1980s its lyrics was a mockery of
socialist propaganda: “Our dear brothers, cherish your lives. Cherish them with us! Like steel
in blast furnace. […] Let’s do it together. Unite all our forces. Your country waits for you, my
dear comrade!” In new version the lyrics changed to mock the capitalist propaganda: “Our
dear brothers, cherish your lives. Cherish them with us! How to gather capital […] Let’s do it
together. Unite all our forces. Your country waits for you, my dear capitalist.”
Summing up, I would like to state that Polish punk rock music was indeed anti-systemic,
but not only in a political sense. This subculture should be rather treated as a form of a
generation rebellion. I would suggest that punk rock was a “third force” in Polish opposition
– contesting both the regime and the main democratic opposition organization – Solidarno ć.
Its characteristics is not a mere political revolt, but rather a discontent with the worlds of the
adults.
References
Chosiński, S. (2012), Underground from Poland. Twoja ambicja zabija ciebie! Lecz ta „Ambicja” to nie
wróg…[online].
Retrieved
from
http://esensja.stopklatka.pl/muzyka/recenzje/tekst.html?id=14035 (access: 18 May 2014).
Duncombe, S. (ed.). Cultural Resistance Reader. London-New York: Verso 2002.
Grabowski, K. (2010). Poroniona generacja. Warszawa: Agora.
Kasprzycki, R. (2013). Dekada buntu. Punk w Polsce i krajach sąsiednich w latach 1977-1989, Kraków:
Libron, Kraków.
Lesiakowski, K.,Perzyna, P. and Toborek, T. Jarocin w obiektywie bezpieki. Warszawa: Instytut Pamięci
Narodowej. Komisja cigania Zbrodni przeciwko Narodowi Polskiemu.
Lizut, M. (2003). Punk Rock Later. Warszawa: Sic!
McKee, A. (2006). Textual Analysis. A Beginners Guide. London-Thousand Oaks-New Delhi: Sage.
Pęczak, M., Wertenstein- uławski, J. (1991). Tekst piosenki rockowej. Stopnie zale no ci od kultury
dominującej i tre ci przekazu. In J. Wertenstein- uławski and M. Pęczak (ed.), Spontaniczna
kultura młodzie owa. Wybrane zjawiska (pp. 253-267). Wrocław: Wiedza o Kulturze.
Audio media:
Brygada Kryzys (1982). Brygada Kryzys [LP]. Warszawa: Tonpress.
Dezerter (2007), Underground out of Poland [CD]. Łód : Pop Noise.
2.7. “Fallen fallen is Babylon”. Polish punk rock scene in the 1980s
Moskwa (1986), Nigdy! [MC]. Łód : Prawda.
Siekiera (2008). Na wszystkich frontach wiata [CD]. Katowice: Manufaktura Legenda
mierć Kliniczna (1984). Jestem ziarnkiem piasku [SP]. Warszawa: Tonpress.
TZN XENNA (2000), Ciemny pokój [CD]. Łód : Pop Noise.
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Photo given by Cristina Sousa
PART 3 | Music scenes, politics and
ideology: social-historical memories and
contemporary practices
3.1. Independence or death: alternative music in the
Brazilian 80's
Tereza Virginia de Almeida 1
Abstract
The '80s are mainly known in Brazil as a period of transition between dictatorship and democracy.
From the late '70s on, the artistic scene changed because of the emergence of new attitudes in
regards to the production and circulation of cultural artifacts. The phenomenon manifested in
literature, drama and music. Homemade poetry books sold in bars and restaurants, collective
cooperative drama companies and independent musical labels are some examples of such cultural
phenomena, creative counterparts to both the cultural industry's economic challenges at the time
and to the political complexity associated with the experience of dictatorship.
This paper - the title of which ironically references the sentence purportedly spoken by Dom Pedro
when he proclaimed Brazil’s independence in 1822 - aims to address a phenomenon that appears
in the 1980’s: the independent music labels. Both a response to economic restrictions in the record
industry and an artist solution challenging the aesthetic patterns imposed by the major label,
independent labels are responsible for both the appearance of sophisticated artists on the music
scene and the emergence of product that was able to confront the cultural industry's serialized
musical output.
Artists and bands who took part on what is known as the “vanguarda paulista,” as well as Grupo
Boca Livre in Rio de Janeiro, invented a new track to success that precipitated the emergence of
several independent labels throughout the country.
Keywords: alternative music; Brazilian culture; independent label; aesthetic
The '80s are mainly known in Brazil as a period of transition between dictatorship and
democracy. From the late '70s on, the artistic scene changed because of the emergence of
new attitudes in regards to the production and circulation of cultural artifacts. This
phenomenon was manifested in literature, drama and music.
Homemade poetry books sold in bars and restaurants, collective cooperative drama
companies and independent musical labels were some examples of such cultural phenomena.
In fact, they were creative counterparts to both the cultural industry's economic challenges at
the time and to the political complexity that was associated with the experience of the
dictatorship.
My title references ironically the sentence purportedly said by Dom Pedro when he
proclaimed the Brazilian independence in 1822. Indeed, it aims to address a phenomenon that
appeared in the 1980’s: the independent music labels. This phenomenon is responsible for the
current existence of an entire musical tradition which could have been impossible without the
gestures of the generation that decided to challenge the power of the majors and to find ways
of taking responsibility for the production and circulation of their music.
1
Federal University of Santa Catarina, Brazil.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Both a response to the economic restrictions in the record industry and an artist solution
challenging the aesthetic patterns imposed by the major labels, the independent labels were
responsible for both the appearance of sophisticated artists in the music scene and the
emergence of a product that was able to confront the cultural industry's serialized musical
output.
Artists and bands who took part on what is known as “vanguarda Paulista” (Paulista avantgarde) in São Paulo as well as “Boca Livre” group in Rio de Janeiro, invented a new track to
the success that precipitated the emergence of several independent labels throughout the
country.
Therefore, one decade before the appearance of the compact disc format, Brazil was able
to witness an avalanche of creativity due to the emergence of groups of artists that decided
to get rid of the industry dictates and finance their own music.
Then, in the mid 70’s the majors started an ostensive movement to incorporate the so
called “garage bands”, which were considered a form of low-cost investment by the
entrepreneurs. These bands did not demand any investment in musicians and arrangers. Their
work was ready for sale since they came out with their own identities and ready repertoires in
which simplicity was the rule. This easiness explains the boom in the 80’s of what has been
acknowledged as the national rock, most of which was originated in the garage bands.
On the other side, the independence was defended mostly by musicians of solid musical
training who tried to produce their musical products cooperatively and resist to the patterns
imposed by the dictates of the majors. Still, the refinement of their work did demand a certain
investment, which was an opposite feature in comparison to the garage bands. At least, their
work requested time and, consequently, it could not be produced and consumed as fast as
the national rock.
However, some of those very musicians also recorded albums through majors, especially
when it could be done with no kind of cooptation. This was the case of Arrigo Barnabé’s
second album: Tubarões voadores. It was released by Ariola, but it did maintain its aesthetic
coherence to what the artist had shown in his first album, Clara Crocodilo, which had been
independently released. In this specific case, one can say that the independence gesture
defined the aesthetic patterns which were respected by the major. The negotiations could not
have been coherent with Arrigo’s interests if he had released the first album through a major.
The independent gesture had the function of conquering a public, defining a style and shaping
an aesthetic pattern outside the cultural industry’s immediate commercial interests.
The example above testifies a relation of complementarity more than of contradiction
between independent and major labels. As Márcia Tosta Dias asserts, the independent labels
can function as means for testing musical products, so that the majors can make safer
investment choices (Dias, 2008, p. 129).
It is not difficult to realize that in certain cases the imposition made by the major in the
negotiation with an artist who was already independently established could have led to
negative consequences. There could have been a reaction from the public that was already
identified with the marginal form of distribution and with some characteristics of the work. In
certain cases, for example, even a change in the magnitude of the concert halls could have
pushed the public away.
If one considers the title of this conference, Keep it simple, make it fast, it is important to
observe that the independent musicians in the Brazilian 80’s were not seeking a simplification
in terms of the musical patterns applied, but quite the opposite. However, this generation did
3.1. Independence or death: alternative music in the Brazilian 80's
171
express a desire for keeping it simple and making it fast when they decided to take both the
stages of production and distribution of their musical artifacts in their own hands.
The independents were reacting to a complexity in the very cultural industry. The process
of recording music was getting more and more artificial, but at the same time it became
extremely rational in order to respond to the demand for serialized production. This meant,
for example, the emergence of a collective creator for the mass product that was the result of
the work carried out by a group of professionals responsible for the social production of the
song more than the expression of an artist (Dias, 2008, pp. 72-73).
It is not difficult to imagine what this superposition between mass culture and music meant
to a generation of musicians that had grown up listening to the sophistication and challenges
of Bossa Nova and Tropicalismo. They could not passively accept to see their creations being
excluded from the cultural industry by products like the ones coming from the boom of the
dance music and other mass products originated from North America. For the independents,
their generation was not only confronting an economic crisis but a political question, since the
mass culture was being clearly orchestrated by the American imperialism.
At the same time, this generation had learned not to discard the importance of some
elements that were mainly exploited by the cultural industry, such as the language of the pop
culture. Actually, this was a lesson already learned from the tropicalistas, who did take
advantage of the scenic and visual demands created by the television as a main media for the
music distribution. In the same way, the relationship with the musical cultural tradition, the
inscription of styles and references taken from the past as one can find, for example, in the
works of “Grupo Rumo” and “Premeditando o Breque”, and even in “Boca Livre”, are also
features that had already been shown by Tropicalismo.
This form of reaction to and within the cultural industry is part of what Luiz Tati calls a
“force of permanence”, which corresponds to something that can be recognized even inside
the majors when working, for example, on the emergence of local and regional artists. It
occurs despite the pressure presented by the demands of the cultural imperialism on the
predominance of the North American musical patterns (Tatit, 2004, p. 232-233).
Therefore, it is possible to state (especially about the Paulista avant-garde) that the
independents from the 80’s found a way of following the tropicalista tracks and that they had
to do it outside the majors, which were committed to the treatment of music as a mass
product.
The claim for independence from the market dictatorship was also a claim for cultural
independence, a response to the demand for the Brazilian musical tradition continuity that
had been producing remarkable artistic responses to what happened in the country. In fact,
the musical works accomplished by the Tropicalistas and also by Chico Buarque de Holanda,
as well as the singer Elis Regina’s ones are good examples of this response. Despite the
constant confrontation with the dictator’s censorship, they all counted on their musical label’s
investment for the production and distribution of their records.
The independents from the 80’s were a direct consequence of changes in the very
organization of the musical labels, of the cultural industry complexity and of the economic
crisis that had transformed the mass music into a pattern from which any musical
sophistication would turn out as a challenge to the ears and to the market laws as well.
Fifteen days before her death, Elis Regina, who was considered at the time one of the best
th
Brazilian singers, gave a long and last interview on TV. It was January 5 1982 and Elis spoke
about her dissatisfaction with the cultural industry. She complained about being only a number
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in the middle of a big machine: “The record label thinks that the product is the record, not
the artist”, she said. At a certain moment of the interview she answered specific questions
about the independents addressed to her by Maria Rita Kehl. Did she know them? Why did
not she record one of their songs? Her answer was clever: in her own words, she made clear
that the power of the independents was in being free from the type of weight a name like
hers would impose to their songs. They needed to remain marginal since there, in the margins
and outside the cultural mainstream, their power of contestation could be more effective. “Let
the madness free”, she said enthusiastically about the independents’ experimentation. In her
opinion, if she recorded a song by Arrigo Barnabé, she would be diluting the counterculture
inside the official culture. For her, the most important fact was that the independents had
built a space where she did not feel allowed either to invade or to eliminate through its
incorporation to her own career (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ax-p-Zr8cyg).
The political character of Elis’s own musical career is unquestionable: in the beginning of
her career she had denied going on being just a clone of another singer, because in her first
album she was supposed to mimic Cely Campello. Besides the search for singularity in her
style, it is important to stress that a considerable part of her repertoire is constituted by songs
which confronted the dictatorship, such as the renowned “O bêbado e a equilibrista”, written
by João Bosco and Aldir Blanc. However, it is possible to infer from her answer that by that
time she did not see any possibility of contestation coming from an artist whose music was
recorded by a major. The enemy now was not the censorship but the industrial machine and
its emphasis on numbers. The enemy was not the Brazilian dictatorship anymore but the
standardization of taste.
It is important to emphasize that the music produced independently had no predominant
style characteristics. However, it is impossible to deny that Arrigo Barnabé in São Paulo was
the most radical example of the counterculture and of the kind of resistance we are trying to
address in this paper. Why do we consider him the most radical one? His music challenged
the ears through the inscription of atonalism, serialism and dodecaphonism. At the same time,
at the literary level Barnabé composed on lyrics made of narratives where characters of the
post-industrial society appeared. In “Diversões eletrônicas”, one of the songs quoted by Elis
Regina in her interview, the theme is the new fashion of the videogames in big cities like São
Paulo. Besides, technology is also simulated by the very performance, since the high tonalities
in which the female vocalist sings fits into the building up of the post human world’s
atmosphere. Also, the human figure is substituted by mechanized stereotypical characters of
the metropolis: the office boy; Neide, a manicure and pedicure; the drunk in the middle of the
night as well as the girls from the streets, who seem like automatons in a megalopolis made
of concrete and other industrial materials.
Arrigo
Barnabé
released
two
albums
in
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=co17YM3fVVE
the
and
80’s:
Clara Crocodilo
Tubarões voadores
(1980)
(1984)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bohaCWrzaGU. In both of them the titles allude to hybrid
figures: partly animal and human, partly animal and machine. Also, in both of them the
characters are threatening hybrid monsters within a sonorous atmosphere that mimics thrillers
and cartoons soundtracks. The humor is mostly demarcated by the playful and caricaturized
Arrigo’s narrative voice as it happens in the beginning of “Clara Crocodilo” (Clara Crocodile).
In this song the plot is revealed as a science fiction story that happens in the year 2000, when
an office boy sells himself to a multinational company and he is genetically mutated into a
hybrid creature. Or when Arrigo’s voice presents the threatening “Tubarões voadores” (Flying
3.1. Independence or death: alternative music in the Brazilian 80's
173
Sharks) using a voice that mostly resembles a narrator of those popular radio programs in
which crime and urban tragedy are the main ingredients.
This humor is even more stressed by the graphic designs where the use of the comic books
aesthetic is dominant. In the case of the second album, the songs were composed over Luiz
Gê’s drawings who also signed the lyrics what turns the album into a sort of musical comic
book. In the humorous character of Arrigo’s work there is a clear inclination to a satirical
approach related to the post industrial world, since its colors and sounds are at the same time
incorporated and transgressed through mockery. Clara Crocodilo’s plot, for example, can be
easily read as a satirical and metalinguistic allegory related to the fear of having the very avantgarde music mutated into a monster if it was sold to a multinational.
Arrigo Barnabé stopped performing for a long period, and the proof of the power of his
independent gesture is that in the last years he has been presenting the songs of his album
from the 80’s accompanied by younger performers. Independent from the commercial
demand for the consumption, Arrigo Barnabé’s albums have been inscribed in the canon of
the Brazilian alternative music and have been conquering the newer generations who still
listen to his work as transgressive and challenging to the contemporary acoustic patterns.
Given the mass media contemporary tendency to shorten even more the space for any kind
of aesthetic experimentalism, by transforming the musical experience into a sequence of an
easily recognizable formula, the avant-garde effect of Arrigo’s sonority tends to last for even
more time, being able to affect and challenge future generations.
Considering just Arrigo’s music is putting aside the power of his performances that were
accompanied by the vocalists and musicians, where the theatrical element was extremely
exploited. At this point, it is important to highlight that the music of the Paulista avant-garde
as a whole was conceived for the stage. Moreover, this aspect has a strong connection with
the valorization of the body as a means of communication and expression in the 80’s artistic
scene. It was a period when several collective drama companies appeared in the Brazilian major
cities. In fact, the body awareness had a significant role for the new groups that followed
Augusto Boal’s experience with Teatro do Oprimido from the 70’s. A good example of the
kind of group theatrical experience from the 80’s is the “Asdrubal trouxe o trombone” group
from Rio de Janeiro, which was created in 1974 and that was the pioneer in cooperative
production. As Heloisa Buarque de Hollanda notes, trying to reveal an “Asdrubal effect”, the
group intended to find creative alternatives for the absence of money for the productions, and
had the actor’s body as the most important scenic mean. Also, it exploited a mixture of
languages with very distinctive origins, always searching for a significant connection with the
everyday reality of its own generation: “rhythmic, video, visual arts, choreography, rock, pop”
(Hollanda, 2004, p.9-11)
That was a time for the discovery of new ways for performing, and that can also be
identified in the importance played by the performances of the independents. If they were
sophisticated, high talented musicians who wanted to be differed from the mass products,
showing themselves alive was a must. Vania Bastos and Tetê Espíndola, for example, Arrigo’s
vocalists, proved in their performances that they could not only sing in very challenging vocal
regions, or be very precise in the most difficult melodic intervals: they could also dance at the
same time! Consequently, just like Arrigo’s strong scenic personality, their singularity could
never be reproduced.
Although Arrigo Barnabé can be considered as the most challenging independent from his
generation, it is important to say that the futuristic character of his work is singular in that
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
context. The independent attitude certainly connected him in terms of production and
circulation to other artists, such as the ones from “Grupo Rumo” or his friend Itamar
Assunção, to whom he dedicated a posthumous Cd, Missa in Memoriam in 2007. However,
Arrigo’s challenge to musical tonality certainly made of him the most radical alternative.
It seems difficult to think about the independents without asking about the physical space
they occupied, or where their presentations took place. In this sense, it is important to mention
a specific theater: the Lira Paulistana, a small theater in São Paulo with two hundred seats
where most of the independents played for a public mainly composed by university students.
In the 80’s, in Rio de Janeiro a special place for all kinds of alternative experiences appeared:
the Circo Voador. It was created by one of the members of the “Asdrúbal trouxe o trombone”
group, Perfeito Fortuna. The circus was first built in Ipanema beach and later (where it is up
till now) in the bohemian area of Lapa, in Rio’s downtown. Nowadays, the circus is the stage
of big productions but throughout the 80’s many independent groups, including the ones
from the Paulista avant-garde, performed there at really popular priced tickets. They targeted
the youngest generation which was avid for new aesthetic experiences in a country where
there would be no democratic rights until late in that decade. If Arrigo’s music was full of
references to the postindustrial world, it is also important to emphasize the relationship that
the independents had with the musical past. Part of “Grupo Rumo’s” experience, for example,
and the very way the group conceived the popular music had to do with a certain
understanding of the essence of the Brazilian song. “Rumo” explored the micro intervals
already present in the intonation of speech. One of the group’s composers, Luiz Tatit, is also
a semioticist who has theorized about the connection between the speech intonation and the
melody as the central element for a popular song efficacy.
According to those beliefs, “Rumo” was not creating something new but only radicalizing
what they considered essential in the work of popular songwriters like Sinhô, Lamartine Babo
and Noel Rosa. In 1981, “Rumo” recorded two albums: one dedicated to their own music and
the other one to the interpretation of those composers from the past (Fenerick, 2007, p. 110).
“Rumo’s” songs surprised the most traditional ears for sounding like a speech, which was
possible through the group’s interaction with tradition. Their process of composition and
performing was an attempt to attain what they considered to be the essence of the song itself.
At the same time, what can be understood as a simple process of composition was
presented through sophisticated arrangements where unexpected instruments were used in a
mixture of popular and erudite references, a strategy that can be recognized in other groups
at that moment (Fenerick, 2007, p. 111)
A similar relation with the past can be found in the work of the “Premeditando o breque”
group. Its name can be translated as “Premeditating the break”. Breque or break is a very
traditional resource in the Brazilian popular samba and it characterizes the “samba de
breque”. The “breque’ relates to the moment when there is a break in the music. In other
words, all the musicians stop playing, and during some compasses only the singer’s voice can
be heard. In most cases, the singer performs a speech taking advantage of its intonation and
rhythm. It is not without irony that the group from São Paulo used the resource, especially
because they were not exactly a samba group. “Premeditando o breque” performed rock,
marcha, choro and inscribed in its compositions and arrangements a lot of erudite references.
The
samba
“Brigando
na
lua”
(Fighting
on
the
moon)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sXQvlwpSr E, for example, starts with a citation of a
dodecaphonic piece by Anton von Webern (Fenerick, 2007, p. 125). In the samba lyrics the
3.1. Independence or death: alternative music in the Brazilian 80's
175
narrator meets a group of green creatures in the middle of a desert night. One of the breaks
is totally silent, since it is supposed to represent the narrator’s attempt to communicate with
the extraterrestrial creatures through gestural movements.
It is possible to perceive that the past is not denied for the avant-garde’s independents
from São Paulo. The past is inscribed, but most of the time it appears in a mixture with
contemporary erudite music or other popular musical genres.
It is also important to realize how much this praise for the past is related to the postmodern
aesthetics that turned out to be the major form of expression since the 80’s in all kinds of
artistic expressions. It is easy, for example, to establish an analogy between what happens in
the song “Brigando na lua” and the citations of old styles that appear in postmodern
architecture; a Greek column or a clock from the XVIII century can appear through the modern
designs and materials. The postmodern seems to emphasize the idea that the present can
accommodate references from different times, including the past and the future with no
hierarchy, as if only the present existed in an endless praise for the artistic human archive.
However, not all the independents can be designated as avant-garde. In order to
understand this concept it would be important to remember a group from Rio de Janeiro:
“Boca Livre”. A vocal and instrumental quartet formed by Claudio Nucci, Mauricio Maestro,
Zé Renato and David Tygel, “Boca Livre” released its first album independently in 1979 and
turned out to be recognized as a phenomenon: they sold one hundred thousand copies. Unlike
the independents from São Paulo, their sonority could not be characterized as a challenge to
the ears so that it could be defined as avant-garde. However, the refinement and the
dissonances performed in the vocal arrangements, the sophisticated lyrics and the quality of
the singer-musicians who sounded completely connected transformed the group in a singular
reference for the next generations.
“Boca Livre’s” reaction to the musical statu quo, however, did not take place through
denial, parody or satire. Their reaction was carried out through the affirmation of their own
work where two elements called the attention: the poetic level reached by the songs and the
constant reference to a sonority coming from rural regions of the country, such as Minas
Gerais, which contrasted with the urban space where the group lived. This sonority was
reached through the presence of genres like “moda de viola” and through the instrumental:
contrabass and acoustic guitars, among which was the 10- string guitar, or “viola caipira”, a
traditional instrument characteristic of the folk music played in rural areas.
Many other groups and artists could be quoted in this paper. “Língua de Trapo”, Itamar
Assunção in São Paulo, “Cão sem dono” and the singer Clara Sandroni in Rio who, besides
dramatic interpretations, also sang the humorous compositions of his brother Carlos Sandroni,
whose style reminded the spoken singing of “Grupo Rumo’s” songs. However, the selected
examples seem to provide a sufficient picture of what the independents’ choice meant in the
Brazilian musical scene in the beginning of the 80’s.
The very heterogeneity of the independent music scene testifies something that was very
difficult to be reached through a major: freedom. The independents were not only free from
the market laws. They were also free from any other kind of rule like the ones established by
coherent movement platforms. Their rule was to make the music in which they believed, the
music they knew how to make and that for most of them had cost years of training. While
the majors searched formulas for successful investments, the independents ran their works
with no formula in their hands.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
The independent experience also had the important role of bringing to the artists much
more awareness about the entire process involved in what they produced. In many cases, it
could help the negotiations with the majors. The next decades were characterized by political
changes, the appearance of the compact disc and later the rise of the Internet. Nowadays, the
artists can instantly promote what they are doing through the web. The technologies are being
increasingly dominated and there is a radical change going on in terms of the role the artist
takes in the process that goes from production to distribution. Despite the fact that anyone
can put music online, the independent sector is still responsible for much of the Brazilian
musical production that is considered of good quality. Nowadays, being independent may
have many different implications and meanings, but for the ones who still make this choice
out of a sense of quality preservation, it is not difficult to conclude that the lessons of resistance
were taken with the independents from the 80’s.
References
Dias, M. T. (2008). Os donos da voz: indústria fonográfica brasileira e mundialização da cultura. São
Paulo: Boitempo.
Fenerick. José Adriano.(2007). Façanhas às próprias custas: a produção musical da vanguarda paulista
(1979-2000). São Paulo: Fapesp/Annablume.
Hollanda, Heloísa Buarque (2004). Asdrúbal trouxe o trombone: memórias de uma trupe solitária de
comediantes que abalou os anos 70. Rio de Janeiro: Aeroplano.
Tatit, Luiz (2004). O século da canção. São Paulo: Ateliê Editorial.
3.2. Underground politics: “I am sure they know we
are not the devil’s son and that metal is against
corruption” – heavy metal as (sub-) cultural
expressions in authoritarian regimes
André Epp 1
Abstract
Can heavy metal be at all political? Different from the clearly recognizable political culture of punk,
heavy metal is often described as non-political and/or as a rarely "political pop culture", although
different studies validated the political potential of heavy metal but not as an overall political
culture, and only in certain segments. Since heavy metal is a global phenomenon, the political
moment of the scene is not only limited to the western part of the world. For example the political
potential of heavy metal can also be found in the Middle East. Different to the European or
American heavy metal scene protagonists in these areas have to deal with different variations of
censorship and repressions against their cultural scene. Furthermore, the scene is characterized by
its deep rooted connection to the underground.
Keywords: Heavy metal, Social Science, Politics, MENA, Censorship and Repressions
The combination of heavy metal and Islam, or in other words, heavy metal in an Arab or Islamic
context, is unimaginable for a lot of people. The media have given the majority of the
population a mostly monolithic view of the Islamic world (terrorism, backward thinking,
unscrupulous rulers, etc.). This view of the Arabic and/or Islamic world in combination with
heavy metal is therefore surprising to many because for the majority population it seems that
both do not really fit together. People with long hair, black outfit, who consume alcohol and
drugs and who listen to loud, aggressive and unaesthetic music are mainly associated with
heavy metal. Thus, this stereotype point of view on heavy metal culture stands in clear contrast
to the picture people mostly have of Islam. In fact, the various countries and different cultures
which extend over an area from Morocco to Pakistan and Southeast Asia (such as Indonesia
and Malaysia), are diverse and differ from each other, e.g. religion, politics and music (cf. Le
Vine, 2009, p. 21). This diversity also includes young people who wear a Mohican haircut or
Gothic make-up (cf. Le Vine, 2008, p. 3).
Like other forms of popular music cultures, such as hip-hop, the phenomenon of heavy
2
metal spread in the MENA countries in various forms, so that the thesis of Weinstein turns
out to be wrong. "[…] the pull of Islam seems to be strong enough, even outside the Middle
1
University of Hildesheim, Germany.
The term MENA stands for "Middle East and North Africa" and is mostly used in an academic or
economic context. Under the term the Middle East and the Muslim coined North African states are
subsumed. This area therefore extends from northwest Africa (Morocco) to Iran in Southwest Asia.
2
178
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
East, so preclude metal from getting a foothold among Moslem youth“ (Weinstein, 2000, p.
120). Nowadays heavy metal is a global phenomenon that first emerged in the UK, spread
across the U.S., Europe and the rest of the world which also affected the countries of the socalled third world or threshold countries, e.g. the former states of the Eastern bloc, Africa and
also the Arab and Islamic world. The oriental heavy metal scene has recently grown rapidly. If
one is paying attention to the statement of Iron Maidens lead singer Bruce Dickinson, the
Orient will have a strong influence on the heavy metal music in the next ten years (cf.
Stratmann, 2010, p. 42).
As a result, it should not be surprising to find this multi-faceted music culture in all its
dimensions also in the MENA, from which one normally would never be expected to find a
vibrant and versatile heavy metal scene with diverse bands and a wide range of fans. In fact,
an exemplary documentary called "Global Metal" (Dunn & McFadyen, 2008) and others such
as "Heavy Metal in Baghdad" (Alvi & Moretti, 2008) refer to the local scene but scientific
contributions as exemplified by Le Vine (2008, 2009), Hecker (2010, 2012) and Epp (2011) on
these issues represent an exception up to now.
The geographical extension of heavy metal in the MENA
The phenomenon heavy metal first appeared in the second half of the 1980s and early 1990s
in the MENA region more than a decade after the term heavy metal emerged to describe a
music style (cf. Le Vine, 2009, p. 12 and 21). Heavy metal music in Europe and the U.S. had
already flourished and the British band Iron Maiden which belongs to the "New Wave of British
Heavy Metal" registered commercial successes. Heavy Metal came with the globalization and
the economical opening (or rather the constraint of opening) into the MENA (cf. ibid., p. 13).
Parts of the Islamic world, as well as many people from the western world, only have a critical
point of view about the globalization and attest it as a negative impact on various phenomena.
Thereby, the reality is much more complex than these assumptions would suggest:
globalisation enabled a broader cultural liberalisation, communication and solidarity within the
region of the MENA, as well as between Muslims and the western world. Nowhere is the
"positive" potential of globalisation more apparent than in the media and the popular cultures
of that region. Globalisation for example, spread through satellite television and the growth
of international travel Baywatch and Britney Spears in the Middle East but also hip-hop and
heavy metal such as Tupac Shakur and Iron Maiden. A circulation of the heavy metal music
took place with the help of tourists, flight attendants, who spent their time during their stay
in the U.S. or Europe in (alternative) music stores or bars (cf. Le Vine, 2008, p. 6ff.) and the
international media exchange, the so -called "tape trading". Then, the music reached the
MENA in the form of physical sound carriers because mp3 files or hosting services for music
did not exist yet. Furthermore, heavy metal appeared with the phenomenon of the so-called
"youth bulge". The progressive youthfulness of a society – the disproportionate protuberance
of the demographic age pyramid (cf. Le Vine, 2009, p. 21ff.). Younger people wanted their
voices to be heard and found a medium in heavy metal with which they can express
themselves. Thus, the cultural consequences of globalisation have changed the musical
landscape of the MENA (cf. Le Vine, 2008, p. 10). The scene became bigger and bigger at the
beginning of the twenty-first century primarily through the spread of the internet and the
emergence of acquirable music software for recordings. The internet plays a significant role in
these regions for networking between the metal-heads and the distribution of their music.
3.2. Underground politics: “I am sure they know we are not the devil’s son and that metal is
against corruption” – heavy metal as (sub-) cultural expressions in authoritarian regimes
179
The internet possesses a special role due to the circumstances of censorship. It is
problematic and even risky for the local heavy metal scene to represent themselves as a metalhead in public in some countries. In certain countries, especially in the MENA, listening to
heavy metal and/or its occurrence with its cultural codes is (un)officially considered a criminal
offense and its exertion is connected with repressions (cf. Epp, 2011, p. 347ff.). If their
followers want to participate and exchange with the scene, they need to find other/new ways
of communication to avoid any repressions. The fact that new media enables a more (or less)
secure exchange, networking and participation cannot be publicly dismissed. The possibilities
of new media are not only important for the connection and exchange with the heavy metal
scene outside of the MENA but also much more important for the networking within the
MENA. With the help of the internet they can connect with new people, promote legal and
illegal concerts in their region etc. Furthermore, due to the lack of public meeting points, such
as bars and clubs, where metal-heads meet, talk, party and exchange etc. the internet seems
to be a much safer and freer space where metal-heads can participate with and within the
heavy metal scene without fear. The heavy metal scene in the MENA differs in its structural
significance between the scenes in Europe and North America. For example, this implies the
before mentioned lack of bars and clubs, so that for example concerts rarely take place –
mostly in hidden places – so that the possibility of touring or playing concerts for bands is
really limited inside the MENA. The structures of labels also differ in the western part of the
world. One can rarely find small D.I.Y. labels, even finding bigger independent labels or major
labels as for example Nuclear Blast from Europe is impossible. Taking these circumstances into
account, the heavy metal scene of the MENA is characterized by a much greater connection
to the D.I.Y. spirit in its whole rather than the scenes in Europe or North America.
The heavy metal scene in the different countries of the MENA, seen from a superficial
perspective, share many similarities like censorship, repression, the historical background of
heavy metal in the MENA, the political system, the importance of the internet and the
connection to the D.I.Y. spirit. At a second glance, the differences show up especially in the
sectors of censorship and repression. Thus, certain strategies and experiences from one area
are not easily transferable to another heavy metal scene of the region. Experience has shown,
that each scene and the (external) circumstances in another country can be seen as unique
which are worth being discussed and considered separately (cf. Le Vine, 2009, p. 34).
Moral panics, censorship and repression
The MENA metal-heads have to deal with, according to the political system, highly variable
and very different types and forms of repression and censorship. This range varies from simple
stage bans to imprisonment and torture. In Egypt (1997), Turkey (1990, 1999) and Morocco
(2000), for example, metal-heads were arrested during several crackdowns by security police
and held for months because they were accused of undermining the foundation pillars of the
Islamic faith as well the public morality. Some spiritual (both Christian and Islamic) and political
leaders even demanded the death penalty for those involved (cf. Le Vine, 2008, p. 28ff. and
2009, p. 36ff.; Hecker, 2012, p. 82ff.). Turkish security authorities placed Satanism and heavy
metal temporarily on the same level as the activities of the PKK, and thought about
establishing an anti-Satanist task force (cf. Hecker, 2012, 107ff.). In Iran, metal-heads are also
arbitrarily arrested by the state executive and mistreated in prison. It is not uncommon that
their hair got cut off or even torn out violently by police officers (cf. Le Vine, 2009, p. 49ff.).
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
The following excerpt from an interview with a band from Egypt could illustrate the
"criminal" potential of heavy metal: “I once got arrested with three other friends of mine (one
of them happens to be our other guitarist) only because we were wearing Black T-shirts and
head banging to an S.O.A.D. song in the street. See how criminal we were?”. Hecker also
confirms that in the Turkish metal scene the personal freedom is restricted on an extensive
dimension because of this constant fear.
The police continued to indiscriminately arrest young people with black clothes, long hair, and
tattoos. […]. In addition to that, the police raided music shops and private homes, confiscating
magazines, CDs, and other items they believed to have satanic content. Out of fear being
arrested, most metal-heads temporarily avoided wearing black T-shirts or going out to bars
(Hecker, 2012, p. 101f.).
Thus, metal-heads are and have been in constant fear not only due to the police but also
to attacks from the public which is clarified by the following excerpt from an interview about
Hecker’s study.
They shot at our [rehearsal] studio twice – with guns. While we were inside. [pauses]. Just
people from the streets. They heard the music and they knocked at the door. I supposed the
were friends, so I opend and I saw a man I didn`t know. And I just shot the door. And he
knocked again, knocked again, knocked again. […]. We played for five minutes, maybe less
than that. And there was a big bang. They were hitting the door with a crowbar or something.
We were shocked, not knowing what happened. But they couldn`t open the door. So they
went. We were scared. And then they shot at the door and the windows of our studio and
we lay down (cf. ibid., p. 178).
These so called moral panics blamed heavy metal culture not only for undermining the
foundation pillars of the Islamic faith and the public morality but also made them responsible
for several suicides of young people in the late 1990s (cf. ibid., p. 23ff.). “A myriad of
allegations, lawsuits, and charges has blamed heavy metal for seducing youngsters into
Satanism, blasphemy, suicide, violence, sexual perversion, drugs and alcohol abuse“ (ibid., p.
23). Those in power as well as the media justified the suicides officially by listening to heavy
metal music. From their point of view, heavy metal is a satanic practice and their followers
want to fan out with the help of the musical Satanism into society. “Turkish metalheads were
publicly perceived as an “army of Satan”” (ibid., p. 111). These ideas are primarily spread by
the media in society. Heavy metal followers are thus mainly confronted with the stereotypes
which are associated with heavy metal. These ideas and arguments are mostly taken up by the
media with enthusiasm and dissemination, as the following example from the Turkish daily
newspaper Zaman proves (cf. Hecker 2012, Le Vine 2008, 2009):
Crimes committed by Satanists snowball … They worship the devil, perform ceremonies, and
sacrifice virgins. They drink the blood of animals and offer sacrifices to Satan in collective
rituals. They participate in horrific murders and suicides destroying all boundaries by rebellious
actions; sexuality plays a major role in this (Hecker, 2012, p. 95f.).
The moral panics, censorship and repressions illustrate that heavy metal is also a political
issue in the MENA, as in the western world. Since emerging towards the end of the 1970s,
heavy metal has been a political issue (vgl. Hjelm, Kahn-Harris & Le Vine, 2013, 3ff.; Wehrli,
2012, 61ff.). On the other hand one can question if heavy metal also includes political
potential in its expression?
3.2. Underground politics: “I am sure they know we are not the devil’s son and that metal is
against corruption” – heavy metal as (sub-) cultural expressions in authoritarian regimes
181
Political? Definition of political music
The difference between the political culture of punk and heavy metal is clearly recognisable
and is described as non-political and/or as a rarely "political pop culture" as told by Kleiner
and Anastasiadis (2011, p. 393). Statements expressed by both fans and bands say that heavy
metal is not political at all but just metal. Furthermore, its heterogeneity is considered as an
important argument against a political classification of its culture. Heavy metal has diversified
into a multitude of different genres since the beginning of the 1970s. This not only concerns
the different sub- or sub sub-genres of heavy metal, e.g. Death-, Black-, Thrash- and Speed
metal but also the different fan cultures. Thus, it is hard to speak of heavy metal as a compact
culture with a clearly political message. To understand the metal scene as a homogeneous
(sub-) culture seems difficult, if not impossible. The term heavy metal has been used since its
inception in the early 1970s as a broad label by the outside world to describe a large group of
otherwise diverse musical forms. Internally that diversity has always been acknowledged (cf.
Heinisch, 2011, p. 411), so that it is difficult to speak of heavy metal as a political movement
as a whole. Heavy metal can certainly be a location for alternative and subversive statements
and circulation of daily and historical themes demonstrated by Kleiner and Anastasiadis (2011)
in their longitudinal analysis which broaches the issue of war in heavy metal. They illustrate
that heavy metal could indeed be political mainly through reductive and plain phrases within
the lyrics on various issues. Therefore, it appears political and also has a politicising effect but
only in certain segments not as a macro-culture (cf. Kleiner & Anastasiadis, 2011, p. 396 ff.).
What can exactly be understood as political? If one takes a look at the definition of what
“political” exactly means, it would be problematic and one could have issues generally because
there is no accepted definition of politics. In “Lexikon der Politikwissenschaften” (encyclopedia
of political science), different definitions for the term “political” can be found (cf. Nohlen &
Schultze, 2004, p. 669ff.); herein, the question is raised on which political understanding the
later analysis is based on. It refers back to Nieland’s (2009, p. 33) opinion about politics which
is divided into three areas:
1. “Polity” refers to the formal dimension (the norms and institutional structure) and
understands politics as a framework.
2. “Politics” captures the procedural dimension; it focuses on the process, conflict
resolution and understands politics as a process.
3. “Policy” refers to the content dimension, thus the editing and treatment of social
problems and understanding of politics therefore as content.
Political potential of heavy metal in the MENA?!
The question of political potential in heavy metal has always been related to regions where
heavy metal is seen as something different but on a governmental level, not generally
prohibited. In Europe and the U.S. each metal-head, whether fan or musician, is protected on
a very basic level through the freedom of opinion and the right to freely express and develop
one’s own personality. This situation is fundamentally different in the various MENA countries
as shown (cf. Epp, Othmer & Masurek, 2011, p. 34).
In order to find out if there is any political potential in heavy metal music in the MENA, it
is important to take a look at the lyrics of the metal bands, if there is any message, attitude,
quotation or allusion to be found. Kleiner and Anastasiadis (2011) also did this in their study
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about the political moments of heavy metal bands in Europe and the U.S. The majority of the
bands from the MENA countries, e.g. Inner Guilt (Lebanon) or Massive Scar Era (Egypt) as well
as bands from other non-English speaking countries (Heaven Shall Burn and Sodom in
Germany and At The Gates and Arch Enemy in Scandinavia) write their lyrics in English which
make it easier for non-Arabic speakers to understand and analyse them. English language used
by the bands in the MENA can be seen, on a political level, as subversive because it arises from
western culture. In these countries Metal with all its cultural and moral impacts is seen by the
conservative forces as a metaphor for westernisation. English as a language is also used to
mask and lessen the significance of statements which are made in the lyrics. “Furthermore,
they increasingly prefer English over Turkish lyrics – due partly to political reasons, for the
Turkish police usually do not understand English” (Hecker, 2012, p. 62). It is difficult to find
explicit political statements on a textual level due to the danger and fear of censorship and/or
repression. This is illustrated by the song "Freedom" from the Egyptian band Massive Scar Era.
The song starts with the Narrator’s statement that she has not yet shaped her life according
to her own wishes and desires but has always attempted to meet the wishes and desires of
others. She follows and does everything one tells her. Suddenly she reflects her situation and
notices that she never lived her life up to her own views and conceptions. Thereby, if the
narrator refers to the rulers (powerbloc) or someone else who is criticised remains implicitly
since no counterpart is directly addressed. Nevertheless, it is clear that in the shown excerpt,
decisions of authorities are critically reflected; whether it is people in general or the autocratic
rulers is a matter of interpretation.
It can be mainly stated that in selected and analysed lyrics that no clearly marked criticism
about those in power is found. Those in power are not addressed directly; the statements stay
very general – the criticism is kept implicit and hidden. This should not be surprising at all,
regarding the outlined circumstances (repression, torture, etc.). The authors of the lyrics
cannot be blamed for the infiltration of the system through the statements in their lyrics
because of vague descriptions of anonymous enemies predominant within the lyrics, as well
as the desire for freedom and independence. Therefore, it is hard to find explicit political
statements in the lyrics of heavy metal bands from the MENA.
Semi-structured interviews were carried out by Epp, Masurek and Othmer (2011) due to
problems about ambiguity and hidden statements in the lyrics in order to find out whether
subversive potential is assimilated in them or not. The following results should be illustrated in
summary.
One conclusion is that the protagonists we asked concerning their lyrics and its expressions
all mentioned a critical attitude against the power bloc (those in power) or at least, they
mentioned a kind of socio-critical position. Parallel to this we also found an interesting
difference in the data whether heavy metal is seen as political or not. We found protagonists,
who see heavy metal definitely not as a political movement or with any bond to political terms
or messages. In their opinion heavy metal is not political at all, or if it is, than only in a very
small dimension. This should be underlined by the responses to the question “Do you consider
metal to be political?". Protagonist A: “Hell no man! Metal is Metal. It has always been this
way, although there are a lot of Metal bands who base their lyrical theme on the ugly politics!”
Interestingly, this group of people for whom heavy metal is not, or just in a small degree,
political, engages a socio-critical position in their lyrics and they see freedom (both the personal
and artistic freedom) as an important part of their lives which the band uses as a central part
in their lyrics. As explained, these people see metal without any political potential but on the
3.2. Underground politics: “I am sure they know we are not the devil’s son and that metal is
against corruption” – heavy metal as (sub-) cultural expressions in authoritarian regimes
183
other hand the same individuals focus on a critical attitude to their lyrics towards society and
above all, against the authorities. Protagonist A: “Our lyrics aren’t to be read as resistance
movement against anyone but to free one’s mind from these slanderous societies” […] “Metal
is about freedom to choose a lifestyle not the way that these societies force you to live!!” […]
“Our lyrical theme explains the authority’s power against the poor and the weak”.
Furthermore, heavy metal for the protagonists is strongly connected with freedom which is
inherent in their point of view. Protagonist A: “We have a dear friend who described Metal as
freedom, and that is 100% true in our opinion”. “In our country we can’t resist but we try to
survive against all those anointed religious parties who try to confront a genre which can free
people’s mind and lifestyle”. The critical moment apart from the governmental authorities also
includes religious organizations.
We also found out in the interviews that metal and not just heavy metal is definitely seen
as political as the following statements clarify: Protagonist B: “Not just metal, music in general.
Any type of music has the different political view, have message, some issues to discuss, have
society, that's why music is politics and that's why they try to forbid music to control the minds
and that's why the resistance use music to freeing minds”, Protagonist C: “A lot of bands took
that direction in writing, even when I started a side project it’s going in that direction, so yeah
I can say that 70% of it is pretty much political”. These protagonists see metal, in particular,
as resistance against authorities and/or against authoritarian systems – against the rulers
(powerbloc). They also engage a social-critical position in their lyrics, which the following
statements should clarify: Protagonist B: “Against those who need to make mankind just
machines, those who need to control the mankind minds I think metal is world revolution”.
The music is clearly expressed here and its lyrics are targeted against those who try to control
others and to manipulate them to take their autonomy. The individual’s autonomy here is
foremost. The individual wants to decide for himself about his life and does not want to be
patronised and restricted by governmental authorities, especially in his artistic freedom.
Protagonist C: “If it’s resistance we’re talking about, be sure it’s against the government”. It
is not surprising at all that the protagonists of the heavy metal scene critically question the
corrupt systems (power bloc) against which in many parts of the MENA entire populations
have resisted in the last few years (Arabic Spring). Protagonist B: “I’m sure they know well we
are not the devil sons and they are know that metal is Resistance against any corruption, that’s
why they are against metal culture”.
A common denominator can be clearly seen when comparing the two different positions,
as already mentioned. Both positions represent a critical view – one can speak of a sociocritical perspective – towards the reigning systems and organizations. Furthermore, both
perspectives focus on the individual freedom in their explanations. Protagonist C: “Well some
people say metal is just my favorite music another says metal is lifestyle, but I think metal music
is full independent life”, Protagonist A: “Freedom to choose a lifestyle not the way that these
societies force you to live!”. The protagonists’ similarity is exemplified by the latter statements.
Whether the actors consider heavy metal as political or apolitical, they engage in their writings
in response to the restrictions and repression they face and experience a constant idea of
freedom and the right to express it. In regards to the aforementioned circumstances these
criticisms are more hidden and less direct because of the repressions the protagonists have to
worry about. Thus, the environment is critically reflected and the protagonists altercate
explicitly with the regional circumstances of their environment (cf. Epp, Othmer & Masurek,
2011, p. 39ff.).
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When taking a look at the study of Hecker about Turkish metal, he comes to the same
conclusion. Here, heavy metal can also be seen as a secular culture that opposes the
Islamisation of the public sphere. Mostly in all interviews and conversations metal-heads
mentioned a “vehement antipathy toward government policies of increasingly limiting the
consumption of alcohol, preventing the public display of nudity, fostering the re-emergence
of headscarves at university campuses, or hampering the teaching of evolutionary theory in
the classroom” (Hecker, 2012, 193).
Of course this subversive potential in the lyrics is not omnipresent. Moreover, it is more
"hidden" because a concrete counterpart is not addressed. Thus, heavy metal in the MENA
cannot be seen as a political movement in its totality but as a location of alternative and
subversive statements and circulation of daily and historical themes.
These statements revealed that heavy metal in the MENA possesses and features a social
critical point of view. Now the question arises about how this critical point of view on society
can be linked and referred to Nieland’s opinion about politics? Based on what Nieland says,
the political examination with its politicised and political potentials, heavy metal relates to the
level of “policy”. The protagonists try to deal with and handle their society’s problems within
their lyrics (due to the fear of repression). Hence the political moment according to Nieland
can be seen as content. Otherwise, is politics only limited to the category of “policy”?
Therefore, the horizon must be widened. A potential perspective can be seen in the prodemocracy movements in these regions. For example, in Morocco, Tunisia and Egypt, where
metal-heads
become major activists in pro-democracy movements as they’ve grown into adulthood, playing
important roles in the revolutionary protests in Tunisia and Egypt. Alaa Abdel Fatah, one of
Egypt’s main first generation metal-heads, was arrested (and later released) by the postMubarak military junta because of his political activities (Hjelm, Kahn-Harris & Le Vine, 2013,
p. 11).
Therefore, the political potential is not only limited to the category of “policy” but it can
also be found on the level of “politics” (process of action) according to Nieland.
Conclusion
As mentioned the protagonists associate heavy metal consciously and unconsciously with
protest. One could also speak of heavy metal as protest music from a macro-perspective. The
individuals question the power bloc, such as the political system, the religious leaders and in
general the patriarchal structures of their societies with the help of the music. Therefore, it is
not surprising that heavy metal has been (since its emergence in the MENA) frequently in the
focus of the power bloc who tries to attack and ban this cultural phenomenon. So it was not
only the hardness and distortion of the music but rather the lyrics which despise the authorities
and question them critically as well as society in general. Bands like Slayer, Metallica, Machine
Head, Lamb of God, Kreator, Testament and many other groups captured the attention and
hearts of mainly young people because they critically see an answer and reaction to deal with
the social conditions like corruption and personal limitations etc. in the music and its content.
Furthermore, heavy metal seems to be an alternative to the very dominant traditional Arabic
music as well to the extremely commercialized form of Arabic pop music which dominates the
radio and TV channels in the MENA (cf. Le Vine, 2009, p. 21f.).
3.2. Underground politics: “I am sure they know we are not the devil’s son and that metal is
against corruption” – heavy metal as (sub-) cultural expressions in authoritarian regimes
185
Heavy metal can be seen in Islamic countries as a kind of protest movement which
Stratmann (2010, p. 41) also sees in the band The Kordz from Lebanon who deal in their lyrics
for example with suicide bombers, question the alleged heroes of their culture and engage a
critical position about the reasons for war between Muslims and Jews. Furthermore, Le Vine
sees in this political potential of heavy metal in the MENA a return to its roots because the
lyrics deal with socio-critical issues, such as the heavy metal movement of the early days before
the music had established itself as mainstream and was commercialized (cf. Le Vine, 2008, p.
5).
References
Epp, A. (2011). Heavy Metal und Islam – ein Antagonismus? Zur Rezeption und Verbreitung des Heavy
Metals in Staaten der MENA. In: R. F. Nohr & H. Schwaab (Ed.), Metal Matters. Heavy Metal als
Kultur und Welt (p. 343-356). Münster: Lit Verlag.
Epp, A., Othmer, J., & Masurek, M. (2011). „We don’t like to talk about political issues” Metal-Lyrics als
(sub-)kultureller Ausdruck in autoritären Systemen. In R. Bartosch (Ed.): Heavy Metal Studies.
Band 1: Lyrics und Intertextualität (p. 32-44). Oberhausen: Verlag Nicole Schmenk.
Hecker, P. (2010). Heavy Metal in the Middle East: New Urban Spaces in a Translocal Underground. In:
A. Bayat & L. Herrera (Ed.), Being Young and Muslim: New Cultural Politics in the Global North
and South (p.325-339). New York: Oxford University Press.
Hecker, P. (2012). Turkish Metal. Music, Meaning and Morality in a Muslim Society. Ashagte: Farnham.
Heinisch, C. (2011). Zwischen Kult und Kultur. Kontinuitätsbehauptungen im Heavy Metal. In: R. F. Nohr
& H. Schwaab (Ed.), Metal Matters. Heavy Metal als Kultur und Welt (p. 411-430). Münster: Lit
Verlag.
Hjelm, T., Kahn-Harris, K. & LeVine, M. (2013). Introduction: Heavy Metal as controversy and
counterculture. In T. Hjelm, K. Kahn-Harris & M. LeVine (Ed.), Heavy Metal. Controversy and
counterculture (p. 1-14). Sheffield: Equinox.
Kleiner, M. S., & Anastasiadis, M. (2011). Politik der Härte! Bausteine einer Populärkulturgeschichte des
politischen Heavy Metal. In R. F. Nohr & H. Schwaab (Ed.), Metal Matters. Heavy Metal als Kultur
und Welt (p. 393-410). Münster: Lit Verlag.
LeVine, M. (2009). Headbanging against repressive regimes – censorship of heavy metal in the Middle
East, North Africa Southeast Asia and China. Kopenhagen: Freemuse.
LeVine, M. (2008). Heavy Metal Islam: rock, resistance, and the struggel for the soul of Islam. New York:
Three River Press.
Nieland, J.-U. (2009). Pop und Politik: politische Popkultur und Kulturpolitik in der Mediengesellschaft .
Köln: von Halem.
Nohlen, D. & Schultze, R.-O. (2004). Lexikon der Politikwissenschaft. Theorien, Methoden, Begriffe. Band
2. München: Verlag C. H. Beck.
Stratmann, H. (2010). Oriental Metal. Rockhard, 28, 274; S. 36-49
Wehrli, R. (2012). Verteufelter Heavy Metal. Skandale und Zensur in der neueren Musikgeschichte.
Update. Münster: Telos Verlag Dr. Roland Seim M.A..
Weinstein, D. (2000). Heavy Metal: the music and its culture. Cambridge: Da Capo Press.
Filmography
Alvi, S. & Moretti, E. (2008). Heavy Metal in Baghdad. USA/CAN.
Dunn, S. & Mc Fadyen, S. (2008). Global Metal: 7 Countries, 3 Continents, 1 Tribe. USA.
3.3. Before the DIY: Jovem Guarda and youth culture
in Brazil (65-68)
Marcelo Garson 1
Abstract
In August 1965, the TV show Jovem Guarda (Young Guard) was released on Record, one of the
most popular networks in Brazil. Consisting in a number of musical performances it targeted the
youth and was presented by young working class artists heavily influenced by the rock of Paul Anka
and Neil Sedaka, but mostly – musically and visually - by the Beatles. Jovem Guarda is notable in its
pioneering effort with the aim to construct a youth culture around the consumption of music in
Brazil, that also spread to the fields of radio, cinema, magazines, also even apparel (boots, t-shirts,
bags, etc). The purpose of this article is to highlight in which way it articulated a social
representation of youth within the mass media. What is the nature of this representation, how is it
assumed by the artists and institutions and to which symbolic background does it relate are some
of the issues covered.
Keywords: youth culture, rock and roll, Brazil
It is difficult to grasp the great modifications through which brazilian popular music went in
the 1960s, if we do not heed the entrance of a new character on stage: the youth. In less than
a decade, a category that was timidly thought of as a market niche had become hiperrepresented in record sleeves, song lyrics, press statements and a large advertising repertoire.
Workings as arbiters of taste, judgment and values, a group of artists acted as spokespersons
of an alleged emerging and distinct generation that would configure a singular lifestyle, the
youthful one.
The youth culture that then emerged expressed itself in new ways of dressing, speaking,
spending money and managing their free time, then filled with movies, song, clothes and
other articles. Thus, it made evident how cultural consumption is a fundamental field of
identity production. In this equation, the media occupied a very import place, not only by
offering the items for youth consumption, but mainly in the way it provided ways of seeing,
framing and interpeting the youngster. The modern youth identity, therefore, it is not just
2
represented, but mediaticallly constructed (Grossberg, 1994).
In Brazil, this process is notable in the 60’s when the expansion of the TV network submit
the other media – radio, cinema, magazines – to its power (Ortiz, 1986). In the youth culture
then germinating, American and teenage consumption goods fought for space, as well as
political and university militancy then emerging.
1
University of São Paulo, Brazil.
The emergence of youth as a social category harks back, at least, to the early 20th Century. However,
what interests us is how it integrates itself to the mediatic ciccuits of consumption, what fundamentally
happens only in the post-WWII period.
2
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
A landmark of this process is the première of the TV show Jovem Guarda, in September
1965. Presented by upcoming artists hailing from the popular classes and mixing influences of
American ballad rock with the Beatles’ sound and look, it brought forth songs that spoke
about parties, fun, girls and cars. Soon its artists would become national celebrities, reaching
cult status among a wide and young audience.
The emergence of Jovem Guarda helps understand how the popular music scene translates
a series of modifications in the political, economic and social spheres undertaken by Brazil at
that time: the entrance in a consumption society, the conservative modernization process and
the urban sprawl among them. Such changes are usually thought of only through the college
students that made use of music as an instrument of political protest. However, this was not
the only youth project that rose in the 60’s. Living concomitantly in the same media outlets,
especially TV, the college students and the Jovem Guarda singers constructed themselves as
different models of young identity. Our is to highlight in which way it articulated a social
representation of youth within the mass media: what is the nature of this representation, how
is it assumed by the artists and institutions and to which symbolic background does it relate
are some of the issues covered. In this regard, we explore on what extent youth becomes a
central category to think about music and youth becames a central category to understanding
brazilian popular music in the 60s.
Imaginaries on carioca youth
In 1961, when proclaiming “Hail, hail Babeland, what I want is trouble, I’ll hop on the
dancefloor holding my babe tight”, the composition “Hail Babeland”, by samba man João de
Barros, seemed to indicate that youth had migrated to the popular imaginary as an
independent category, and therefore needed special adjectives.
“Broto ” is the term used to refer to the youngsters, women, most of the time, wich
3
supposedly inhabited a private world the “brotolândia ”, and almost always feminine, that
4
becomes an increasing target of public scrutiny. Waywards, playboys and brotos register, in
Brasil, the influence of north American teenage consuming culture and will be fundamental
in the construction of Jovem Guarda’s symbolic repertoire (Palladino, 2001).
If the playboy was linked to adult universe of gossip columns, comprising of politicians,
enterpreneurs and media celebrities, the teenagers were symbolized by the blue-jeans,
scooters, ponytail hairdos and high waisted skirts. Both characters were becoming symbols of
new consuming culture – represented by the capital values of leisure, functionality and
pleasure – that was expanding world-wide in the post-war, (Osgerby, 2001).
Such values coupled with the oficial discourse of brazilian prosperity and progress,
materialized in the arrival of high fidelity turntables, potato chips, shampoo and shopping
centers circumscribed to the growth of the industrial complex and the urban sprawl, achieved
under the auspices of foreign capital (Mello, Novais, 1998). Although the imports aimed at
the american teenager could only be seized by a small fraction of brazil’s urban middle classes,
that did not refrain their progressive infiltration in the popular imaginary through films such
as Rebel without a cause, The Wild One, Rock around the clock, as well as the songs of Elvis
Presley, combined with the romantic tunes of Paul Anka and Neil Sedaka.
3
4
babe
babeland
3.3. Before the DIY: Jovem Guarda and youth culture in Brazil (65-68)
189
The neighbourhood of Copacabana, in Rio de Janeiro, especially helped nurturing this
imaginary. Its extremely vibrant nightlife with bars, restaurants, movie theaters and lots of
clubs composed the core of the Rio de Janeiro’s nightlife (Lenharo, 1995). This was the habitat
of Brazilian playboys, whose routine punctuated with social events – lunches, cocktail parties,
nights out, horse races – and love affairs fed the universe of gossip columns. Its figure is
molded to the Brasilian imaginary in an extremely ambivalente fashion: it represented a
hedonistic atitude towards life that could be both celebrated as a symptom of affluence as
well as censored for its individualistic, artificial and shallow character. Thus, “playboy”
becomes an adjective not rarely considered derogatory that would establish proximity with
another mediatic role: the wayward.
The wayward is a category directly inherited from the American press, that since the
beginning of the decade intensely debated juvenile criminality. It was the dark side of the
teenager culture: “it is urgente to face the harsh reality (...) before the phenomenon of juveile
delinquency – one that constitutes a social stigma in the United States – also contaminates
Brazilian youth ”.
5
Such terms are not just describing a reality, but at constructing a narrative concerning the
extremely ambivalent character of urban life at the end of the fifties: highly influenced by the
values of american consumption society and its youth culture. Between the celebration and
the fear of change, it rebuilts an foreign imaginarie in a different context. It is this landscape
of parties, fast cars and absolute luxury that will help composing Jovem Guarda’s symbolic
universe.
In search of a market segmentation
Despite the brotos, playboys and waywards were personified as current categories of mediatic
imaginary, Brasil did not have, as the United States did, youth as a market segment.
Concerning popular music, one would have to wait until the end of the Sixties in order to
properly speak about a proper youth sound.
Until the previous decade, Rio de Janeiro had a vibrant musical scenario where Samba,
Tango, Rumba and Guarânia could be sung and danced to at boîtes, theaters and especially
at the radio auditorium in a great variety of languages: Spanish, Italian, French and English
(Lenharo, 1995). In spite of the multiplicity of styles, there were not a clear market
segmentation. The artists, public and orchestras dealt with the manifold musical and linguistic
idioms. The international hits, therefore, blended with the local repertoire, extremely
hybridized from the outset.
It is not by accident that the first Brasilian Rock 45”, “Ronda das Horas”, a reinterpretation
of Rock Around The Clock by Bill Haley and the Comets is released in 1955 through Nora Ney’s
voice, a singer quite distant from the teenager universe and already very well known for her
romantic and overly tragic songs. The first Brazilian teen idols to achieve success with rock and
roll come to the fore from 1959 and onwards, having in their repertoire cover versions of Paul
Anka’s and Neil Sedaka’s hits, which lyrics – refering to balls and romantic dating – and slow
pacing sounded harmless to the dominant morality.
5
17 /08/ 57, Última Hora, p.10. Última Hora was one of the main newspapers of the country in the
timeframe considered for this article’s topic.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
When this music arrives in Brasil, the doubt regarding its success potential makes the future
leaders of Jovem Guarda – Roberto Carlos, Erasmo Carlos and Wanderléa – include it in their
repertoire but not as the main genre; eclectic repertoires were the norm back them.
The turn of the decade, however, sees the arrival of a new generation of artists hailing
from the middle classes that would reconfigure the conventions on music making, putting into
check some formulas of the past. The influence of Jazz, the minimalistic performance and the
treatment of guitar as a rhythmic, instead of melodic, instrument gave a novel and avantgard
aura to popular music. Coming from Bahia, João Gilberto was the main exponent of Bossa
Nova; a new genre adapted to intimism of apartments and nightclubs and characterized by
the dilletant atitude, the aesthecizing gaze and an entrenched class habitus that discouraged
new members on its circles (Napolitano, 2001).
To Robert Carlos Braga, son a clockmaker and a tailouress, delving into Bossa Nova was
another way to success, targeted since the beginning of his puerile career in his hometown’s
radio stations, in the countryside of the state of Espírito Santo. He would arrive in Rio de
Janeiro at fifteen years old, in 1956, pursuing his goal. From 1959 onwards, he start to perform
as crooner at the Plaza club in Copacabana, with a varied repertoire that would also include
some Bossa.
Notwithstanding his singing style being quite close to that of João Gilberto’s, Roberto
Carlos was rejected by the Bossa Nova circles, formed mainly by college and middle class
youngsters; a constrasting setting from that of a dweller of the suburbs that depended on
music to live. His interpretation was seen as a copy, since it was deprived of all signs of
legitimation: nothing seemed more vulgar than converting an avantgarde proposal into
massive market appeal.
This early moment in Roberto Carlos’ career is marked by songs heavily influenced by the
6
7
new rhythm such as Brotinho sem Juízo and Ser Bem , both from 1961. Whereas the former
recalls Sedaka’s compositions fused with a Bossa beat, the latter keeps the rhythm and makes
evident that “being well-off” in a young suburban kid’s perspective, meant being part of the
nightlife of Copacabana, represented by the high society clubs and its patrons, the playboys,
made visible by gossip columns in newspapers.
None of those songs became a hit. Roberto Carlos would find better accolade with his
suburban neighbours, also hailing from working classes and who dreamed of someday “being
well-off”. Deprived of apartments to gather and scarce consumption goods to entertain
themselves, Erasmo Carlos along with Wilson Simonal e Tim Maia – future renowned artists
in the realm of popular music – made the streets their playground. There, Erasmo recall on his
biography (2006) that the typical merriments of popular classes – soccer, marbles – came
across the consumption of American and Brazilian mass cultures symbols: Walt Disney, Popeye
and Flash Gordon comics, pin up pictures and movies such as Rock around the Clock, Rebel
Without a cause, as well as westerns and carnivalesque comedies.
Music, however, was central. Roberto and his friends shared a taste for João Gilberto,
Samba and especially Rock, also forming a shortlived band that performed at circuses and
churches. At the beginning of the Sixties, they made themselves noticed in popular radio and
TV shows that would harbor rock and roll and the way it was danced due to its somewhat
excentric character.
6
7
Misbehaving babe
To be well-off
3.3. Before the DIY: Jovem Guarda and youth culture in Brazil (65-68)
191
Jovem Guarda’s third big name, Wanderléa Salim, hailing from the countryside of Minas,
also performed since her childhood in radio show with a extremely diverse repertoire. Not until
the middle of the Sixties she would assume a rocker identity, claiming for her role as a “straight
talk girl”, an autonomous and self-reliant woman, that would show her body in swimsuits and
miniskirts, but who would also use songs with religious content that dealt themes such as
marriage and true love. The attempt to gather emancipation in the field of mores also made
the youngsters dealt with a conservative and dominant moral.
Relating to the biography of Roberto, Erasmo and Wanderléa is important to make sense
of the link beetween their life trajectories and the cultural consumption that came along and
would gains traction through Jovem Guarda. The construction of a youth imaginary will not
come about, therefore, strictly as a well conceived market product but is produced in the
crossing between the search for individual ascension, the desires of the industry and a cultural
consumption populated by celebrities that served as models of success in a crucial moment of
American influence in popular music.
Figure 1 - PUGIALI, p.230
Jovem Guarda on stage
To relation about youth and music another meaning with the première of the show Jovem
Guarda on TV network Record in 1965. Presenting live broadcasted performances, the show
was conducted by Roberto Carlos, Wanderléa and Erasmo Carlos. On its stage, the decor
refered to the universe of automobiles and Beatlemania made itself felt through the garments,
hairdos and songs, many of which were Portuguese covers of the British band’s international
hits. Adding up to this there was the influence of romantic songs, be it national, to which the
public had access through the radio for the past three decades, or international, connected to
the Ballad Rock of the Fifities. From all great musicals hosted by TV Record, this was the only
aimed to the young and noisy audiences that would mob the venue, in and outside its
premises.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
In 1966, the show was already a blockbuster, being exhibited on video-tape across the
country. The show’s promotion was managed by the Magaldi, Maia & Prosperi (MM&P)
advertising agency, that would even release a line of products comprising miniskirts, bags, tshirts, shoes, boots and even school supplies inspired the young artists’ image
8
Invited to star on movies, pose to photo shoots, give interview sessions and perform in live
shows, the successful singers would also act as actors, hosts as well as models. Multimediatic
competences were required: the demans were fundamentally linked to the audiovisual
requirements demanded by TV. The contrasted wth the radio language was evident.
The multiplication of articles that would describe the intimacy and routine of the young
celebrities started to increasingly blur the lines between public and private. The artists would
become characters in a fiction that turned their own lifes into a novel. Roberto Carlos’ moniker
was Brasa (Ember), the good boy from the countryside, slim, with a naive and careless look,
tailormade to please mothers, whereas Erasmo Carlos was the Tremendão (The top guy), the
tal Young man, strong and rebellious, always to ready to defend his and his friend’s honour,
as for Wanderléa, she was Ternurinha (Dollface), delicate, vain, but also independent, fierce
and ambitious. Each role featured the archetypical gallery of heroes and villains from the
comics, films and gossip columns. Its singers reprresented the heroes of consumption society,
the self made people who would come from “nothing” and would conquer success from his
own individual effort, being able to, at last, enjoy life as a playboy surrounded by babes (Plates
2, 3).
In between it all there was the youngster: fundamentally constructed in this multimediatic
arena, it is a display and symptom of a new era of technological modernity, making the
indissociable link between youth identity, mediatic coverage and consumption. The emerging
generation originated on the radio, but also helped define music in relation to TV.
Many were the means used to build the juvenile specificity. The smooth tones would
constrast the radio artists’ pottent voice. The use of orchestras and accoustic instruments
would give place to the young and electrified bands. The careless manner of handling the
guitar, amplifiers, keyboards and microfones would express the naturality with which the new
generation would embrace the technologies. In their songs, love conquests and losses, themes
from the vast romantic tradition of popular music, devoid of the tragic and fatalistic tone,
would be relocated on a scenario of parties, love affairs and fun.
The musicians’ visuality, performance and peculiarities would have to adapt not only to the
radio’s microphone, but to the camera’s eye. The physical contours would be, therefore,
largely exhibited in miniskirts, cleavages and open blouses that would be completed by long
hair and other accessories, explored in detailed shoots to be published in colorful magazines.
The bet in novelty and rupture, however, would share space with a Strong conservative bias.
Youth and the culture industry
It is undeniable that the construction of youth held by Jovem Guarda was thought of as a
product. The Jovem Guarda TV show is a deliberate attempt at hopping in the success of the
youth market worldwide. In its premiering moment, TV Record already had in its menu the
Bossaudade and Fino da Bossa shows, gathering a prestigious cast both from the old school
and the nascent MPB (Mísica Popular Brasileira [Brasilian Popular Music]). The first group had
8
Jornal do Brasil, Caderno B, 19/1/68, p.9
3.3. Before the DIY: Jovem Guarda and youth culture in Brazil (65-68)
193
know their pinnacle through radio, during the Forties and Fifties and was formed mainly by
the popular classes. The second, on the other hand, comes about at the end of the Fifties,
with the advent of Bossa Nova, which would be politicaly infused giving birth to the Protest
Songs (Napolitano, 2001). Rock was the third great segment that would assure Record the
hegemony in the popular music market on TV. Believing that the Beatles’ success could be
localy replicated, MM&P decided to accept the risks of a juvenile show. The conditions for the
fabrication of idols whose ideal of youth was fundamentally and ideal of consumption were
set.
In a moment when the big urban centers grow at astounding levels, attracting a horde of
migrants with the promises of social mobility, youngsters seemed to materialize the discourses
of renewal and ascension through individual effort that lies at the core of liberal propaganda.
The emphasis on hedonism – expressed in narratives filled by fast cars, parties and countless
dates – is essentially a bet on the ephemerity of the present, that is in tune with the passing
character of the consumption of material goods. Amidst the songs, movies, records and
especially items such as pants, bags and dolls, a young lifestyle was sold (Image 2).
Figure 2 - Revista Tv Sul, January 1966, p.4
Nonetheles, Jovem Guarda is not the result of a entrepreneurial decisions made behind
closed doors. Jovem Guarda’s success was largely based on the improvisation, which is the
keyword to understand the way media worked before it began to be rationalised by the end
of the Sixties. Until then, accounting planning and market research would not set the tone in
communication enterprises, still scarcely integrated among themselves and largely based on
its owners centralising spirit.
The end of the Sixties represents the start of the decline of tradicional companies such as
TV Record TV, one of the biggest TV networks that would still work as a family endeavour.
From this moment on, however, many conventions strongly felt in the radiophonic scenario of
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
the Fifties still structured the reception to musical shows on TV. The search for a massive
audience, music as entertainment and the appeal to the popular classes composed a grammar
of spectacle and performance in which the music functioned as an element of engagement
and mobilisation of the senses.
If Bossa Nova, through its minimalistic execution, would cast away the performance’s
sensorial dimension and would repel the audience participation, in the middle of the Sixties,
the genre would become more politicised and would reencounter its lost dimension through
the Song Festivals broadcast by the same TV Record. At Jovem Guarda’s stage the spectacular
element was even more evident, expressed in décor, artistic performance and outfits.
Alongside the state of the art technologial props, a sensibility inherited from the radio
auditoriums would remain.
The same happened regarding the moral dimension that permeated Jovem Guarda’s
discourse. Its values would be flexible enough to be adapted to the new moment, but at the
same time conservative to the point of not demolishing the moral conventions and musical
consumption habits that made its succcess possible. On the TV stages, record sleeves, song
lyrics and interviews, Brasa, Tremendão and Ternurinha could state that they lived to party,
they were terrible, they had to maintain their bad reputation and they would race their cars
through the streets.
Festa de Arromba (1964)
(Wild Party)
Composição: Erasmo Carlos
Look to this wild party
Where I got myself on
Radio and TV all around
Cinema and paper coverage
Big crowd, a real mess
Almost couldn’t reach the door
Because the mob
Was really tought
Hey, Hey, (hey, hey)
What a sucess
What a wild party
(.....)
Look who arrived suddenly
Roberto Carlos in his hotwheel
Meanwhile Tony e Demétrius
Smoked outdoors
Sérgio e Zé Ricardo
bumped on me
Outdoors a big mess
Because of the babes
It was Ed Wilson who just arrived
Hey, Hey, (hey, hey)
What a sucess
What a wild party
(.....)
Eu sou terrível (1965)
Composição: Roberto Carlos
I’m terrible
It’s better to quit
Teasing me
You don’t know
Where I come from
Who I am
And what I have
(....)
I’m terrible
I’m telling you
There won’t be easy
To follow me
Girl walking by my side
Will feel the rush
My rod is hot machine
I’m terrible, I’m terrible...
3.3. Before the DIY: Jovem Guarda and youth culture in Brazil (65-68)
195
Conversely, that would pubicly declare their love for heir mothers and would host charity
9
concerts . Fearless, adventurous, consumerists, debauched, but also peaceful, sober, polite,
devout to God and Family: those were the apparently contrasting values that Jovem Guarda
projected onto their ideal of youth.
All of its symbolic universe captured the mediatic imaginary of the youth that has been
under construction since the Fifties. The babes, playboys and waywards are their characters
and the parties, dates and car races are their settings. It is about a mediatic narrative that fused
the suburban and juvenile sociability to the dreams and desires put forth in American songs,
films and comics, nurtured by the gossip columns that represented the tantalizing
Copacabana’s nightlife.
Being aired at Sunday afternoon, the show captured an extremely familial fraction of the
audience that would first get in touch with a universe of clothes, dances, slangs and songs
until then not well known by these viewers. The challenge, thus, was to captivate and sell a
new young lifestyle to widest possible audience. It was about turning the hedonistic values
and other youth signs of an American consumption society compatible with the remaining
symbolic conventions already present in the world of music, including those of moral order.
The symbols of Jovem Guarda, thus, mingled with the life narratives of the artists
themselves who would enact them, permeated by a suburban sociability and conformed by a
mediatic consumption that is generalised as a market product.
Jovem Guarda vs MPB?
From the installment of the dictatorship in 1964 and onwards, the investment on
communcations, combined with censorship, was the way through which the State intended
to materalise its project of conservative modernisation (Ortiz, 1986). This would not prevent
the cultural production from being bestowed with the task of dicussing the destinies of the
nation that previously solely belonged to parties, commitees or unions, now under siege. The
sphere of music is, therefore, conceived as a counter-hegemonic tool while boosted by the
then most powerfull medium: the television. This is especially true in the period before 1968,
the year when censorship and political persecutions would got harsher (Napolitano, 2001).
Following the juvenile revolts in international scale, the debate on youth changes radically
in the Sixties: from the rebelliousness against family and school, now it turns to the call to
political activism, the radicalism and the revolt agaings the State’s and capital’s dominant
ideologies (Ianni, 1963). The debate would become especially acute in Brasil, where an
authoritarian and technocratic modernisation process is held by the State.
Articulating a critique to the consumtion society and claiming for the restablishment of
democracy, the middle class college militancy imagined the youngster as main force of social
change. In the musical field, that is expressed by the formation of MPB, a cultural institution
where manifold musical genres were mixed – Bossa Nova, urban Samba and regional folk
songs amongst them – whose objective was to rediscover the people through music and
denounce the new regime’s contradictions . It was propelled fundamentally through the Song
10
9
Intervalo, 12/9/66
A song quite representative of this trend is Opinião (Opinion), composed by Nara Leão in 1964 (They
can luck me up, they can beat me up/They can even let me to starve/But my opinion I won’t change(...)
]
10
196
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Festivals and the musical show O Fino da Bossa, hosted by the duo Elis Regina and Jair
Rodrigues, both broadcast by Record TV (Napolitano, 2001).
It is from that same MPB that comes the critique to the sounds of Roberto, Erasmo and
Wanderléa. What, up to them did not represent more than a tacky sonority, “suburban stuff”
(Motta, 2000), now becomes the target of ideological reproof, for its “defeatist”, “alienated”
and “americanised” tunes.
When we study the musical scene from1964 onwards, precaution is necessary in order to
not take the heroic accounts of political engagement at its face value as historical truths. The
military coup did not “force” the politicization of popular music, this was one of the possible
answers to an historic conjuncture. In sociological terms, the politicization does not appear as
an “obligation” to artists, but as an outcome of a mobilization of a specific group that knew
how to take the most of that moment. Thus it was not a fatality or an obligation.
When regarding Jovem Guarda as “alienated” we are imposing norms and judgements to
the social world instead of deciphering the logics from which it operates. “Engagement” and
“alienation” should be read as native categories of the discourse, means through which the
actors classify and organize the world. We should understand its origins and how it works.
This would allow us to perceive how the field of popular music lived the regime’s
contradictions in diverse ways that did not run their course in MPB.
Jovem Guarda translated onto its own terms the modernising utopia by amalgamating
elements from a popular and urban lifestyle to the dreams and desires that the American
consumption society and the very official Brazilian ideology reverberated. If the answer seems
uncomfortable and aligned to the official ideology, it is no less representative of the multiple
ways in which the cultural field then functioned. Moreover, the rigid opposition between MPB
and Jovem Guarda must not be assumed from the start; both positions were undefined in the
Sixties and both were born within the mediatic vehicles – especially television – that needed
massive appeal to consolidate themselves.
At times, Jovem Guarda and MPB would find themselves very similar positions. As part of
the TV Record’s crew, they would frequently take part in mixed events. Presentating itself in
festivals and long debates articulated in newspapers and specialised publications, MPB could
also be followed in weekly TV magazines such as Intervalo. In short pieces filled with pictures,
both Chico Buarque’s green eyes and his intention of finding the people in his music were
featured. In the magazine, Erasmo Carlos’ love affairs, Elis Regina and Jair Rodrigues got the
same attention; it could even consider an alleged romance between Bossa Nova’s muse, Nara
Leão and Jovem Guarda’s singer Jerry Adriani .
11
The relationship with the repressive apparatus becones a problem to be solved by MPB:
garnering new followers for a counter-hegemonic public Project meant also submit to the
conventions oa a Market, itself one of the main tools of the authoritarian regime. The
politisation, contradictorily, lived side by side with the dynamics of spectacularisation and
mercantilisation.
Despite the diverging political leanings, the notoriety of the young singers inserted them
all in a grand mosaic of mediatic entertainment. The more intangible, the bigger was the
interest in their private life, offered as a consumption article on the massive press. Each one’s
identity would be defined, largely, not only in the content of their songs, but in the way this
was integrated to the mediatic construction of an image, what depended on aspects of
11
Intervalo, 9/7/66
3.3. Before the DIY: Jovem Guarda and youth culture in Brazil (65-68)
197
circulation that were hard to control. The alleged “war” between MPB and Jovem Guarda was
greatly fed by the same vehicles as a means of keeping the artists in display.
Nevertheless, disputes, elections and contests – best song or male singer (king), female
singer (queen) - had put the musical scenario into motion since the radio days, counting on
the active participation of musicians seeking for the spotlight (Calabre, 2002). The very Song
Festivals followed that logic, recurring to the press that then created a “thrill” around the
possible winners. Not by accident that in the 3rd edition of the Festival of Brasilian Music, the
biggest display for MPB prodution at the time, Roberto Carlos had interpreted Maria, Carnaval
e Cinzas [Mary, Carnival and Ashes], a composition anchored in the repertoire of “popular
themes” representative of the politicised repositor of the time, achieving the 3rd place (Images
3, 4, 5, 6).
Figure 3 - Intervalo, 8 May 66, p.12
Figure 4 - Intervalo, 7 May 67, p.33
Figure 5 - Intervalo, 19 December 66, p.32
Figure 6 - Intervalo, 21 November 65, p.37
Between deliberately, fabricated factoids and “honest opinions”, all kinds of statements
were subject to the mediatic treatment and also to their circulation and consumption. The rise
of television would keep this dimension, even if instilling a ideological sense in it, derived from
the new social function acquired by the medias.
Back to Brasil, I expected to find Samba stronger than ever, What I saw was that submusic,
that noise dragging thousands of teenagers that start to feel interested in the musical
language and get deviated. This Ye Ye Ye is a drug: deforms the youth’s mind. Look at the
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
songs they sing: the majority has very few notes and that makes them easy to sing and
remember. The lyrics doesn’t contain any message: they talk about dances, pretty words for
the ears, futile things. Anyone who wishes can make music like that, commenting on their last
quarrel with the boyfriend. This is nor serious neither good. So, why keep the aberration? We,
brazilians, have found a formula to make something well taken care of for the youth, not
12
appealing to Rocks, Twists, Ballads, but using the very groove of our Samba.
Published by the Intervalo magazine, this famous statement by Elis Regina is usually read
as one of the strongest proofs of the “war” between MPB and Jovem Guarda (Froes, 2000).
This does not heed the fact that the magazine was entirely moved the spectacular ink with
which it coloured any kind of statement. The image that goes with the article is quite
illustrative (Image 7).
Figure 7 – Iê, iê iê (yeah,yeah,yeah) sucks - Intervalo, 27 March 66, p.22
Two months later, the same magazine would register a public apology from Regina to
Roberto Carlos on the day of his birthday performance, which was captured with the intent
of becoming part of a documentary, never finished. This makes clear how “war” and “peace”,
as well as “alienated” and “engaged”, are more structuring categories of the mediatic
discourse than instruments of sociological analysis. What is interesting to investigate, thus, is
in which manners the ideological convictions negotiate with both a spectacular and a market
logic.
Recognising the commercial dimension of the engaged discourse is not a cynical way of
neutralising it. Even more so, it is about acknowledging the limits and dilemas sprung by the
character of products in which the cultural goods are immersed, something that does not
eliminate the diferences. Many are the points of contact and friction between MPB and Jovem
Guarda, the line of demarcation that separates them is not stale, but negotiated in the heat
of the historical conjunctures. These are two possible answers within the same universe of
practices that should be understood, therefore, in their relational and indissociable character.
12
Intervalo, 27/03/66
3.3. Before the DIY: Jovem Guarda and youth culture in Brazil (65-68)
199
Radio versus TV, archaic versus modern, democracy versus dictatorship, politicised versus
alienated, middle classes versus popular classes are some of the debates that took over popular
music in the Sixties, translating wider problematics into specific positions. Youth, historically
constructed as a locus of transition, shock and passage, helps us grasp this moment, also of
rearrangement of forces. From a particular viewpoint, the one of Jovem Guarda’s, we believe
that is possible to think in what measure youth emerges in the music scenario and also how
the latter, when incorporating youth, appears reconfigured.
References
Araujo, P. C.. Roberto Carlos em detalhes. Rio de Janeiro: Editora Planeta, 2006.
Bourdieu, P. A Distinção: Crítica Social do Julgamento. Porto Alegre: Zouk, 2007.
Calabre, L. No Tempo do Rádio. Radiodifusão e Cotidiano no Brasil. 1923-1960. Tese (Doutorado em
História) - Universidade Federal Fluminense, Rio de Janeiro, 2002.
Carlos, E. Minha Fama de mau. Rio de Janeiro, Objetiva, 2009.
Froes, M. Jovem Guarda: Em Ritmo de Aventura. São Paulo: Editora 34, 2000.
Gilbert, J. A Cycle of outrage America's Reaction to the Juvenile Delinquent in the 1950s. Oxford: Oxford
University Press:1988.
Grossberg, L. The Political Status of Youth and Youth Culture. In: EPSTEIN, Jonathon. Adolescents and
their Music: If it’s too loud, you’re too old. New York: Garland, 1994, p.25-46.
Ianni, O. O jovem radical. In: BRITTO, S. de. Sociologia da juventude v.1. Rio de Janeiro: Zahar, 1968, p.
225-242.
Lenharo, A. Cantores do Rádio: A trajetória de Nora Ney e Jorge Goulart no meio artístico do seu tempo.
Barão Geraldo: Editora da Unicamp, 1995.
Marshall, P. D. Celebrity and power: fame in contemporary culture. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota
Press, 1995.
Melo, J. M.; e NOVAIS, Fernando. Capitalismo Tardio e Sociabilidade Moderna. In: Novais, F.. História da
Vida Privada no Brasil: Contrastes da intimidade contemporânea. São Paulo: Companhia das
Letras, 1998.
Monteiro, D. Dez! Nota Dez! Eu sou Carlos Imperial. São Paulo: Matrix, 2008.
Mota, N. Noites Tropicais. São Paulo: Objetiva, 2000.
Napolitano, Marcos. Seguindo a Canção: Engajamento Político e Indústria Cultural na MPB (1959-1969).
São Paulo: AnnaBlume / FAPESP, 2001.
Palladino, G.. Teenagers – An american history. Nova York: Basic Books, 1997.
Pavão, A. Rock Brasileiro: 1955-65. São Paulo: Edicon, 1982.
Pugiali, R. Almanaque da Jovem Guarda: os embalos de uma década cheia de brasa, mora? São Paulo:
Ediouro, 2006.
Zan, J. R. Do Fundo de Quintal à Vanguarda. Tese de Doutorado, IFCH/Unicamp, 1997.
3.4. Rock in Portugal: effects of the rock music in the
Portuguese youth (1960 vs. 2014)
Ana Martins 1
Abstract
According to Ricciotto Canudo’s manifest The Birth of the Sixth Art, Music ranks the fourth place
in the short list suggested by Ricciotto Canudo, in 1911. Nevertheless, like any other form of artistic
expression, the music also was born to change the world. Not only the world of who create music,
but the one from all of us who listen it and laugh, cry, beg, have fun, grow, mature and get old,
always with her around us, in every circumstance.
The music is all made by different cultures, different rhythms and sounds, crossing and touching
each other at some point. And it is in this inequality that lives the beauty of the musical harmony.
Rock touches me. I use the term “touch”, because my heart beats faster, my ears expand and my
skin shivers up.
Like any other forms of artistic expression, Rock came also to leave a very strong mark in the world
that we live. And, as we live in Portugal, why not explore this phenomenon of the national Rock?
Why not address myself to the arrival, the development and the consolidation of this culture in our
country? Why not study his impact, marks, innovations and transformations left in this small country
planted by the sea?
So I’d like to explore the emergence of this subculture in Portugal, as well his place in contemporary
society. In other words, I will try to realize what impacts this music type brought to the Portuguese
youth.
Keywords: Rock music, Portuguese youth, Music, Portugal
Metamorphoses: rock and Portuguese society
As we can see, rock music didn't go rushing in our country, winning everything and everyone,
but what is certain is that it came in and changed all that it touched. In this way, I tried to
synthesize some transformations given by this subculture at six levels: Rock: first contacts,
Rock: socialization booster, Rock: transformation of Myslef, Rock: social consolidation and
birth of new habits, Rock: participation and, finally, Rock: transformations into the 21st
century. Note, that there are some characteristics associated with the rock culture, that live in
the memories of the profiles of the respondents, such as: energy, rebelliousness, longing,
pride, profession, past, present, friendship, fun, timelessness, modernity, adrenaline, pulse,
transgression, contestation, radicalism, irreverence, curiosity, as positive aspects and death,
madness, drugs, risk, failure, denial, consumerism, failure, as the negative aspects associated
with this issue. Thus, as almost all social phenomena, also the rock culture presents positive
and negative feelings, with the protagonists in study. “(…) the pop-rock is the first artistic
product in history that has become mass phenomenon. It is also the first artistic product
1
University of Minho, Portugal.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
produced by young and the great designer, since the sixties, a youth culture – an autonomous
social space, which itself also represents a new social phenomenon: how youth sector with
self-awareness of their individuality "(Fernandes, 2002: 26).
On the first level, Rock: first contacts, you can see that rock entered in Portugal by baby
steps. "When I got seven or eight years, we had the rock music well defined, but we lived in
a very isolated place" (Castro, Sérgio, Trabalhadores do Comércio - Interviewee). In this sense,
the rock culture first came out, through especially Anglo-Saxonic rock music, which came to
compete with the French and Italian music, which seemed to flood public radio at the time.
"The Radio was light music, charming singers, orchestras of the national broadcaster, tradition
and fado-musical brand of a country that was gray and who taught to believe in fate and the
tradition" (Duarte, António, A Arte Elétrica de Ser Português - Interviewee). However, to
realize these new sonorities, youth seemed to have connected the «antennas» and fixed their
attention for what was coming. "It awakens my whole generation, in 1963 I had 15 years old,
when the Beatles were born, then the Stones and, therefore, the entire movement AngloAmerican pop/rock" (Brito, Tozé, Quarteto 1111 - Interviewee). These first inductees to the
rock culture was mediated mostly by friends or older siblings, who had a crucial role in the
dissemination of this new musical genre. "That's exactly when I was 10 years old, so in 1970,
through my older brother, who had the Beatles rock albums, the Stones, Pink Floyd" (Rua,
Vitor, ex GNR - Interviewee). Regardless of age, one of the first names that these mediators
show was called Beatles. "Therefore, in the year 1963, I realized the existence of the Beatles
and I thought it was a song that appealed to me greatly, much more than was common in
Portugal" (Castro, Sérgio, Trabalhadores do Comércio - Interviewee). Many wanted to be like
them, others developed hates and sang glory to the rebels Rolling Stones, however, no one
seems to deny Beatles enormous influence on initiation into rock culture. Of course, that in
the Decade of 60, the Beatles, the Stones or any other band had to be heard a little hide-andseek from the ears of the relatives. This, because, as has already been mentioned, we were
living tension periods and dictatorial threats were a constant.
Thus, foreign rock music began to enter gradually in the jukeboxes of the national clubs,
as well as on the radio stations of the national broadcast, passing unnoticed by the national
censorship. And why that happened? Because the music herself was a scream speech against
political pressures and cruelties, that lived throughout the world. However, it seems that the
national censorship didn’t understand Portuguese very well and even less English. "And, even
for us, at the beginning, the Beatles, the" love you "we understood, the rest we didn't
understand a word" (Castro, José, Petrus Castrus - Interviewee). This tolerance eventually gives
wings to rock, to go through media outlets. "The apparent tolerance with which the regime
left rock 'n' roll vibrate in Portugal, and the undeniable novelty of the phenomenon, its
progressive disclosure provided in the media, especially in magazines of spectacles" (Duarte,
António, A Arte Elétrica de Ser Português - Interviewee). Most of the young people started
gradually getting excited about this new phenomenon, which was different from the kind of
music to which they were used to.
“Is the time when I stopped listening what they gave me to hear, which was what my mother
and my aunt heard and in which I spent listening to music I already own and when I start
saying "I like this" or "I like that". And what happens? I was at the age of nine when I had
my first classic guitar (…)” (Rua, Vítor, ex GNR - Interviewee).
Generally speaking, these first contacts with the rock were made, essentially, by radio or
by vinyl. "The radio and the television didn’t have nothing about rock" (Brito, Tozé, Quarteto
3.4. Rock in Portugal: effects of the rock music in the Portuguese youth (1960 vs. 2014)
203
1111 - Interviewee). On television haven't even thought of such a thing, as for radio, initially,
to hear rock they used to use radio stations with international satellite equipment or to the
mythical national nightly programs. "And I remember had ten years old and listen to the
popular music themes like the Stones and the Kinks, in the evening radio shows of Rádio
Renascença, which at the time was the radio, maybe more open to this kind of music and had
to heard that, when my parents thought I was asleep, but I was listening to under my pillow
"(Castro, Sérgio, Trabalhadores do Comércio - Interviewee). Though, the scene was changing
gradually, either on the radio or on television. "On the radio (the national broadcaster) would
begin to be transmitted live, and recorded for posterity, talented musicians that views
expressed in the new language of rock 'n' roll. This was followed by RTP (national television),
which would become the vehicle of excellence to cement the stardom of Portuguese pop
musicians in the Decade of 60 "(Duarte, António, A Arte Elétrica de Ser Português Interviewee). When it comes to vinyl records, these existed around the few stores of the time,
but were scarce and arrive with plenty of time delay, in relation to the international release
date. A large portion of the vinyls was subject to import shops, another was purchased in
individual post name by CTT, but, also, for some, there were other alternatives. “(…) That was
my friend who was a pilot of the TAP, which brought me. Went to New York and to England
and brought (...) "(Santos, João, Rock Rendez Vous - Interviewee). However, not everyone had
this privilege.
“A poor, illiterate and isolated Portugal, ruled by a dictator narrow-minded but popular,
listening to rock 'n' roll was supposed to be a great adventure for a young man, and even
more rock 'n' roll! But this adventure was only allowed to those who could afford to buy
records and musical instruments imported and expensive, or travel to New York or London to
learn about the news. That is, the teenagers of wealthy families of the upper middle class (at
a time when the middle class was scarce)" (Duarte, António, A Arte Elétrica de Ser Português
- Interviewee).
However, I wonder why the rock took them to listen hiding, to import records, or buying
instruments? "Basically, the energy of that music and the rebellion, in relation to current
music, the traditional music (…)" (Brito, Tozé, Quarteto 1111 - Interviewee). The rock
appeared as an oasis in the desert for the youth, who lived hidden by family pressure and of
regime pressure. The rock gave them what they needed at the right time. And what they
needed was freedom of expression, to live their dreams, to shoot down prejudices and taboos,
to criticize, to challenge, to live their youth, as they, in their visions, it should be. The theme
of the lyrics was also a very important aspect of this success, as were much more open and
drove to various taboos of society, without any constraints. It was also important to the
aesthetics of rock subculture. “(…) But, more than anything, it was the clothes and the hair
and the visual "(Costa, Álvaro, Antena 3 - Interviewee). As we see, the rock music was
something completely new in the eyes of our young people, was the music transformed into
intensity, pulse and transgression. "More than modern music was modernity (....)" (Macedo,
Adolfo, Mão Morta - Interviewee). In other words was, above all, the cut with the past, with
what was going on the radio and what was imposed on them.
And this cut began with the first singles or albums that young people started listening. In
these initial contacts, was again important the music of the Beatles. “(…) The first album that
I remember having bought and stored in a special way was the Rubber soul, of the Beatles.
However, we highlight, also, Brazilian music, which in turn also had some influence. (…) There
was a moment of madness by Brazilian music, especially here, because we were talking [the
language]" (Castro, José, Petrus Castrus - Interviewee). But other names stand out, such as
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the Rolling Stones, the Doors, The Who, Pink Floyd, among others. But, as important as the
music itself was the whole ritual of selection, purchase and preparation of the turntables, for
by playing vinyl. "Buy an album was an adventure and an album was a valuable thing" (Brito,
Tozé, Quarteto 1111 - Interviewee). Even if it was in a store, where they could touch them
and hear them in the mythical cabins, or even if it was via postcard, buy an album was an
almost religious ritual. "The difference is that if you listened to music with a more liturgical...
due to the process. Was the stereo, the needle, the unwrapping of the disc, flip it." (Costa,
Álvaro, Antena 3 - Interviewee). And, of course, not to mention the money that came together
for the power to buy. “(…) was the staff who wouldn't eat, threw money parents for lunch
and don't eat, because after four or five days, that money all along you could buy an album"
(Calado, Nuno, Antena 3 - Interviewee). Interestingly, the copy was still unusual, not everyone
had access to tape recorders and not everyone wanted to borrow their ' treasure ' to someone.
"Met, listen to music, swap disks, I lent a record and lend me another and we took home and
stayed. We then piracy, what then was considered piracy at the time was the most normal
and simple act in the world "(Castro, Sérgio, Trabalhadores do Comércio - Interviewee). The
music stores began to appear, little by little, to spread all over the country. It should be noted,
that subsequently, until the shops of home appliances had a music section, which sold vinyl
records, in addition to the sale of turntables.
“At the time, we are interested in music was, clearly, we are interested in rock” (Calado,
Nuno, Antena 3 - Interviewee). Despite the heated discussions between the Beatles and the
Rolling Stones, the music seemed to dictate the circle of friends, in which young people were
part. “One of the things that happens is that the music (...) creates bonds of friendship strong”
(Castro, Sérgio, Trabalhadores do Comércio - Interviewee). They started creating informal
social groups with a common denominator: the rock music. These groups, which evolved,
largely, to the creation of bands and to the professionalization, at a later stage. "Numerous
and popular contests Yeh-Yeh, at the Teatro Monumental, sponsored by businessman Vasco
Morgado and theatrical with wide media coverage, would become, for its part, the great pole
of socialization and ritualized fashion urban youth of Lisbon and of Porto" (Duarte, António,
A Arte Elétrica de Ser Português - Interviewee). Hence, that much of the conviviality of the
groups were conducted randomly in the homes of members, with the aim of listening to music
or try playing something. ”(…) We on Friday, at the end of the class, one of the hobbies on
Friday, because there was nothing to study, till on Sunday, we get together at my house or on
the Rui Reininnho’s house (...) " (Castro, Sérgio, Trabalhadores do Comércio - Interviewee). It
should be noted that the record labels such as Valentim de Carvalho and Orpheus were not,
according to Duarte (2014) indifferent to the growing popularity of these new musical scene.
However, the wave had little Sun lasts, when in the sixties young people began to fulfill military
service.
And we're now at the second level of analysis: Rock: socialization booster. In addition to
being in each other's houses, also began to congregate in cafes or subsequently in musical
rehearsal locations. “(…) We had to find a rehearsal room and our homes, none of them had
conditions, nor our parents were to put up with noise (...) and we decided to go talk to the
firemen of Leça da Palmeira (...)" (Brito, Tozé, Quarteto 1111 - Interviewee). And the trials
were at the Firehouse, the exchange of concerts at balls on Sunday. This, because not everyone
had garage or not everybody had permission to play there, due to the noise that inevitably
made.
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As regards the visual aspect, started to check some transformations. "Changed everything.
The hair started to grow all, everybody wore long hair at the time, was very few those who
weren't wearing" (Brito, Tozé, Quarteto 1111 - Interviewee). The appearance created by these
young people was like a mirror of their desire to be different and to cut off with the webs of
the oppressive past. Therefore, scrambled to appear, increasingly, with the ideal that they
created. "To buy more different they went to Caritas to buy cheap clothes, because it came
from the United States and was where we bought different clothes" (Macedo, Adolfo, Mão
Morta - Interviewee) Away were behind the times when they dressed like the parents and
grew into the habit of calling ' Sunday clothes». However, at the beginning, the parents didn’t
found great grace to these new outfits. "One of the things that they controlled, for example,
was the outfit, especially my mother. For them it was scandalous, I don't cut my hair, was
crucial for me" (Castro, Sérgio, Trabalhadores do Comércio - Interviewee). In conservative
society it was the Portugal of the time, there were still those who criticized this new lifestyle,
however, those views had a very short life. "So there is a revolution in terms of customs, and
clothing, which also passes the rock aesthetic and by those changes that accompany the
music, too" (Brito, Tozé, Quarteto 1111 - Interviewee). And, in fact, was not only the
appearance that changed, but also the attitude towards life and towards society. “(…) They
were very energetic people, they needed, somehow, was to vent the anger of the youth, the
blood in the gills" (Castro, José, Petrus Castrus - Interviewee). It was like a form of extortion.
“Rock music, like classical music and other songs we can call of evocation — as opposed to
revolutionary message, as the Folk or Reggae, which are more than extortion – has a strong
power of stimulation of aesthetic landscapes. This includes a set of transcendences: the
journey of thought go out of ourselves, out of the warm gray and real life. The star-system is
a production machine of this type of circumvention, being the rock-star your vehicle.
Participate fantastically of his life, his art, is to achieve a temporary overshoot actual conditions
existence-after all as drugs” (Fernandes, 2002: 26).
However, it is undeniable that the rock has conquered everything and everyone, but won
the overwhelming majority of youth. "The rock was across all age groups, at that time, and
to all social positions" (Castro, José, Petrus Castrus - Interviewee). Thus, it was normal that the
rock delineate the circuit of friendships and form groups, where all the members hear the
same kind of music. Who had not been infected by the magic of rock, when he began to be
popular, eventually moving away and integrate other social colony that had other hobbies. A
hobby which seemed to ' compete ' directly with the Rock was the sport. "There it is, the
sport, there were people very connected to the sport, in a very active way (...)" (Brito, Tozé,
Quarteto 1111 - Interviewee).
At the beginning, as we have seen, this subculture hadn’t great acceptance in society.
"People started to use hair by the middle of the back and listen critics and insults in the street"
(Brito, Tozé, Quarteto 1111 - Interviewee). This happened because people were not yet used
to this new lifestyle of young people, to their new attitudes, to their new beliefs, for their new
appearances. Came to be criticized even by his own family, who did not know what was the
rock subculture. "The Rock Culture, at that time, but today is something that is everywhere,
(...) no height, was liturgical "(Santos, João, Roxk Rendez Vous - Interviewee). However, it
wasn't so much the music itself that bothered them. "People were much more criticized by
appearance and by their attitude on life, than the fact that putting an album and be listening
to rock music" (Castro, José, Petrus Castrus - Interviewee). Others, in turn, were criticized by
the families, due to the volume of this kind of music. "I know other parents had other types
of complications. But, in my case, sometimes it was more by noise" (Calado, Nuno, Atena 3 -
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Interviewee). However, it also happens in some cases, the reverse situation. "We were
reviewing the other, for not listening to our music (...)" (Pedro, Miguel, Mão Morta Interviewee).
It should be noted, also, that when began to appear the first rock concerts in Portugal,
young people would soon go watch. In Portugal, among the first names mentioned include
Psico, Arte e Ofício, Pop 5, Taxi and the Sheiks... "The first concert thus international band
that I saw in Portugal were the Genesis, at Pavilhão de Cascais" (Brito, Tozé, Quarteto 1111 Interviewee). After this concert, the habit started to grow gradually, until you reach the holding
of festivals of music, But before we go in in the early festivals, you might want to take a small
jump on the third level of analysis brief: Rock: transformation of the self. All we know about
the situation in that country was, when the rock here appeared. Thus, the rock seems to have
functioned as a tool of expression, dictatorial demands escape and social challenge. "Me in
1111 had multiple albums prohibited by censorship (...)" (Brito, Tozé, Quarteto 1111 Interviewee). The action of censorship had the tendency to rebel, even more, the artists against
the reluctance of the citizens. And this revolt, sometimes not even to contest by the ideal that
they wished, but more by the assertion that they didn't want. “(…) the pop-rock goes to
emotionality, beside expressive more than rational – is more than reason evocation
"(Fernandes, 2002: 27). They wanted to end the regime, but they could not know what they
wanted to come next. It is also assumed, as an affirmation of identity for each. "The answer
to the question is thus: absolutely. The culture of the time, music, whatever you want, it was
like a beacon, where would seek solutions, answers to things (...)" (Costa, Álvaro Costa,
Antena 3 - Interviewee). However, awareness of the mindsets of young people don't just come
with the rock, even before we had, here in Portugal, very good musicians, young people have
grown up listening to. "So, that music can help a certain distance or alienation in relation to
political phenomena and, especially, more than political phenomena, which are fundamental
to social life, in relation to social phenomena" (Castro, Sérgio, Trabalhadores do Comércio Interviewee). So, this whole revolt against the regime and against its impositions, such as the
obligation to provide military service for example, has led many young people to follow in the
paths of rebellion. “(…) I think one of the reasons being rock was that transgression, which
at the time was real and felt (...)" (Rua, Vítor, ex GNR - Interviewee). And be a rebel is not go
around doing ' nonsense ', but is to be aware of the situations and challenge them. "I think
the rock and pop rock music were a rallying cry, I do not follow exactly to revolt, but mostly it
was a cry of emancipation of younger layers, compared to pressure and hegemony of layers
of adults who exercised the power" (Castro, Sérgio, Trabalhadores do Comércio - Interviewee).
Be a rebel was also different. "Some had hair longer, I would like to have, or have a different
outfit, you hear different things, or you feel different, there is defiance" (Costa, Álvaro, Antena
3 - Interviewee).
Rock: social consolidation and birth of new habits is the fourth level of analysis. Although
being a small country, the record stores have been growing gradually and getting profits up
quite large. "I have more than 600 customers in whole Portugal, when I started on Polygram
(...)" (Brito, Tozé, Quarteto 1111 - Interviewee). These stores had a huge advantage, already
mentioned, that was the existence of sound booths. "You took on the album and heard it
there and we spent afternoons like this (...)" (Costa, Álvaro, Antena 3 - Interviewee). These
sound booths allowed young people to select the albums that they liked and could hear them
in a small space, through headphones. And, although the music tended to be expensive,
young people did their sacrifices and tried to buy whatever they could. “(…) I had to ask my
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parents money, I don't remember well, but there was a time that was like a thousand escudos
or a thousand or so "(Rua, Vítor, ex GNR - Interviewee) However, when the will is big....
“I remember that the top single is released in Portugal in the years 80 and quickly reached
platinum record (...) But a platinum record in years 80 should have at least a hundred thousand
units, at least 100,000” (Ribeiro, Artur, Jo-Jo’s Music - Interviewee).
And everyone wanted to have the radio hit on vinyl. "It was cheap, there was no 50
television channels, there was no Facebook, there was nothing." (Ribeiro, Artur, Jo-Jo’s Interviewee). Thus, the youth had to entertain themselves with something and that something
was, mostly, music. "But it was a different time. There was another economic power, there
were jobs, there were jobs everywhere, there was... the cafes were full of people..." (Ribeiro,
Artur, Jo-Jo’s Music - Interviewee 2014). Today, economic power is less, there are no jobs, but
the cafes remain filled. Artur Ribeiro, the owner of the old Jo-Jo's Records also says that there
is still a market for specialty stores. "Today we should not go through the standard things, we
should be always with an eye on different things to different audiences and I have always had
this concern and I always appreciate that" (Ribeiro, Artur, Jo-Jo’s Music - Interviewee). The
businessman thinks he should lower the prices because compete with free music is not an easy
task and you're wrong, "because the artist must feel clearly motivated" (Ribeiro, Artur, Jo-Jo’s
Music - Interviewee). And, thus, is more difficult. However, "music isn't going away" (Ribeiro,
Artur, Jo-Jo’s Music - Interviewee), however, has increasingly new formats and people will
have, if you want to try to get used to them. Because, although the vinyl have been reborn,
who guarantees us that he came back to stay? However, as we know, life is a cycle and we
all go back to the same place in the end.
I couldn't speak of new habits and not talking about the slogan ' sex, drugs and rock 'n'
roll. "Changed everything and everyone "(Brito, Tozé, Quarteto 1111 - Interviewee). Despite
initially being unpopular, musicians and artists were given access to them. "Following the
revolution and the arrival of returnees from the former colonies is that drugs began to be
popularized" (Garcez, António, Roxigénio - Interviewee). Of course, the drugs have always
existed and didn't come here at the hands of rock, as well as always existed the State of
happiness or delirium. However, "everything goes back to appear in years 60/70, but in the
form of smoke, marijuana, hashish" (Brito, Tozé, Quarteto 1111 - Interviewee). Then came
the heavier drugs like LSD and hallucinogens in General and the tendency to experience
became irresistible to young people. "A person is listening to an album of Beatles, you hear
the Sgt. Peppers and know that they wrote a few songs under LSD (...)" (Brito, Tozé, Quarteto
1111 - Interviewee) and the temptation is great. However, the experience proved
unsatisfactory. "Either we told stories or, then, we didn't have this ability" (Brito, Tozé,
Quarteto 1111 - Interviewee). But, the most important was realizing that when a person is
having these experiences, it was not the ideal time to write or compose. However, we cannot
deny the interest that the drug created by youth. ”(…) the issue of drug was ubiquitous
"(Serra, José, Aqui D’el Rock - Interviewee). That happened, because it is a facilitator and turns
them on an altered state and in the case of musicians, can even become a facilitator when
you're on the stage. "In fact, the rock is linked to any drug culture" (Pedro, Miguel, Mão
Morta - Interviewee). Both phenomena appeared to be always connected, because drugs tends
to be associated with alternative postures and marginal postures. "And was also part of this
posture the drugs, alcohol, sex, everything more or less practice, depending on the society
position" (Macedo, Adolfo, Mão Morta - Interviewee). In this sense, the drugs seemed to be
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part of this kind of marginal, where the rock was happening. "Basically, these are all catalysts
and accelerators of emotions and are catalysts of lack of individual (...)" (Castro, Sérgio,
Trabalhadores do Comércio - Interviewee).
However, as for sex, things worked differently. "Portugal was traditional and women now
not so much, but were more traditionalists" (Pedro, Miguel, Mão Morta - Interviewee). In other
words, women didn't come out at night, pure and simple. There was not this habit in
Portuguese society. "It is clear that sex was the least practiced, because at the time it wasn't
easy, for example, in Braga, follow to the letter the maxim ' sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll ',
because there was no sex, there was virtually no women in Braga, wouldn't come out. There
were beatings when rose a woman "(Macedo, Adolfo, Mão Morta - Interviewee). In a Catholic
country and guided by the idea «God, homeland and Family» the own sex without being in
order, necessarily of procreation, was almost condemned by political and religious power.
Then there were the conflicting relations between these two organs with rock and subculture
with their excesses. “(…) There was a very large surveillance on women, especially on the
younger girls "(Serra, José, Aqui D’el Rock - Interviewee). However, it should be noted that,
little by little, women began to have their more open-minded, especially after the April 25 and
began trying to prove a point in society. Started, too, at that time, to emerge the first musical
groups composed of young girls and when the sexual revolution took place was a Madhouse.
“Is a complete liberation, in this sense, the mindset of those generations. And ready, start
practicing until because at the time there was no danger, which then came to appear much
later, danger to health, with the sex that was completely unprotected. It was absolutely crazy,
you know?“ (Brito, Tozé, Quarteto 1111 - Interviewee).
In short, what has changed is not the action itself, but the way you looked at them. “(…)
What has changed is the freedom to talk about these things, with openness, because hypocrisy
aside, before rock and these generations all, sex has always existed and has always done and
what else bastards in this country "(Brito, Tozé, Quarteto 1111 - Interviewee). And the same
idea applies to the drug because it has always existed and was not born with the rock. Nor did
bring the utopian revolutions in the field of musical creativity. “(…) Honestly, I don't see that
what has been produced at this time, under these catalysts of creativity has made, in General,
something absolutely extraordinary "(Castro, José, Petrus Castrus - Interviewee).
However, talk about the rock music is also talking about touching it. "I don't think there
was a lot of people play instruments before, but traditional music, fado and cançonetismo
national, who used orchestras to the effect" (Garcez, António, Roxigénio - Interviewee).
However, as is evident when listening to rock bands playing, young people also showed a
tendency to want to imitate what they hear. "With the rise of rock things have changed
substantially and the houses of instruments began to appear everywhere" (Garcez, António,
Roxigénio - Interviewee). So, young people started getting curious, wanting to hear more and
want to recreate what they saw and heard.
“Finally, when in late 1970, begin to emerge the first shops of instruments at the Oporto, the
Castanheira and others, we almost stopped being in cafes, to be there. We went to the stores
so I can be and play and it was there that we knew and saw other older musicians” (Rua,
Vítor, ex GNR - Interviewee).
Learning is a process, individually or in group. "My inclination to the percussion is intuitive,
so I become a drummer and I am self-taught and start to learn to play on my desk (...)" (Serra,
José, Aqui D’el Rock - Interviewee). Before the 25 April, the musical formation was scarce and
3.4. Rock in Portugal: effects of the rock music in the Portuguese youth (1960 vs. 2014)
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spent, mostly, by the Conservatory, where he learned classical music and not rock music. “(…)
There were no schools, as there is now, music schools. I remember at the time, if you wanted
to learn to play had to go to the Oporto "(Pedro, Miguel, Mão Morta - Interviewee). Therefore,
most rock fans began by learning to play alone or with the help of friends. "We’re learning
alone, with headphones" (Pedro, Miguel, Mão Morta - Interviewee). In other words, many of
them were truly self-learners. "We learned with each other, we began to gather, organize
groups and such" (Brito, Tozé, Quarteto 1111 - Interviewee). And started to buy instruments,
"and the sale of instruments increased" (Brito, Tozé, Quarteto 1111 - Interviewee). However,
it should be noted that possess a musical instrument at the time was not easy, because the
material was expensive and was not available to a mass form. "They were pretty expensive at
the time, were not accessible to all pockets and the bands, it was customary, buy the
instruments and pay the instruments for years (...)" (Brito, Tozé, Quarteto 1111 - Interviewee).
So, just access weren't available to everyone. "The social origin of the first Portuguese
musicians of rock 'n' roll, and in the following decade of Yeh-Yeh, I'd start by being their first
window of opportunity" (Duarte, António, A Arte Elétrica de Ser Português - Interviewee). To
cope with the difficulties, many improvised instruments. "So, as I didn't have any money to
buy a drums set and no one was going to give me a drums set in the family, they thought it
was a crazy, I thought I had to do was create a drums set" (Castro, Sérgio, Trabalhadores do
Comércio - Interviewee). Many young people even began, with instruments created by them,
until they can buy a real instrument. And when they couldn't, they would pay as I or bought
secondhand. “(…) The song until there was also elitist, even in the area of rock "(Serra, José,
Aqui D’el Rock - Interviewee). In addition to joining of money and pay benefits, there were
also other methods. "The instruments were purchased in stores and payments were made
with lyrics and paid with big difficulties" (Garcez, António, Roxigénio - Interviewee).
In any event, come home, then, briefly, to the question of festivals. As is well known 1971
was the year that saw the first official mythical edition of Vilar de Mouros Festival. On that
date, Portugal already had faced many social transformations. If that hadn't happened, how
could they create a festival of this kind and expect accession? "It was crazy. It was the first
time I had twenty thousand people in front of a stage, free form (...)" (Brito, Tozé, Quarteto
1111 - Interviewee). It was a unique event in Portugal, which changed everything that came
next. "The first festivals were great. People smoked dope, talking about politics and where
was anti statuos quo feeling (Garcez, António, Roxigénio - Interviewee). And the success of
Vilar de Mouros shows that the boys on the rock was peaceful, contrary to what many
thought. "But everything went very well, I don't hear any problems, people took all nude bath
in the River (...) And was, in this aspect, a complete and total liberation "(Brito, Tozé, Quarteto
1111 - Interviewee).
Finally, couldn't talk about new habits without mentioning the changes brought by the
mythical rock club, Rock Rendez Vous, in Lisbon. Lasted nearly ten years, but made many more
rock bands than we can imagine. Was a space with live music in which just passed rock, from
the first to the last minute, revolutionizing the nightlife of young lisbonenses. “(…) During
nine years it was open, were bands every day "(Santos, João, Rock Rendez Vous - Interviewee).
The Organization was, perhaps, the opposite of the remaining establishments.
“(…) The scheme was, as the Friday and Saturday are strong moments for the night, what did
we do? Put the weak bands on weekends. Why? Because people were more likely to go into
the night and on the weekends I already knew they were headed there, basically and enjoyed
having a full House to show new bands. During the week was interested in putting a lot of
people there and to take over a lot of people had to be famous bands. So during the week I
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used to get the strongest bands, to, ready, to fill that” (Santos, João, Rock Rendez Vous Interviewee).
So, always had a full House and created a habit in young people. When they left they knew
there was always live music and rock to dance. And the Rock Rendez Vous turned out to be
the jump for many bands in the Decade of 80, that why there stepped on stage and, some of
them, still see them play tonight. And why? “(…) The Rock Rendez Vous was important,
because the bands typically had a guy there from large publishers (...) went to see the bands,
which is something that does not exist today and that would be very important "(Santos, João,
Rock Rendez Vous - Interviewee). In addition the Club, also recorded music videos and created
the famous crazy modern music contests. "We must firmly establish five or six and the band
that won, ready, recorded a disco" (Santos, João, Rock Rendez Vous - Interviewee). And the
incentive was so big, that came to receive 400 videotapes to the contest. "This contest had
an advantage, too big, it was, had the media on top, so the bands, even if they don't win,
they became known" (Santos, João, Rock Rendez Vous - Interviewee). However, at the end of
ten years came to an end, due to some stubbornness, but left a mark too large in Portuguese
rock’n’roll boom. So, because the first concert of the so-called father of rock national, was on
opening night of this legendary rock club.
Rock: participation is the next level of analysis. "It was easy to start a music project, now
but reaching the albums was as difficult as it is today" (Brito, Tozé, Quarteto 1111 Interviewee). And why? Because it is very simple to get in two or three friends and form a
musical group. There's no need of knowing touch, because unlike before, today there are
huge schools of music. The instruments also are no longer so expensive and about the singer,
since he or she didn’t detune... "People didn't know, play the instruments did not exist and,
in that sense, it was complicated" (Macedo, Adolfo, Mão Morta - Interviewee). However, the
first rock concerts in Portugal there were thus no scandal. The country had already used to the
sound and the older people felt it indifference. "We played for people our age, almost always.
Therefore, there was natural empathy "(Brito, Tozé, Quarteto 1111 - Interviewee). But, as we
have seen, form a group is easy but record was almost an utopia. "Do an album was almost
a dream, something almost unthinkable to realize" (Macedo, Adolfo, Mão Morta Interviewee). But, even when they could, it wasn't easy to stay at the peak of popularity.
However, some succeeded and reached us until today. Nowadays, it's not so easy to get
recognition. "Today, people have the puck, you know, people have instruments, people
rehearse, play and have not come out of tart strain, because they don't have any visibility"
(Macedo, Adolfo, Mão Morta - Interviewee). Despite the ease of recording that has reached
us with the digital revolution and despite the social tools that are within our reach, it's very
complicated revenge and today's music tends to be short-lived. Is not, does not remain.
"Where we have is ate concertos to sell records" (Morais, Hélio, Linda Martini - Interviewee).
In other words, nowadays, in Portugal, they record disks to make tours, because the disc itself
has a tendency not to sell. Later, it also makes the bands grow, there is, you record a disc of
an editor, makes you grow and recent growing up will bring you more recent concerts too.
And if you bring more concerts, brings more money "(Morais, Hélio, Linda Martini Interviewee).
And speaking of the changes that have occurred have reached the last level of analysis,
Rock: transforms into the 21st century. Refer, then, briefly, the changes coming with the
digital revolution. "Therefore, today's with the digital tools, you get a record like that at
home" (Morais, Hélio, Linda Martini - Interviewee). The formats have changed and there are
3.4. Rock in Portugal: effects of the rock music in the Portuguese youth (1960 vs. 2014)
211
new tools to appear. The idea of the DJ is increasingly internalized, the rock appears to be
increasingly left out. "The notion that I have is music that today is much stronger in discos, for
DJs. It is no coincidence, that the phenomenon of DJs is growing and the rock bands are
disappearing "(Brito, Tozé, Quarteto 1111 - Interviewee). It is much easier to be DJ, that rock
artist because they have a lot less work, because it does not require the same capabilities or
execution techniques, at material level.
“(…) exists since 1990 an increase in consumption of music, but it is necessary to consider the
amendment of the formats of its consumption and this is a radical change in the context of
popular music: immateriality and plurality. It is also permissible to register a change concerning
the amount of music heard or possessed, to the extent that what its increase was exponential:
"are going to be times of Immateriality, dilution and mixture. But it is not certain that the
physical format, the idea of «album» and other foundations of what has been popular music
be demolished once (…)” (Guerra, 2011: S/P).
The music industry has changed. "The essentials of the music industry is not recording a
disc, the music industry exists around the recording industry, are two different things" (Costa,
Álvaro, Antena 3 - Interviewee). In other words, the music industry is not bad, because there
are concerts and merchandising among other tools of promotion, however, what's wrong is
the industry of the record, because, as we have seen, the discs don't sell like they used to.
"One of the most important trend lines on fixed structures and networks for the promotion
and dissemination of music. There is a nod to the increased frequency of concerts and on
increasing the reception face the experimental projects situated in rock said "alternate (Guerra,
2011: S/P). And the power of the image is increasingly critical in this interactive virtual
environment in which we live grasped every day. Through YouTube, Vimeo or Facebook, the
music reaches an importance and increasing visibility as a product of music and musical access
platform. In terms of tools and products change it should also talk on MySpace (...) " (Guerra,
2011: S/P).
In short, the rock was an adventure, a discover and today is no longer what it used to be,
but did it lost its allure? I don't think so. Just look at the rock concerts that exhaust, just look
at the resurgence of vinyl, just look at the tables of the best-selling albums of all time. "My
My, hey hey/Rock and roll is here to stay (Young, Neil, 1979)".
Acknowledgments: This work was not possible without the contributions of the interviewees: Tozé
Brito, Nuno Calado, José Castro, Sérgio Castro, Álvaro Costa, António Duarte, António Garcez,
Adolfo Macedo, Hélio Morais, Miguel Pedro, Artur Ribeiro, Vítor Rua, João Santos, José Serra.
References
Fernandes, L. (2002) ‘ Funções da Pop-rock no universo juvenil’, Trabalhos de Antropologia e Etnologia,
42: 25-32.
Guerra, P. (2011) ‘Entre a fragmentação e a reestruturação: características da constituição de ma cena
de rock alternativo em Portugal na última década’ [Online], Barómetro Social,
[http://barometro.com.pt/archives/291].
3.5."The Garage were I was born": Coimbra ́s musical
scene in the 1990 ́s
Pedro Emanuel Almeida Martins 1
Abstract
The present paper aims to overlook the existence of an alternative field of social interaction among
individuals who aroused against the dominant traditions from the 1990s in a local context:
Coimbra. This field consolidated its form by rock n’ roll music identifying a restricted group of
individual’s. They were involved in a local social context of music production and demand as a
group of music lovers who lay their beliefs on rock as life’s philosophy. The question that led my
path through this group was to understand what does exist in music, which comprehends it as a
social phenomenon of interaction, sociability and identity, reluctant to counter-cultural dynamics
in Coimbra. In this sense, I argue that artistic practices are social practices embedded in emotional,
symbolic and transgressive languages.
Keywords: Coimbra, music-scene, rock n’ roll, counter-cultural dynamics and music sociability’s
Introduction
Music could exist even if there were no world at all
Arthur Schopenhauer
The present paper seeks to acknowledge a group of individuals that aroused in Coimbra during
the 90´s, which I studied for my master dissertation in sociology. This group, restricted in their
social milieu and composed by heterogeneous music values, was involved by different social
backgrounds from a permeability of arts and politics to philosophy and music production. They
had structured a local subfield of music creation and production associated to rock and punk
rock music. Understanding rock music as a social and complex phenomenon, which is
simultaneously well thought-out between society and structure, Coimbra’s case as a local
music scene is paradigmatic. Its analysis offered a view point of how the relationship between
rock and society states a singular relation. In a sociological framework, rock is an autonomous
empirical object of social study due to it’s space and time of emergence. A space in which
social context and interactions consolidated a range of subjective meanings and attitudes
towards a collective imaginary. And in a time were social and historic conditions appears to
modify social behaviours structuring social actions and practices in order to define individuals
beliefs.
As Coimbra’s case, It’s rock music scene emerged by a restricted group of “music lovers”
(Hennion 2001) that overhang established values to a peculiar life style of irreverence away
from traditional social values that characterized the city’s life style, such as It’s fado music and
the well known image of It´s University, side by side with the students life in the academy; and
1
Faculty of Economics of University of Coimbra, Portugal.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
in a time period were social-historic conditions appeared as a sign for artistic liberty and
subversive creativity, which rock music comes into sight as an opportunity for a lifetime to
produce the genre of music they exacerbated: Rock N’ Roll.
By studying these individuals “social trajectories” (Reynold, 2000), understand as a heuristic
interest to “convey and incorporate values and meanings related to a set of practices” (Guerra,
2012: 1), and since the use of biographies within the scientific field leads to an acquisition and
expansion of knowledge about subjective attitudes and significations as “regulators of social
practices” (ibid), the main question that lead my journey in Coimbra’s rock field was to
understand what does exist in music, that comprehends it as a social phenomenon of
interaction, sociability and identity, reluctant to counter-cultural dynamics in a local context. I
argue that artistic practices are social practices embedded in emotional, symbolic and
transgressive languages. As an alternative field of music production these languages are
constructed subjectively within relations and interactions between individuals who share same
interests, conducting musical sociability in a continuous learning of interdependency, well
defined as Do It Yourself (DIY). For them, this was the official way of living life: proposed by
rock n’ roll interests and an irreverence style of life, they assumed as their individual
knowledge, influenced not only derived by their social interactions, but by including the way
they practice and relate with them. A will of collective principles against the dominant
hegemony of their social milieu and moral values (Martins, 2013).
From culture to musical scenes: artistic practices as social
process
Culture is an interdisciplinary and multidisciplinary concept sometimes misunderstood in the
scientific occidental literary (Garofalo, 1993: 231). To narrow the concept in its meaning to
the prosecution of my argument, by culture, I would define as all the forms and practices
derived from customs, traditions and values that people seek in order to give sense in their
everyday life. These meanings can be visible, or are visible, in the case of rock music culture
through behaviours, corporal aesthetics and moral values which embodies a system
knowledge that characterizes the way why individuals integrate social group formation. In this
sense culture, as a concept that infers people’s subjectiveness to their actions, relates life styles
to practices incorporating a process of meanings. The perceiving of this process constitutes
the bases of an analysis of social phenomena in the culture sphere, mainly in youth culture,
leading a comprehension between culture, music and group formation, or generally, music
and society.
Regarding rock music as a “common culture”, as Paul Willis postulates as everything that
is ubiquitous, sturdy and strongly consolidated in sharing and carrying objects with meanings
between individuals (Willis, 1990: 2) its importance as a sociological and empirical object of
study compiles a rich framework which enables two essential ideas. First, to stipulate a relation
between music and society, while a singular one, demonstrating how music influences and its
field of production can structure group formation, especially youth belonging to different
social stratifications to the composition of local music scenes. And secondly, the perception of
counter-culture dynamics including expressions, signs and meanings that youth, in their
everyday life, seek for creativity affirming their presence and identity to express the
potentialities of their cultural (ibid) and subversive creativities, such as musical aesthetics and
performances in stages and streets.
3.5."The Garage were I was born": Coimbra ́s musical scene in the 1990 ́s
215
The conceptual link between culture, music and group formation has been theorized by
Birmingham School in the late period of the II World War. This relation enabled a theoretical
framework for the study of musical consumption and social formations, chaired by identity
issues that mattered for the track of relationships facing social structure (Frith, 1996). Other
studies emerged by relating identity to social class condition and culture, such as Paul Willis
(1978; 1990; 1998 [1978]) who studied the relational process between rock music and
motorcycle bikers; Dick Hebdige (1988; 1998 [1979]) who empirically demonstrated that Mods
and punk rock were associated to anarchism side by side to an avant-garde aesthetics; Will
Straw (1998 [1983]) who studied heavy metal, musical genre slighted by critics and neglected
by theorists; Lawrence Grossberg (1993; 1998 [1986]) which defined rock n’ roll and
admonishing its death; Tony Jefferson (1976) and his study of Teddy Boys, relating their social
identity to social structure; John Clarke (1976) and the Skinhead Culture in a logic of
structuralism, and Dave Laing (1994) who studied the social reception of punk reiterating the
phenomenon in classist terms accentuating its private accessibility and its public invisibility.
These conceptual frameworks enabled a paradigm transition from subculture theory to a
new theoretical framework of analysis. Towards social and technological changes that
emerged from the late 1960s and 1970s the subcultural framework declined basing it’s
analysis from a social deviation perspective and by relating identity as a collective and symbolic
response to the conditions of social class (Cohen, 1997). The nature and function of youth
subcultures was based on a rupture between tradition values and the labour class workers.
Further more, as Paula Guerra states: “empirical data has demonstrated the complexity and
fluidity of youth cultural practices that could not be analysed by the prism of subculture as a
homogenous unity of tastes and belongings based on social classes” (Guerra, 2013: 117 and
Bennett, 2001).
Some authors defend the re-conceptualization of subculture concept drawn under a
sociological theory where juvenile identity could evidence the reflexivity, fluidity and its
fragmentation (Bennett, 1999, 2011; Muggleton, 1998; Redhead, 1990) that seems to mark
the modern ages of how youth culture seems to advocate interests to their cultural practices.
This theoretical transition states a new paradigm in the study of youth culture based on
everyday dynamics, music and life style. As Redhead (1990), Muggleton (1998) locates the
paradigmatic transition of youth culture framework over the fragmentation and proliferation
of new cultural backgrounds from revivalism, hybridism to transformism. These alternative
backgrounds induced the way how individuals seek new visual images for the construction of
their social and cultural identities (Bennett, 2011). As a collective construction, these new
images, dynamics of everyday and life styles forms what can be called as “music scenes”. For
Will Straw (1991), a music scene reflects a state of particular relations between individuals and
social groups, which merge from clusters of music styles which are capable to structure spaces
of social interaction. Not by class or community but by incorporating an analysis based on
aesthetic sensibilities and everyday life.
This perspective agglomerates local, translocal and virtual, in an assumption dedicated to
music or life styles, envisaging relations and dynamics that occur in the context of everyday
life. This dynamics are accentuated by subjectiveness and musical sociability that are reflected
in the quotidian and visible in behaviours and corporal aesthetics. As Paula Guerra states: “the
relevance of such perspective reflects its contribution for the comprehension of cultural
practices and consumptions and the relation of the everyday life in its different spatial
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
contexts ” (Guerra, 2010: 446). Importantly the concept reveals values and social
2
representations, in which such musical sociability occurs, gauging an elucidative reflection
about clusters of intermediaries and musical genres.
From culture to music scenes, artistic music practices recalls liberty and free expression on
creation and creativity. Despite this relation depending on the political, social and historic
contexts of societies, this reflects the conditions of how music scenes affirm in a social milieu.
How individuals who participated in Coimbra’s scene do affirmed their identities and music
productions towards its social context? In which singular relations did the rock music scene
appeared? Which musical sensibilities and how musical sociability’s structured their everyday
life? I would like to address these questions towards the social and historic conditions of the
emergence of Coimbra’s rock music scene. Second, describe how musical aesthetics and
sociability’s were important to consolidate the interactions of the everyday life. At last,
advocate the importance of the “official” and “informal” ways as a motivator to the countercultural dynamics of Coimbra’s scene.
From interactions to musical sociability’s: Coimbra’s
musical scene
In Portugal the cultural and the artistic sphere had a late development. While in the 1960s and
1970s social movements surrounding artistic expressions and free liberty in their creations and
creativity, Portugal was under a dictatorship that cost a late development mainly in both fields.
It social structure reflected a domain of an elitist class that was “restricted and conservator,
composed dominantly by an agrarian, commercial and financial bourgeoisies” (Abreu, 2010:
248). In the 1970s, with the end of the fascist regime, the commercial sector opened its doors
to a new variety of music market and consumptions. Here, rock music was in its preliminary
stage of development (Guerra, 2013). But its social acceptance was still far considered as an
artistic form. In Coimbra, in the 1990s, rock n’ roll was still considered a form of social
deviation, with its subversive and transgressive performances in stages and streets.
During the 1990s Coimbra renewed its cultural and musical creation. In this time, a
restricted group triggered a wave of cosmopolitism, life stylization and a forefront of artistic
stimulating expressions of rock and punk rock music, imported from the United States and
England. These musical influences instilled as germinators of the sociability’s of the individuals
that marked Coimbra’s scene. Other influences as literature, from the beat generation as Jack
Kerouac to Allen Ginsberg, and classics of cinema such as sci-fiction, horror and sexploitation,
were all cultural consumptions that developed an alternative subfield of musical production.
The effects focussed on the questioning of the status quo, by extrapolating practices and
creativities embedded by subversive emotions and symbolisms and engendered by revivalism,
hybridism and transformism in their everyday life time.
This cosmopolitan universe configured an alternative cultural landscape necessary for the
local construction of the music scene. It framed an artistic expression and aesthetic against the
boredom and stagnation felt locally. The city was well known for its rock music due to this
group of individuals whose claims enhanced an aesthetic performance establishing the limits
of their freedoms for creativity. In the same time, they saw an opportunity in music production
2
All Portuguese citations were by me translated to English.
3.5."The Garage were I was born": Coimbra ́s musical scene in the 1990 ́s
217
for the achievement of their musical careers, allied to the ideology of DIY, which consequently
established a rupture between parental morality and the urban boredom.
Their achievements and social interactions, during the 1990s, were assimilated as a
rebellious romanticism. Rebellious as nonconformity against the boredom of the city, allied
with a social criticism against the hegemony values of culture, popular and traditional customs,
and the strong weight of the university’s image in the city and all that surrounds it, such as
the image of the student doctor, the academic festivals and the rituals associated to the fresh-
mens (Estanque and Bebiano, 2007; Frias, 2003). Secondly, romanticism invested by social
representations of their cultural consumptions, mainly due to the influence of bands like Sex
Pistols, The Clash, Ramones and Velvet Underground, which created collective imaginaries of
a style of life related to their way of believing, reproducing locally same behaviours. Sometimes
these behaviours were misunderstood as social deviation, but always seeking an alternative
way to deal with the everyday life.
These musical consumptions praised a privileged vehicle to the individuals in integrating
the field of music production, planning musical projects, values and stylizations. This was also
a privileged way to consolidate social interactions, by sharing knowledge, reconstruct and
reproduce cultural consumptions to their behaviours and attitudes towards daily life. In
confluence of different social groups, similar in their aesthetics, frequency of same local spaces
and musical genres, they formed an extensive network with complex interactions.
Mainly three genres were the base of all musical sociability’s, mirroring a picture of multiple
lived stylization. First, rock, associated to rockabilly, psychobilly and porkabilly, aesthetically
was defined by visible corporal demarcations such as hair styles, black colour clothes and
crippers; second, punk, with jackets characteristically having metal peak sharp points with
musical inscriptions and troop boots; last, hardcore, usually demarked with a casual urban
visual style, long sleeved shirt with square effects and tennis as preferred shoes. These different
musical languages embodied by emotionality, symbolism and transgressism composed the
interior of the scene, nourishing a typical musical creation and aesthetics in behalf of a
collective imaginary.
Aside the social criticism, irreverence and romantic rebellious, the network of proximity,
constituted by family and friends were crucial to define musical sensibilities and consumptions.
Especially the network of friendships created by ties of solidarity that protruded tastes and
musical aspiration were fundamental to some of these individuals’ careers. This network was
also fundamental to structure local knowledge (Cohen, 1997) about rock n’ roll music, which
started during the time in high school where social interactions gained a space to trade musical
tastes and knowledge, by sharing music catalogues and fanzines, alternative social media that
established the underground narrative. Scholar learning’s were indeed set aside and the artistic
and music activities were always primordial in their interests and tasks in the everyday life. In
a dilettantism or DIY logic, the informal learning was portrayed in informal spaces, recreating
a milieu of informality which enhances individual’s aptitudes of autonomy and independency.
In this way, informal milieu was the official way to learn what was necessary to learn. More
complex then at first sight, this network developed in an amateur way, with all its artistic
practices, gathering interests, significations and necessities associated to music production.
Much of these informal spaces such as basements, attics, streets, public gardens and
garages were spaces of sharing knowledge, rehearsal and social interaction. They formed
“underground schools” in which Coimbra’s music scene saw two of its most influential bands
being born: É Mas Foice and Tédio Boys. By there musical deconstruction narrowed the music
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
scene to rock music articulating multiple genres from psichobilly to hardcore, and nourishing
a transgressive culture which they staged a romantic irreverence against the system and the
hegemony culture. The first band, É Mas Foice, appeared in the 1980s mixing rock and popular
folklore, allying provocation to there theatrical performances. The conversion of their artistic
expressions and transgressive attitudes in stage over passed the reflexes of social criticism and
irony. The second, Tédio Boys, was a stand out band of the time that started at the very end
of the 1980s and the beginnings of the 1990s, in the punk rock panorama and revolutionary
in its musical deconstruction. They hold an aesthetic performance embedded by artistic
influences from Screamin Jay Hacking and The Cramps, musical standards as psichobilly,
punkabilly and porkabilly, which characterized their style music, and the typical image of there
appearance in public by the breaking of visual standards and normativity.
Both bands triggered from specific social contexts, from different senses of necessity and
different personifications. For the first, one emerged for the criticism of political ideology and
social critique, the other, for the criticism of boredom and against the hegemony culture of
the popular and traditional; for the later, one theatrical in performances, the other, as
transgressive visual normativity. These aspects demonstrate how rock, as a sociological object
of study, can be said to have a singular relation within society. Individuals incorporate their
social meanings to their daily actions, in the specific case as music scenes, individuals
incorporate their subjectiveness to their music productions. In this sense, music it’s not only a
way of living life, but a way of how music can be understood as life.
All these free spirit of revivalism, hybridism and transformism was lived in a diverse set of
social spaces. Theses spaces contributed for the understanding of certain ideologies and
symbolic materials, which are mediated by the context and social condition of existence of the
individual’s (Bennett, 1999; 2005). They were spaces of cult, side by side to underground
practices and sociability’s enclosing visual and corporal aesthetics to an alternative concept of
music. The reliability of these spaces accentuates individual’s freedom and liberties during
social interaction. Aside the importance of these spaces to social relations, they were also
fundamental to another group of individuals that played an important role in the scene: the
DIY producers. These individuals formed a small group of music producers, technicians,
amateurs or even musicians themselves, aiming a common feeling, as Paul Willis argues
(1990). Mainly by sharing and carrying objects with meanings between individuals from a
common culture keeping the rock spirit always alive. Some of the names are known in the
scene: Arame farpado, ArtRites, Off The Records, Psychotic Reactions and Zona Centro
Hardcore, and have the same imperative objective: to promote and to spread regular activities
of concerts of alternative music, incorporating in their logic of work, a DIY ideology, keeping
cultural activities and it’s dynamics, in fulfilling an alternative cultural agenda in Coimbra.
Conclusion
Music is not only a way to escape the daily routines. It embodies a complex understanding
and relationship to social life, to social contexts of its emergence, presence and to delimitate
identities. It’s a construction and solidification of social representations and practices that flows
in between consumptions, productions, emotional, symbolic and transgressive languages,
codes and signs that ensure the social group strengthens.
Coimbra’s music scene is a peculiar example of how individual’s incorporated their
consumptions to music productions in building an alternative agenda and demonstrating their
3.5."The Garage were I was born": Coimbra ́s musical scene in the 1990 ́s
219
collective will towards rock n’ roll: artistic practices, social representations, subjective attitudes
and local knowledge, formed a set of resources that solidify their imaginaries and identities.
Here, identities were constructed through differences in existence. In the same sense as Stuart
Hall defines it, when questioning who needs identity?: “to refer to the meeting point, the
point of suture between, on the one hand, the discourses and practices which attempts to
‘interpolate’, speak to us or hail us into place as the social subjects of particular discourses,
and on the other hand, the processes which produce subjectivities, which constructs us as
subjects which can be spoken” (Hall and Gay, 1996: 5). We need identity to position ourselves
as subjects of knowledge. Assuming Coimbra’s rock scene, the language of consciousness
that is assumed in the prosecution of artistic practices corresponds as languages of the subjects
social representations and they are always constructed across a lack between us and the
others. Thus, this corresponding won’t be identical to the subjects which are invested in them
(ibid). In the same time, local spaces, social relations and interactions, DIY learning’s and the
sharing objects formed a “common culture” (Willis, 1990) in fulfilment of the expressions,
signs and meanings that youth seek for creativity, presence and identity to potentially subvert
the cultural hegemony that stagnated their way of living life.
This restricted group, some of them known as musicians others not, developed a subfield
of alternative music production, and following a plural path defying the expressions of their
social existences, finding in the music field the same assumption as Arthur Schopenhauer:
“music could exist even if there were no world at all”.
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3.6. Underground music in America’s heartland:
“Rising Appalachia” and traditional folk/pop as
social protest
Michael Saffle 1
Jordan Laney 1
Abstract
Rising Appalachia, a quasi-folk, quasi-pop activist group fronted by sisters Leah and Chloe Smith of
Atlanta, Georgia, strives to stimulate awareness of regional economic and political problems, and
to enact changes involving the clear-cutting of forests, mountain top removal, and other
ecologically and socially destructive activities. The Smiths and their collaborators stand apart from
the increasingly globalized and commodified cultural spaces that surround them. Their do-ityourself performative roots and style, together with the local musical practices and convictions they
embrace, contribute to what might be considered avant-garde and underground character closely
associated with one of America’s least prosperous and most neglected cultural heartlands. Several
audiovisual recordings, all of them available on YouTube, exemplify the ensemble’s commitment
both to traditional and local musical styles as well as to opposition in the face of political and social
repression and exploitation.
Keywords: Appalachia, traditional music, avant-garde, activism, underground music
Rising Appalachia is a quasi-folk, quasi-pop activist group fronted by sisters Leah and Chloe
Smith of Atlanta, Georgia. Since their first public performances in 2008 the group, built by the
Smiths, has grown rapidly in popularity through social media and an extensive touring
schedule; already they have performed in Costa Rica, the Czech Republic, Italy, and several
other nations. Unlike most of the performers pro/claiming Appalachia as an identity or allied
space, however, Rising Appalachia must be considered radical. The ensemble strives to
stimulate awareness of regional economic and political problems, and to enact changes
involving the clear-cutting of forests, mountain top removal, and other ecologically and socially
destructive activities. At the same time Rising Appalachia remains rooted in traditional
performance practices and regionalized appeal. The Smiths and their collaborators stand apart
from the increasingly commodified cultural spaces that surround them. Their DIY performative
roots and style, as well as the local musical practices and revolutionary convictions they
embrace, contribute to what might be considered their underground character—but
“underground” within one of America’s least prosperous and most neglected cultural
heartlands.
The pages that follow are devoted to identifying Rising Appalachia’s relationship with a
variety of musical cultures and “scenes,” including certain aspects of what is often called
1
Virginia Tech. Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University, United States of America.
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“postmodernity.” This discussion is followed by brief synopses of Appalachia as a region both
real and imagined, and of traditional mountain music’s sources and performative practices.
Finally, three recorded audiovisual performances—“Across the Blueridge [sic] Mountains,” “I’ll
Fly Away,” and “Scale Down”—are examined as exemplary both of Rising Appalachia’s
musical aesthetics and of its political and social goals. Although the group has released six
audio recordings, all of them compact disks (R.I.S.E. 2008; Rising Appalachia 2006, 2007,
2010b, 2012a, 2012c), its musical style and political statements cannot be separated from the
personal appearances of its members and the public performances of the ensemble as a whole.
In short: Rising Appalachia is significantly audiovisual in style, expression, and political purpose.
Defining Rising Appalachia: scenes, DIY musical cultures,
and postmodernity
Rising Appalachia is difficult to define within an increasingly globalized and commodified
musical marketplace. Is the ensemble simply a “band” or can it and its followers be considered
a “scene”? Are its members professionally trained or are they do-it-yourselfers? To what
extent do they participate in the same marketplace as pop stars? Is Rising Appalachia in any
sense meaningful to twenty-first-century cultural critics “avant-garde” or “underground”?
And to what extent can they legitimately and meaningfully be considered “postmodern”?
Because “scene” as a term is so firmly associated with indie-rock and other youth-oriented
styles—among them No Wave in New York City, Madchester in Manchester, England, and the
several styles that emerged in Portland, Oregon, during the 1980s—it cannot easily be applied
to Rising Appalachia or its audiences. Instead, the ensemble deliberately crosses borders,
addressing rural as well as urban listeners. Never has it been associated with individual clubs
or neighborhoods. In certain respects the group also courts older as well as younger audiences:
those that cherish traditional mountain music as well, intriguingly, as those who grew up
celebrating East Coast rap. Rising Appalachia claims a portion of those variegated traditions
even as it challenges certain assumptions, musical as well as political and social, associated
with them.
Furthermore, the music made by Rising Appalachia is truly do-it-yourself, continually
rethought and continually striving for spontaneity. According to Wikipedia, a source not
always trustworthy but often correct, the Smith sisters’ very first joint musical endeavor, which
apparently took place in the mid-2000s, was a home-made compact disk recorded for family
and friends. Chloe Smith is said to have initiated that recording project, which “received so
much support and recognition” that the sisters “ decided to officially start a band called Rising
Appalachia” (N/A n.d.). The recording was released as “Rising Appalachia” in 2006. From June
2008 through February 2010, however, the band was known as “RISE” or “R.I.S.E.” (see
R.I.S.E. 2008).
Perhaps as a consequence of its often traditional, regionally grounded, and DIY origins,
Rising Appalachia eschews certain aspects of postmodernity. Above all the group rejects what
Frederic Jameson calls “the complacent play of historical allusions” (Jameson 1998, 105).
Instead of parodying or abandoning traditionally grounded musical gestures, Rising
Appalachia continually (re)affirms the region’s musical past—which, among other things,
serves as an active catalyst for new sounds. In so doing, the Smiths and their collaborators
refuse to contribute both to the breakdown of “temporal continuities” often associated with
postmodern entertainment, and to the sense of loss that Fredric Jameson believes such
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breakdown inevitably entails (Jameson 1985, 120). They draw upon a wealth of sources, but
instead of “sampling” (Goodwin 1991) they entirely recreate or recompose. Innovation in
traditional American music is scarcely limited today to Rising Appalachia’s real and virtual
public performances. Television programs such as Austin City Limits, for example, regularly
feature less-familiar rural styles, including Tejano, progressive country, alternative rock, and
“redneck-hippie” (Endres 1987, 64). Nevertheless, Rising Appalachia remains uniquely
unsettling and inspiring even as it cleaves to regional musical traditions.
As Henry Jenkins explains, twentieth-century American culture witnessed “the
displacement of folk culture by mass media” (Jenkins 2006, 135). Several years ago Gertrude
Himmelfarb went farther, pointing out that America’s “adversary culture” seems since the
1960s to have completely broken down, to have become “democratized and popularized”
(Himmelfarb 2005, 118). Avant-garde and underground activities seem to have altogether
disappeared. Yet Rising Appalachia’s performances and especially its activist political and social
agenda call the phrase “avant-garde” to mind. The ensemble reminds listeners of music’s
political power; it rejects the displacement of folk cultures even as it repeatedly challenges
listeners, often quite conservative listeners, to reconsider what they’re used to hearing and to
rise up and do something about the problems confronting them. Numbers such as “Filthy Dirty
South” are entirely devoted to contemporary issues. The sounds associated with these issues—
sounds that incorporate phrases from urban rap on behalf of rural causes—comprise an
evolving bricolage of antique and modern references and styles. Like other of its calls for action
against fracking, oil spills, mountain-top removal, and other dilemmas, “Filthy Dirty South” is
intriguingly eclectic as well as politically and socially transformative.
If only to the extent that the ensemble’s members make excellent use of social media,
reaching out on Facebook and other platforms to admirers and critics alike, Rising Appalachia
must be considered postmodern. At the same time the ensemble has remained to some extent
“underground.” This last term, associated with initially unfamiliar cultural activities and stillundiscovered talents—Bob Dylan, say, during his earliest New York City performances—seems
outdated in a world of cell phones, texting, and the internet. Yet Rising Appalachia appeals to
its scattered fan base for support, not to corporate interests and multinational conglomerates.
Its sixth and most recent compact disk, unnamed as of 15 August 2014, is being funded by
the group’s fans, each of whom is asked to send in enough money to pay for a single disk
(Rising Appalachia 2014c). Here the digital world of infotainment helps make possible an
independence historically associated with earlier, equally radicalized generations of protest
artists
Appalachia’s several identities and Rising Appalachia’s
relationship to them
Rooted in the local-color writings of travelers during the Era of Reconstruction that followed
the nation’s Civil War, ideas of “Appalachia” came to occupy a place in the American psyche
at once barbaric and pure, uncivilized and appealing. In certain ways the men and women of
the region have long been imagined to embody, and to some extent actually have embodied,
the American pioneering spirit. They have also been condemned because, having broken free
of the Eastern seaboard, they paused in the mountains instead of moving on and helping their
young nation fulfill its Manifest Destiny. As early as 1895, for example, Henry Cabot Lodge
proclaimed that small states (and, one would think, the remote and primitive regions within
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those states—regions such as Appalachia) belong “to the past,” because only expansion
“made for ‘civilization and the advancement of the race’” (Garraty 1953, 52). Acknowledging
during the 1970s that Appalachia has long been hemmed in, ruled by outsiders rather than
by its own peoples, David Whisenant epitomized the region as:
a captive energy colony for urban and suburban middle- and upper-class, growth oriented
America, which must have Appalachia’s coal and cheap labor in order to remain comfortably
on its accustomed binge of consumption and waste or to endure it’s energy crisis… The region
is—along with much of the impoverished third world—an essential base for perpetuating our
much-praised “American way of life.” (Whisnant 1974, 103)
Rising Appalachia wields an artistic energy into social protest by connecting and
maneuvering around rigid genre, geographic and cultural norms.
The physical and cultural geographies that have contributed to Rising Appalachia’s musical
and social concerns are associated principally, although sometimes fancifully, with remote
areas of North America’s southeastern mountains. In geopolitical terms Appalachia is defined
by the national Appalachian Regional Commission (or ARC) as the 205,000 square miles that
follow the region’s “spine … from southern New York to northern Mississippi”: an enormous
and variegated region that comprises all of West Virginia and parts of twelve other states,
including portions of Alabama, Maryland, and New Jersey (ARC n.d.). Geologists, on the other
hand, understand that the Appalachian cordilleras also extend north as well as south, into
New England and Canada’s maritime provinces. Whatever its boundaries, the region’s
typography—the Blue Ridge or “Crystalline Appalachians,” the Plateau or “Sedimentary
Appalachians,” and the basin and valleys that separate and surround them—is dear to millions
of “outsiders” who venerate its geophysical beauties and biodiversity. It seems fitting to many
outdoors enthusiasts that the Appalachian Trail, America’s first and most popular hiking trail,
runs through these ranges from northern Georgia as far north as Maine’s Hundred Mile
Wilderness. At the same time, Appalachia’s inhabitants continue to be imagined as “Others,”
whose isolated lives are often stereotyped or entirely overlooked.
Precisely where cultural rather than physical Appalachia begins and ends has been hotly
debated for more than a century (see Ergood 1991). Almost always it is imagined or portrayed
as belonging to the southern mountains, especially their nooks and crannies. In this sense it
represents a rather unusual kind of “imagined community” (see Anderson 2006): one
constructed for political and economic purposes to contain and control part of a nation rather
than to define that nation as a whole. Often, too, the peoples and practices of that
community—in actual fact, many quite different communities—are marginalized in terms of
“hillbilly” stereotypes. Hillbillies are themselves believed to be lazy, violent, drunken, and
stupid degenerates who dress in bib overalls and slouch hats, go barefoot, sleep as much of
the time as possible, arm themselves (when awake) with old-fashioned rifles and shotguns,
indulge in pointless feuds with equally impoverished neighbors, and fortify themselves
frequently from jugs of illegal corn whiskey (Harkins 2004, 178-81).
These distortions were especially widespread prior to the later 1950s and 1960s, when
Americans became increasingly aware of their nation’s minority populations. Attitudes
continue to change. In 2000, for example, the Coen brothers’ movie O Brother, Where Art
Thou? inspired nationwide enthusiasm for mountain music and a few of its performers,
including Alison Krauss. Even today, however, educated men and women continue to dismiss
Appalachia as a poverty-stricken, uneducated, dilapidated space. As recently as June 2014 and
in the New York Times, Annie Lowrey called the region a mere “smudge on the map” (Lowrey
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2014). What is lost in these inadequate images is the region’s diversity. Rising Appalachia
accepts Stephen Fisher’s challenge that Appalachia’s inhabitants and proponents themselves
act to “end … cultural isolationism” on behalf of “some kind of global solidarity” (Fisher 1993,
12).
Appalachian music and Rising Appalachia’s relationship
with it
A somewhat more positive view of Appalachia has to do with its musical roots, both real and
imagined, in English balladry and other sources associated with Protestant Scots-Irish and
German settlers. During the later nineteenth and earlier twentieth centuries the
“songcatchers,” many of them amateur folklorists, haunted parts of Africa, Asia, and Europe
as well as portions of Appalachia, searching for traditional tunes and texts (Hart and Kostyal
2003). Cecil Sharp, for example, investigated traditional music in England as well as the United
States; in 1917 he and Olive Dame Campbell published English Folk-Songs from the Southern
Appalachians, a volume that has several times been reprinted in various versions (Sharp and
Campbell 1917). Often racially and ethnically blinkered, these studies mostly ignored the
region’s African- and Italian Americans as well as their musical contributions to regional music
(see Conway 1995; Hay 2003; Obermiller 1993; and Portelli 1984). Rising Appalachia has
drawn especially upon African and African American clothing, hairstyles, facial decoration, and
tattoo styles, as well as upon classical, jazz, and even hip-hop sources of musical inspiration.
The Carter Family and Jimmie Rodgers, among the region’s earliest recording artists, were
equally eclectic. The Carters especially drew upon a wide range of sources and often upon
older sources, including nineteenth-century gospel, parlor, and vaudeville novelties, previously
recorded pop songs, blues, and Protestant hymns (Zwonitzer and Hirshberg 2002). Rodgers,
the “Father of Country Music,” drew somewhat more frequently upon African-American
music, especially the blues, and upon railroad ballads and other working-class genres
(Porterfield 1979). Even today, “old-time” mountain music is largely defined in terms—
especially performative terms—the Carters and Rodgers would have understood. Tunes come
and go, but the “high lonesome” sound remains the most stable marker of Appalachian
musical practices.
Defining that sound is a comparatively straightforward task, although what follows is at
best a sketch rather than a full-fledged description (see Cantwell 2003, esp. 19-29). In its
purportedly purest form, typically traditional old-time or mountain music draws upon an
established body of melodies, many of them set to words evoking sorrows and loss,
homesickness, wandering, and the woes of poverty. Livelier music sometimes celebrates
hunting and fishing, romantic love—especially trysts between young lovers—and weekend
partying. Religion too is a frequent subject and is treated in a variety of styles that include
straightforward hymn singing as well as vigorous gospel ensemble numbers. Singers are mostly
untrained and occasionally perform alone or in pairs. Often, vocal solos are followed by
“choruses” in predictable call-and-response patterns. Instrumental accompaniments and
voiceless ensemble numbers generally feature string instruments: banjos, fiddles, guitars, and
mandolins are by far the most popular, although later inventions such as the dobro are also
employed. Sometimes home-made noisemakers such as washboards and spoons are used.
Percussion instruments such as drums are seldom heard, and wind instruments are almost
never employed. These practices, together with a handful of melodies often borrowed from
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more recent sources or composed by tunesmiths hired for that purpose, were to some extent
reconstructed during the 1930s and 1940s, subsequently to be marketed as “bluegrass,” a
subcategory of “country,” by Nashville’s entertainment industry.
Rising Appalachia draws upon these materials and especially the performative traditions
associated with them, even as it alters or overturns them, replacing acceptance with outrage
at political and social injustices. For their fifth album, unnamed as of 15 August 2014, they
announce online their use of boudrhan, high-hat cymbals, saxophones, trumpets, and other
“non-mountain” sound sources (Rising Appalachia 2014c). All this is of course subordinate to
their extra-musical messages. As activists Rising Appalachia can be considered the latest in a
long line of musicians fed up with corporate greed and class-based injustice. In other respects,
however, the group remains unique. In the ways its members dress, the unfamiliar instruments
they use, the African American musicians they feature, and the music videos they have
produced—videos, as we shall see below, that in certain respects call to mind avant-garde
films of the 1960s—Rising Appalachia must be considered radical as well as traditional. The
Smiths especially remain true to their region’s aesthetic roots, even as they condemn the
economic and political exploitation that besmirch it.
Self-sufficiency: an Appalachian tradition and a challenge
to oppression
A large part of Rising Appalachia’s radical activism stems from yet another regional tradition:
that of self-sufficiency. Since 1928—on that first occasion in Asheville, North Carolina—
mountain musicians have come together in festivals to exchange ideas and practices. Outside
cultural influences have also been important. The Folk Movement of the 1940s, 1950s, and
early 1960s helped Americans become more familiar both with local and traditional musical
practices and with certain social issues, including poverty (Cantwell 1996). So did the populism
of the Great Depression and the Arts and Crafts Movement of the late nineteenth and early
twentieth centuries. As performers, the Smith sisters have been inspired by these aesthetic,
political, and social movements. They wear handmade clothing and jewelry, or they dress
themselves in clothes associated with factory workers, farmers, miners, and other laborers.
They decorate their bodies with circle tattoos, and their use of face paint is sometimes explicitly
African or at the very least “tribal.” Consequently, their “look” is simultaneously local and
global, Gothic and steampunk-inspired, “foreign” as well as down-home. These details may
seem unimportant, but in mountain-music circles, where conventional contemporary western
dress is taken for granted, they constitute highly unusual forms of appropriation that suggest
everything and everywhere “native” is somehow also “regional.”
At the same time, the Smiths themselves constitute the latest wave (or members of the
latest wave) of Appalachian women who sing against injustice. As Pat Beaver reminds us,
“Much of the complex mosaic of diversity and of female agency that has shaped the
Appalachian South has been rendered invisible by racism, patriarchy, and class hegemony”
(Beaver 1996, xvii). The Smith sisters, both as individuals and ensemble members, refuse to
remain invisible. Instead, they demonstrate their rejection of racism and patriarchy in part
through choices of performantive dress and personal decoration. In these last respects, Rising
Appalachia cannot be considered stereotypically “Appalachian.” Nor merely “local.” Instead,
the ensemble’s members oppose not only regional oppression but oppressive practices
everywhere. Embodying the diversity and urgency of the work Beaver writes about, Rising
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Appalachia adds its conjoined voices to those of the peoples they represent. Nor are those
peoples limited to Appalachia’s poor white men: the coal miners and hardscrabble farmers of
eastern Kentucky and the “hollers” of Virginia and Tennessee. Or, as Leah Smith put it on an
earlier version of the Rising Appalachia webpage:
Music is the tool with which we wield political prowess. Melody for the roots of each of us …
spreading song and sound around the globe. Music has become our script for vision, not for
aural pleasure, not just for hobby, but now to connect and create in ways that we aren’t
taught by mainstream culture. We are building a community and tackling social injustice
through melody, making the stage reach out with octopus arms to gather a great family.
(Rising Appalachia 2014b)
Three rising Appalachia performance pieces
“Across the Blueridge Mountains”
Rising Appalachia’s general adherence to conventional mountain-music performance
practices are exemplified in their audiovisual YouTube document “Across the Blue Ridge
Mountains” (Rising Appalachia 2012b). In this performance the Smith sisters, who appear
without backup artists or instrumental support of any kind, perform as traditional artists do
around the world. Their unaccompanied voices, moving in open thirds, fourths, fifths, and
sixths as well as in unisons and octaves, call to mind similar duets associated with Bavarian folk
music and Eastern European peoples. Other old-time and mountain musicians have also sung
this way and about similar subjects; “I’ll Fly Away,” performed by Alison Krauss and Gillian
Welch and featured in the sound track of O Brother, Where Art Thou? is but one example.
As the Smiths sing “Across the Blueridge Mountains,” they seem almost to be advertising
the region on behalf of ecotourism. Beautiful images of misty mountain mornings and groves
of trees accompany their voices. It is important to note, however, that throughout their
performance the sisters are dressed “down” rather than “up.” They wear modern work
clothes: the caps, jackets, and pants associated in the United States with labor and the
“common people” folk singers have often revered. Even more telling are the dreadlocks worn
by one of the sisters. Here we encounter something foreign to imagined, idealized images of
a relic region untouched by racial division and uninhabited by African Americans or anyone
resembling them. The Smiths’ choice of clothing and hairstyles celebrate diversity—or, more
precisely, contest the stereotype of mountain music as exclusively “white.”
Interestingly enough, a similar vocal performance of the same number by the Smiths,
recorded live at Floyd Fest 2013 in Floyd, Virginia (Rising Appalachia 2013), was greeted with
enthusiastic catcalls and “rebel yells” by audience members. The reception may simply have
been the result of fans expressing their appreciation for the Smith’s performing style, but it
may also have had to do with their clothing. On that occasion the sisters wore rather eccentric
low-cut dresses, one short-skirted and one floor-length. In this instance too, traditional music
was (re)presented visually—although somewhat less strikingly, and certainly less racially
inclusively—by Rising Appalachia’s principal members.
“I’ll fly away”
We have already seen that traditional mountain musicians often employ banjos, fiddles,
guitars, and mandolins as ensemble as well as accompanying instruments. Rising Appalachia
draws upon these instruments as well as such non-traditional sound sources as baliphones,
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beatboxes, conga drums, didgeridoos, djembe, and tablas, rhythm tracks, and occasional
electrical amplification. In one of the group’s audiovisual arrangements of “I’ll Fly Away”
(Rising Appalachia 2014a), the Smith sisters’ unaccompanied vocals gradually give way to and
are supplemented by a complex percussion accompaniment (a tambourine is among the
instruments employed) as well as an acoustic bass, a rhythm vocalist with a hand-held
microphone, and an increasingly upbeat tempo.
“I’ll Fly Away,” a song about death, has been popularized by other artists, including Krauss
and Gilliam. The celebrated singer and guitar player Doc Watson, for example, recorded the
same melody as a fast-paced instrumental ensemble number in the bluegrass style often
defined as “mountain music in overdrive” (Cantwell 2003, xv). Johnny Cash and his wife June
Carter Cash of country-music fame, on the other hand, recorded “I’ll Fly Away” with a host
of supporting players, including a quartet of male backup singers, a quartet of female backup
singers (also known as a “gospel choir”), an electric guitar, an electric bass, and percussion.
Watson’s performance foregrounds the spontaneity of mountain music-making and employs
only traditional instruments. Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash, on the other hand, employ
amplified and acoustic instruments; if Elvis Presley had recorded “I’ll Fly Away” around 1970,
it might have sounded similar.
“I’ll Fly Away” is often played and sung slowly, as an expression of weariness, resignation,
and perhaps even religious fatalism. Death will come and there’s nothing to be done about it
or, perhaps, anything else in the meantime. Both Doc Watson’s ensemble and the Johnny
Cash-June Carter Cash ensemble present the music in an upbeat, occasionally almost frantic
manner. Rising Appalachia, on the other hand, gradually transforms the song from a slow,
sad unaccompanied duet into an upbeat, dance-like ensemble number full of percussive
excitement. The Smiths’ backup artists are both Black and White (one African American
percussionist sports dreadlocks), younger and older, and the performers’ quite different
costumes—none of them extremely unusual, however—suggest spontaneity. As it happens
the performance, which takes place in what appears to have been a sound studio, was actually
recorded “live,” with a small, enthusiastic audience applauding at the end of the event.
Although this version of “I’ll Fly Away,” one of many performed by Rising Appalachia, is in no
specific way “political,” its performers and their enthusiasm refuse stereotypical images of the
southern Appalachians as sad, poor, and white.
“Scale down”
Unlike “Across the Blueridge Mountains” and “I’ll Fly Away,” both traditional numbers,
“Scale Down” is an original composition. In a performance available on YouTube (Rising
Appalachia 2010a), the Smith sisters proclaim, over and over again, “I believe in a revolution.”
As they sing, images of banners and protest posters supplement words about mountaintop
removal and the region’s oppressive class system. Here we encounter iconic images of the
1960s American counterculture: the raised fist employed by the Black Panthers is one of them;
the color red is another—and red has long been an almost universal symbol of revolution. So
are torches, which appear later in the clip. The sisters even wear red poppies in their hair, dimly
but perhaps significantly suggestive of opium and thus of America’s often radicalized drug
culture.
Other “Scale Down” images are quite different, however. A pickup truck, a corrugated
shed (often referred to regionally as an “outbuilding”), and an old-fashioned railroad pocket
watch are all plausible symbols of Appalachia itself, its past, and its peoples. Furthermore, the
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setting is unmistakably Appalachian outdoors: a mountaintop “bald” surrounded by secondgrowth trees. The sheer “junkiness” of still other images, however—among them an old
bicycle wheel and a discarded child’s doll—calls to mind George Dumpson’s Place, an avantgarde film produced in 1965 by Ed Emshwiller. Emshwiller’s film documents a real-life
backyard museum built by Dumpson, an aging African American scavenger who used a child’s
wagon to carry found treasures back to his house. The Smith sisters almost seem to be
“remembering” Dumpson in their choices of apparel: off-the-rack denim pants are
supplemented by African face-painting, dreadlocks, South Asian beauty spots, and “capes”
made out of old sacks covered with handwritten phrases: “Stand up in this parched land and
pour water on the driest of tongues” is one of them. The sisters also seem to be remembering
Dumpson’s doll, one of the memorable readymades in Emshwiller’s film.
Appalachia as a region has long been associated with outright revolution. Consider the socalled “Whisky Rebellion” that took place during the 1790s in western Pennsylvania, an area
that lies close to or just within the southern highlands. Uprisings against coal-mining
companies and other exploitative organizations have also taken place, although they have
often received too little attention in national newspapers and radio and TV. Leah and Chloe
Smith, however, provide Appalachia—as well as all of the global south—with a revolutionary
voice in the form of musicalized quasi-folk, quasi-pop political and social activism. Throughout
“Scale Down” the sisters alternately condemn their own “transgressions” and those of
everyone else even as they claim to remain “optimists” in the face of commercial exploitation
and social inequality.
Acknowledgements: The authors would like to thank Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State
University, especially the College of Liberal Arts and Human Sciences, for support toward the
completion of this paper. Michael Saffle would also like to thank the Virginia Foundation and the
International Travel Supplemental Grant Program for funding that enabled him to present a
preliminary version of this paper at the KISMIF conference held in Porto, Portugal; 8-11 July 2014.
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Hay, F. J. (2003). “Black musicians in Appalachia: an introduction to affrilachian [sic] music.” Black Music
Research Journal 23, nos. 1-2, 1-19.
Himmelfarb, G. (2001). One Nation, Two Cultures: A Searching Examination of American Society in the
Aftermath of Our Cultural Revolution, rev. ed. New York: Vintage.
Jameson, F. (1985). “Postmodernism and consumer society.” In Postmodern Culture, ed. Hal Foster.
London: Pluto, 111-125.
Jameson, F. (1988). “The politics of theory: ideological positions in the postmodernism debate.” In: The
Ideologies of Theory: Essays, 1971-1986, 2 vols. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press,
vol. 2, 103-113.
Jenkins, H. (2006). Convergence Culture: Where Old and New Media Collide. New York: New York
University Press.
Lowrey, A. (2014). “What’s the Matter with Eastern Kentucky?” New York Times (29 June).
http://www.nytimes.com/2014/06/29/magazine/whats-the-matter-with-easternkentucky.html?_r=0
N/A. “Rising Appalachia.” http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rising_Appalachia
Obermiller, Ph. J. (1993). “From the Apennines to the Appalachians: new strategies needed.”
Appalachian Heritage 20, no. 3, 30-38.
Portelli, A. (1984). “Two ‘peripheries’ look at each other: Italy and Appalachian America,” Appalachian
Journal 12, no. 1, 31-37.
Porterfield, N. (1979). Jimmie Rodgers: The Life and Times of America’s Blue Yodeler. Urbana: University
of Illinois Press.
“R.I.S.E.” [pseud. Rising Appalachia] (2008). Evolutions in Sound – Live. Compact disk.
Rising Appalachia (2006). Rising Appalachia. Compact disk.
Rising Appalachia (2007). Scale Down. Compact disk.
Rising Appalachia (2010a). Sails of Self. Compact disk.
Rising Appalachia (2010b). “Scale down.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bmr5rdaemYk
Rising Appalachia (2012a). Filthy Dirty South. Compact disk.
Rising
Appalachia
(2012b).
“Across
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0NhXElzlrvk
the
Blueridge
mountains.”
Rising
Appalachia
(2013).
“Across
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kix1jLZLVhE
the
Blueridge
mountains.”
Rising Appalachia (2014a). “I’ll fly away.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sF3eWJilQ08
Rising Appalachia (2014b). “Rising Appalachia.” http://www.risingappalachia.com
Rising
Appalachia
(2014c).
“Rising
Appalachia:
new
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1288238485/rising-appalachia-new-album
album!!!”
Sharp, C., and Campbell, O. D. (1917). English Folk Songs from the Southern Appalachians. New York
and London: Oxford University Press.
Whisnant, D. (1974). “Growing old by being poor: some cautionary notes about generalizing from a
class phenomenon.” Soundings 57, 101-112.
Zwonitzer, M., and Charles Hirshberg (2002). Will You Miss Me When I’m Gone? The Carter Family and
their Legacy in American Music. New York: Simon & Schuster.
3.7. The influence of punk in the social movements
Liljana Siljanovska 1
Vlera Ejupi 2
Abstract
According to an American rock critic, “punk tried to return back to rock music everything lost, on
its way of becoming a mass mega successful phenomenon, so if punk did not exist, rock would
have disappeared”. Because of the greediness of the discographic industry, punk which appeared
on the streets, developed into several streams the aim of which was an aggressive but also a creative
realization of its ideas for an authentic penetration in the environments it is present, interweaving
the variations of the styles into a heterogeneous musical scene. Even though, representing
subculture, it tries to be imposed by attracting peoples` attention whenever it is listened to. Besides,
many of Punk streams are closely connected to the streets, every day`s life, being a characteristic of
the 70s and 80s of the past century. One of its characteristics is also its close connection with the
working class, even though it was later defined as a style with neonazi elements, and a simple
destruction of everything. With specific variations of its thematic, punk is listened to, and has got
its admirers in the Macedonian society as well, as a reflection of the globalization tendencies in
music, its industrialization and low budget production. Apart from the uniformity of the musical
contents, punk also reflects its specific ways of reactions, and the movements in the society, even
though not as avangarde, but as a postmodern subcultures with its admirers. In Macedonia punk
is admired as a result of the apolitical messages it reflects, and the freedom of speech. It is very
effective, since being in a transitional society, where everyone is addicted to the extremely
politicized mass media, punk is a good way to keep the autonomy of thinking and expressing one`s
attitude.
Keywords: phenomenon, mass, authentic, subculture, streams.
Introduction
Once upon a time a famous Irish writer said – life is climbing a spiral staircase, and this means
that we measure our progress with the number of the stairs that we climb. The more we climb,
the bigger our progress is. So is the function of punk, and it should be as a music of progress,
because it springs out of the realistic desires to change the deformities of the society. The
more the society is criticized, the more should be the positive energy for the changes. Punk
music is a music of the wish to change, to improve, to scream loud, because people have a
need to be heard. Punk is a music of reality, a mirror of moods of the people, of the social
unbalanced staircases, breaking the unbroken ice, a lightning out of a blue sky, a part of our
everyday life, and a wonderful depiction of `our skeletons in the cupboard`.
1
2
South East European University – SEEU, Tetovo, Macedonia.
South East European University – SEEU, Tetovo, Macedonia.
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Punk is not only music, but also a way of life and
contemplation!
The majority of the youngsters have almost the same universal desires for the future: either
being a football manager, or have a band of their own. All this sounds well, but not all the
young people have the same fate to experience this miracle. And the miracle is, at least for a
moment to feel the fast beating of the drums, or the fast beating of their young hearts after
a well- played football game. The feeling would have been the same if the youngsters would
have been given the chance to play their favourite music on their guitar, whish their parents
unfortunately would have never had the money to buy.
Knowing perfectly well the very bad conditions of football in the Republic of Macedonia,
we would concentrate on the talented young people. The life of these people is not that
attractive for the majority of them, because it is very difficult for them to survive in a poor
society, and what is more they cannot even imagine how difficult it is for them to make a
good song. But these are underground youngsters who deserve a lot of respect, because they
never give up their dreams. It means that they are very decisive and work in the garages where
their talent begins to be shown.
We were given the opportunity to make an interview with the famous punk-rock band in
Macedonia, Filter 57, which has been making music for over three years. It consists of four
teenagers who were very happy to communicate with us, because they, as a band, are a very
good proof that punk music is rather present and well accepted by almost everyone in our
country, especially by those who are completely dissatisfied and disappointed from the social
movements in the Republic of Macedonia. This Punk band has already produced several songs,
and a demo-album, which they consider to be a huge success. But on the other hand, they
are also very eager to speak about the problems they face, such as the place where they can
make their rehearsal as well as a lot of other obstacles which they already manage to
overcome. So their enthusiasm goes that far that they say that if something is done with a lot
of love, the positive results are always present.
The real boom in the Republic of Macedonia, as far as punk music is w3ithout any doubt,
the band `Parketi`. Very attractive songs, with extremely lyrics, and more attractive looks,
they managed to be the first ones in all the top lists, all. around Macedonia. Songs like
и“ (Oranges), “, „M
„П
coffee), „
ј
и
и“(Flies), „
и
“(Milk and a
њ “ (Fuck your grandma like flying), „К
ши
“, (Clara smokes weed).…
The essence of all these wonderful lyrics is the harsh revolt against the wrong decisions
of the politicians, of the quasi-intellectuals who desperately want to turn into public
famous people who spend the peoples` money on their luxories life, on their pathological
desires to reach the impossible in every aspects of their life, thus enabling the emergence
of the deviant social movements, and making an irreparable harm to the innocent and
poor, and normal people in the society. The band `П
и` as a matter of fact is the
voice of the ratio of the normal people in the social movements in the Republic of
Macedonia.
3.7. The influence of punk in the social movements
233
The steps which should be undergone to make people
come closer to the domestic quality of music
On this question, the underground youngsters, answered that you can never change the
peoples` taste. This is a fact that proves that you can never make anyone listen to music by
influencing them. The best way to act, according to them, is to have more concerts, even if it
means that you audience will consist of ten people, and they believe that it is these ten people
who will look forward to the next concert, and will enjoy it. Further on, they state that only
good bands can change the desperate mood of the people in the society we live.
Our following question was whether these underground youngsters had have the chance
to the concerts outside Macedonia, in front of an unknown audience. They have been invited,
the two abovementioned punk groups, in Subotica, a town in Vojvodina, where a famous
Rock- Festival is being held annually. They have also been invited in Croatia, and the final
answer was, that- the punk groups in Macedonia do not have any chance to go toward
progress because they have to pay for everything by themselves, and this is something they
cannot afford.
In the question about the procedure of producing an album in Macedonia and how much
it costs, the answer was that it is the same as making a tour with the band around the
Balkans.and as far as the procedure is concerned, the most important part is money.
Our final question was about the influence of this underground music on the people that
do not like punk, their answer was that punk is not only a music direction, but also a way of
life and a way of thinking. The way in which the wild musical notes increase the adrenaline so
do the anarchistic texts perform their task with the brain of the people who are listening to it.
Through our texts we express our dissatisfaction toward politics, manipulation, money,
injustice, racism, Nazism, and we remain strongly against the global indoctrination of the
people.
There have been many cases when people closed with their hands the ears because they
could not listen to our loud music, there have been cases that we were laughed at, at our
impossible aim. But most frequently the audience asks for us to return on the stage back.
So these were very sincere answers that we got from these young people in order to show
them our respect and support for them, which they definitely need very much. So the people
from Macedonia have to be aware of the great number of talents it has got, who are still
unrevealed.
Conclusion
Living in a world of depression, living in a world of lies, of floods of false ideas and attitudes,
we should be aware of the loss of the core of the normal human`s codex which can improve
everything. This huge swamp, is nothing but our collective home. Like it or not, we are its
inhabitants, like it or not we should follow the rules imposed on us. Music is a nice way to
relax from the sometimes mortal strike of the swamp`s waves. But the code of sounding
beautiful, has been lost. That is why the society that we come from is infested with commercial
and claustrophobic music. It is very difficult to find places where punk music will be heard.
The worst kind of music which is heard all around is the so called turbo-folk music. It is a
mixture of folk and popular music, which sounds idiotically. That is why the punk bands in
Macedonia very persistent to show their positive role in the social movements. That is why
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
they tend to be very loud sometimes, louder than the rest of the types of music, because it
wants to prepare its healthy path to showing the reality, and at the same time a rebellion
about everything that is bad.
`PARKETI` are very good at showing about everything that is abovementioned
References
Interviews with two Macedonian punk bands- `Filter 57` and `Parketi`
Photo given by Frágil
PART 4 | Contemporary underground
cultures’ aesthetics: between the digital,
the retro and the nostalgia
4.1. uTubo — development and application of an
alternative digital musical instrument
Tiago Ângelo 1
Óscar Rodrigues 2
Nuno Peixoto de Pinho 3
José Alberto Gomes 3
Abstract
This article describes the development and use of uTubo, a sound device planned to be neither a
musical toy nor a “serious” instrument. The device, built using the Arduino platform to synthesize
sound and read gesture data from a few coupled sensors, allows the instrument player to interact
with the sound generating unit mainly by twisting/bending a plastic tube. Furthermore it is also
possible to invert this interaction by clicking a big button on the top of the casing, changing the
way input gestures are used to produce sound, which can substantially alter the relationship
between the instrumentalist and the device.
uTubo was one of the instruments built for the project Sonópia, which proposed to create a set of
novel instruments and interfaces developed by Digitópia Collective - Casa da Música and LAbMóvel
- Gulbenkian Foundation, during March 2013. Sonópia was part of Ao Alcance de Todos, meaning
by the reach of all, which was a larger group of projects with artistic and social scopes, led by
Serviço Educativo da Casa da Música. And for this purpose, uTubo was designed for no specific
person or type of person, aspiring to suit a large range of players, from people with certain degrees
of physical/mental impairments to children or even “serious” musicians.
Keywords: Alternative Musical Instruments, Arduino, Mozzi, Karplus-Strong.
Introduction
New electronic/digital musical instruments have flourished since the last couple decades,
which might relate to the ubiquity of computers and their kindred, the democratization of
music, knowledge commons and DIY communities, or “simply” by our need for different tools
or our urge for unique or highly specific sound and music expressions. While some of these
recent instruments still resemble some characteristics with pre-established acoustic
instruments, others make the musical instrument taxonomy quite blurred and can even make
the distinction between electronic and digital instruments seem confusing (Ângelo, 2012).
The instrument hereby presented, named uTubo — simply because its main interface relies
in a tube which can be bent and distorted in order to produce sound, might be categorized
1
Digitópia Collective, Casa da Música, Porto, Portugal.
Digitópia Collective, Casa da Música, School of Music, Art and Performance, Porto, Portugal.
3
Casa da Música, Catholic University of Porto, CITAR – Centre for Research in Science and Technology
in Arts, Portugal.
2
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
4
as an alternative digital musical instrument , using the Miranda-Wanderley classification model
(Miranda & Wanderley, 2006). It might be considered so as it resembles no particular
characteristics from any previously established acoustic instrument, and its interface might not
even relate to any other mainstream commercial instrument or controller.
The instrument interface is usually known as the component used by the instrumentalist
to control the instrument, and it was taken as a great concern for the design of uTubo, as
required by the demands and goals of the project Sonópia - Ao Alcance de Todos, undertook
by Digitópia Collective and LAbMóvel.
Digitópia is a digital music platform, based at the concert hall Casa da Música5 in Oporto,
which encourages the act of listening, performance and musical creation. Based on digital
tools, although not exclusively, Digitópia emphasizes collaborative musical creation, software
design, music education and social inclusion, aiming to merge multicultural communities of
performers, composers, curious and music lovers. Digitópia as a team, Digitópia Collective,
consists of artists with strong ties to new technologies. In his work the collective expands on
processes and models as diverse as designing digital instruments and other musical hardware,
circuit-bending, exploring the relationship between image and sound, the practice of VJ's and
DJ's, the digital medium or interactive digital systems.
Ao Alcance de Todos, created in 2007, is a week of performances, workshops and training
sessions on the theme Music, Technology and Special Needs. Within this larger project of social
and artistic dimension, conducted continuously year after year, Digitópia developed an artistic
residency in 2013, named Sonópia (see Fig.1), targeting the development and construction of
new or alternative instruments and interfaces to be used in the performances of Ao Alcance
de Todos.
Figure 1 - Sonópia residency (from left to right: José Alberto Gomes, Diogo Tudela, João Menezes, Pedro
Augusto, Simão Costa and Tiago Ângelo). Photo by José Alberto Gomes.
4
The definition given by Miranda and Wanderley (2006) is “alternate gestural controller”, although it
seemed more appropriate here to classify uTubo as an instrument, it still fits into the class provided by
the authors mentioned above. For a clear distinction between musical controller and musical instrument
the reader might refer to Paine and Drummond (2009).
5
http://www.casadamusica.com/
4.1. uTubo — development and application of an alternative digital musical instrument
239
In the following chapters we will address the design and development stages, going from
the input interface to the sound synthesis model, then addressing the interaction design in its
own chapter, due to its contribution for the development of uTubo. And finally we will address
the use and application of this instrument in both musical and social contexts.
Design and development
Creating a nouvelle instrument for the Sonópia project required a careful design process since
the instrument was intended to be used by virtually anyone: from children to senior adults and
the specially impaired, to professional musicians, amateurs or simply music lovers. This goal
demanded an instrument that could be easy and fun to play as well of being capable to stand
alongside other “serious” instruments in performance contexts, thus becoming a musical and
socially inclusive tool. To cut a long story short, uTubo needed an adequate input interface to
suit a large range of instrument players, an interesting sound generator and a relationship
between these two that would promote the instrument’s playability and engagement from
the player point of view, avoiding the dullness that could emerge from an excessively simple
and easy to play instrument.
The design and development processes were driven in a back-and-forward manner, taking
into account the end-users’ (potential) needs, instrument cost of fabrication and the short
development time span of one week, required by the Sonópia project. Trying to fulfill both
reductionist and holistic approaches, as digital musical instruments traverse a large amount of
disciplines, such as electronics and physical computing, human-computer interaction, sound
synthesis or music performance, just to name a few. Thinking of the instrument and designing
it as not only a mere group of components that comprise the instrument, but also of all these
components working together to form a higher entity emerging as the holistic concept of the
musical instrument uTubo.
By addressing musical instruments in a reductionist approach, one can divide them into
three functional components: input interface, sound generating unit and mappings — which
dictate how the input interface and the sound unit relate (Miranda & Wanderley, 2006). Since
mappings can play a very important role in the holistic design of the instrument, working as a
kind of glue that brings basic components together into forming a system with higher
complexity, they will be addressed separately in the next chapter. While in this chapter we will
describe the hardware and software components chosen for the input interface and sound
generating unit of uTubo, justifying whenever plausible the choices made during the design
and development stages.
Interface design
The core concept and metaphor of uTubo orbited the idea of touching, bending and
deforming sound through a plastic tube. And while initial designs used this tube both as a
playing interface and as the instrument body (Fig. 2), which required the instrumentalist to
hold the instrument with both hands, the final design required to present an easier way of
playing the instrument, especially for players with reduced motor skills. So, for that purpose,
the final design consisted in a box or case, which could be laid in the musician’s lap or in a
table, having the plastic tube and all other interfaces attached to that case (Fig. 3a and 3b).
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Figure 2 - uTubo initial draft
Figure 3a - uTubo final draft
Figure 3b - uTubo presented at Handmade Music, Casa da Música, Oporto, Portugal, 8 June 2013. Photo by
João Messias/Casa da Música.
Another important concept around the design of uTubo was the possibility to change the
instrument’s behaviour (what it does in response to the player’s gestures) through a simple
gesture and interface — a big button on the top of the casing that could be pressed while
playing the plastic tube at the same time. This ought to bring a bigger engagement between
the instrumentalist and the instrument by surprising him with different instrument behaviours,
as well as it could be used according to any special needs of the instrumentalist or even
according to any compositional constraints or performance aesthetics.
And while these interfaces, the plastic tube and the big button, would remain as the central
pieces of instrument control, there was also the will to add a continuous pitch control set
through touch, that could potentially create more intricate musical phrases, in opposition to
the tube and the big button, which could become very static across the pitch space.
Furthermore there was the ambition to develop an instrument which left behind personal
computers, while still being able to develop it in a short time span of one week, given for the
4.1. uTubo — development and application of an alternative digital musical instrument
241
realization of Sonópia. This would result in a more independent and standalone instrument,
and not just a musical controller that requires a connection to an expensive personal computer
in order to become a musical instrument.
Tools and resources
One way of getting fast results in the development of uTubo was to use well established
6
7
electronic prototyping platforms, such as the Arduino , Teensy or similars. Which gave us a
microcontroller that could run our code (reading sensor data to control synthesized sound)
and an Integrated Development Environment (IDE) which gave us the language and tools to
write our code and compile it into the microcontroller. Additionally there is a lot of support
from DIY communities for these kind of prototyping platforms.
In order to avoid the dependency of a personal computer, a decision was made to
implement all the code inside one microcontroller, thus using it for sound synthesis as well as
to read gesture data and map it to the synthesis parameters. Using the Arduino platform, this
could cost somewhere around 30 to 60 euros, which is much cheaper than any commercially
available personal computer, thus becoming the chosen platform for the development of
uTubo. Any other similar platform could theoretically be used with similar results, but Arduino
was chosen instead for several reasons: I was already familiar with it (which obviously pended
a lot in its favour although not exclusively), it has a very helpful online community and there
8
was already some sound synthesis libraries developed for this platform (such as Mozzi , the
sound synthesis library used for this project).
Regarding the input interface, uTubo required the use of two flex sensors (Fig. 4) placed
inside the plastic tube, in order to read its deformation and to know when and how much the
instrumentalist is bending and twisting the tube. And, for the continuous control of pitch the
choice relied on a membrane touch-potentiometer (Fig. 4), which provided a 20-centimeter
touch-sensitive strip, allowing to continuously set the instrument’s pitch. Additionally there
were a bunch of small electronic components (resistors, capacitors, etc.), nuts and bolts, wood
to build the casing and a vacuum cleaner's plastic tube.
Sound synthesis model
Using microcontroller boards, such as the Arduino, to develop sound synthesizers obviously
carries some disadvantages when compared to the use of personal computers (see Table I).
Nowadays, it is certainly possible to obtain more intricate and complex synthesis models with
personal computers, due to their processing power and storage capacity. And, although some
9
microcontrollers, such as the ATmega2560 , can still render some interesting sounds, it is
necessary to carefully fill its small memory with efficient algorithms capable of providing more
soundwise with less computational resources.
6
http://arduino.cc/
https://www.pjrc.com/teensy/
8
Mozzi is an open-source sound synthesis library for Arduino, developed by Tim Barrass. Available at
http://sensorium.github.io/Mozzi/
9
http://www.atmel.com/devices/atmega2560.aspx
7
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Figure 4 - uTubo bredboard schematics
Algorithms like frequency modulation (FM), additive synthesis or subtractive synthesis
might be able to build complex tones but they do require some computational resources in
order to perform the necessary arithmetics. FM can be a bit more efficient than additive
synthesis, since it can achieve the same results with far less oscillators. Despite being possible
to achieve complex tones with FM techniques it still requires multiplication arithmetics, which
can be computationally expensive (Roads, 1996, p. 293). Other techniques based on the
principle of delay lines or recirculating wavetables, such as the Karplus-Strong (KS) algorithm,
developed by Kevin Karplus and Alex Strong, can be extremely efficient in terms of
computational resources and can, nonetheless, synthesize enjoyable complex tones. These
4.1. uTubo — development and application of an alternative digital musical instrument
243
kind of algorithms were already known to run in 8-bit microprocessors with surprisingly good
results. (Roads, 1996)
The Karplus-Strong algorithm is a simple physical modeling algorithm that aimed to
simulate the implied physics of plucked strings. Although not fulfilling the entire physical
variables and behaviours of a plucked string, the simple algorithm presented by Karplus and
Strong achieved good results because it relied on the principle that the instrument’s timbre
should vary through time within the same sound event, mimicking the behaviour of traditional
acoustic instruments.(Karplus & Strong, 1983)
The synthesis algorithm used for uTubo is an adaptation of the Karplus-Strong algorithm,
and it had no intention of sounding like any pre-existing string instrument. In general terms it
10
is still quite similar to the KS algorithm for plucked strings , but it has two delay lines instead
of just one. So it is possible to think of it, in analogy to conventional plucked string
instruments, as having two slightly dependent strings that are plucked simultaneously. In this
case, plucking a string is analogous to sending a noise burst (or impulse) to the delay lines,
which are then fed back, simulating the decay of a plucked string. Each delay line (or string if
you wish to think of it that way) has a variable size, which corresponds to a variable pitch. And
by adding both delay lines with different pitches it is possible to obtain slightly more complex
sounds, since the sum of both sounds, coming from two different delay lines, can give rise to
peaks in certain frequencies of the sound spectrum, while attenuating others. Thus behaving
as a computationally cheap filter that could bring some timbral complexity to uTubo.
By using Mozzi library for Arduino one as the benefit of having an adequate language for
sound synthesis, with most of the components common to it, such as wavetables and
oscillators, envelopes, delays, etc. Leaving the instrument developer with more time to
experiment on sound synthesis, by freeing him of the burdensome of microcontroller
programming for audio. As seen in Fig. 5, the implementation of the adapted KS algorithm
using Mozzi is quite straightforward, making more time available to experiment different ways
of controlling and playing this little synthesizer, which could contribute to a more pleasant
and enjoyable instrument from both the player and the listener point of view.
Figure 5 - Karplus-Strong algorithm implementation using Arduino and Mozzi
10
Besides the string model, Kevin Karplus and Alex Strong also devised a model for drum sound synthesis.
(Karplus & Strong, 1983)
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Interaction strategies
Mapping in musical instrument design is what connects variables from the input interface to
variables of the sound generator, and it plays a very important role in the instrument’s identity,
as stated by Hunt, Wanderley and Paradis (Hunt, Wanderley & Paradis, 2002). In acoustic
instruments, where the input interface and the sound generator are coupled together, such
as the strings in a violin, which are at the same time sound generators and input interfaces for
instrument control, where mappings are defined by the laws of physics. On the other hand,
electronic and digital musical instruments have separated input interfaces and sound
generators, and mappings don’t occur naturally by any law, but instead are defined by the
instrument’s designer (or luthier) or even configured and changed by the instrumentalist
before or during a performance.
Although the input interface and the sound generator might be easily recognized and
identified at a first glance, the mapping layer is usually hidden under code, and is more difficult
to identify, especially if mappings are not in a direct one-to-one relationship. Nonetheless, this
layer bears an enormous potential on the instrument outcome from the instrumentalist
perspective, as well as from the listeners perspective. (Hunt, Wanderley & Paradis, 2002) In
this regard it was essential to carefully design uTubo’s mapping layer, as it would contribute
for Sonópia goals, as much or even more than the input interface and the sound generator.
Musical control and interaction design
The control premisses of musical instruments lie in parameters such as rhythm, dynamics,
11
pitch and timbre, as the core of instrument control and expression . Since these are only
conceptual semantic parameters, it is necessary to design the link (mappings) between sound
synthesis parameters from the sound generator to parameters of the input interface, in order
to evidence these musical controls. Therefore, the intended musical controls of uTubo were
designed to deliver the following results:
rhythm — one-shot and repeated events with variable time intervals;
dynamics — besides silent and playing, dynamics are not directly controlled;
pitch — (monophonic) continuous pitch control;
timbre — detune and distortion.
Reminding Sonópia’s premisses, the musical control of uTubo needed to be simple enough
for children, unexperienced musicians or anyone with certain physical or mental impairments
to be able to play this instrument in a musical context, such as those performances realized
for Ao Alcance de Todos. But it also should be fun and musical enough to be performed by
virtually anyone, even by skilled musicians.
Although the input interface as a huge weight on the accessibility and ergonomics of the
instrument, and the sound generator over sonic properties, parameter mappings define the
instrument’s behaviour and characteristics in response to the player’s input. Thus exhibiting a
focus area to fulfill Sonópia’s premisses, potentially making uTubo something between a
musical toy and a “serious” instrument.
11
For a longer discussion over digital musical instrument expressivity the reader can refer to (Dobrian &
Koppelman, 2006)
4.1. uTubo — development and application of an alternative digital musical instrument
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Parameter mapping
Parameter mapping in digital musical instruments can undertake several topologies,
describing the input-output relationship in terms of connection points. The simplest topology
is a one-to-one mapping, where one input parameter is mapped to another output parameter.
But it is also possible to map N input parameters to one output parameter, one input to M
outputs and N inputs to M outputs. (Miranda & Wanderley, 2006) We know beforehand,
thanks to Hunt et. al, that one-to-one mappings are usually too simple and straightforward
for musical expression. And, as shown by Hunt, Wanderley and Paradis (2002), mapping
topologies that are more complex usually drive better results in terms of musical expression,
making the instrument less predictable but also more enjoyable to learn and play.
uTubo’s interface has basically four sensor inputs: one big red button on the top of the
casing, one touch membrane potentiometer and two flex sensors (one on the left and the
other on the right of the casing) both attached inside the plastic tube. While the sound
generator has basically six parameters: a noise impulse with trigger, attack, decay and duration
controls plus two delay lines with variable delay sizes.
Acknowledging facts over mapping topologies, one had to design a somewhat complex
mapping layer that wouldn’t just care with explicit one-to-one controls, but instead could
merge them into more complex topologies, making some controls inseparable from each
other, which could contribute for an instrument with a stronger personality and behaviour
rather than just a controller for individual sound synthesis parameters.
Parameter mappings created for the musical control of uTubo can be described as follows:
12
Rhythm - in terms of rhythmic control one had to develop ways of making oneshot events as well as repeated events at variable time intervals defined by the
instrumentalist, making it possible to apply accelerandi and rallentandi to this
12
stream of events. One way of achieving this is to use Mozzi’s EventDelay class
to generate this stream, where the time interval between events is controlled
simultaneously through both flex sensors as well as the membrane sensor (see
metroTime variable in Fig. 6). So, in order to play a continuous stream of events
the player has to keep uTubo out of its resting state, while to play a single oneshot note the user needs to take uTubo out if its resting state and leave/take it
again to its resting state after the one-shot sound event has been played/heard.
In other words, the repeated stream of events is always active when uTubo is out
of its resting state and it will stop plucking any more events once it reaches the
resting state again. Additionally, it is also possible to control the note duration,
although not directly, as it depends on the time interval of the metronomic note
generator, which in itself depends on data from both flex sensors, as well as the
currently selected pitch (see the impulseDuration function in Fig. 7).
Dynamics – in uTubo there is no direct control over the dynamics of sound events,
nor there is any volume control. Direct volume control is binary: it’s either on
(playing) or off (silent). This is defined by a mechanism that sets the instrument
resting state by pressing the big red button on the top of the casing. When this
button is pressed, values of both flex sensors are memorized and set as the resting
state. So, whenever one of these sensors surpasses the memorized value by a
certain threshold (see Fig. 6) the instrument leaves its resting state and starts its
One of Mozzi’s caveats is that it disables Arduino delay() function, so the EventDelay class had to be
used.
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rhythmic processes (see rhythmic description above). Furthermore it is possible to
bring a feeling of louder dynamics by “stressing” the plastic tube, that is, by
getting it more and more distant from its resting point, where the density of
events increases as well as the distortion of the output sound. Additionally, the
control of dynamics might occur indirectly, since both delay lines, with possibly
different sizes (or different pitches), are summed at the output, and are fed back
to the system, eventually causing some phase cancellations and boosts that will
make the generated sound decay faster or a bit more slowly.
Pitch - pitch and rhythm are connected because the membrane touch
potentiometer, the sensor used for the continuous pitch control, is also used to
define the time interval of the event stream (Fig. 6). So, higher pitches will also
generate faster rhythms and lower pitches will generate slower rhythms. Besides
controlling the pitch with the membrane potentiometer it is also possible to
detune it slightly using the flex sensors inside the plastic tube.
Timbre - timbre control in uTubo, such as the dynamics control, had a very simple
implementation. Since the KS algorithm emulates a plucked string, where most
of the timbral control comes from the attack portion of the sound event,
analogously the way a string is plucked will influence its timbre over time. Since
the impulse pluck was programmed using a wavetable filled with random values
(1/f noise ratio, which corresponds to pink noise), and not actually a noise
oscillator, one had to change its phase whenever a note was “plucked” in order
to avoid having the same impulse over and over again for all plucked notes. A
cheap way of setting a random phase to the impulse generator was to read an
analog pin from the Arduino with nothing connected to it (see setPhase function
on Fig. 7, this problem is also addressed by Karplus & Strong (1983)). The other
timbral control comes from the sum of two slightly detuned delay-lines, which
basically works as a filter, since summing two different sounds will attenuate
some frequencies and enhance others, while detuning each delay-line is done
through each dedicated flex sensor.
Figure 6 - uTubo parameter mappings (Arduino code)
4.1. uTubo — development and application of an alternative digital musical instrument
247
Figure 7 - uTubo noise impulse (Arduino code)
Evaluation and musical output
The examination and evaluation of digital musical instruments has been already covered
by a large group of researchers as seen in (Ângelo, 2012, pg. 34). Thus it is out of the scope
of this article to present a new evaluation model or even to extend such models. Instead we
will look at the seven-axis classification model of Birnbaum et. al (2005) to inspect and observe
uTubo. This model provides a dimensional space representation of instrument characteristics
and it was chosen as it builds onto previously presented classification and evaluation models
comprehensively, providing a visual representation of the musical device. Furthermore we will
look at uTubo's musical output diversity as proposed by Jordà (2004).
The evaluation model presented by Birnbaum et. al relies on seven axis of representation:
required expertise, role of sound, distribution in space, inter-actors, feedback modalities,
degrees of freedom, and musical control . In the next section uTubo’s design intentions are
13
evaluated according to the dimension space proposed by Birnbaum et. al.
Required Expertise: uTubo was designed to have a low entry level of expertise;
Role of Sound - designed to have an artistic/expressive sound role;
Distribution in space: by default uTubo has a small space distribution, although it
can be extended (as mentioned in chapter 4.1);
Inter-actors: by default uTubo was meant to be played by one instrumentalist,
although it allows more than one player to interact with its input interface, as
well as in the situation described in chapter 4.1;
Feedback Modalities: there are only two feedback modalities in uTubo: the
produced sound and the physical state of the plastic tube;
Degrees of Freedom: input controls available in uTubo are moderate, and most
of them are intertwined in 1-to-M mappings;
Musical Control: the levels of musical control present in uTubo rely, for the most
part, on the note level and on the control of musical processes (such as the
ostinato created by repeating sound events).
14
In terms of musical output diversity, uTubo could be empirically evaluated as follows :
13
Macro-diversity (Stylistic diversity): medium to high Mac-D, meaning that it is not
an instrument with a very high specificity over musical style nor it is completely
For a complete description of the seven axis of classification please refer to (Birnbaum et. al, 2005)
For a complete description of the output diversity classifications used the reader should refer to (Jordà,
2004)
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adaptable to most musical styles and genres, although it can certainly fit into
more than one style;
Mid-diversity (Performance diversity): medium Med-D, meaning that two
different performances (of different pieces) played with uTubo can produce
moderately different results;
Micro-diversity (Performance nuances): low to medium Mic-D, meaning that two
performances (of the same piece) could bring only slightly different results,
especially if compared to most acoustic instruments, such as brass or wind
instruments.
Musical and social application
The developed instrument presented in this paper was then used in two different child projects
of Ao Alcance de Todos: Algodão Doce (meaning cotton candy) and Descobertas Sonoras
(meaning sonic discoveries). While the first project was dedicated to children the other was
dedicated to the specially impaired. In the next subchapters we will describe and report the
use and application of uTubo in both projects.
“Algodão doce”
uTubo was used at the Algodão Doce concert (see Fig. 8) at Casa da Música - Portugal (18
15
and 19 May 2013) and SESC São Paulo - Brazil (12 October 2013). The concert was destined
to children aged from 3 months to 5 years old and revolves around a group of characters
trapped inside cotton candy. One of the characters, a wizard, casts many spells that invariably
result in music. These include making a grand acoustic piano play on its own, with moving
keys, enchanting a ball that makes sound as it moves, and bringing an old vacuum cleaner to
life - uTubo. In Algodão Doce, both the action (that is, the storytelling) and the playing took
place in very close proximity to the audience, which was encouraged to participate. The
“stage” consisted of three to four small places, scattered around the room, full of stage props.
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4.1. uTubo — development and application of an alternative digital musical instrument
249
Figure 8 - Algodão Doce concert. Photo by João Messias – Casa da Música
Although not originally designed for the concert, uTubo suits its goals perfectly: it’s a
seemingly normal object capable of producing otherworldly sounds, especially when
connected to effects processors - as it was. That non-apparent relation between its looks and
its sound was, in fact, crucial, as at first sight any member of the audience would think that it
was just another stage prop. But when it was played it had an almost magical effect,
contributing to the show’s peculiar and surreal character.
The interface itself was also very useful, for two reasons: first, it allowed the instrument to
be played by very young children, who obviously lack the coordination required to play
somewhat more sophisticated instruments - they could just hit the instrument’s tube, and hear
a sound response in real time; second, due to it’s standby features, it could remain silent for
the majority of the concert, when it was not needed. And it was reliable enough to assure us
that it would play when the tube left its standby position. Furthermore, adding effects pedals
to uTubo’s output allowed it to be played by up to three people at the same time - one at the
tube, other at the pitch control, and a third one at the effects, which was great for the family
interaction these kinds of concerts look for.
From the composer’s point of view, and keeping in mind this particular concert, our goal
was to create a comfortable place for children to freely explore rhythm through the simple
interaction previously described. It was, therefore, important, to keep some level of musical
activity on the background, not only to take the pressure off the participants, leaving them
more comfortable and avoiding possible silences, but also to create contrast - the almost
unchanging background versus the clear, rhythmical attacks of uTubo.
“Descobertas sonoras”
The workshop Descobertas Sonoras (see Fig. 9) was part of Ao Alcance de Todos festival,
which took place between 25 and 27 March 2013. During three days two different types of
workshops were organized: smaller workshops of one hour and a half were led during the
first day (March 25), while longer workshops were planned for the two upcoming days, which
intended to prepare a presentation/concert open to public on 27 March.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Figure 9 – Descobertas Sonoras rehearsal. Photo by João Messias – Casa da Música
During the three days of workshops, several individuals with specific special needs, such as
reduced mobility, blindness and cognitive limitations, participated in Descobertas Sonoras. In
order to alleviate the arduous execution of traditional musical instruments from these
participants, the workshop instructors/tutors had a set of electronic/digital instruments at their
disposal. These instruments were previously developed during the Sonópia project, which
brought a group of instruments aiming to ease and promote the participants’ attention and
performance. While presenting some of these instruments to the participants, alongside with
other traditional instruments such as the piano or the electric bass, uTubo quickly got their
attention as it presented a different timbre associated with a different mode of execution.
And, during the workshops, it truly facilitated the development of activities set by the
workshop instructors. In musical terms, uTubo was used to create long pedal tones as well as
smaller rhythmic cells. Furthermore, some of the participants had the physical/cognitive ability
to change the instrument’s register (pitch). This musical gesture took place by two different
means:
by instructing the participants to change the pitch, through conducting gestures
achieved by the tutors;
or by giving total freedom to the interpreter for manipulating this musical
resource in a free and creative manner.
One resource that was rarely used was the inversion of uTubo’s behaviour by pressing the
big red button in the top of the casing. This was mostly due to some physical and cognitive
impairments of the participants, and in most cases instructors would help participants press
the button.
4.1. uTubo — development and application of an alternative digital musical instrument
251
Descobertas Sonoras counted with the participation of 15 individuals from Centro
Integrado de Apoio à Deficiência (CIAD – Misericórdia do Porto16) during 26 and 27 March
2013. This group of individuals, suffered from blindness, physical and/or cognitive
impairments, and presented different degrees of disability, from moderate to severe, partially
or totally dependent from third-person support. These two days were programmed having in
mind the final presentation/concert. So, after getting the participants acquainted to all the
available instruments, uTubo was ascribed to a pair of participants that held moderate
cognitive impairments. And, in both cases, they were able to manage and fulfill the proposed
tasks for the public performance in a quite satisfactory manner.
uTubo was set on stage on 27 March and it had the starting point of the musical concert,
by representing the sounds of a thunderstorm. While in the intermediate section interpreters
would improvise with uTubo, with the help of instructors to set register/pitch changes using
the membrane potentiometer. And, in the final section of the performance, uTubo
instrumentalists played a rhythmic cell in the musical ostinato form. During the concert, all
conductor gestures provided to play uTubo were devised to simulate the gesture that the
interpreter would need to apply in order to play the required sonic/musical events.
Conclusion
The possibility of developing personal synthesizers, synth modules and other electronic/digital
musical instruments have been growing in the last couple years, mainly due to large
knowledge sharing communities over these topics and the accessibility of electronic
components and sensors allied to the use of microprocessor prototyping platforms such as
Arduino. Which have become powerful enough to use in real-time sound synthesis.
Furthermore, the selected programming tools, Arduino and Mozzi, proved to be a great
resource for the development of stand-alone synthesizers.
Developing uTubo required some efforts to be made, so that the instrument wouldn’t lend
itself useful only for the mentioned performances (in 4.1 and 4.2, which weren’t known before
the development of uTubo), but could in fact be used in a variety of different musical and
social contexts. Although, some of the programmed functionalities of the instrument tended
to be used less often, such as the big red button and the membrane potentiometer, largely
because they were difficult to activate/manipulate by some players, the overall capabilities and
specifications of this instrument served the purpose of the project Ao Alcance de Todos quite
well.
The use of different sensors and components, such as ultrasound sensors to replace the
membrane potentiometer or a softer button for the button in the top of the casing, for
example, could have rendered more control capabilities to this instrument, given the context
of Algodão Doce and Descobertas Sonoras. Nonetheless it proved to be both musically useful
from the composer’s point of view and satisfactorily engaging from the instrumentalist point
of view as well as surprising from the audience point of view.
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References
Ângelo, T. (2012). Open Instruments: Framework para Desenvolvimento e Performance de Instrumentos
Musicais Digitais em MaxMSP. Faculdade de Engenharia da Universidade do Porto, Portugal.
Retrieved from http://hdl.handle.net/10216/65229
Birnbaum, D., Fiebrink, R., Malloch, J., & Wanderley, M. (2005). Towards a Dimension Space for Musical
Devices. In NIME ’05: Proceedings of the 2005 conference on New Interfaces for Musical
Expression (pp. 192–195). Vancouver, BC, Canada.
Dobrian, C., & Koppelman, D. (2006). The’E'in NIME: musical expression with new computer interfaces.
In NIME ’06: Proceedings of the 2006 conference on New Interfaces for Musical Expression (pp.
277–282).
Paris:
IRCAM—Centre
Pompidou.
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http://dl.acm.org/citation.cfm?id=1142283
Hunt, A., Wanderley, M., & Paradis, M. (2002). The Importance of Parameter Mapping in Electronic
Instrument Design. In NIME ’02: Proceedings of the 2002 conference on New interfaces for
musical expression (pp. 429–440). National University of Singapore, Singapore.
Jordà, S. (2004). Digital Instruments and Players : Part II – Diversity, Freedom and Control. In Proceedings
of the International Computer Music Conference. San Francisco, CA: International Computer
Music Association.
Karplus, K., & Strong, A. (1983). Digital Synthesis of and Plucked-String Timbres. Computer Music
Journal, 7(2), 43–55.
Miranda, E., & Wanderley, M. (2006). New digital musical instruments: control and interaction beyond
the keyboard. Middleton, Wisconsin: A-R Editions, Inc.
Paine, G., & Drummond, J. (2009). Developing an Ontology of New Interfaces for Realtime Electronic
Proc. EMS 09. Retrieved from http://www.emsMusic
Performance.
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network.org/ems09/papers/paine.pdf
Roads, C. (1996). The Computer Music Tutorial. Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT Press.
4.2. One is the loneliest number: “one-man bands”
and doing-it-yourselves versus doing-it-alone
Matt Brennan 1
Abstract
There has been a notable resurgence in the phenomenon of the one-man band in the past ten
years, as documented by Adam Clitheroe’s film, One Man In The Band (2008), BBC Radio 4’s “One
Man Band” (2013), and Dave Harris’s enthusiast compendium, Head, Hands, and Feet (2012).
Music festivals exclusively featuring one-man bands have also recently been curated in London and
Montreal. The reasons for such renewed interest are complex, but include concerns ranging from
the aesthetic (total creative autonomy), the romantic (the image of the lone troubadour), the
technological (the mass production of looping software and pedals), to the economic (no
bandmates with whom to split income at a time when traditional revenue streams, especially
recording sales, have dwindled). This article examines the one-man band resurgence and the
themes above from an auto-ethnographic perspective, using the author’s own experience as a oneman band performer as a case study.
Keywords: one-man bands, one-person bands, creative practice, aesthetics, social construction of
technology
Introduction
It is hard to imagine a more perfect example of DIY music-making than the one-man band. A
one-man band performance is the dramatic enactment of musical self-reliance, of not needing
anyone but yourself to play multiple instruments and make a full sound. It is also an economic
model of music-making that resists the problem of relying on intermediaries who inevitably
take a cut of revenue streams: no need for a trucking company and roadies to haul gear, and
no bandmates with whom to share royalties or gig fees. Many one-man bands build their own
idiosyncratic instrument setups or incorporate recycled instruments into their act, so that even
the reliance on instrument manufacturers and retailers is often minimized. Finally, a one-man
band is necessarily the artistic vision of a single person, a musician doing it by his or her self,
doing it alone, keeping it simple.
Or is it so simple? The romanticization of the one-man band as a creatively autonomous
artist or lone troubadour is appealing, but how has the status of the one-man band changed
st
over history? Can the various one-man bands performing in the 21 century be grouped
together as a coherent underground music scene, or do they operate in isolation from one
another? Do one-man bands in certain genres, such as punk and indie rock, embody different
meanings than more traditional comedic one-man bands? And does a one-man band actually
1
University of Edinburgh, United Kingdom.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
have a better chance of economic self-sufficiency than music-making groups involving more
than one person?
In this article I will explore the trajectory of one-man bands as a DIY culture in four sections.
First, I consider the history of one-man bands and the challenges of what to include and
exclude in any definition of the culture. Second, I examine the factors which have contributed
st
to a resurgence of one-man bands in the 21 century, drawing from research on the changing
dynamics of the music industries, theories of musical “liveness” in the digital age, and my own
creative practice as a one-man band performer. Third, I argue that one-man bands present a
challenge to both existing theories of the social construction of technology and invention
versus innovation (e.g. Hughes 1989; Pinch and Bijsterveld 2004), and raise problems for the
current hierarchy of value for popular music versus 'serious' music research in higher
education. Finally, I consider the political implications of taking DIY culture to its logical
extreme of total self-reliance - what I call DIA (do-it-alone) culture - and whether the alleged
political subversion associated with DIY risks leading to an abandonment of the collective
cultural (and public) good.
Definitions and histories
When we think about the term “one-man band”, a few stereotypes may spring to mind. In a
recent article, Dale Chapman (2013) notes that on the one hand, we have a traditional image
from the vaudeville era of one musician playing some kind of crazy homemade multiinstrumental contraption. The appeal of the one-man band here is comical; no serious music
can or will be made on such machines, and the eccentricity of the contraptions raise questions
about the corresponding eccentricity of their makers. The one-man band seems tied up with
what one might call the aesthetics of loneliness or the fetishization of art by outsiders or even
st
outcasts. Compare this image, however, with a thoroughly 21 century conception of a oneperson band. Chapman uses the example of indie-rocker St. Vincent (née Annie Clark), who,
although she now employs a full rock band, paid her dues on the touring circuit as a oneperson band (at this point I should state the obvious that the term ‘one-man band’ is
st
problematically gendered; hereafter I will use the term one-person band). In its 21 century
incarnation, the one-person band is more likely to take full advantage of the latest
technological developments to create the sound of a large ensemble through loop pedals,
samplers, laptops, and other live multi-instrumental enabling devices. These people aren’t
viewed as novelties; the are legitimate artists, and in recent years the concept of the oneperson band has been completely re-appropriated by these new kinds of solo artist.
There is a long history of musicians trying to play more than one instrument simultaneously.
Indeed, my interest in one-person bands as a topic for investigation emerged out of another
research project on the social history of the drum kit. As I investigated the social conditions
th
that gave rise to the invention of the drum kit at the turn of the 20 century, it became clear
both the kit and one-person bands were intertwined in so far as they offered interesting DIY
solutions to problems of (1) musical labour (edging out competition for gigs by offering to
play more than one instrument at once), and (2) problems of space - being able to cram a lot
of instruments into a portable setup for the purposes of both transport and, in the case of the
drum kit, limited space on indoor stages and in orchestra pits. One way to trace the early
history of the drum kit is to focus on the development of one of its most important
components: the bass drum pedal. This device allowed drummers to place the bass drum on
4.2. One is the loneliest number: “one-man bands” and doing-it-yourselves versus doing-italone
255
the floor and free up their hands to play the snare drum and other cymbals, and effects, and
there are also many examples of one-person bands in the 19th century using homemade bass
drum pedals of various kinds. Some of the more business-inclined pedal inventors successfully
sold their inventions to others, and became entrepreneurs. Therefore in the last two decades
th
of the 19 century one can see the first patents for bass drum pedals appearing in the USA.
The first pedal to be successfully mass produced was patented by a Chicago drummer named
William F. Ludwig in 1909. However, equally fascinating are all of other the one-off, failed
bass drum pedal designs, because even the most terrible designs seemed to possess their own
kind of beauty, as are the one-person bands that sometimes made and used them.
The homespun, one-off, and often comical aesthetic of one-person bands is key to
understanding their continued popularity through the last two centuries. Indeed, others have
remarked on the DIY appeal of one-person bands not just as performances but as musical
instrument inventions that are deliberately not made to be mass produced or imitated: chief
among these is the busker and author Dave Harris, who has produced an exhaustive
compendium of one-person bands around the globe. Over the 400-plus pages of his book,
Harris groups one-person bands historically, geographically, and stylistically, suggesting that
they can be traced at least as far back as the tradition of the pipe and tabor player in 13
th
century Europe. From there, the majority of his book is devoted to short artist biographies of
all the one man bands Harris could find, grouped according to continent and also by genre.
Harris’s personal preference seems to be for folk, blues, country, rock, and punk-based oneman bands. However, for my purposes the key distinction that Harris makes is not typological
but ideological: when explaining his rationale on what to include and exclude in his book,
Harris writes:
The [one-man band] genre includes a large number of electronic based acts. [But] …this book
is about the live performing, manually operated OMB’s, those who use “head, hands, and
feet”. (Harris, 2012, p. 6)
Despite acknowledging the time and skill required to create backing-track based
performance, the ideology of homemade instrument setups and using “head, hands, and
feet” in a live setting is clearly of great importance to Harris, and despite paying lip service to
loop-based one-man bands, the fact that the title of the book is Heads, Hands, and Feet: A
Book of One Man Bands clearly naturalizes the heads/hands/feet style of one-person band
practice as the real, or “authentic” one-person band tradition. By contrast, Chapman’s
st
concept of 21 century one-person bands cited above constitutes a competing tradition, which
I will hereafter refer to as the “loops, laptops, and layers” one-person band.
One-person bands in the 21 st century
There has been a notable resurgence of interest in one-person bands since the year 2000,
evidenced not only by Harris's compendium and Chapman's article, but also by a range of
documentaries. Adam Clitheroe’s film, One Man In The Band (2008), argues that a new
generation of performers - which include acts such as Thomas Truax, Bob Log III, Dennis
Hopper Choppers, Man From Uranus, Duracell, Ninki V, Honkeyfinger, and The Two Tears have broadened out from Harris's preferred blues, country, and folk-inspired traditions to
produce follows a more eclectic and often experimental range of musical styles, “ranging from
theremin rock to hurricane drum solos and a backing band made of bicycle wheels”. More
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
recently, DJ Tom Ravenscroft presented the BBC Radio 4 documentary "One Man Band"
(2013), in which he reported on the new phenomenon of music festivals exclusively featuring
one-person bands that have been curated in London and Montreal (the third annual Montreal
One Man Band Festival took place in May 2014).
Chapman suggests that "over the last 30 years, we have begun to see a shift in the way
that solo multi-instrumental music is understood as a cultural phenomenon", and that in
particular one-person bands have "undergone a process of gentrification" in the within the
white middle class world of indie rock (2013, p.457). As opposed to earlier one-person bands
which were treated as novelties not to be taken seriously, and multi-tracking projects which
were constrained to the confines of the studio, Chapman suggests that from the 1980s
onwards musicians like Robert Fripp experimented with new kinds of "live solo multiinstrumentalism" by taking sample and looping technologies out of the recording studio and
into live performance. As digital looping devices became more affordable, portable, and
popular, so too did the number of solo acts looping themselves to create a full band sound
live by themselves - notable examples from the 2000s include Andrew Bird, St Vincent, KT
Tunstall, and Ed Sheeran. These new bands have disassociated themselves from the comedic
conventions of one-person bands and instead command respectability as legitimate artists. For
Chapman, this shift in status of one-person bands parallels a wider societal shift towards
championing individual achievement over that of the collective encapsulated in the ideology
of neoliberalism, which "holds that the overriding goal of state policy should be to foster an
environment that privileges the individual as a self-interested economic unit, set loose within
an unfettered global marketplace" (ibid. p.459):
Live solo multi-instrumentalism, while by no means complicit in this turn of events, might help
us to understand how neoliberal modes of thought might come to seem appealing or
pleasurable. While the individual artists associated with this practice may themselves be
stalwart advocates of socially communitarian values, the “heroic individualism” of the oneperson band serves as a tactile and visceral endorsement of a much more atomised social
order. (ibid. p.467)
In addition to Chapman's theory, I think there are other significant economic and aesthetic
factors that have contributed to the renewed interest in one-person bands, of which I will
discuss four: changes in music industries revenues; the rise of the "maker" movement as a
reaction to mass-produced "black box" consumer products; the changing discourse of
"liveness" in the era of laptop "press play" performances; and the unique aesthetic
possibilities afforded to composers in one-person bands.
First, the most significant change in the dynamics of the music industries in the last twenty
years has been the growth of the live music sector and the contraction of revenue from record
sales. In the UK, for instance, 2008 marked the first year that Britons spent more on live music
concert tickets than they did on recorded music (CDs, downloads, and streaming combined),
making the live industry the largest source of revenue in the British music industries - a reversal
which has held intact in subsequent years (Brennan & Webster, 2011; Prynn, 2008). Irving
Azoff, a longtime artist manager whose clients include The Eagles, Van Halen, Steely Dan,
Christina Aguilera, and other artists spanning the last several decades, expressed the impact
for artists this way:
The way the industry is monetized has totally changed. The order used to be: first, records;
second, live; third, merchandise. Now it’s: first, live; second, third-party sponsorship; third,
merchandise; fourth, publishing; fifth, records. So that’s a big difference. (quoted in Seabrook,
2009)
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Put simply, changes to the business models of the music industries in the last twenty years
have forced musicians to (1) rely increasingly on live income over revenue from recorded music,
and (2) mercilessly cut their touring costs to maximize the efficiency of what has become
primary source of income. It is difficult to measure precisely to what extent these changes have
influenced the number of artists choosing to tour solo where they would otherwise have used
multi-person line-ups, but anecdotal evidence from interviews with artists and promoters
suggests this is definitely a consideration for some.
There are also aesthetic factors involved in choosing to perform as a one-person band.
Musicians are not simply performing the “loops, laptops, and layers” version of the oneperson band aligned to Chapman's conception of live solo multi-instrumentalism via digital
technologies; on the contrary, many are also embracing the traditional “heads, hands, and
feet” version of one-person bands proposed by Harris (2012). One-person band DIY culture
cannot therefore be simply attributed to the mass production of looping pedals being sold to
musicians; other musicians are, perhaps partly as a reaction against the proliferation of loop
pedals, choosing to build their own instruments and custom one-person band setups. One
finds evidence of this phenomenon at "maker" fairs that take place throughout the world,
which encourage citizens to “make” and understand the objects they use as opposed to
unreflexively consuming mass-produced goods: I was recently invited to perform with my oneperson band, Citizen Bravo, at the 2014 Mini-Maker Faire in Edinburgh, while Johnny Eriksson
was awarded Maker of the Year at the Stockholm Mini Maker Faire for his "Popmaskinen"
electromechanical one man band (Hobson, 2014). One can also find more high-tech dedicated
musical instrument invention conferences that occasionally feature unusual one-person bands,
such as the Music Tech Fest and conference for New Interfaces for Musical Expression (NIME).
Related to this trend are the new ways in which "liveness" has been contested due to
increasing use of loop pedals, backing tracks, triggered samples, and laptops at gigs. In his
assessment of live performance, Philip Auslander once predicted that "the symbolic capital
associated with live events" would likely to diminish in an increasingly mediatized world
(Auslander, 1999, p. 160). However, precisely the opposite has happened: live music has as
much if not more cultural importance today as ever. However, what constitutes "liveness" in
the “loops, laptops, and layers” age has been the subject of much controversy - witness the
scandal EDM musician Deadmau5 caused when he suggested that he and his fellow superstar
DJ's frequently just "pressed play" for their live concert performances ("Deadmau5 clarifies
'press play' comments about fellow DJs," 2012). Sociologist Nick Prior theorized live laptop
music performance in particular, and illustrates how notions of "liveness" have become
contested through the introduction of the laptop performance with an example from his
ethnographic research:
A small audience watches and listens as the laptop jam unfolds... And whilst the audience
members are patient they also look slightly perplexed for it is clear that they are searching for
the tangible links between bodily movement and sound that characterize conventional forms
of performance. But the visual hooks aren't there. Should one applaud, then, when the signs
of creativity are so heavily mediated (Pinch & Bijsterveld 2003)? Who is producing what? Are
they really just checking their e-mails? (Prior, 2008, p. 913)
In this context, the resurgence of the "head, hands, and feet" one-person band can be
viewed as an antithetical response to "press play" performances, especially when the
definition of "one-person band" itself has become contested via the appropriation of the term
to apply to newer "loops, laptops, and layers" performers.
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st
21 century one-person bands address these conflicting ideologies in different ways. Robert
Stillman, drawn to one-person bands for the unique aesthetic possibilities inherent in a single
person simultaneously performing multiple analog instruments, is representative of a
traditionalist approach. Stillman (2014) has theorized his own compositional practice in a
website and divides the aesthetic particularities of "head, hands, and feet" one-person bands
into several categories, including Coordination, Independence, and Musical Structure;
Instruments, Technique, and the Role of the Feet; Expressive Rhythm and One-Man Band; The
Integration of Composition and Performance; and Studio Production. A selection of the 23
aphorisms from his "one man band manifesto" include:
One-man band performance asks the body to do something it would rather not
do. The sound of one-man band music, therefore, is not perfect. Rather, it is the
sound of the outer limit of ability.
One-man band is not quantized.
One-man band creates its own context.
People want to know how one-man band works.
One-man band is lonely.
Because there is no accepted technique for one-man band, the standard is an
imaginary one created by the one-man band, and usually impossible. (Stillman,
2014)
The kind of aesthetic emergent from the manifesto excerpts above is clearly at odds with
the "loops, laptops, and layers" ideology of the one-person band. For Stillman and similar
one-person bands, the non-quantized, old-fashioned "head, hands, and feet" ideology
provides the richest and most rewarding possibilities to create music. Meanwhile, Artist Daniel
Wilcox decides not to choose sides and instead attempts to resolve the two conflicting
ideologies by drawing from both of them. Wilcox describes his "robotcowboy" one-person
band as having the following aim:
robotcowboy is a performance project consisting of w a wearable computer system and
various peripheral devices which enable a single performer to become a mobile, technological
"one-man band" free to roam the stage, the street, and the world. It is both an homage to
the "one-man band" tradition and an exploration into a post-digital renewal of embodiment
and physical instrumentality in electronic musical instruments... It is hoped that the concept
of "wearable music computer" can one day become as ubiquitous as that of "laptop
musician" in a return to the fragility and excitement of live music. (Wilcox, 2007)
Both Stillman and Wilcox developed their one-person band practices in an academic
context. However, the status of one-person band creative practice as research still lags behind
more established “art” music creative practice, and it is this issue which I will turn my attention
to next.
Invention versus innovation in DIY music cultures
To summarize so far, one-person bands are a longstanding DIY musical practice, and the
definition of a one-person band – be it “head, hands, and feet”, “loops, laptops, and layers”,
or something else – has changed over time and remains contested by current one-person band
practitioners. There has been an apparent resurgence of interest amongst both artists and
st
audiences in one-person bands in the 21 century, and the reasons for this range include
4.2. One is the loneliest number: “one-man bands” and doing-it-yourselves versus doing-italone
259
economic, aesthetic, technological, and political factors. I want to start tying some of these
discussions together, thinking about one-off designs that aren’t mass-produced, and about
the opposition between one-person bands as being comical novelty contraptions versus music
to be taken seriously, and also challenge the distinction between invention and innovation.
Ultimately I want to ask whether and how one-person bands can be valued as both art and
research.
My starting point is an auto-ethnographic analysis of my own creative practice in a punkinfluenced one-person band called Citizen Bravo. In 2012 I collaborated with an artisan
blacksmith named Dave Frazier to create sketches via computer assisted drawing of a oneman band with a suitcase kick drum as the focal point (Figure 1).
Figure 1 – Citizen Bravo design plans
We then set to work building the design, the central feature of which is a steel frame
scaffolding which fits inside a vintage suitcase. The steel frame performs several functions.
First, it holds the shape of an otherwise flimsy cardboard suitcase so that various components
can be attached. It can also accommodate the other components of the setup inside the case
so they be easily packed up for transport. In each corner of the frame are two modular arm
sockets, and the suitcase shell has holes that feed in different customized stainless steel arms
depending on what component needs to be attached. Finally, the weight of the frame means
that when the suitcase is used as a kick drum it doesn’t budge from the forward force applied
by the bass drum pedal. We also added decorative design elements (e.g. skateboard keyboard
stand, skull maracas) to keep with a punk visual aesthetic (Figures 2 and 3).
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Figure 2 – Citizen Bravo in “transport mode”
Photo by Campbell Mitchell, used with permission.
Figure 3 – Citizen Bravo in “performance mode”
Photo by Campbell Mitchell, used with permission.
4.2. One is the loneliest number: “one-man bands” and doing-it-yourselves versus doing-italone
261
This is clearly a “head, hands, and feet” band, and I’ve deliberately chosen not include any
loop pedals, because part of the aesthetic appeal for me is precisely the anachronistic reliance
on the connection between visible physical effort and the production of sound. I want making
music on this machine to be a struggle, something that may or may not fall apart as I perform
it.
Although I have a dual background as an academic and musician and currently work in a
university music department, I was appointed as a popular music studies scholar rather than
an engineer or “art music” composer. In practice this means that while my composer
colleagues are able to submit their music as research outputs, and my computer music
colleagues are able to do the same with their invented musical instruments (which usually exist
in the form of software or digital interfaces), I am expected to produce peer-reviewed journal
articles rather than music or invented instruments. But what exactly is it that prohibits a oneperson band like Citizen Bravo from being submitted as a legitimate research output?
To answer this one must first briefly outline UK academic research culture: research by
British academics is evaluated every seven years by a system called the Research Excellence
Framework, or REF. Composers of classical music are allowed to submit their compositions as
research, and this is a common practice, but as far as I know no one has ever tried to submit
work resembling popular music as research. According to the guidance on Music for the REF:
‘In assessing work as being [of a quality that is world-leading in terms of originality, significance
and rigour], panels will expect to see evidence of, or potential for, some of the following types
of characteristics across and possibly beyond its area/field:
a primary or essential point of reference
of profound influence
instrumental in developing new thinking, practices, paradigms, policies or audiences
a major expansion of the range and the depth of research and its application
outstandingly novel, innovative and/or creative. ("REF panel criteria and working
methods," 2012)
I'm not suggesting that my one-person band fulfills the over-the-top criteria listed above
to qualify as outstanding research, but if I’m to be frank, I’m not convinced that the
compositions routinely submitted by composers of contemporary classical music fulfill them
either, and that’s the problem. For all that we like to claim that the boundaries between high
and low culture have been dismantled and dissolved in a postmodern world, for all we like to
claim that popular music has now firmly established its presence in universities, there is a clear
hierarchy that remains at the core, and creative practice counting as research is just one
example. Who defines the field for popular music as academic creative practice? Who does so
for "art" music? How big does your area and field have to be exactly? How many records to
you have to sell, how many people have to recognise your work as an “essential point of
reference”? Do all musical fields work in ways that are comparable to one another? Obviously
not. What if there is no field, and the whole point of the one-person band is to represent the
practice of idiosyncrasy, the peculiarities of one individual doing it themselves, doing it alone?
What’s the purpose of the REF in the arts? Is it time to rip it up and start again?
I suggest that part of the problem in submitting a one-person band as a research output
lies in its one-off aesthetic. The technology historian Thomas Hughes makes a distinction
between invention (defined as creating something new) versus innovation (defined as
transforming a field), and this distinction is entrenched in frameworks like the REF (Hughes,
1989, p. 43). According to this definition, one-person bands are clearly inventions, not
necessarily innovations? Do some one-person bands transform the field of one-person band
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practice, and others not? This is to raise another question: if you invent a new instrument or
technology, and if you (and maybe you and your friends) are the only ones to use this
instrument, is what you’re doing in any way innovative? What if the point a particular musical
invention is precisely its one-off-ness, its value as a DIY construction not intended for mass
production? I encountered this tension in my own creative practice building Citizen Bravo: my
co-designer, the blacksmith Dave Frazier, was accustomed to patenting his designs which he
felt to be innovative and potentially profitable, and with our design he expressed interest
patenting the steel frame and modular arms design with a view to reproducing and selling the
design to other musicians; meanwhile, I didn't want to reproduce the design even if it had
commercial potential precisely because I wanted my one-person band to be one of a kind.
Indeed, the one-off aesthetic of one-person bands neatly exposes the bias towards patents
and mass production underlying Hughes' definitions of invention versus innovation.
Technology sociologists Trevor Pinch and Karin Bijsterveld have suggested that "new
technologies sharpen the perennial issue of what makes for good music and 'art'", and
elsewhere that "the introduction of a new instrument ‘provides a way of probing and
breaching the often take for granted norms, values, and conventions of musical culture" (T.
Pinch & Bijsterveld, 2004, p. 640; T. J. Pinch & Bijsterveld, 2003, p. 538). One-person bands
do precisely that, especially in the context of the value of popular music versus art music at
universities. Some ideas and artworks, especially in underground and DIY cultures, are not
intended to spread - their value is in their singularity.
Who needs people? Doing it alone
I wish to conclude by drawing from some ideas put forward by two keynote speakers at the
Keep It Simple, Make It Fast! conference and applying them to the case of one-person bands.
First, in his assessment of the indie rock scene in Montreal's Mile End neighbourhood, Will
Straw noted the absence of images representing that particular scene. Citing Dick Hebdige
and Hakim Bey, Straw suggested that some scenes are "iconophilic" (e.g. punk), operating
"above ground" with visible presence; while others are "iconophobic" (e.g. early 1990s rave
culture), operating "below ground", fighting to remain invisible and thus avoid being coopted and comodified. Or as Straw puts it, paraphrasing Bey, "the purpose of a radical politics
is to create temporary autonomous zones which leave no traces and attract no looks". I
suggest that one-person bands do not easily fit into either of the above categories. On the
one hand, one-person bands are often visually spectacular and draw attention to their own
visuality. On the other hand, they tend to be temporary, mobile, performing in unsanctioned
zones, ready to move on if they get any hassle from authorities. Furthermore, while oneperson bands have clearly shown signs of cohering as a global community through
documentaries (Clitheroe, 2008; Ravenscroft, 2013), books (Harris, 2012), and dedicated oneperson band festivals, they don't cohere in the same way as other music scenes. Straw offers
a tentative definition of a scene as "a cultural phenomenon which arises when any purposeful
activity acquires a supplement of sociability" (Straw, 2014). One-person bands clearly have
some elements of this sociability: they interact with audiences, and even with one another at
multiple one-person bands jam sessions at festivals. But other characteristics of one-person
bands - especially their economic, technological, and performative isolation and self-reliance are at odds with Straw's definition. Given their aesthetic of embracing novelty and one-offness, is it possible to legitimately assert the existence of a unified one-person band scene?
4.2. One is the loneliest number: “one-man bands” and doing-it-yourselves versus doing-italone
263
Straw also made the intriguing provocation that the organization of culture in the 21
st
century "follows the perception that what is scarce is sociability, not interesting cultural
expression", and that in the digital age "what art must resolve is not an absence of meaning
but an absence of interconnection" (ibid.). My attempt to formulate a responsive hypothesis
about one-person bands follows: the resurgence of one-man bands represents a move away
from DIY to DIA, from doing-it-yourselves to doing-it-alone, which is compelling because it
performs a wider sentiment of disconnection from others. Even though the DIY acronym
stands for “do-it-yourself”, in the case of music there is normally still an assumption that
music-making remains a collective, social practice; in other words, even music scenes that selfidentify as DIY are much more frequently “do-it-yourselves” than “do-it-yourself”. Oneperson bands, on the other hand, even though they also operate in social contexts, are
compelling precisely because they dramatize musical isolation - they imagine what might
happen if you woke up to discover you were the last musician on earth but still wanted to jam
with multiple instruments.
st
The idea that art in the 21 century must resolve an absence of interconnection links neatly
with the work of another KISMIF keynote talk by Augusto Santos Silva on "art beyond
context", where Silva suggested that sociologists of art have too often focused on studying
the context of artworks rather than the text of the artwork itself (Silva, 2014). Following
Adorno, Silva proposed that sociologists should take seriously the notion that "art is itself
social, itself a totality, the one that acts as mediator". For Silva, art is beyond context insofar
as (1) the text is itself a context; and (2) the text is a means to understand the context; he
concludes by encouraging a dialogue between sociology and art studies /criticism, and
between sociology and art studies / criticism with art itself.
The ideas of Straw and Silva meet when applied to the case of the one-person band. As a
text, a one-person band performance is itself social, is itself a totality that generates its own
context; and the context it generates can be understood as a representation of interconnection
and a comment on the possibility for both tragedy and comedy when faced with an absence
of interconnection. Chapman has suggested that the success of one-person band practices
"rely on an ideology that privileges social atomisation", and succeed in a neoliberal culture
that "takes pleasure in representations of self-sufficiency" (2013, p.467). However, I think
that the meaning of one-person band performances is less fixed than this: they can also act
as a critique of that culture. The problem of doing-it-alone, of course, is that it risks
abandoning the collective cultural (and public) good. Is it possible for a musician or their music
to fully abdicate their inherited context in the world? During a time where many feel
disenfranchised from existing political, economic, and artistic institutions, the response of
some artists has been to severe the link between themselves and wider society and create
insular DIY micro-scenes. To these micro-scenes, the one-person band seems to say - what if
you’re ultimately left all by yourself, trying to play all the instruments at once? It has the
potential to be fun and even rewarding, but more than anything, but eventually it gets lonely
and becomes a struggle.
References
Auslander, P. (1999). Performance in a mediatized culture: New York: Routledge.
Brennan, M., & Webster, E. (2011). Why concert promoters matter. Scottish Music Review, 2(1).
Chapman, D. (2013). The "one man band" and entrepreneurial selfhood in neoliberal culture. Popular
Music, 32(3), 451-470.
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Clitheroe, A. (Writer). (2008). One man in the band [Film].
Deadmau5 clarifies 'press play' comments about fellow DJs. (2012). Rolling Stone.
http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/deadmau5-clarifies-press-play-comments-aboutfellow-djs-20120625 - ixzz3C3Z4RrSw
Harris, D. (2012). Head, hands & feet: a book of one man bands. Canada: Friesens.
Hobson, J. (2014). Popmaskinen — an electromechanical one man band. Hack A Day.
http://hackaday.com/2014/05/21/popmaskinen-an-electromechanical-one-man-band/
Hughes, T. P. (1989). American genesis: a century of innovation and technological enthusiasm, 18701970. New York: Viking.
Pinch, T., & Bijsterveld, K. (2004). Sound studies: new technologies and music. Social Studies of Science,
635-648.
Pinch, T. J., & Bijsterveld, K. (2003). " Should one applaud?" breaches and boundaries in the reception
of new technology in music. Technology and Culture, 44(3), 536-559.
Prior, N. (2008). OK COMPUTER: mobility, software and the laptop musician. Information,
Communication & Society, 11(7), 912-932.
Prynn, J. (2008). Festival explosion turns live music into £.9 bn big business. Evening Standard, 10.
Ravenscroft, T. (Writer). (2013). Tom Ravenscroft's one man band: BBC Radio 4.
REF
panel
criteria
and
working
methods.
(2012).
http://www.ref.ac.uk/media/ref/content/pub/panelcriteriaandworkingmethods/01_12.pdf
Seabrook, J. (2009). The price of the ticket. The New Yorker, 8(10), 2009.
Silva, A. S. (2014). Art beyond context: a sociological inquiry into the singularities of cultural creativity .
Paper presented at the Keep It Simple, Make It Fast! conference, Porto.
Stillman, R. (2014). One-man band: a manifesto. from http://robertstillman.com/onemanband/ manifesto
Straw, W. (2014). Above and below ground: on the visibility of musical scenes. Paper presented at the
Keep It Simple, Make It Fast! conference, Porto.
Wilcox, D. (2007). robotcowboy: a one-man band musical cyborg. Citeseer.
4.3. “We like raves, but...” Shituationism as a way out
of the dilemma of hedonism
Benjamin Conti 1
Lukas Fakegruber 1
Abstract
Shituationism is a rave theory born in the current crisis. It is a position against the dilemma of
political hedonism and its temporary zones of exclusivist happiness. These only live through the
cliché of the adventurous. We propose instead: Aim at being boring! Raves can have much more
potential than temporary hedonist comfort. Boringness could be an aesthetic that does not aim at
recognition and visibility. So unspectacular that it breaks out of the order of the spectacle. In our
investigation we want to show what can be learnt from the current generation, the rave and
internet generation. We sing the hymn for superficiality.
Keywords: Hedonism, Situationism, Rave, Social media
Post scriptum
Us sitting in old chairs and talking about old times now sounds almost as absurd as us speaking
about the potentials of rave and the dilemma of hedonism at an academic conference. But
that happened, and now we sit down for the post scriptum: what remains to be said about
rave. The constant voice of the cars. And a different sound coming in. A sound system has
been constructed, basically from nothing, like out of nowhere. It goes there, underneath the
big streets, crossing the sound of the cars, through the pedestrian tunnels of the suburbs. And
we go there, expecting nothing, and then there are like 2000 people. Or in the mountains
that surround the metropolis: signs written on the trees with spray cans, and cryptic maps are
spread out, so complicated that even the police didn’t find the way. Neither did some of the
ravers, getting lost in the forest together, crashing with a car’s sound system, satellite raves.
The metropolis of Athens more than a decade ago. Police repression was the first hit against
this scene, commercial attitudes and the zombie hybrid culture of peace and love and wasted
youth was the final strike. And now, in the current crisis, the dark tunnels and similar spaces
host the many homeless and hungry people instead of hedonists. And the fascist mob is
hunting there also. It is out of these tragic ruins of the rave scene, that we start to formulate
this report.
Five years ago, lying down on the hot metal deck of a ship heading to an island close to
the Turkish coast, we created a rave collective. It came to be a small number of people all
living in precarious situations, with different levels of education and different skills, spread
over various cities, creating the myth of being somehow connected, playing sounds and
sharing sounds, thinking and writing about their environment. It was a bit of a desperate act
1
, Shituationist Institute, Germany.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
and the only thing that here and now matters about it, is that it remained a platform for
collaborative acting and thinking, instead of becoming one of these profit orientated little
companies of the scene that maintain the divisions and hierarchies between organisers and
consumers for the purpose of financial profit. It was our little nomadic tree house and
cyberzine within the rave capitals and culture factories. The chastity belt that kept our network
from transforming itself into something commercially useful, like from joining the alternative
economies of the Berlin city model (this wholesale myth, this meta-commodity), was the
underlying ideology of what we called shituationism. A tragic version of situationism, a serious
joke that always choked on itself. It is the idea of holding up the potentials of rave situations,
but with a criticism of political hedonism.
Political hedonism could be roughly described as the idea that the temporary zones of
exclusivist happiness, like at parties, form situations, that point at the utopia of happiness for
all. It is of course mostly popular in Berlin. We criticize this idea as temporary hedonist comfort
zones, as a dilemma instead of a perspective. It is the weekend as a time zone of freedom,
enforcing the normativity of five days work, two days clubbing. Not only is that approach
temporary and exclusivist, the situations only live through the cliché of the adventurous. We
propose instead: Aim at being boring! Raves can have much more potential than temporary
hedonist comfort. This opens a new and better problem: how to extrapolate the potentials of
rave itself instead of just subordinating it to a cult of freedom and happiness with the weekend
as a model for utopia.
What can we learn from the current generation, the rave and internet generation? Social
media, the pretty surfaces that allow me to be connected to you and everybody else, which
have this connectivity and communication as a function, constitute their own section of reality,
instead of just being a means of transmission. We all know that, maybe this is why we added
the word social in the term. Even if there are no images or media that are not social.
The modifiable surfaces, the interactive pictorial spaces, the interfaces of the web, join the
profane representations of the world and the sacred untouchable images of art. Large parts
of life are now lived there, in that architecture of intimacy, through a dislocation of nearness
into a pictorial space. It even serves as a factory space for the superfluous, who work there in
a occupational therapy of valuing and spreading cultural goods.
The endless wealth of the net is offered in the mode of art, inexhaustible, and generates
potentials. In the crisis of social media lies the potential of contact. This possibility seems to be
more rooted in the conditions of the social than those of the media.
And in more general terms. To be able to let go, to have the possibility of falling into
something, to achieve that state. To get in contact, the closely approach towards the found
state, is a construction of unity, and not an excavation of unity. To chose what is wanted and
what is not wanted. Nearness is critical of the image, because it seeks to construct its relation
to things, instead of accepting the appearance. Nearness does not end at the surface, it
happens there. The so-called union, the sexual one, is only a rubbing on the surfaces of
erogenous zones, for example concave and convex zones. Penetration is only the according
myth, culturally stylized though the related industrial products, like the romantic and
pornographic films, texts and images. All this might be also a reflex against the many divisions
and dispositions of society, which appear complex and irresolvable.
Putting oneself in the lived reality of the collective artwork that is rave, generates an order
of nearness and distance. Inside this the mode is superficiality. The purpose of the rave
situation is to enable on the basis of 'a room full of people is listening to music' a situation of
4.3. “We like raves, but...” Shituationism as a way out of the dilemma of hedonism
267
multifaceted potential. The superficiality, in its organic visuality, is shaped through the
universal language of action and reaction. The basis is the process of negotiation of what one
does want and doesn't want. Even if there would be an orwellian abolishing of language,
there still could exist cracks in the architecture that would point to cracks in the order. Every
dark room can be a darkroom and doesn't need a sign that declares it, and every darkroom
allows for deviancy. The black square of Malevich is a two-dimensional darkroom. The
uniformity of the rave situation is the basis for precise deviance. Entrusting oneself to the
concept: After setting the time frame, sound and light and crowd then create the rugged line
of the evening with different perspectivization and microscopic examination by the
participants of the rave. That way everyone is part of the personnel, operating the ambience.
And yet there is the rhythm service, the tone service, the sound service, the light service, the
fog service, the drink supply, the door control, the operators who work everything out with
the state so everyone else can feel like having nothing to do with it. Of great importance also
the wardrobe, where everyone molts oneself and is welcomed. And finally the people who
remove the incrustation that remains.
Immediacy should not be associated with penetration or permeation or immersion, it has
to be located on the surface, on surfaces that rub. The surface of the respective organ is the
sensor: erogenous zones, the remaining skin (if something like that, skin that is not erogenous
zone, even exists), eyes, language apparatus. immediacy carries too much of firm immovability,
it is not fitting for grasping the relation of living beings to their surroundings. Supervicial
visuality in this sense is essentially organic, we do not talk about images as being static, but of
surfaces that are transformed by the users. A club is an interface. That is why the screen
generation finds themselves in the club. An old shituationist once said: Superfluous of all
realities, unite in superficiality, we have a world to win, online and offline!
We think we saw old Guy Debord at the conference, at least the guy in the white suit
looked one hundred percent like him. He was standing next to the people serving black and
red caviar to underground music scenes scholars at the conference dinner. Later we were
DJing there, playing Regressverbot and King Deluxe, with a 400 watt sound system in the
small bar with the parquet floor where nobody was allowed to dance for conservational
reasons, it was just us and the workers and some champagne. Everything was possible.
Funding: This work was supported by partypoker.com with a payment for a covered advertising in
one of our articles.
4.4. A survey on graphic communication and
publishing practices in the Portuguese independent
music scene
Manuel Oliveira Garcia 1
João Cordeiro 2
Abstract
In this paper, we present a research project on the use of graphic media within the Portuguese
independent music scene, with an emphasis on traditional printing techniques. To better
understand the DIY cultural practices taking place in Portugal and assess the relevance of traditional
printing techniques, we surveyed the social actors participating in the contemporary independent
music publishing about the media they use, how they use it and their impact on the graphic
landscape of the independent music scene. The results of the questionnaire show that digital media
prevails, but print media are also important to add a tangible extension to the communication,
which can be enhanced by the use of traditional printing techniques.
Keywords: Independent music, Traditional Printing Techniques, Survey, Graphic Design, Portugal
Introduction
Graphic communication is closely tied to the publishing of music projects. With the decline of
a music industry underpinned on major labels, a new generation of independent publishers
has risen, developing its own communication strategies.
From a designer perspective, the independent music scene may represent an interesting
work opportunity. Being an independent context it is free from the usual client/market
constrains, with music becoming not only “a product to pack and sell” but also a genuine
source of inspiration for creativity. It establishes a territory for researching and developing a
personal line of work that usually is not possible when developing commercial projects.
Whether to enhance portfolio or to improve skills, the motivations are diverse but shared by
many designers and other professionals such as, photographers, illustrators, film directors,
among others.
On the technological side, the emerging digital media offers a wide range of possibilities
for DIY music projects and are being used not only during the recording process but also in
the branding/communication process. As they can be cost free and ubiquitous, we would
expect them to be used in exclusivity, but some artists find value in other media like, for
example, traditional printing techniques.
1
IADE-U Institute of Art, Design and Entrepreneurship, Portugal.
Faculty of Creative Industries - University of Saint Joseph, Research Center for Science and Technology
of the Arts, Portuguese Catholic University, Portugal.
2
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Regarding the distribution and promoting process, Internet assumes a central role in the
current music scenario. It became a powerful communication vehicle and brought the
possibility for musicians who where confined to a local sphere to reach a vast global audience
with a relatively small investment. This reality brought a change of paradigm in the music
industry. In some way the record sales may have decreased, but there has been noticed an
increment in live events like concerts (Connolly & Kruegger, 2004) and artist are finding new
ways to generate income beside gigs, such as the creation of soundtracks and jingles
(Brousseau, 2008). Independent music projects self promote and self publish their work
through small labels, in many cases created by the artists themselves. They promote and
distribute autonomously, and cooperate with independent intermediaries. Many bands
promote their own advertise and manage their concert tours. There are also small producers,
promoters or labels that work on the independent music circuit.
To better understand how synergies can be fostered between musicians and other cultural
agents we needed to understand how musicians are addressing their communication. Each
person may have his/her own perspective about the subject and may inquire a small group of
persons about their usage of the media but an objective perspective over the “big picture” is
difficult to achieve. Such challenge, in conjunction with the lack of information in the
literature, justified and motivated this study and made essential to create a survey to better
understand and characterize the idiosyncrasies of this community.
We aimed at collecting information not only from musicians, but also from other
intervenient who collaborate with them along the process, such as producers, agents and label
owners.
Acknowledging the Internet as an important resource for communication we sought to
understand how it is being used in Portugal and, at the same time, to ascertain the role of
print media in a digital era.
In short, the goal of this research was to identify and characterize the media used by the
Portuguese independent music projects in promotion/branding activities.
Methodology
In order to find an answer to our research question, we opt by using a survey method based
on questionnaires. The questionnaire design, sample and distribution are presented next.
The sample
The target sample for conducting the survey where active members of the contemporary
Portuguese independent music scene, including musicians (on a band or solo), DJ’s, promoters,
labels and producers. We excluded all the individuals that were associated with any of the
grand phonographic labels like EMI, Warner, SonyBMG or Universal (The Association of
Independent Music, 2011). Using the “rule of thumb” for social surveys, we calculated the
size of the sample to be a minimum of 50 individuals (M. Hill & A. Hill, 2009).
Survey design
The design of the survey obeyed the best practices found on social science research
methodology, and was crafted based on semi-structured interviews with individuals and small
groups of people with an active role in the independent music scene. We also consulted
4.4. A survey on graphic communication and publishing practices in the Portuguese
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271
graphic and web designers on topics related with the media and an advertising copywriter to
validate language aspects.
We made a preliminary survey with a sample of 10 individuals to identify possible
misunderstanding of the questions, to measure time of response and to improve the quality
of the survey.
Structure of the survey
The survey was organized in five blocks of questions, grouped according to their aim and
function. The average time of response was estimated in 18 minutes, so we have decided to
include a feature for saving and continue later in order to minimize the turn away.
In the first part of the survey we characterized the respondents regarding their social and
demographic aspects.
The second part was dedicated to identify and define the music project of the respondent,
and their positioning in the music scene. We defined two possible categories. The first one
gathered people that created and performed music, such as musicians, bands, DJs. The second
category included people that are indirectly related with the music creation, such as label
managers, agents, promoters and producers. These categories were not exclusive, so the same
respondent could be simultaneously a musician and manager of a label, for example.
The third part inquired about the media used for disclosure, which media are being used
and how. In the forth part we identified the publishing habits and channels.
Finally, the fifth part was dedicated to gather information about the importance attributed
to each media, and the advantages and disadvantages of Internet and print media for
disclosure. This was an optional part, comprised of open-ended questions.
Collecting data
Since the sample was scattered all over the Portuguese territory, the idea of conducting
face-to-face questionnaires was declined. Assuming that the majority of the audience was
Internet proficient, we concluded that the best way to reach the respondents was through the
Internet with a self-applied survey (Janet, Steve, & Healy, 2001; Brace, 2004).
3
After testing several platforms we chose Survey Gizmo , for having all the features needed
and being free for academic purposes. We designed the survey and generated an URL, which
was distributed mainly through email and social networks.
We sent approximately 500 emails and made approximately 600 contacts thought
Myspace and Facebook.
We also address the survey thought known channels in the independent music scene like
4
5
6
Raquel Lains , A Trompa e Sergio Hydalgo . This resulted in 200 emails sent to musicians and
concert producers by Raquel Lains and a banner in A Trompa website with an URL to the
survey.
The survey was self-filled so we created an introductory text explaining the goals of the
research and the criteria for being considered in the sample. In this text there was also a
request for the respondents to forward the survey for their contacts.
3
http://www.surveygizmo.com/ (consulted at 17/05/2014)
http://www.letstartafire.com/ (consulted at 17/05/2014)
5
http://a-trompa.net/ (consulted at 17/05/2014)
6
http://www.mafama.blogspot.pt/ (consulted at 24/2/2011)
4
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The data was collected between January 15 and April 15 in 2011 gathering a sample of
72 individuals from musicians, producers, DJs, and independent label managers.
Data analysis
For statistic analysis we used the SPSS v.18 software. For descriptive analysis of the variables
(nominal or ordinal scale) we calculated the absolute and relative frequencies.
With continuous variables we used hypothesis test, T test. We used a significance level of
p<0.05.
For the open answers analysis in the last part of the survey we grouped the answers by
similarity to further descriptive analysis using absolute and relative frequencies.
Results
Social and demographic aspects
The majority of the responses came from Lisbon (53%) followed by Porto (13%). Almost
all the respondents where male (89%) and the majority had ages between 25 and 34 (72%).
78% of the inquired had a degree or other higher education diploma, and all them used the
Internet on a daily basis.
About the projects represented
Half of the surveyed respondents had only 1 musical project and a quarter had 2.
Approximately a quarter of the surveyed had 3 or more projects. The majority of the surveyed
(84%) started their project before the year 2000, and, as seen in the Figure 1, 2005 registered
an increment of new musical projects.
Figure 1 - Beginning of the projects
4.4. A survey on graphic communication and publishing practices in the Portuguese
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273
According to the activity of each respondent we defined two categories. The one related
with creating and performing music, gathering musicians, bands or DJ’s was represented by
63% of the respondents. The other category including people with an activity surrounding the
music creation (producers, promoters, label owners or agents) represented 38% of the
respondents.
To inquire the level of activity of each respondent, we asked how many events they had
organized or have participated in the last 12 months. 79% promoted 1 or more events and
82% participated in at least 1 event organized by others.
From this sample those identified as being in the surroundings of music creation exhibited
more activity on the promotion of events, organizing 6 to 10 a year (26% against 7%) and 11
or more events a year (44% against 24%).
They also have been more active in events organized by others, participating in 11 or more
a year (56% against 31%).
Media used for disclosure
Advertising media
When asked about who developed the artwork for any graphic media related with the
musical project, such as posters, disc covers, flyers and photography, the majority resorted
Very Often or Always to active members of the project (83%) and/or friends (47%), as seen
in Figure 2.
Figure 2 - Who developed artwork for graphic media
Another significant figure is that 30% never hired a professional to do this kind of work,
and 55% never turned to an atelier or agency.
When asked about the media used to disclosure their project(s), almost every respondent
elected the Internet (96%) as the preferable medium, followed by print media: flyers (75%)
and posters (74%). 29% of the survey claimed to use “other print media than posters or
flyers”.
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When asked about which other media they used besides Internet and print media they
pointed radio and publications like newspapers or magazines, or even more personal channels
such as mobile SMS and word of mouth.
When asked about which media they considered as Very Important for promotional
purposes, 76% of the enquiries elected Social Media, 61% mentioned Radio and 54%
declared newspapers/magazines (Figure 3).
Figure 3 - Importance of media
Video was considered a relevant medium since sites like Vimeo.com or Youtube.com where
referred as Very Important (49%) or Important (42%). Similarly, regarding content, the video
clip was also considered Very Important (46%) or Important (39%). Email and newsletter were
pointed as Very Important by 44% of the surveyed. In print media, posters and flyers where
considered More or Less Important, respectively by 35% and 43% of the sample. Posters
where considered Very Important by 25% and Important by 29%. Flyers where considered
Very Important by 19% and Important by 18%. In a period of 12 months before the survey,
72% of the respondents used print media to disclosure at least once.
Print media
The print formats most common among the surveyed are the A4 and the A3. The majority
never used larger formats like 50x70 cm and never printed more than 500 copies of posters.
The most frequent number of copies was less than 100. For flyers the most used format is A5,
and as for the posters, the majority (63%) never printed more than 500 flyers and the most
common amount is less than 100 copies.
How they are using the Internet
We identified three main platform used by the surveyed. The majority of the respondents
always use Social Networks (74%), Website (55%) and Email (52%) as seen in Figure 4. Video
sharing sites, like Youtube or Vimeo, where used Always by 22% and Very Often by 22%.
The majority Never used Blogs (51%) or photo sharing sites like Flickrs or Picassa (62%).
4.4. A survey on graphic communication and publishing practices in the Portuguese
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275
Figure 4 - Usage of each Internet channel
Publishing habits and channels
When enquired about the audio formats used for publishing, those who have published a
record (87%) have elected the MP3 format (70%) - through net-labels or similar –, the
Industrial CD (68%) and home recorded CD-R (48%) as the preferable formats. To distribute
the copies, 89% have used the Internet and 85% made their own personal distribution
without recurring to intermediaries.
Print Media versus Internet (Advantages and Disadvantages)
When asked about the advantages of the Internet 64% pointed the ability to reach a vast
audience. Other advantages have been referred like being low cost (44%), fast (38%) and
accessible (26%). The fact of being multimedia, combining different types of content like
video, photography, sound was pointed as an advantage by 13%. The possibility of a direct
contact with the audience was also referred as an advantage by 11% of the surveyed. The
disadvantages of the Internet registered disperse answers, but there was a clear reference to
the excess of information, pointed by 49% of the surveyed.
Some of the respondents mentioned that the Internet is not accessible to everyone (11%)
and that it has low impact on communication (11%). For print media, distinction was the main
advantage (33%). Being tangible was also referred as an advantage by a quarter of the
respondents. The ability to disclosure to a wider audience was referred as an advantage by
19%. The graphic potentiality of the media as a support was also referred as an advantage
(17%) and the ability to distribute in strategic spots closer to the target audience (17%). The
main disadvantages for print media where it’s cost (50%) and issues related with logistic and
distribution (27%). Ecological concerns where also referred by only 11% of the surveyed.
Discussion and Conclusion
By crossing information we concluded that 46% of the surveyed used a combination of
Internet, posters and flyers to disclosure their projects. Twenty five percent used Internet and
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flyers and only 19% used the Internet as the only communication medium. None of the
inquired used only print media without using Internet (Figure 5).
Figure 5 - Usage of mixed media
The majority of the responses where submitted from Lisbon region (53%), followed by
Porto (13%). This ratio (4,1) does not match the population ratio between the two cities (2,3),
which led us to conclude that the sample distribution was biased due to the fact that most of
the contacts where addressed from Lisbon. Therefore, we cannot draw conclusions regarding
the geographic distribution of independent music projects. The age group of the majority
(72%) of the sample lies between 25 and 34 years old. This data may be a consequence of
the distribution platform of the survey, as an online survey may be easier to respond to a
younger audience. On the other hand, this age group is more propitious to the participation
on independent music projects.
We registered an increment on the creation of new projects since 2001 with a particular
grow in 2005. We need to considerate that 2005 was a year when the researcher collected a
7
great number of contacts used on this survey . This may have influenced the data collected,
but we should consider that since the year 2000 there was an increasing demand for live
shows in Portugal. And 2005 was a year with a singular increment. According to the
International Federation of the Phonographic Industry there was an increment in the demand
for live shows since 2005 (IFPI, 2010). In Portugal we observed an increment since the year
2000 with a slight decrease from 2008 to 2009 (INE, 2001, 2002, 2009, 2010).
Regarding the promotion of events, the respondents in the category “editors, promoters
or producers”, despite representing a smaller percentage of the sample, promoted more
events during the last year than the group of “Band, Musicians or DJ’s”. This result matched
the expectations, since the first category usually represents several bands or musicians.
The Internet was the main media used by the respondents. It was also the most important
media. Social networks where the main channel used by the respondents and were also
considered the most important, more than some traditional great diffusion media like radio or
press. The importance attributed to video sharing sites like youtube.com or vimeo.com and
7
Some of the contacts where made through themailing ered the most important, identify wich media
the respondents had in mind.mportant to define a more specific period for t list of Cãoceito, a project
co-founded by the investigator that was also founded in 2005.
4.4. A survey on graphic communication and publishing practices in the Portuguese
independent music scene
277
the videoclip was revealing. We concluded that video communication was highly valued by
the respondents.
Nonetheless, despite the fact that Social Media was considered the most important way
for promotion, none of the other media was completely neglected. When comparing the
average of the classification given to each media, we realize that the variation is small, 3,7 (in
four) for Social media, against 1,7 (in four) for images sharing sites.
When asked about the advantages of the Internet, the respondents referred the widerange, low-cost, fastness, being accessible and multimedia. Comparing these results with the
importance attributed to each medium, we concluded that our sample values a multiplatform
approach for disclosure, combining sound, image and video.
The main disadvantage pointed to the Internet was the excess of information circulating
that interferes with the communication and makes difficult to stand out.
The Internet was the most valued media, but in print media posters registered some
importance. They where considered “Very Important” or “Important” by 54% of the
respondents, against 11% that considered the Importance of the poster “Small” or “None”.
The majority of the surveyed already used flyers (75%) or posters (74%) for disclosure and on
the last 12 months 72% of the surveyed used print media to advertise at least one event.
The promotion of events was not always followed by a disclosure with print media.
Especially when the respondents promoted more than 11 events a year. This means that the
respondents that promote more events don’t always do it through print media. They use it,
but more occasionally using always other on-line media. When printing posters the
respondents used mainly 100 series. Higher number of copies where used, but the higher they
where the least frequent they where. The cost of print media was probably the main reason
for that, but there can also be other reasons for these results like distribution issues.
The most frequent printing formats where the A4 and A3 most frequently printed in small
series. Notice that these formats are easy to find in consumer print shops of home printers.
Larger standard formats that require printing on other kinds of print shops are less frequent.
Comparing these results with the advantages and disadvantages, we conclude that the
usage of small runs and smaller formats is related with the costs and the difficulties on the
distribution in large quantities. We registered similar behavior to poster with flyers. Higher
numbers of copies where less frequently used. For the printing sizes, we couldn’t draw
conclusion.
The main advantage pointed to print media was its distinction from other media, maybe
because of the issues with the excess of information found on the Internet. The tangibility of
printed objects and its potential as a media was also valued as qualities. An important
advantage attributed to print media was the possibility to post in strategic spots, closer to the
target audience. The main disadvantages pointed to print media where the cost, and issues
related with logistics and distribution.
We believe that this data sheds some light over the new possibilities under the new wave
of Makers and DIY scenes. After running this study, became obvious to us that print media is
still an important complement to the digital promotion channels. However, the price and
distribution issues refrain promoters and creators to use them in large scale. The challenge
now is to find methods to produce interesting print materials, in a low-cost and sustainable
way.
We find examples in the Portuguese and in the international landscape of traditional
techniques like screenprint, printmaking, engraving, being used in small printshops or at home
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
(Figure 6 and Figure 7). They may have a word to say, since they can be produced without the
use of expensive equipment or by recovering old equipments that aren’t in use and find
another purpose.
This study followed a convenience sample, so the range of the conclusions is limited.
We identified some aspects to improve in further studies.
We identified a high number of responses in “Other print media than poster or flyers”
(29%). It would be important to identify witch media the respondents had in mind.
Figure 6 - DIY screen-print device at Paulo Arraiano Studio.
Figure 7 - Nick Sambrato - Printmaker
Acknowledgements: We would like to acknowledge the contribution from Raquel Lains, Rui Dinis
from the music blog “A Trompa” and Sergio Hydalgo from ZDB on the distribution of the research
questioner among the independent Portuguese music community. They represent three of the most
important stems of this community and their extensive list of contacts contributed for the relevance
of the study. We also would like to acknowledge Marta Teixeira da Silva and Cristina Dias, current
members of Cãoceito, for their friendship and for having shared with us such great moments in
the making and publishing of independent music projects. Last but not least, we acknowledge and
thank the guidance of Emílio Vilar during the design and conduction of this research. His scientific
contribute was instrumental for achieving such expressive results. This research is part of a Master
degree
4.4. A survey on graphic communication and publishing practices in the Portuguese
independent music scene
279
References
The Association of Independent Music. (2011). The Association of Independent Music. Obtido em 10 de
09 de 2011, de Membership: http://www.musicindie.com/
Brousseau, E. (2008). The Economics of Music Production. The Narrow Paths for Record Companies to
Enter the Digital Era. Communications & Strategies, 1(72), 131–156.
Connolly, A., & Kruegger, A. (2004). Rockonomics: The Economics of Popular Music. Princeton
University.
Hill, M. M., & Hill, A. (2009). Investigação por Questionário (2ª ed.). Lisboa: Edições Sílabo.
IFPI. (2010). The recording Industry in Numbers 2009. Londres: The International Federation of the
Phonographic Industry.
INE. (2001). Estatísticas da Cultura, Desporto e Recreio 1999. Lisboa: Instituto Nacional de Estatística.
INE. (2002). Estatísticas da Cultura, Desporto e Recreio 2000. Lisboa: Instituto Nacional de Estatística.
INE.
(2009).
Estatística da Cultura. Obtido em 10 de 09 de 2011, de
http://www.ine.pt/xportal/xmain?xpid=INE&xpgid=ine_indicadores&indOcorrCod=0005421&c
ontexto=bd&selTab=tab2
INE. (2010). Estatísticas da Cultura 2009. Instituto Nacional de Estatística.
Martin, A. (2010). Nick Sambrato, Printmaker. (G. &.-T. Jounal, Ed.) Obtido em 17 de June de 2010, de
Grain & Gram - The Gentleman's Jounal: http://grainandgram.com/nicksambrato/
4.5. The subcultural scene economy of the Berlin
techno scene
Jan-Michael Kühn 1
Abstract
When reviewing the research of scenes and subcultures it becomes apparent, that economic
aspects remain largely unresearched or exploratory (E.G. Hesmondhalgh, 1998; Lange & Bürkner,
2010). So far the economy of those formations has been mostly understood as being part of the
cultural industries (or now referred to as creative industries), or not even economic at all
(Gebesmair, 2008; Handke, 2009). Based on research in the Berlin music scene around
'underground' techno and house music, I have come to different conclusions: I found microglobalized and small-entrepreneurial infrastructures of clubs, marketing and booking agencies,
shops, media and distributors run by club owners, promoters, DJs, booker and agency/club staff.
They have an own value creation chain rooted in a common subcultural aesthetic and integral music
culture – a scene economy (Kühn, 2011). By exerting various selective subcultural orientations (noncommerciality, familiarity, sell-out) these both cultural and economic actors perform a post-modern
form of aesthetic resistance (Kühn, 2013). Although the distinctions remain blurred, they thereby
produce a subcultural/internal hierarchy (Bourdieu, 1996; Thornton, 1995) and draw boundaries
around their mode of cultural production (Strachan, 2007; Moore, 2007). By combining Bourdieu's
theory of the cultural field with scene and subcultural theory (Hall & Jefferson, 2006; Hitzler, Honer,
& Pfadenhauer, 2008; Muggleton & Weinzierl, 2003), the presented approach links both
subcultural identities and cultural-economic structures together and heads towards overcoming the
current dichotomy of subcultural and post-subcultural theory.
Keywords: techno music, scenes, subculture, economy, scene economy, neo-subcultural theory
“Underground” is a word, which is an essential part in the title of the “Keep it simple,
make it fast” conference. Not only in punk, also in techno this is a term very frequently used,
referred to and rejected at the same time. Many claim, this terms doesn't make much sense
anymore nowadays. Is this really true, or is there just a lack of a fitting theory to explain, why
this term seems still to be central for discourses in and about music scenes? Scensters say they
prefer things “more underground”. One of my interviewees, a label owner, put it succinctly,
“Berlin isn’t Lady Gaga or Paul van Dyk; this is the capital city of the underground.” What
does this term mean here, and how is it sociologically rooted in the cultural field of electronic
dance music (Bourdieu, 1996)? Current post-subcultural theories, such as from Andy Bennett,
David Muggleton or Ronald Hitzler (2010; 2008; 2003), offer little means to understand these
claims and differences; and how to explain why they don't disappear, but re-shape and
accommodate with newer developments. Although I broadly agree with the insights of postsubcultural theories, a crucial feature of the music scene has been lost along the way: a
1
Institute of Sociology, Technical University Berlin, Germany.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
systematical sociological exploration of the roles that distinctions play and how they are rooted
in the music scene's cultural economy (Kühn, 2011, 2013).
So far, the economy of scenes has been mostly understood as being part of the cultural
industries (or creative industries by now), or not even economic at all (Gebesmair, 2008; Wicke,
1997). Music industry research sees them as fully integrated actors of global and national
music markets, classified into so-called independents and majors (Handke, 2009) and
differentiated along lines of size, musical specialties and originality. Creative industries
research tries to subsume them as major drivers for the attractiveness of cities and national
economies by their engagement into supposedly very innovative products (Caves, 2002;
Florida, 2003; Hartley, 2004). What both perspectives have in common is that they do not
approach economic structures from the music scene's perspective, but rather from an
economic-industrial point of view. And thereby they overlook and underestimate structural
peculiarities.
In order to define the economic sphere of electronic dance music scenes sociologically, I
argue for the term scene economy (Kühn, 2011). Although previous insights have been
extremely illuminating, these studies have lacked a systematic perspective that analyses the
aesthetic, distinctive and commercial attitudes of hobbyist and professional scene participants
within the conditions of their specific cultural norms and scene-based reproduction. My
assumption is that the scene economy of 'underground' electronic dance music scenes
represent their own differentiated economic fields with specific structures that have developed
their own organizational logic. The consequences and the basis of this logic are particular
conditions for action and relations of production within the scenes’ own infrastructure and
value-creation chain that result from the specific cultures and market relations of electronic
dance music. To understand the specific structure, the following features need to be
considered: Scene-based cultural production instead of industry-based cultural production, the
emphatic role of the music culture, the internal subcultural hierarchy and the role of
distinctions in maintaining and re-shaping the scene economy, music culture and
attractiveness.
The following remarks and claims are firstly based on my research, using focused
ethnography, on producers of electronic dance music, twelve expert interviews with
individuals active in various areas of the scene economy. And secondly on my own longstanding participation in the scene as a DJ, booker and media producer as forms of sociological
ethnography. I use ideal-type descriptions. That is, I work with exaggerated representations of
differences that in reality occur in a substantially more mixed and indistinct way. And yet, their
exaggeration is precisely what allows the core of their specificities to be represented most
clearly.
Towards neo-subcultural theory
In his theory on cultural fields, Pierre Bourdieu noticed a general trend towards two poles with
opposing cultural logics. The ‘autonomous pole’ defines itself by its cultural orientation; in
which the furthering of art itself takes highest priority over any political, moral, or economic
interest. The other pole has a commercial orientation; treating art as just another form of
commerce like any other, in which art is produced based on its marketability. Each pole has
its way of making value and profiting from it, but they are also in tension with each other.
This tension also exists in electronic dance music: on the ‘autonomous’ side of things you find
4.5. The subcultural scene economy of the Berlin techno scene
283
house and techno music, along with the club/open-air party culture of Berlin. On the other
side, you find mass-produced and profit-driven so-called EDM ‘dance pop’, which readily
absorbs anything that promises to increase sales and reach. Both poles have very different
definitions of success, as well as sharply divergent aesthetics and modes of production.
Aesthetic subcultures (and not class-based anymore) with their own identity and
infrastructures struggling to maintain aesthetic and seductive cores against unwanted external
influences and political, moral or economic instrumentalisation.
To understand the dynamics of post-modern popular cultures, it is necessary to overcome
the opposition of subcultural and post-subcultural readings of music scenes. The reality is, in
the case of electronic dance music such as house and techno, neither strictly the one or the
other. As small scale underground music culture and their big scale counterparts suggests,
also in other fields of music, both are closely intertwined and distinct from each other at the
same time. Pierre Bourdieu's field theory helps to extend the concept of the music scene and
re-shape the concept of subculture to understand the cultural dynamics between
“underground” and “mainstream” as different forms of meaningful culture-economic
infrastructure and social identity. By combining Bourdieu's theory of the cultural field (2001)
with updating scene and subcultural theory, the presented approach is linking both subcultural
identities and cultural-economic structures and is heading towards overcoming the current
dichotomy of subcultural and post-subcultural theory.
Scene-based cultural production
Involvement in house and techno music typically starts with a random visit to a techno club,
or by first listening to the music through recorded DJ sets. Some become very passionate about
music and clubbing and start to visit clubs very frequently. In the beginning, participation
remains passive, but quickly may evolve i: People start to look for certain sub-genres, follow
certain DJs, gain certain scene-specific sets of knowledge about clubs, do's and dont's, artists,
and so on. Then, to participate more deeply and earn money, some start to DJ, throw parties,
launch music labels, found scene specific agencies or just start to work in clubs or for labels
and agencies. They start to combine their passion for a certain aesthetic with commercial and
distinctive attitudes: For some, it will always just remain a hobby, but others quickly become
professional and turn their scene participation into a business. However, for the passionate,
this business orientation remains strongly limited by the cultural institutions of the music
scene. They don't start making other music just because it is more profitable. They relinquish
economic opportunities, because the feelings of enjoyment and freedom experienced through
the music are more important to them. They see economic activity as being able to get by
instead of pure profit-maximization. This means that they associate the generation of sufficient
income and social protection with their main desire for economic self-determination, artistic
freedom and passion in life. For them, money exists to make their lives possible, in which they
will be able to ideally pursue their personal goals in artistic freedom—but not in order to secure
as much wealth as possible, following a logic of accumulation. The small-business structure of
many lone entrepreneurs promotes this logic, since it imposes fewer practical constraints on
the individual than a large organization with numerous employees. This connection through
a commonly shared passion also results in individuals working together in clubs or labels, often
referring to their friends and colleagues as a “family”. To summarize: Their private desires and
business activities become closely coupled and integrated, resulting in a deeply culturalized
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
economic orientation. One recruits “bottom-up” out of the fascination for a certain music and
prioritizes cultural orientations over economic possibilities. This makes small-scale actors who
mainly do it for the fun and a feasible outcome. An atomistic structure of many sole
entrepreneurs dominates the markets. Instead of pure sale orientation, subjective aesthetics
and political interests dominate the cultural products and business co-operations among the
scene economy participants.
The emphatic role of the music culture
As participants of a certain music culture, their activity is oriented on the cultural institutions
of Detroit Techno and Chicago House and thereby framed by its opportunities and restrictions.
These cultural institutions enable and demand certain cultural practices to be fulfilled and
followed in order to reproduce and accommodate the seductive core of the music scene. The
norms are typical music tracks to be seamlessly mixed by DJs in front of a dancing crowd on a
loud sound system. What are these institutions? Although very roughly and surely not
exhaustively, house can be understood as established musical practices condensed as tracks
with repetitive and loop based beats, with a focus on groove, making crowds dance in clubs,
mixing in DJ sets and played on events at high volume. Genre-typical patterns for house and
techno music are the four to the floor beats, between 100 and 150 beats per minute speed,
elements like basslines, kickdrums, snaredrums, hihats and track themes. Techno sounds
rather dark and heavy, house sound rather soft, funky and easy-going. Tracks are typically
composed with intros, breakdowns, a main section, climaxes and outros. Tracks are supposed
to make people dance at events and to be mixed in continuous sets by DJs (Kühn, 2009;
Mathei, 2012; Volkwein, 2003).
The central role of distinctions in the music scene's
economy
As a result of their scene-based involvement and fandom of house and techno, many scene
2
participants towards the autonomous pole exert distinctions in order to conserve and develop
their preferred set of aesthetics and scene-based cultural production (Strachan, 2007; Mäe &
Allaste, 2011; Moore, 2007). In the post-modern world, aesthetics can flow everywhere and
thereby can be used and adopted anywhere. Even in contexts, that many scene participants
find not very much desirable. The current boom of electronic dance music in the US, with
associated artists like David Guetta, Swedish House Mafia, Skrillex and so on, is a good
example of this. With the increasing success of so-called “mainstream” EDM, many scene
participants insists of debunking that culture as “fake” and “inappropriate” - and try to keep
these aesthetics, actors and corresponding organizations out of their scene contexts.
Sociologically speaking, they draw boundaries around their aesthetics and modes of
production. It is a form of resistance not primarily rooted in class, but in the preservation and
defense of aesthetically-based life-worlds. Typically, these distinctions are about a perceived
corruption of cultural logics by the economic logics of apparently too commercialized music
and events, or about external actors like companies, political shareholders or councils who are
2
See (Kühn, 2013) for an example, how event producers use distinctions to avoid unwanted music, DJs,
insfluences and crowds on their partys.
4.5. The subcultural scene economy of the Berlin techno scene
285
not intrinsically interested in the music culture, rather using them for their own allegedly purely
commercial or political aims. Aims,that eventually might endanger the productivity and survival
of the music scenes by for example causing gentrification or mainstream identity. These
distinctions have become a background knowledge of the subcultural field and are also
expected by the participants in order to enable economic cooperation. From these distinctions
the possibility and necessity of an internal subcultural hierarchy within the field of electronic
dance music evolves. Various forms of distinctions as a form of “aesthetic resistance” become
the primary means to keep out unwanted aesthetics and modes of production in order to
preserve the aesthetic core of the music scene.
Funding: This work was supported with a 3 years scholarship from the Hans Böckler Stiftung within
the doctoral study group (Promotionskolleg) “Die Produktivität von Kultur - Die Kultur- und
Kreativwirtschaft unter den Bedingungen globalisierter Mediennetzwerke”.
References
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Bourdieu, P. (1996). Rules of Art: Genesis and Structure of the Literary Field (Auflage: New.). Cambridge:
Wiley-Blackwell.
Caves, R. E. (2002). Creative Industries: Contracts Between Art and Commerce (New Ed.). Harvard
University Press.
Florida, R. (2003). The Rise of the Creative Class: And How It’s Transforming Work, Leisure, Community
and Everyday Life (Pbk.). Basic Books.
Gebesmair, A. (2008). Die Fabrikation globaler Vielfalt: Struktur und Logik der transnationalen
Popmusikindustrie (1., Aufl.). Transcript.
Hall, S., & Jefferson, T. (2006). Resistance Through Rituals: Youth Subcultures in Post-War Britian (0002
ed.). Routledge Chapman & Hall.
Handke, C. (2009). Indies im Aufwind? : die Krise am Tonträgermarkt und ihr Verteilungseffekt. In
Musikwirtschaft und Medien : Märkte - Unternehmen - Strategien. - Baden-Baden : Nomos,
ISBN 978-3-8329-4383-7. - 2009, p. 49-72.
Hartley, J. (2004). Creative Industries (First Edition, Later Impression.). Wiley-Blackwell.
Hesmondhalgh, D. (1998). The British Dance Music Industry: A Case Study of Independent Cultural
Production. The British Journal of Sociology, 49(2), 234. doi:10.2307/591311
Hitzler, R., Honer, A., & Pfadenhauer, M. (2008). Posttraditionale Gemeinschaften: Theoretische und
ethnografische Erkundungen (1st ed.). Vs Verlag.
Kühn, J.-M. (2009). Wie entsteht Neues bei der Produktion elektronischer Tanzmusik im HomerecordingStudio? Eine explorative ethnografische Erhebung (Diplomarbeit). Technische Unversität Berlin,
Institut für Soziologie. Retrieved from http://www.berlin-mitte-institut.de/wie-entsteht-neuesbei-der-produktion-elektronischer-tanzmusik-im-homerecordingstudio/
Kühn, J.-M. (2011). Working in the Berlin Techno Scene: Theoretical Sketch of an Electronic Music
“Scene Economy.” 2011, translation made by Luis-Manuel Garcia from: Kühn, Jan-Michael
(2011): Arbeiten in der Berliner Techno-Szene: Skizze der Theorie einer Szenewirtschaft
elektronischer Tanzmusik, in: Journal der Jugendkulturen 17.
Kühn, J.-M. (2013). Underground und Kulturproduktion: Die Rolle von Distinktionen beim Veranstalten
Berliner Techno-Partys. In B. Lange, H.-J. Bürkner, & E. Schüßler, (Eds.), Akustisches Kapital:
Wertschöpfung in der Musikwirtschaft. Bielefeld: transcript.
Lange, B., & Bürkner, H.-J. (2010). Wertschöpfung in der Kreativwirtschaft: Der Fall der elektronischen
Klubmusik. Zeitschrift Für Wirtschaftsgeographie, 54(1), 46–68.
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Mathei, D. (2012). Oh my god - it’s techno music!: Definition und Abgenzung des Technostils unter
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http://www2.hu-berlin.de/fpm/textpool/texte/wicke_popmusik-als-industrieprodukt.htm
4.6. “Pimp your Pipes!” Knowledge, networks and DIY
practices in the revival(s) of bagpipes
Thomas Kühn 1
Abstract
This paper explores the relationships between people and musical instruments, meanings of
artefacts and knowledge in musical revivals and issues of heritage and identity. After disappearing
during the 19th century folk instruments, such as the bagpipe, have (re)gained interest in the last
decades. Music scenes mostly formed by amateurs, dedicated to the revitalisation of musical
repertoires, emerged all over Europe. Since the 1970s musicals instruments, commonly perceived
as traditional and rural, have entered urban spaces, stages and styles. Bagpipes in particular
appeared at the intersection of discourses on heritage and modernity, authenticity and regional
collective identities. The absence of professional instrument makers gave rise to Do-It-Yourself
initiatives, organising festivals, workshops, construction classes and assembly kits. Self-made
instruments and self-taught bagpipe players were essential in the early years of this movement. My
ongoing research – focusing on the labour and musical skills of the pioneers and amateurs as well
as the formation of international networks – is based on ethnographic methods, media and archive
materials. The collaborative collecting and assembling of knowledge and materials has to be
analysed as a precondition for revivals and as an alternative form of agency. Moreover, the
(re)production and improvement of traditional musical instruments in altering technical and cultural
settings created new social and musical practices. The making and playing of Bagpipes in the 20 th
and 21st century shows the ambivalence of revivals as recourse and development in music scenes
and networks.
Keywords: revival, bagpipes, instrument makers, knowledge, craft, heritage
“It´s a long way...” The revival(s) of a musical instrument
Already in 1975 the Australian rock band AC/DC used a set of bagpipes on the first track of
their second studio album. The song “It’s a long way to the top” is just one famous example
for the re-appearance of such traditional instruments in popular music. Since the 1990s punk
bands like The Real McKenzies or the Dropkick Murphys have played with images of Celtic
heritage and musicians like Carlos Núñez and Hevia performed with their acoustic or electronic
gaitas, an Iberian type of this instrument, in big concert halls worldwide. Currently you can
hear different kinds of bagpipes anywhere: during medieval fairs and folklore festivals, during
parades and in the streets. Still, it was a long way for a musical instrument – perceived as
traditional or historical – to celebrate a comeback under altering sociocultural circumstances.
After having been played all over Europe the bagpipe was gradually replaced by other
sound devices and disappeared from the musical landscape during the 19 century and – with
th
the exception of some solitary regions in Eastern Europe and in Scotland, where it survived
1
Institute for Folklore Studies/Cultural Anthropology, Hamburg, Germany.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
due to the fact that it became part of a military tradition and therefore spread throughout the
British Empire. Jonathan Swayne, a well known bagpipe maker and musician from England,
th
stated in an interview (2013), that only since the last decades of the 20 Century we find that
a considerable number of people has been able to make a living by producing bagpipes. Yet
this instrument remains surrounded by an ancient, somewhat archaic aura.
The principal question governing my research is connected to the relation of material
culture, music and time: How did musical instruments end up in museum collections and how
did they re-enter contemporary musical scenes and stages?
In a previous project I analysed the potentials and functions of musical instruments in
museum exhibitions, arguing that the impermanence of things and the ephemeral qualities of
sounds challenge common museum paradigms (Kühn, 2014). My current inquiry explores the
th
revival of musical instruments and bagpipe making in 20 century Germany. The first attempts
of reconstruction and revitalisation of bagpipes in Germany had already begun in the 1930s
as a result of the rediscovery of Early Music and the emergence of historically informed
performance practices. However, it was in the course of the folk music vogue since the 1960s
that seemingly vanished musical instruments gained significant interest. During this revival,
local folk scenes, formed mostly by amateur enthusiasts, emerged and made a huge effort in
re-establishing musical traditions by collecting and assembling information, knowledge and
materials.
This paper, as well as my PhD project, is about the pioneers of these German scenes and
their practices of networking, researching and tinkering, strongly influenced by the DIY
attitude of these decades. My ongoing research is based on ethnographic methods. Participant
observations during concerts, festivals and workshops, self-conducted and archival qualitative
interviews with musicians and instrument makers as well as media and archive materials are
combined in order to create a nuanced multi-perspective view in terms of a “thick description”
(Geertz, 1987). The main part focuses on amateur instrument makers and their handling of
knowledge, networks and materials. I conclude my analysis by summarizing the social
dimensions related to the making of musical instruments and the DIY ethos of revival scenes.
In search of authenticity creativity
According to Tamara Livingston “[m]usical revivals can be defined as social movements which
strive to ‘restore’ a musical system believed to be disappearing or completely relegated to the
past for the benefit of contemporary society.” (Livingston, 1999, p. 66) Recent studies on
musical revivals mainly focus on protagonists, audiences and ideologies by examining
repertoires and performances. In contrast my approach has its starting point in the material
culture – the things, requisites and tools, which are necessary for the revitalisation of any
musical phenomenon. The cultural study of a musical instrument in particular offers a broad
perspective; as Kevin Dawe puts it: “Musical instruments are formed, structured, and carved
out of personal and social experience as much as they are built up from a great variety of
natural and synthetic materials. They exist at an intersection of material, social, and cultural
worlds […].” (Dawe, 2003, p. 275) From this point of view the ethnographic research on
amateur bagpipe makers contributes to a deeper understanding of revival processes; the
motivations, interactions, experiences and actual practices in underground music scenes.
Apart from a few exceptions such as the exemplary case studies gathered in Neil V.
Rosenberg’s anthology Transforming tradition (1993) the study of musical revivals was widely
4.6. “Pimp your Pipes!” Knowledge, networks and DIY practices in the revival(s) of bagpipes
289
neglected by folklorists and ethnomusicologists until the recent decades. Scholarly notions in
German and American Folklore Studies were strongly affected by national causes and the
desire to find ‘authentic’ expressions of the past (Bendix, 1997). Cultural phenomena like the
folk revival were seen as imitations, manipulations or forgery, often described as “invented
traditions” (Hobsbawm & Ranger, 1992). Research programs were (and often still are)
dominated by the “assumption of musical continuity” and “questions of authenticity”
(Feintuch, 2006, p. 14) – ideas, which were coined in the 19 century. In a side note on this
th
matter Burt Feintuch asks an important question: “Sometimes, though, I wonder what would
happen if our work began with ideas of creativity and change at the local level rather than
emphasizing continuity.” (ibid.)
I will take this objection seriously, because even the attempts to revitalise a musical
instrument or to revive a musical genre from an imagined past are innovative processes, which
involves a huge amount of creativity. For research into musical cultures like revivals the
“invention” is a more striking feature than the mere surveying of “traditions”. Not only the
punk scene but also the folk music revivalists in the 1960s and 1970s were driven by
commitment and the belief in improvisation, tinkering and one’s own initiative. I argue that
reconstructing, reproducing and improving traditional instruments such as the bagpipe in
changing technical and cultural contexts has created new social and musical practices, which
affect various cultural domains up to the present day.
Making bagpipes: handling of knowledge, networks and
things
The first contact with a bagpipe exemplifies the obstacles which revivalists in Germany faced
in the beginning: In absence of resources like trained instrument makers, teachers or manuals
on instrument making and playing, the acquisition of a bagpipe was a complicated
undertaking. An example from my fieldwork illustrates possible strategies of appropriation.
Joachim, an artist, musician and instrument maker from Hamburg, told me in an interview
(2013) about his first encounter with a bagpipe. In the early 1970s he knew the sound of this
instrument from records only. His interest in Scottish and Irish folk music triggered his desire
to learn how to play the pipes. He went to an average music store, a place stuffed with guitars
and amps. In a corner he found a Scottish Highland Bagpipe, which was manufactured in
Pakistan, where cheap instruments of this kind were made due to the British Empire’s legacy.
Neither Joachim nor the shop assistant knew how to assemble the instrument. He bought it
anyway, but even after many attempts of repairing it, he was still not able to put it into an
operational state. Although the insufficient instrument from Pakistan did not become part of
his musical practice, the object encouraged him to examine the technical and musical
principals of bagpipes. He looked for other bagpipe enthusiasts, met other players and became
engaged with the German folk music revival. After acquiring a functioning set of bagpipes
and learning how to play it he went to the British Isles, learned how to build historical
woodwinds and returned to Germany to make a living as a bagpipe maker and musician.
Without access to experiences of other members of the scene and the exchange of
information Joachim’s encounter would have come to an end before played a single note.
That demonstrates that the collaborative collecting and assembling of knowledge, experience
and materials is a necessary precondition for revivals and can also be considered an alternative
form of agency. Acquiring knowledge by joining networks and making own experiences seem
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
to be key aspects of such collaborative agency. Actively collecting information about the
instruments, the repertoire and the ways of performing, knowledge about regional or
historical circumstances were essential – not only for the ideological agenda behind the revival,
but also for its practical realisation. Hence it seems to be appropriate to borrow Mitchell G.
Ash’s classification of spaces of knowledge in order to describe the physical, social and
symbolic locations and correlations of knowledge (Ash, 2000). In the three following sections
I will describe the different levels of my research; after distinguishing different scenes within
the revival I will draw attention to the networks and their ways of collaboration, followed by
some insights into the concrete spaces of manual work and the DIY practices of German
bagpipe makers.
Signifying practices: space, time and musical identity
The motives behind the reanimation of a musical instrument are as manifold as the
associations which are connected with the historical meanings of bagpipes. It is possible to
distinguish a least three different groups of bagpipe revivalists with differing aims, making it
difficult to speak about one single revival movement. In order to understand the production
of meanings – the signifying practices (Hall, 1997) in different scenes – it is inevitable to follow
the trajectories of cultural artefacts like musical instruments into the spheres of their actual
use: “Thus, even though from a theoretical point of view human actors encode things with
significance, from a methodological point of view it is the things-in-motion that illuminate
their human and social context.” (Appadurai, 1986, p. 5). The division of contrasting scenes
is not only a result of my heuristic approach, but is in line with a contemporary description of
the bagpipe revival in Germany (Junghänel, 1979).
First of all there is the folklore music scene. In the 1960s, cultural and political initiatives
began to devote themselves to local traditions. Especially in the south-east of Germany
individual activists promoted the heritage of a certain region – the Upper Palatinate – and
argued with an assumed unbroken bagpipe-tradition in a neighbouring area in the Czech
Republic (Eichenseer, 1980). The idea of regionally bound music gave the impulse to revive an
instrument, which was declared to be specific for this district’s distinctive culture.
In contrast, re-enactment scenes were focusing on the music in different periods. On the
one hand, access to historic instruments or replica was the key for many ensembles to play
medieval, renaissance and baroque music as authentically as possible. Historically informed
performance groups emphasized the accuracy of reconstructions. On the other hand, idealized
imaginations of the Dark Ages gave rise to a completely new kind of instrument, which is
played on medieval fairs. The so-called “Marktsackpfeife” resembled partially to medieval
descriptions and paintings, but regarding aesthetic features and sound intensity the result was
a somewhat exaggerated creation: This independent development took place first of all in the
GDR in the 1980s and was driven by a punk attitude – this new instrument had to be loud,
aggressive and provocative in order to materialize the imaginations of the supposedly wild and
untamed Middle Ages (Gehler, 2014).
The third scene – the international folk music scene – is driven by the “nostalgia for another
culture’s idealized past” (Livingston, 1999, p. 82). Mats Hermansson (2003) has shown in his
study on Pipes and Drums in Scandinavia how the Great Highland Bagpipe became a “strong
national iconic symbol of Scotland” (ibid., p. 347) and how it was adopted as an expression
of musical identity all over Europe.
4.6. “Pimp your Pipes!” Knowledge, networks and DIY practices in the revival(s) of bagpipes
291
These different horizons of interpretation – time, space and cultural identity – are affecting
musical and social practices. Of course activists were taking part in different scenes and shared
agendas, but each group operated primarily through one of these three lenses. Not only the
instrument itself, but the attribution of meanings forms its use and the experience made with
it as well as its public perception (Waksman, 2001). Bagpipes in particular appear at the
intersection of discourses on heritage and modernity, authenticity and regional collective
identities. As a result of these signifying practices they serve as material and visual
representations of spatial, temporal and cultural imaginations.
Networks, media and collaborative production of
knowledge
By definition revivalists are sharing an “overt cultural and political agenda” (Livingston 1999,
p. 66). But as a matter of fact there is a wide range of motivations supporting the revival.
Workshops, festivals and concerts were – apart from personnel overlaps – mostly organised
and frequented by members of a single scene. Still, despite their differing aims and interests
the various scenes worked together on another level. Individuals started to collect information
about bagpipes in general, gained experience and shared them with others. The collaborative
production of a stock of knowledge was a precondition for the reconstruction and
development of an abandoned, mostly unknown instrument.
Susan Leigh Star and James R. Griesemer argue that consensus “is not necessary for
cooperation nor for the successful conduct of work” (Star & Griesemer, 1989, p. 388). It seems
appropriate to use the concept of boundary objects to describe the value of the instrument in
revival scenes: According to Star and Griesemer boundary objects “have different meanings
in different social worlds but their structure is common enough to more than one world to
make them recognizable, a means of translation” (ibid., p. 393). The concept “bagpipe” is
steady and sufficiently structured to create a common ground for various scenes. The basic
principles and functionality are similar enough to discuss solutions for technical problems. On
the other hand the object offers interpretative flexibility. It is possible to adapt different models
of the same instrument for ambiguous musical and ideological purposes.
The revival of bagpipes was far beyond the cultural mainstream, so the gathering and
sharing of historical, musical and especially technical knowledge required alternative forms of
media. A striking example is the creation of a fanzine: About 80 issues of the Dudlpfeifer, a
non-professional and non-commercial magazine, were published between 1981 and 1993. By
setting up a self-made magazine, German revivalists created a network and their own space
to share and discuss knowledge and experiences, which was acknowledged even in the United
Kingdom and the Netherlands. The ongoing discourses and the objectification of knowledge
led at the same time to “simplification”, “standardization” and “homogenization” (Ronström,
2010, p. 320).
Materials, knowledge and body: practices of making
things
During the first decades of the revival there were almost no commercially produced bagpipes
available in Germany. So, in addition to the import of bagpipes from other countries many
pioneers of the revival scenes started to make their own instruments; the Do-It-Yourself spirit
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
in the 1970s encouraged amateur instrument makers. Through the networks, in workshops
and craft classes it became possible for enthusiasts to obtain the necessary information, to
find the appropriate materials and develop useful skills in order to build their own instruments.
Annual meetings and small festivals were described in my interviews as very important events,
where the amateur instrument makers and musicians met, discussed and learned from each
other. Some entrepreneurs, like the Early Music Shop, tried to make use of the DIY trend and
offered assembly kits for historical instruments – even for different kinds of bagpipes.
By analysing pictures, archive materials, publications and interviews I was able to
understand the inventive handling of knowledge and the exploration of new arrangements of
available materials, tools and techniques. Lévi-Strauss (1991) characterizes this creative mode
of production using a heterogeneous repertoire of resources as “bricolage”. But in attempting
to grasp all aspects of DIY projects like making or repairing a musical instrument I faced a
methodological problem. Besides the level of discourse and appropriation there is also a vital,
non-verbal experience level in manual work, often described as “tacit knowledge”. Douglas
Harper (1987) has shown in his study “working knowledge”, how skills like “kinesthetic
sense”, “knowledge of materials” and ways of “learning by doing” interact in actual working
practices, which also have to be regarded in the context of revivals.
In order to include these aspects of embodied knowledge and manual work into my study,
in 2013 I conducted ethnographic research in the workshop of a young bagpipe maker in
Berlin. He is the first (but not the only) officially trained woodwind maker specialised in
bagpipes in Germany. So my research material covers the time from the first pioneers of the
bagpipe revival to the increasing professionalisation and commodification of this trade. This
empirical account aims at filling the gap in the literature concerning crafts, knowledge and
networks in underground music scenes as well exploring the interdependency of musical and
material matters in revival movements.
The social dimensions of making things
It is striking that in the case of the revivals of bagpipes in Germany amateur instruments
makers gained a more profound knowledge about a specific musical instrument than
academically trained music historians, conservators or museum professionals. The formation
of networks and scenes with different agendas, their collaborative production of knowledge,
their signifying and crafting practices all arise from the urge to revive and to enhance a musical
instrument.
In
conclusion,
I
will
reflect
the
role,
which
material
culture
– specifically the making of musical instruments – plays in social interactions and revival scenes.
To understand interrelated forms of individual appropriations of physical and social
environments, practices of crafting and cooperation appear as cardinal issues (Sennett, 2008
& Sennett, 2012). In his book Making is Connecting David Gauntlett (2011) highlights three
social dimensions in Do-It-Yourself cultures, which – in case of my study – characterise the
relationships between people and musical instruments in processes such as the revival of
bagpipes.
(1) Making a musical instrument virtually means connecting things from diverse fields.
Materials, knowledge and experience are brought together in the development, production
and use of things.
4.6. “Pimp your Pipes!” Knowledge, networks and DIY practices in the revival(s) of bagpipes
293
(2) The DIY makers of musical instruments are mostly working alone in their workshops.
But as I have shown, they are involved in networks by exchanging information, discussing
ideas and sharing experiences. The bagpipes serve as a shared focus or as a boundary object.
(3) The instruments themselves are connections. As manifestations of ideas, imaginations,
knowledge and practices they appear as interfaces between different temporal, spatial and
social contexts (Kühn, 2014).
The practices of revival scenes are apparently driven by a strong DIY ethos. The
appropriation and mobilization of a relegated instrument like the bagpipe has to be seen from
this point of view not exclusively as a regression, but as a creative process and a form of
empowerment. In opposition to the cultural mainstream, not only the playing but also the
making of instruments is part of the DIY ethos of underground music cultures.
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4.7. Jazz scenes and networks in Europe:
repackaging independent jazz – new strategies for
emerging markets
Haftor Medbøe
1
Abstract
Recent years have witnessed significant changes to the methods by which artists connect with their
fans. Where in the previous century these connections were primarily made through touring, media
promotion and the physical distribution of product, the Internet has offered up a burgeoning range
of alternatives.
The novelty of digital dissemination platforms is waning and an appetite for more direct and
tangible artist/audience connection is emerging. Where iTunes and the like have afforded everyone
the possibility of getting ‘signed’, the music of independent artists is often lost in the noise of a
saturated marketplace. Social media, too, has begun to lose its charm and efficacy due to
commercialisation and exhaustive applications. This climate, in which we are reappraising our ‘love
affair’ with the digital marketplace, charges us with innovating responses to the requirements of
internet-weary audiences. The rise in farmers-market sensibility amongst consumers is being
manifested in artisanal product, imbued with a sense of authenticity through ‘denomination of
origin’. A similar mind-set in the marketing of music might provide an alternative to the seemingly
homogenised array of goods available in the Internet’s virtual shop-window.
The Internet has become synonymous at best modest financial return for the musician. This paper,
therefore, seeks to fresh methods of engagement with the instruments of digital
interconnectedness. To profitably connect with our audience, we might begin to rethink the nature
of the products that we offer and the terms by which we offer them.
Keywords: jazz marketing; product packaging
“The music business in crisis: An industry on its knees!”
“The death of recorded product: The de-commodification of music!”
We can surely both pity and empathise with the fledgling (and for that matter the established)
musician trying to make their way in an industry beset, as it has been for some years now, by
doom and gloom. It’s surely hard to motivate yourself to get out of bed in the morning when
all around you are saying that the business in which you operate is both fundamentally flawed
and in terminal decline – that the foundations on which it is built have undergone (in academic
speak) a “paradigm shift” and that the values ascribed to your creative output are more likely
to be measured in terms of social capital rather than in the form of a rent–cheque.
All the more difficult when your work is your vocation – the job that chose you (rather than
the other way around). At least, that’s how most musicians I’ve met describe their relationship
1
Edinburgh Napier University, United Kingdom.
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to their job. “The job chose me – I wouldn’t know what else to do, I don’t know how to do
anything else”.
It takes doggedness to stay in music – a stubbornness to stick in for the long haul. Success
is, after all, rarely an overnight sensation. More likely, it’s a slow build over 5 – 10 years (or
more) in which job-satisfaction comes in the form of step-by-step progression towards the
goal, rather than measured simply in terms of cash for effort. It’s always been this way. The
only difference between “then” and “now” is that today’s musician is operating in a brave
new, digitally interconnected, environment – one in which nobody seems sure of the rules of
play, who’s in charge or what the future holds.
Back in ‘yester-year’, there was a comforting transparency in career progression. You
formed a band; wrote some songs; played some gigs; came to the attention of A&R men; got
signed; made an album; toured the album; made another album; toured some more etc. etc.
Everybody worked for everybody else. The band took care of the music and faced the
audience, and the supporting industries (management, record company, publisher, distributor
etc.) made sure that it got to that audience and that everyone got paid. This model represented
at best a symbiotic interdependency at worst a holding to ransom between the various parties
involved. There were, of course, differently nuanced models: for example in the case of a
record company or production company ‘creating’ a band and ‘farming out’ the song writing,
or bands that released through their own labels).
There were (as there are) the big 6, 5 or 4 (depending on who you ask) major labels and a
host of subsidiaries and independent labels. Not uncommonly a band would release first on
an independent, move to a subsidiary and then on to one of the big guns as their success
grew in stature.
We know – because we’re told a thousand times a day – that the major labels find
themselves in troubled times. We are also told that, in these straitened times, there is little to
no investment in untested bands or music and that conservatism and sure-fire sales are the
watchwords for the majors. The squeeze trickles down to the subsidiaries and the
independents find themselves on a more level playing field, albeit it one increasingly overrd
populated by net-labels and similar DIY initiatives alongside a host of 3 party sellers from
iTunes to CD Baby. Money is increasingly stretched and competition increasingly tough. This,
in essence, is the music industry’s “crisis” and why we should, apparently, be ‘on our knees’.
There is of course the occasional ‘good news’ story in and amongst the doom and gloom:
“There’s money’s in live! There’s money’s in publishing and synchronisation!”
“Vinyl is making a comeback! There will always be a market for have-and-hold!”
These rare nuggets of optimism are every bit as dubious as “end of the world” predictions
that they seek to balance out.
For a band with an established and well-populated audience, live performance may well
offer the most immediate route to monetisation of recorded product and related merchandise.
For all but what has been dubbed the ‘rock aristocracy’ this does not hold true, however. The
‘lower’ and ‘middle’ classes struggle to break even on the live circuit in the absence of record
company tour-support and ever-diminishing public funding for venues and government arts
bodies. At the bottom end (or early career stage) “pay-to-play” is not uncommon. Thereafter
it’s often a case of sharing the bill with other bands and dividing up the modest income from
ticket-sales-minus-costs. Out of town gigs have substantial, and often prohibitive, travel and
4.7. Jazz scenes and networks in Europe: repackaging independent jazz – new strategies for
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accommodation costs and touring, in the absence of financial support, can quickly bankrupt
an artist or band.
Yes. There’s money in synchronisation of music for television, film and advertising. But you
need a publisher, aggregator or some other kind of inside track. Synchronisation is every
musician’s dream but in reality, for most musicians, its realisation is a ‘dark art’ – a mystery
not fully understood.
Yes. Vinyl sales are increasing. However, they still only account for around 8% of a
shrinking market and, rather perversely in my opinion, the majority purchased never make it
out of the shrink-wrap – consumers preferring to listen to a digital version and keep the
physical product as a souvenir.
Who dares wins
Those that will survive these turbulent times in music are those that make efforts to think
positively in harnessing the new and many potentials that are afforded us by the age in which
we live.
Community is the new commodity
As never before, we are able to connect and reconnect with fans of our music on the global
arena. We can tap into ready-made communities or we can be involved in building one from
scratch. The Internet is the meeting place of the like-minded as well as those of diametrically
polarised opinions. We have at our disposal websites, artist pages, forums and social media to
spread the word about our creative endeavour (and to discover those of our peers) –
instantaneous two-way transmission across borders and time zones. We can measure our
efficacy and adjust strategies according to numbers of ‘hits’, ‘likes’ and ‘visits’ and we can
collate invaluable information through demographic profiling of those who interact with us.
Compare this, for a moment, to communities of old. There was, as there still is, the primary
face-to-face community that embodied the live gig. Thereafter there were once-removed,
national and international communities, united as fans through common passion for the music
and through the common texts of fanzine and music press. In terms of artist/fan interaction,
the luckiest of fans might fleetingly meet the artist backstage (or at the bar) or get an eventual
reply to a snail mail fan letter in the handwriting of their favourite artist (or more likely that of
an assistant).
We have more potential for control today, both as artist and as fan. We can posit and we
can gainsay without ever having to lick a stamp. Information and its communication are in
constant flow and evolution. The scale and immediacy of this dynamic new world is perhaps
what we find so very daunting when trying to locate the business of music within it?
There are of course also downsides to this new cyber world running, as it does, alongside
our physical interactions:
Everything we view is framed within a screen. Content is to a large extent homogenised
through the use of menus, hyperlinks, thumbnails etc. Quality of image and sound is often
compromised for the sake of compression and speeds of download and streaming. And
there’s the sheer scale of what’s available in the cultural blizzard that is the ever-expanding
Internet – and the downside specific to the artist, is how to be seen and heard in the whiteout
that is other peoples’ “contribution to culture”.
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Then, perhaps crucially, there’s the amount of time we ‘need’ to spend keeping up with
the multiple platforms through which we project and sell ourselves. We’re told that we must
regularly update the gamut of available content – photos, news, gigs, retweets from artists
similar to ourselves – with optimised SEO from meta-data, to picture tagging, to hashtags. Oh,
and then we have to also find time to write, rehearse, perform and record some music and
take care of the boring stuff like tax, MCPS/PRS and PPL claims and communications with the
more ‘old-fashioned’ aspects of the business like agents, bookers, promoters and press.
A case in point
Perhaps there is a golden mean to be achieved between the physical and virtual realities that
shape and define our workplace? A recent example of such a hybrid approach is that of the
Danish band, Efterklang (formed 2004).
After some half-a-dozen years establishing themselves on their local Copenhagen scene
and touring throughout Europe with modest, though sustainable, success, Efterklang made
the biopic An Island (2010) with renowned French filmmaker/director Vincent Moon. The
resulting film offered fans a context within which to gain an understanding of the geographic
and cultural roots of the band-members and was released through a dedicated website, on a
worldwide Creative Commons licence. The masterstroke lay in the innovative mechanics of
the film’s distribution.
The website afforded fans the option to download for free in return for hosting a
private/public screening in their home or other venue. The only stipulation was that there
should be a minimum of five viewers in attendance. These five or more could be friends
(private) or strangers (public) who could sign up on a first-come-first-served basis on the film’s
website. The band also encouraged group photos to be taken at each of the screenings and
sent in for inclusion on a photomontage page on the site.
The initiative achieved more than 1200 downloads with an estimated 50,000 viewers in
the time it was active. In doing so, over a thousand email addresses were harvested and, after
reviewing private/public user data, a clear idea of geographically framed audience
concentration and associated demographics could be arrived at – valuable in the planning of
subsequent touring and marketing. Perhaps more importantly, Efterklang with Vincent Moon,
had brought people together. Fans old and new, from far flung corners of the globe were
physically united in the act of viewing An Island – a phenomenon that was capitalised on
through the participants photo-montage on the film’s website. As a busy international touring
band (some 200 concerts annually), the band had been careful to keep a photographic record
of audiences by taking snapshots from stage and uploading to social media. Fans
photographing fans and uploading to the band’s community pages represented a step further
in terms of promoting audience empowerment through shared experience.
The venture represented an important staging post in their passage from releasing through
the small independent Leaf Label to their new relationship with the 4AD label. With this move
came an enhanced press and marketing budget as well as synchronisation deals through the
label’s publishing arm with clients such as Apple and Audi. Their debut album, Piramida, on
4AD went on to spawn the film Ghost of Piramida, distributed through a similar public/private
model.
The music industry has always been difficult to navigate and has bestowed significant
rewards to only a few of its many claimants. History is littered with anonymous artists and acts
4.7. Jazz scenes and networks in Europe: repackaging independent jazz – new strategies for
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that have come too late to the table by being been content to tread a path well travelled either
in their music, in their attitude to business or, most catastrophically, both.
Innovation in product (both intellectual and physical) and route to market are key. The
digital product has become almost entirely disposable following the growth in leasing
platforms such as Spotify or the advertising funded YouTube and the market oversaturated
with unfiltered content.
As this and similar examples illustrate, the music industry doesn’t have to be perceived as
being in crisis. Vestiges of the old industry remain but have been augmented by the many
newcomers to the table. Changes are doubtlessly afoot – but change is not synonymous with
crisis. Change is the primordial soup from which fresh perspectives and interactions are borne
– fresh perspectives and interactions that keep us abreast of and in tune with the cultural
zeitgeist.
If I’m to be true to the abstract that I submitted some months ago, I’m here to talk
specifically about innovation in the jazz music sector. Here, examples of different thinking and
original strategy are often less glamorous in their description. There are of course instances of
successful jazz artist surfing the crest of a wave of contemporary culture. In recent times,
Esbjörn Svesson Trio, Bad Plus and others tapped into a culture broader than jazz in borrowing
presentation techniques from the intelligent end of popular music and winning over jazz and
non-jazz fans alike. More latterly the band Snarky Puppy has enjoyed both international
touring success as well as domestic critical plaudits in their native USA. In building their touring
network, social media and ad-hoc, local street teams were key in building a profile for the
band in a remarkably short time. In cities throughout Europe, Snarky Puppy went from playing
small jazz clubs with audience capacity of less than one hundred, to concert halls with
audiences in their thousands in a remarkably short timeframe. They achieved this by presenting
themselves as approachable, community spirited (they are effectively a musical collective) and
appealing directly to other musicians as well as music fans. And as the strategy was conducted
on a global scale, the social media were indispensible.
Jazz, however, has its home primarily on the local scene, with only the very few artists and
bands making it onto the international circuit. Here there are numerous examples of creativity
in the presentation of recordings and live performance. The Internet has allowed artists to
create and present a somewhat selective myth to their fans and fellow musicians. Carefully
managed and continuously updated content in the form of photographs and texts on websites
and social media portals are expected from all but the most eccentrically idiosyncratic of
today’s musicians. Publicity photographs make reference to the musician’s ideal (be it the
iconographies of Blue Note or ECM) or, in an attempt gain new audiences, borrow from nonjazz, and perceptually “cool”, cultural strains. One might argue that musicians are simply
engaging in what most users of social media aspire to: the projection of an idealised and highly
selective image of who they are, or would like to be? The major difference is that, for the
musician, this virtual shop window is a potential portal to the monetising of their art. It acts
as an invite to gigs and lets fans know of new and archive recordings.
Direct monetisation of the art is predominantly achieved through the musician’s two,
inextricably linked, strands of business: live performance and recording. These are increasingly
intertwined as each has become dependent on the other. Gigs pay little and the fee can be
meaningfully enhanced by selling CDs; CDs generally don’t sell well anywhere other than at
the gig.
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One might reasonably accuse jazz musicians as having been slow off the mark, at in relation
to their cousins in the popular industries, in adapting to new technologies and adopting
complementary strategies. The reasons for this being the case are too many and too complex
to do justice to here but it’s worth pointing out nonetheless. In order to sustain, jazz necessarily
has to reinvent on a variety of levels. As a minority music, jazz relies on the balancing of very
tight financial margins and, this reality often breeds a lack of ambition and, ironically for an
improvised genre, imagination amongst its musicians.
4.8. Deka – skate, illustration and the other side of
the skateboard
Jorge Brandão Pereira 1
Diogo Valente 2
Diogo Soares 2
Paula Tavares 2
Abstract
Skate and skatebording culture emerge from the street space, which simultaneously influences
artists, designers, illustrators, musicians, writers, filmmakers and creatives. The Deka project focuses
on this relationship between the urban culture of skateboarding and illustration and the expressions
that this relationship trigger. To this research, various activities were structured throughout 2013,
such as artistic events, a graphic diary and the participation on the ‘Milhões de Festa’ festival, with
the outreach event ‘Dekalhões’, where was spurred an environment that combined art, illustration,
music and local skaters, wrapped in a diverse audience. The action plan was structured in order to
promote new artists and the skate culture in Northern Portugal, through research and analysis of
intervention opportunities at public events, physical spaces and digital universes. It is sustained that
this urban counter-culture is an opportunity to enhance and Express creativity and the case study
of the research reinforces its potential to become a starting point for artistic intervention.
dekaday.tumblr.com
Keywords: illustration, skate, urban culture
Background and context
The practical-based project happens with the aim of combining and bringinf to Skateboarding
other parallel perspectives. Having Skateboarding as a starting point, from it emerge
associated various hypotheses or ideas to explore: (i) skate as inspiration for artistic creation,
(ii) in the dissemination and support to the activity and (iii) as an agent of integration of all the
surrounding culture in a new context.
Allied to Graffiti and Music, Skate emerges from the street space, influencing artists,
designers, illustrators, musicians, writers, directors, designers and other creatives. Faced with
this dimension, the Deka project examined, in an applied research, a point of convergence
where it conceives opportunities for an intervention. It is intended, with this strategy, to
highlight distinct subcultures soaked by the underground and that are outside of a mainstream
system, projecting independent creators or other forms of cultural expression. In this sense, its
ambition is to generate artistic work and visual expression for its promotion, to promote and
to collaborate with new artists and mostly to highlight Skateboarding as a voluble and singular
modality.
1
2
IPCA - Polytechnic Institute of Cavado and Ave, ID+, University of Porto, Portugal.
IPCA - Polytechnic Institute of Cavado and Ave, Portugal.
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An (brief) historical review
In the late 1940s and early 1950s of 20th century, the object Skate becomes associated to
Surf in California. With the shortage of waves and low tides the skateboarders sought an
alternative and built their own skateboards for urban practice, that after development became
known as “sidewalk surfing” or street surf.
However, the concept of Skate at the time was quite primitive and consisted in a
reproduction adapted from the Surf; this modality was practiced barefoot and on slopes, the
manoeuvres were similar to the Surf as if it is an extension of the aquatic environment to land.
A short time later, with more and more followers and after constant variations in the
suitability of movements and way of skating, changes emerged Skateboard and has
established itself increasingly, developing a singular vocabulary. Companies have noticed the
growing phenomenon and started producing boards from layers of pressed wood and specific
trucks for Skates, giving a better consistency and use by the skaters who began inventing tricks
as handstands, manuals or 360º.
Alongside this, appeared the first competitions and teams and in 1965 occurs the first
television transmission of a skate contest in Anaheim on the channel ABC’s Wide World of
Sports with only two categories: the flatland freestyle and the slalom downhill racing.
At the same time, alternatively other skaters were exploring new concepts, as practice in
empty pools by sinuosity and speed that could reach, contributing to the design of a new
environment and style and for the evolution of this modality in a way that exploits and adapts
to any medium, feature that continues today.
Everything changed when Frank Nasworthy designed the first urethane wheels “Cadillac
Wheel” that achieve a higher traction, flexibility and durability, contrary to the primitive clay
wheels. The skateboard reaches the necessary impulse to turn into something more. In 1975
the Zephyr Team debut in freestyle championships, founded by Jeff Ho and Skip Engblom,
and distinguished himself by bringing together the best “skater-surfers” of Dogtown, the ZBoys: Stacy Peralta, Tony Alva, Jay Adams or Jim Muir presented a new style, attitude and way
of skating defining new parameters for the future. The Z-Boys were fluid, quick and had style,
differentiating itself from an earlier generation that was rigid, property and quite technical.
At that time, the magazine Quarterly Skateboarder changes its name to Skateboarder and
after the second edition and under the pseudonym of John Smythe, the articles and photos
of the documentary photographer, skater, artist and writer Craig R. Stecyk contribute to create
the myth Dogtown and of the Z-Boys. In his first article “Aspect of the Downhill Slide” (Stecyk,
1975), comes one of the most quoted phrases in the history of skateboarding:
"Two hundred years of American technology has unwittingly created a massive cement
playground of unlimited potential. But it was the minds of 11 year olds that could see that
potential." C.R. Stecyk (1975)
In 1978 another important moment occurs, Alan Gelfand – nicknamed by friends for
“Ollie” – invents a movement that allows jump and hold the skate without hand support.
Later, the trick adopts the name of “Ollie Pop” and is arguably the most important trick in the
history of skateboarding. “Ollie” was the beginning, which opened the way to the evolution
of multiple combinations causing other new tricks as aerials, or inverts marking a new era that
looked move away from the world of surf.
Between 80 and 90’s, the Skateboarding continues to grow and to assert itself as counterculture. The skaters begin to build their own structures at the back of the house and moved
4.8. Deka – skate, illustration and the other side of the skateboard
303
to the skate parks and streets, at the same time the shape of the boards is modified in order
to overcome obstacles and to adapt the new movements. Born the VHS technology and the
start of production of skate videos reaching an worldwide audience. The Skate video became
a promotional tool most powerful for skate brands enabling them to define an identity. This
technology allowed a evolution of Skateboard since it was possible observe new skaters, tricks,
techniques or styles.
At the end of the 1980s, the Skateboard declines again by economic recession, which
precipitated the end of the skate park era by the lack of security, the collapse of many skate
manufacturers and the posterior end of the magazine Skateboarder.
However, the skate parks were replaced by structures made by skaters or by the invasion
of pools. As a consequence, Skateboarding re-emerged into a symbol of counter-culture and
also as a signal of the times that they lived. The Skateboarding has become underground and
clandestine, adopting a value of social and cultural identity by the Do-It-Yourself from the
Punk Rock scene. The culture of skateboard and the music intersected and fecundated
themselves, mutually sharing an individualism by disregard and iconoclastic style.
During this change, born in 1981 the Thrasher Magazine by Kevin Thatcher and Fausto
Vitello (Independent Trucks), which became the bible of the rebel skater econsolidating a
rebellious image, of controversy by the motto “skate and destroy” against the clean image of
surf-skate perpetuated in the 70s by the media. To the magazine, and this new wave were
intrinsic Skate Punk bands as Jodie Foster’s Army, Black Flag or Suicidal Tendencies, by the
dissemination of music collections in each issue.
Skaters as Steve Rocco and Rodney Mullen continue to invent more complex freestyle
tricks. Mullen took the “Ollie” of Gelfand and turned it into a trick with more pop and
gradually other skaters as Mark Gonzales, Natas Kaupas or Tommy Guerrero will use the tricks
of Rodney Mullen in the streets and will completely revolutionize the “street skating” allowing
new challenges over banks, stairs, gaps or rails.
The change from the Vert to the streets precipitated a global change in the culture of
Skate. The suburban skate park and the homemade half-pipe with followers from the Punk
Rock became a flexible and multicultural urban scene, where skaters of different urban tribes
boosted abandoned spaces of the 60s into authentic ready-made skateparks.
Skateboarding nowadays
Skateboarding has been extended by the commercialization of brands, by the competitions
such as X-Games or Street League Skateboarding and by the media coverage sometimes
contradicting concepts or ideals that are linked to the origins of Skate.
On the other hand, alternative and movements appears by individuals and independent
brands as an example of Pontus Alv and the Swedish brand Polar Skate Co. These companies
are made of people who observed that something was missing in the world of skateboarding
and that they intended to distance themselves of purely commercial and profitable trends,
devoting a look on the skateboard in its pure form under the manifest of the importance of
this state. Pontus Alv believes in the capacity of the Skateboarding by the union in community,
for fun in turn be standardized and packed. By the DIY spirit, also defends the importance of
the reappropriation of abandoned spaces by the use in a positive and constructive way, moving
away skaters of their comfort zone. The formula for success of Pontus and Polar is defined by
thinking the Skateboarding as a centralized action in people's lives. In 2005, Pontus Alv
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portrays a singular vision of skateboarding by the debut of “The Strongest of the Strange”,
whose title comes from a poem of Charles Bukowski and it works as documentary and video
artist.
Based on the above here, we can say that skateboarding is able to reinvent themselve and
now his incarnation corresponds to a post-modern miscellany of historical consciousness and
of a contemporary focus. As Rock Music, the Skateboarding may appropriate features from
its past in a recreational cycle and today is a fusion of tastes, sometimes uneven, styles and
images.
“DEKA”
The project arises from a discussion under the Masters in Illustration and Animation from the
Polytehcnic Institute of Cávado and Ave (Barcelos, Portugal), October 2012. Through a
discussion of ideas the theme of skateboarding was identified as a research area of common
interest.
Through the Deka Project, it is proposed to promote copyright work in the areas of
Illustration, Urban Art and Communication Design, with Skate as main inspiration, related to
the world of Skate, as well to participate and organize events or cultural manifestations. The
Project looked up and created the necessary conditions to mix art, illustration, music, local
skater community, wrapped with a diverse audience.
After a brief analysis to the national skateboarding overview, especially in the North of the
Portugal, we noticed that the number of supporters has been constantly increasing, as well as
the quality of those who practice. Public support for this modality is scarce and, in some cases,
investment is made in public works to preclude the practice of sport.
The action plan was structured in order to promote new artists and the skate culture in
Northern Portugal, through research and analysis of intervention opportunities at public
events, physical spaces and digital universes.
Sketchbook – DEKADAY
Initially, we decided to create a blog with the purpose of producing practical and
experimental content for the project and, at the same time, provide a digital portfolio
presentation of our work. "Pandora Complexa"3 is an illustration project developed by Júlio
Dolbeth and Rui Vitorino Santos. One of the objectives quoted by the authors was a pledge
to make at least one illustration per day. They then created a blog where they upload the
pictures side by side.
Following this philosophy, we adapt the concept of blog/sketchbook for this project. We
decided to use the web platform Tumblr in the first instance, for its freedom in terms of
programming (HTML) and allow customizing the page without the constraints imposed by
other platforms with template service. Another decisive factor is that Tumblr is a social
networks where each user has its customizable page and it’s able to follow, reblog, exchange
messages, etc. Thus it is easy to get feedback of our showcase. Unlike other web social
networks, Tumblr is prepared to display animations in GIF format. Finally, it is a platform where
multimedia sharing is the main content and where a high proportion of users are young.
3
Available at http://pandoracomplexa.blogspot.pt/
4.8. Deka – skate, illustration and the other side of the skateboard
305
A template was created with the shape of two skate decks where they are then assembled
the illustrations. The theme and technique has always been free but in some instances we
worked on the same concept. Dekaday was the name given to the blog that result by
combining the words "deck a day", which literally reflects the main objective of this Blog – to
illustrate a board every day.
Figure 1 - Illustrations from Dekaday
The DEKA brand
The next step is to create a brand with which we could sign and develop work related
skateboard and illustration. We created "Deka" as the name, for the obvious connection to
“Dekaday” and can also be interpreted as the feminine of "deck" (“tábua” in Portuguese).
Through the study of various urban artists as Shepard Fairey, Barry McGee, Margaret Kilgallen,
Rigo23, we developed a logo that identifies the brand through a pictogram, which resulted in
a graphically stylized skateboard deck without wheels, in an unreal physical twist levitating in
the air.
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Figure 2 - Studies of Deka logo
After designing the logo we decided to create an animated version of it to apply in video
or web formats. We use the process of traditional animation, where each movement
corresponds to an image and we chose the GIF format. The movement consists in extending
the idea of levitation in the air, implicit in the static image. The final version of the logo has
no typographic information or brand name associated by choice. Thus, we can work
typography with complete freedom for each situation that requires it. Following a more poetic
vision of the pictogram without a textual identification, this can acquire an enigmatic and
encrypted interpretation for those who don’t identify with the world of skateboarding, or who
simply don’t know the project. During this phase we had the opportunity to collaborate with
the brand “Cão Azul"4, which has expressed interest in creating a special collection of t-shirts
illustrated by the authors of Deka. We developed a series of 10 t-shirts, 5 each author, reused
and adapted from illustrations posted on Dekaday.5
Figure 3 - Assignment of the logo on photo
4
Cão Azul is a Portuguese online store of t-shirts known by the humour and social satire used in their
products.
5
Available at http://t-lab.caoazul.com/loja/font-color000000dekafont-c-219.html?language=en
4.8. Deka – skate, illustration and the other side of the skateboard
307
Figures 4 and 5 - Illustrations for Cão Azul
The project was also presented on art exhibitions and galleries, and for these interventions
the art project became analogical, as the illustrations were drawned directly on wood
skateboarding decks.
Figure 6 - Illustrations for “Dia D” and “Laissez Faire” exhibitions
In parallel with these activities, a Facebook page was created, regularly updated with news
about the project, skateboarding and art related matters. We also developed music Podcast,
mixed with illustration and skateboarding. We invited skaters to develop a short list of songs
that they thought appropriate to the practice of skateboarding and later illustrate the cover of
this podcast according to the choice of music and the skater in matter. We also had the
collaboration of the artists Chuaga and Birita with occasional illustrations dedicated to
skateboard theme.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Figure 7 - Kate Skateshop Podcast cover; Birita and Chuaga illustrations
DEKALHÕES
Through the study of various case studies, we decided to implement the project on a music
and urban culture festival. Since we had a short time to plan, we determined that it would
interesting to "infiltrate" in a already existing festival which didn’t relied on our overall
organization, but that could take part. The first option was "Milhões de Festa" in Barcelos, a
festival organized by the record label "Lovers & Lollypops" that fits into the urban culture
scene, which is connected to this project. For the physical space of our event we choosed
“Lugar dos Poetas”. It is an area usually frequented by skaters from Barcelos for the qualities
of the pavement, appropriated to the practice of skateboarding. The name "Dekalhões" arose
from the mesh-up between "deka" and "milhões".
Initially we contacted the principal mentor of the record label and event, Joaquim Durães,
and expressed our interest in collaborating on the event "Milhões de Festa" by boosting a
space that embraces skateboarding, illustration and music in a relaxed environment in order
to promote the practice of skateboarding and art. After we get a positive response to our
interest to cooperate, we scheduled a meeting to introduce ourselves personally, explain the
context of the research project and its practical component, expose our ideas for the event,
place and answer questions.
Established contact and approved the proposal by the local skate community and the City
Council, we moved to the preparation and implementation of Dekalhões event. We conduct
research on structures to skate, what materials used, different construction methods, and from
this information we prepared a document with the structures projects required for the event
– measures, materials and quantities – which was later handed over the municipaly workshops.
Finalized the structures, we invited illustrators Birita, Chuaga, HeyMikel, Laro Lagosta and
Joel Torres to create an illustration for each structure that addressed the theme of
skateboarding. The aim was to create structures that would serve as an exhibitor piece while
serving their skateboarding function. Thus, the illustrations assume an ephemeral character
caused by wear from the practice of skateboarding on structures.
4.8. Deka – skate, illustration and the other side of the skateboard
309
Figure 8 - HeyMikel, Laro Lagosta and Artur Escarlate illustrations
At this stage, we registered Deka on Youtube (Deka Tube) 6, a website that lets you upload
and share videos in digital format, in order to publish promotional videos about the event, and
the creation of new Deka videos, providing an online video library. For the event, we published
a promotional video, a video preview showing some work in progress and a post event video
that summarizes the best moments of Dekalhões.
The event lasted 3 days and activities happened between 2:00 and 7:00 p.m. We rely on
the presence of several festival goers, bands and artists who performed live in public space in
Praça dos Poetas, as well as the participation of several skaters from Barcelos and other regions
of the country. On the first day performed "Spacin"7, a psychedelic rock band with influences
from the lo-fi panorama and garage rock that came from Philadelphia. On the second day it
was "Robotic Sessions"8 turn, a duo Dj that animated the afternoon for several hours, putting
songs from Rock, Indie, Electronic and Hip-Hop. Later performed a one man Grindcore band
"Anal Penetration"9 originated from the Netherlands. Roel Nijdam, the only element of this
band produces the rhythm of his music through digital means, which subsequently adds the
dimension of voice and guitar solo. During the afternoon we also proposed a skate contest,
where we assign prizes for the best tricks. In the third and final day we had the presence of
"Camera"10, a band from Berlin composed by Franz Bargmann, Drummer Michael and Timm
Brockmann which, by invitation of Videoteca Bodyspace in partnership with Milhões de Festa,
held a short concert to end the first edition of Dekalhões.
Closing remarks
The practice of skateboarding is an activity related to the sense of freedom, creativity and
some irreverence that, throughout its evolution, was acquired as identity. These features are
6
Website oficial do Deka Tube http://www.youtube.com/channel/UC9H0lihLGxl1UIOCw72n1Bg/
Website oficial da banda http://spacin.bandcamp.com/
8
Facebook oficial da dupla https://www.facebook.com/RoboticSessions
9
Website oficial da banda http://analpenetration.bandcamp.com/
10
Facebook oficial dos Camera https://www.facebook.com/wearecamera
7
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
easily transported and related to the creative process, an artistic and cultural context, inspiring
and spontaneously influencing their various audiences. To develop the project, framed in this
area, required the research of skateboarding culture background and framework, the intrinsic
social and cultural phenomena, and even personal and individual relationship with the
environment.
Action research was the methodology that validated this research process, from studies
carried and adapted to the practice of the present case, the authors favored the involvement
in the activities in question through experimentation. From the first moment, illustration was
enhanced with skate culture, assuming an original, creative and artistic character, making a
new vehicle for artistic expression.
Experimentation and exploration of design and illustration, as a creative methodology, built
up a significant amount of work that graphically frame the study. The exploration of graphic
design and digital media allowed to explore and to understand different areas of study, while
acting in the field and interacting with the different audiences that support it. Through this
experimentation was possible to build a solid proposal on the skateboard scene in Portugal,
where illustration and art work converge with it.
The next steps of Deka will include new concepts and new ways of relating skateboarding
and illustration. This project, assuming the relationship between skateboarding and art, allows
an intense interaction between authors and communities, in a do-it-yourself attitude that sets
ground for the skateboarding pleasure and reveals new possibilities for engagement.
Figure 9 - Dekalhões photos by Nuno Figueiredo
4.8. Deka – skate, illustration and the other side of the skateboard
311
References
Broke, M., 1999. The Concrete Wave: The History of Skateboarding. Warwick Publishing.
Cliver, S., 2007. Disposable: A History of Skateboard Art. Ginko Press.
Cliver, S., 2009. The Disposable Skateboard Bible. Gingko Press.
Cronin,
S., 2009. Beautiful Losers: Interview with Aaron Rose. [Online]
http://www.electricsheepmagazine.co.uk/features/2009/08/02/beautiful-losers
December 2013]
Available at
[Access 18
Humpston, W., 2009. Wes Humpstons Bio, Combining Two Art Forms. [Online] Available at
http://www.bulldogskates.com/about_wes.htm [Access 3 October 2013]
LIFE, 1965. Skateboard Mania – A Teeter-Totter on Wheels is a New Fad and Menace. [Online] Available
at http://life.time.com/culture/skateboarding-photos-from-the-early-daysof-the-sport-and-thepastime/ [Access 10 November 2013].
McKee, M., 2011. WARNING: The Art of Marc McKee. Mark Batty Publisher.
Phillips, J., 2007. The Skateboard Art of Jim Phillips. Schiffer Pub Limited.
Rose, A.; Strike, C., 2005. Beautiful Losers: Contemporary Art and Street Culture. D.A.P./Iconoclast; 2ª
edição.
Soares, D., 2014. A Ilustração e o Skate. Projeto de Mestrado em Ilustração e Animação, Instituto
Politécnico do Cávado e do Ave.
Valente, D., 2014. O Skate como estímulo para a criação artística. Projeto de Mestrado em Ilustração e
Animação, Instituto Politécnico do Cávado e do Ave.
4.9. Social media is the new punk. User experience,
social music and diy culture
Giovanni Prattichizzo 1
Abstract
In the digital convergence culture (Jenkins, 2006) and in the network society (Castells, 1996) the
theories of personal branding, social identity, and the two-step flow of communication have
become intertwined to create a model through which individuals and musicians share and embrace
music.
This paper examines the rise of social network for music involving both the practices of use and
consumption and those of creation, sharing and distribution of innovative and independents
musical reality. Social media have introduced radical changes in social and musical practices
increasing the ability of creation from the bottom in contrast to mainstream. Moreover, thanks to
performativity, collaboration and participation offering by Web 2.0, fit fully in culture “DIY 2.0”
offering an interesting chance for the emerging underground music.
Keywords: social music, DIY culture, social media, neo-tribalism, consumer engagement
Introduction
Music is an active and essential ingredient in the composition of social and identity experience.
The alliance between social network and music, as underlined by Digital Music Report 2013,
proves itself more and more successful: music, with the Tv programs and cinema, are among
the most discussed topics on Facebook and Twitter and, according to some research, shows
that 9 out of 10 figure followed on Facebook are music artists. In this field comes true the socalled Remediation so music is rewritten, reproduced, socialized and shared in the new digital
format and communicative (Bolter & Grusin, 1999).
This article aims to place two analytic issues on the agenda for cultural sociology and
cultural studies. The first issue concerns the ways which some applications allow audience to
consume, to make partecipative experience of musical underground practices and to create
new creative contents turning in media and distributors. The question here is how Web 2.0
applications are enabling a reconfiguration of the relations and organization of music culture
and user experience.
The second issue concerns some case studies of social network that represent an interesting
chance for the emerging underground bands and to promote music groups unknown or new
talent.
1
Unitary Federation Italian Writers, Italy.
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Cultural practices and users experience in the Social Network Society
«If you do not care about the networks, the networks will care about you, anyway. For as
long as you want to live in society, at this time and in this place, you will have to deal with the
network society. Because we live in the Internet Galaxy» (Castells, 2001, p. 13). In the twenty
century the Social Network Society takes the place of mass society and is formed by individuals
whose relationships are not exhausted in face to face, but they are in the network new spaces
community and participatory which are distinguished from those organic and traditional (Van
Dijk, 1999).
At the base of the Social Network Theory (Barnes, 1954; Milgram’s, 1967;
Granovetter,1973) there is the possibility to study a social system through the network of
relationships of which the social system is formed. The value of a social network is established
so not so much from the extension of its ramifications, as by the way in which the interaction
between multiple individuals unable to shape or modify the relation and the behavior. The
theoreticians of the network society say, therefore, that «a growing number of social, political
and economic practices of institutions and relations are organized around the figure of the
network» (Barney, 2004, p. 27). Within a decade the network has become the «dominant
cultural logic» (Varnelis, 2008, p. 145) and the networks of the network society tend to be
completely global, relational and social.
We are opposite a new paradigm that redraws fully the technological context and the
social and cultural practices, in which the same idea of network is not a simple metaphoric
representation of the current time, but it appears as the keystone, the pivot around which
rotates the entire society characterized by nodes, connections, shares and ties. We live fully
immersed in the social and cultural system different than in the past (even the recent past) in
which the dynamics of creation, dissemination, consumption and sharing of cultural products,
based on potentiality evolutionary, fluid, reticular and informal of networks, triumph.
Therefore the attention is increasingly focused on the processes of social networking and on
spread of communicative practices that derive from (downloading, uploading, UGC, peer to
peer, crowdsourcing).
This digital revolution, in its impact with structures and social practices, clearly involves also
the production, creation, storage and distribution of cultural products and services and causes
an intense change in the cultural industries (Garnham, 1990) that represent both a vehicle
that an addressee of the profound redefinition of medial scenarios. At the same time, there is
a change in the ways of production and circulation of symbolic, mythical and cultural forms
of society. A digital Renaissance that pervades the horizon of co-evolution between the media
system and society (Boccia Artieri, 2008) leading to a world-media (Boccia Artieri, 2004). In
this sense, media are no longer only technologies, but become environments: are
characterized as real "places" in which to experience daily and structure new social relations,
territories of production and trading of languages and of symbolic forms, contexts for the
construction of meanings, individual and collective, places of cognitive and body dwelling.
Web 2.0, then, has represented a social and technological innovation and a real
discontinuity in the processes of human communication whose main innovation is to be a
medium in which «the most evident feature are the people» (Bennato, 2011, p. IX). The Web
appears, therefore, as a social liquid ecosystem, iridescent and changeable, in which the users
are “social migrants” in search of sharing of meaning and sense, as part of the construction
of their identity that includes the entire production of the self. Web 2.0 is like a collective
4.9. Social media is the new punk. User experience, social music and diy culture
315
allotment (Gauntlett, 2011) at the center of which there is the idea that web sites and online
services become more powerful if they accept a network of potential collaborators.
First, through the network the same consumption turns into a collective process,
implemented by its culture of participation.
Secondly, the social value of the web is characterized by the personal profile and from the
interaction with the other manifesting its own presence. This means that spread new models
of sociality, or as Simmel said, of sociability: «Togetherness, the sheer pleasure of the company
of others» (1945). The profound transformations caused by these forms of cultural production
lead in the existence of new social spaces, created by the interaction between grassroots media
and corporations, between producers and consumers. A time these spaces were limited to the
virtual communities analyzed by Rheingold through a metaphor that sees their development
compared to the traditional communities, which live the transformation from small agricultural
centers in modern society, where within take form new economies and new ways of sharing
and participation (Rheingold, 1993). Today blogs, social networking, and other platforms of
the web 2.0 create opportunities for sharing and common coexistence. The community
become «networks of interpersonal ties that provide sociability, support, information, a sense
of belonging, and social identity» (Wellman, 2001, p.18).
Social media, produced by a software culture (Manovich, 2008), represent an umbrella
term that encompasses all applications that allow for sharing of user generated content. These
are tools that encourage communication, collaboration and participation of the users, have
no particular barriers that restrict access, facilitating the formation of community and are
connected to each other (Mayfield, 2008, p. 5). According to Kaplan and Haenlein (2010) we
can define them as «a group of Internet-based applications that build on the ideological and
technological foundations of Web 2.0, and that allows the creation and exchange of Usergenerated content» (ibid., p. 61).
«The web is more a social innovation that a technical innovation» (Berners Lee, 1999, p.
84) and social media aren’t merely technological but make a change of perspective that
involves many dimensions of life and of human society, inaugurating a new way of thinking
about the relationships in the world (Colombo, 2013) and to consider the communicative
reality of our lives.
Figure 1 - Social Media in the World 2014
Source: vincos.it
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Data in the report "Social, Digital and Mobile in Europe 2014" emphasizes the spread of
the online world in everyday life by implementing a constant reference between real and
virtual and canceling any opposition between online and offline. In Europe there are 293
million active users on social media. The Internet penetration in Italy is 58% while the social
network is 42%.
As regards the time spent on social media, Italy is one of the countries in Europe where
you spend more time, more or less 2 hours, about half an hour more a day than the European
average.
Figure 2 - Time spent on Social media in Europe
Source: Social, Digital & Mobile in 2014
Between social networking sites, Facebook boasts a today a billion of users active in the
world and in Italy is used by 82% of individuals. In this sense, represents a tool "transversal"
both from the viewpoint of the user, as under the contents.
Figure 3 - Use of social media in Italy
Source: Social, Digital & Mobile in 2014
According to data of Report Istat “Citizens and ICT 2011”, 53.8% of Internet users consult
a wiki to gather information, 48.1% creates a user profile, send messages, or other on
Facebook, Twitter. Social network are not only used as a tool to maintain relationships in their
network of friends, but also as a tool for information and communication on social, musical
or political issues (22.8%). Smaller shares are recorded for those who use the web to
4.9. Social media is the new punk. User experience, social music and diy culture
317
participate in consultations or voting on social or political issues, such as signing a petition
(8.6%), and to participate in professional networks such as LinkedIn and Xing (8.3%).
Almost all the internet users aged 6 and over can use a search engine (94,2%) and a very
high share can send an email whit attachments. Over half of the Internet users can send
messages via chat, newsgroup o blog (52,7%) and 41,3% is able to post texts, games,
pictures, illustrations, films or music, onto social networking websites.
Figure 4 - Reasons of use of Web and social network in Italy
Source: Istat 2011
These data demonstrates a maturity of the network capable of becoming social and cultural
environment; a place able to re-mediate not only the technical features of earlier social media
(Bolter & Grusin, 1999) but also our identity, our personalities, and codes of production and
cultural consumption. Social network, therefore, become the condominiums of the network
and the individual is absolute protagonist of reticular creatives theaters. If it’s true that social
networking multiply and innovate the occasions of production and reproduction of social
capital, the subject brings more and more tactics of resistance with which revolutionizes
objects and code, and take possession of the space and the use in its own way (De Certau,
1980). User, through social practices in network, is more active, creative and involved. Not
only participatory culture, not only prosumers who create contents and placing them in the
digital flow rather than individuals, that Bruns calls produser (2008), which incorporate media
objects (video, images, music, etc) in their own lives in the very way in which they share,
associate them to another object medial, modify them.
Social network are, by now, storytelling of our lives by extending the opportunity to be
anytime and anywhere: perpetually connected audience. Finally, social media, immersing
ourselves in a culture of making, build and share, modify the idea of creativity to be considered
as totally as a process. It says a new creativity restless of the sailors/artists, consumed
bricolaeur, nomads, which produce inexhaustible forms of mash-up artistic and pass through
the many media territories, increasingly expanded, without owning never one; more and more
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
by tenants. Therefore, develop new routes and new ways to preside over the cultural sense
and observe and share musical practices in multiple and relational perspectives.
Underground music plays in social media
Music is a substantial dimension for experimentation of cultural practices through which
new generations are formed, live experience of cultural elaboration and production of social
reality. Music is culture (Merriam, 1977, p. 204) and counterculture, total social fact (Mauss,
1923-1924), able to manifest those crucial moments of the daily experience that, in their
becoming, involve the plurality overall of social levels. Therefore, the question is not only what
music makes users, but also what users make to music and with music. Music is, then, active
and dynamic force able to construct paths and lifestyles.
In particular, in the network society practices of creation, promotion and musical
consumption tend to new and original convergence. The spheres of the ideation music,
through the potential permitted from the "digital revolution”, offer the possibility to create
the your own independent music through users generated contents which have led to a crisis
industrial practices consolidated. Moments of aggregation and collective socialization are
multiplied favoring, at the same time, new dimensions of enjoyment and cultural private
production that, from the domestic sphere transfer in the public arena. There is a possibility,
for anyone, to heard their digital musical voice.
The creative and expressive potentiality of the artistic productions and the ways of musical
use have undergone significant changes with the introduction of digital technologies and
social media. For example, for many consumers search for music, inquire, possibly by probing
the opinions of other lovers, taste it (with the "pre-listen to") and to buy it, have become
interconnected operations within a continuous, constant and collaborative process. In the past
newsgroups and forums have represented the first significant models of instruments for
interaction focused on music and for the formation of transnational music communities. The
storytelling of the experience of media consumption plays an increasingly important role:
connected audience aggregate around a particular theme music and exchange, through
reflective communities (Beck, Giddens, Lash, 1994), their music menu and use them to
connect with other user-portals.
In general, music has always played a leading role in the diffusion of communication
technologies and locates in social media its raison d'etre as it was born to be consumed,
exchanged and shared. The same file-sharing disseminated thanks to compression format
mp3, specially designed for the exchange of music files: activities of prosumerismo pre-digital
can be traced in the creation of personal compilations by the user. The remix isn’t born with
the digital but, without a doubt, the network allows an extension of the sphere of producers
and consumers by putting them in faster and more immediate dialogic relations. Each subject,
today, is followed by its own "cloud music" capable to gather content, media and software
tools which we can access at any time and from any place without hindrance going well
beyond the channels of free use of music and music videos, such as Youtube.
The users are increasingly performative and use applications 2.0 that expand the
possibilities of interaction and cooperation between users. Therefore, the networks become
spaces not only in which exchange, share and buy music without constraints materials, but
also co-production environments, implementing the collaborative dimension with the contents
generation. It enjoys music without passing through the commercial filters of industry: there
is a real disintermediation «the formal logic by which new media refashion and improve prior
4.9. Social media is the new punk. User experience, social music and diy culture
319
media forms, and prior media refashion themselves to respond to the challenges of new
media» (Bolter & Grusin 1999, p.15).
Once
Now
Audience
Users
Computer
Co-creations
Listeners
Contributors
Customers
Peers
Purchase
Production / Promotion
Table 1 - Digital Ecosystem of music
Source: Gianni Sibilla 2012
Let's look at some of these applications. Mog is one of the most popular social network
focused on music. His slogan sets out clearly: discover people through music and music
through people. The platform allows you to publish a profile with your own preferences, and
their audience (by means of software that tracks the music available and heard on your
computer) to receive news and tips based on such information, to upload and share songs
and music videos accompanied by user reviews and comments, to find moggers with similar
taste and know what they are listening to.
Figure 5 - Mog
Source: www.mog.com
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Lately Let's Loop has arrived on the italian scene of social network devoted to music. The
british web site, created by Richard Deans and Chris McEldowney, promises to become
popular on the international scene as an integrated platform able to provide the user a
listening experience streaming to 360 degrees, totally free, even for non-members. Discover.
Music. Together. This is the slogan of this social network in which, once registered, you can
create a true music profile online, with favorite artists, publishing and sharing Loop (which
may include songs, albums, artists, link content, playlists), and following, as well as on Twitter,
people who share the same taste in music.
The most striking feature is the centrality that music takes in every field of the experience:
you can buy songs by means of iTunes at any time, or to continue to listen to music through
a player outside, to allow you to surf at the same time on other pages. A virtual place wholly
focused on music in which follow the events of favorite singers, listen to custom radio, peep
between the pages of each artist with photos, reviews and events (thanks to Songklick). The
social aspect, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to pass over the limits of reserve, with settings
that can be easily adjusted by the user. A further aspect of Let's Loop concerns the existence
of rankings for songs, artists, users, events that everyone can help update constantly giving
your affirmative or negative vote with a simple click.
Figure 6 - Let’s Loop
Source: www.letsloop.com
Last.fm, then, represents a sort of fusion between an information portal of customized
music and social network in which the user is guided in the discovery of a new music based
on their tastes. Allows you to tag your music heard, associating it freely to other keywords
and thus creating new folk taxonomies shareable by other users. From this Web page you can
also create a Web radio station, to find information about musicians and see what our friends
are listening to.
4.9. Social media is the new punk. User experience, social music and diy culture
321
Figure 7 - Last.Fm
Source: www.lastfm.it
Pandora was born in 2000 in the United States and is based on the Music Genome Project,
an initiative brought to baptism by a group of artists and technicians to create a project that
would allow to reproduce music as close as possible to the preferences of the listener. Pandora
can be, in fact, defined a system of music "DIY": by means of a registration, the user enters a
song, that is cataloged in the Pandora’s archive. From here, through an algorithm, the system
gives life to a playlist of songs in line with the tastes of who is using the system. Songs that
can be listened to like radio or managed by the user. One of the advantages of Pandora is that
cannot be assimilated to a online radio station, that "passes" the most popular songs of the
moment. The system is able to find songs less popular or tracks emerging groups. Of course,
all songs are transmitted through licensing agreements with the authors.
With the clouding, in essence, the dematerialization of the music comes to total realization:
from music "solid" of LP, passing by the "liquidity" of mp3, to arrive, finally, to a state "gas",
in the cloud. Other players of this era are the net labels, i.e. record labels DIY that have begun
to produce discs, ep, often distributed only in liquid form on the internet, in mp3, with Creative
Commons license.
At the same time, social network are becoming increasingly central to know groups and
emerging artists and the realities related to underground music. The forerunner was MySpace:
the famous "a place for friends", created in 2003 by Tom Anderson and characterized by the
interconnection of personal profiles, the ability to enter comments and contents, public lists
of contacts, allowed users to listen to and download free music, and musicians to reach fans
and promote the concerts (Boyd, 2007), but especially to know them through self-promotion.
Creating a social place accessible to any musician, MySpace has provided an appropriate tool
not only to/from users in search of visibility but also to/from professionals that have scouting
activities. The entire underground music is from there.
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Then, with the advent and explosion of the other social network, the situation for Myspace
crashed dramatically: in a short time was literally wiped out from the competitors more
"armed" of capital and functionality. Even if its experience has served for spread of new
platforms dedicated to creation, self-generation and self-promotion music.
An interesting case is Soundcloud, born in 2008 by Alex Ljung and Eric Wahlforss, is today
the largest and most important community of artists, bands, podcasters and musicians of the
world. Everyone can upload and spread its audio material or even collaborate with other
musicians around the planet. It is also possible to publish sounds of various kinds (also from
objects daily use) to increase acoustic database for the benefit of other musicians. The site’s
social features include options to like, repost, and share tracks. Its groups feature allows users
with specialized interests the opportunity to share tracks and collaborate on sound creation in
a dedicated space. SoundCloud provides a secure, collaborative and (in the paying version)
customizable platform on which users can upload and share audio, access listener statistics,
and receive commentary from the SoundCloud community. Thanks to its embeddable players
and integration with social media sites like Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, and Pinterest, one need
not be on the SoundCloud website to engage with its users’ content.
Figure 8 - SoundCloud
Source: www.soundcloud.com
With regard to the underground music scene there is Jamyourself, social network for band
and artists, press offices, record labels and clubs that operate within the emerging and
independent discography. The its objective is to spread in a single space various protagonists
of the scene, offering them an experience of sharing unique in its kind. Through an important
editorial activities, Jamyourself allows the artists, labels, agencies and the fans of emerging
bands to advertise and spread their music to a public online vast and continuous research of
new proposals and innovative sounds. A social experience that points to the enhancement of
links web between users to increase their visibility and increase their audience totally free.
4.9. Social media is the new punk. User experience, social music and diy culture
323
Figure 9 - JamYourSelf
Source: www.jamyourself.com
An interesting virtual community of people interested in music is represented by
Bancamusica, a social network designed by Luigi Caliva. A platform of social music that give
the possibility to relate young independent artists, record companies and press offices
specialized.
Figure 10 - Bancamusica
Source: www.bancamusica.com
Artists use these digital tools, of production and spread, as "places of independence". The
digital showcase is able to exploit musicians and musical genres in the past unknown. The
network, therefore, puts itself as a true space of underground resistance and social network
represent with force places of autogeneration and musical creation from the bottom in
contrast to mainstream and the logic of traditional distribution.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
To emphasize how many potentiality yet unexplored there are in the role played by social
network in favor of creativity DIY as a widespread practice there is to report the debut online,
in September 2014, of DIYSCO (D. I. Y. Discover), a social network self-produced dedicated
to independent music.
Figure 11 - DIYSCO
Source: www.diysco.com
In practice, the web 2.0, through social networking sites, has rediscovered and brought to
the fore the ethics of the Do It Yourself from the origins punk. The "DIY" means all those
small or large manual tasks that people do for a hobby and for personal satisfaction. What
passes through the digital culture is of nature more ethics and has seen the light in the years
'70- '80 thanks to different cultures underground, including mainly the "punk", and was then
inherited by other subcultures, such as this ecologist and vegetarian, that of "ravers" and that
connected to electronic music.
By the countercultural punk movement, from 1977, that was seeking new spaces
expressive asking from the bottom a "gripping the stage" to digital counterculture of network
society: thanks to new technologies widespread and cheap, the world of electronics, of
creation and music spread has become the new frontier of DIY movement, and was chosen
as the primary means for the production and transmission of various forms of material, from
artistic to information.
The digital future will allow the creation of new underground music through social network
and will provide a different way to experience music. Web platforms will give to indie
musicians much more power to go direct to the user and viceversa. Because making is
connecting. A new subject “public” is born: that produces, create, invent, distributes, and
consumes in cooperative and participatory environment.
Conclusion
Social network, then, represent the showcase and the convivial space (Illich, 1973) in which
coexist corporate and grassroots convergence in which the independent musical cultures can
get to know implementing processes of cross medial sharing that go from the hic et nunc of
concerts to remix of network. At the same time, user creates and chooses actively custom
community according to their own interests and passions responding essentially to the logic
4.9. Social media is the new punk. User experience, social music and diy culture
325
of privatisation of the sociability that Castells considers prevalent in contemporary society
(2001, p. 127).
Digital networks, therefore, constitute a new powerful way to renew the dynamics of
production spaces that feeds the years Zero music. Anderson, in this regard, elaborates the
thesis of the "long tail" (2006) as a new economic model for cultural industries, based on the
transition «from the mass market to a mass of markets». The set of many niches that sell a
little - the long tail - constitutes a much larger market than the one of the few successes of
earth. Therefore, the digital media change the dynamics of market combining infinite space
of the exhibition, ubiquity of access and killing of distribution costs.
Paradoxically, those ideas of freedom, opposition to the dominant system, counterculture,
which were the main values of punk and underground movements, seem to find here new
strength and contamination. The punk and underground music raised their voice to be heard,
to create from the bottom, communicate and connect. The same goes for social media. Today,
the fundamental desire of every indie musician is to be known, gain visibility, share and remix
critical cultural meanings: a quiet noise that crosses social and cross-medial networks.
Punk
Social Media
Voice
Digital Voice
Notice
Visibility
Representation
Share and Remix
Table 2 - Social media and punk
Source: by author
“Niche” Cultures, mosaic, characterized by digital subcultures, in which the cultural and
social capital is increasingly localized in neo tribalism (Maffesoli, 1996), and in social and
creative fragmentation. Therefore, social networks are forces of resistance (Thornton, 1995,
p. 213) as the cultures punk were in the past: open environments that infect their connected
audience with the passion and the pervasiveness of their creators and can to grow and spread
in a sustainable and viral way. Community music, timeless and spaceless, will continue to make
revolution with music thanks to technological innovations: social network of today as the punk
of yesterday; underground DIY music cultures such as participatory, creative and identity
postmodern rituals. Passion and participation, keywords of Punk, are today the main features
of social media and convergence culture of Social Network Society.
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Barnes, J. A. (1954). Class and Committees in a Norwegian Island Parish. Human Relations vol. 7, pp.
39–58. Retrieved from http://hum.sagepub.com/content/7/1/39.citation
Bancamusica (www.bancamusica.com)
Barney, D.D. (2004). The Network Society. Cambridge: Polity Press.
Beck U., Giddens, A. and Lash, S. (1994). Reflexive Modernization. Polity Press: Cambridge.
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Bennato, D. (2011). Sociologia dei media digitali. Relazioni sociali e processi comunicativi del web
partecipativo. Roma-Bari: Laterza.
Berners-Lee, T. (1999). Weaving the Web: The original design and ultimate destiny of the World Wide
Web by its inventor. Harper San Francisco.
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Boccia Artieri G. (2008). Share This! Le culture partecipative nei media. Una introduzione a Henry Jenkins.
in H. Jenkins, Fan Blogger e videogamers. l'emergere delle culture partecipative nell'era digitale,
Franco Angeli: Milano.
Bolter, J. D. e Grusin, R. (1999). Remediation. Understanding New Media. The MIT Press: Cambridge
(MA).
Bruns, A. (2008). Blogs, Wikipedia, Second Life, and Beyond: From Production to Produsage. Peter Lang
Publishing: New York.
Castells, M. (1996). The Rise of the Network Society. Blackwell: Oxford.
Castells, M. (2001). The Internet Galaxy: Reflections on the Internet, Business and Society. Oxford
University Press: Oxford.
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De Certeau, M. (1980). L'invention du quotidien. I, Art de faire, leris, U.G.E.
Dysco (http://www.diysco.com)
Garnham, N. (1990). Capitalism and Communication: Global Culture and the Economics of Information.
Sage: Beverly Hills-London.
Gauntlett, D. (2011). Making is Connecting: The Social Meaning of Creativity, from DIY and Knitting to
YouTube and Web 2.0. Polity Press.
Granovetter, M. S. (1973). The Strenght of Weak Ties. American Journal of Sociology, Vol. 78, Issue 6,
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Illich, I. (1973). Tools for Conviviality. New York: Harper Row.
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JamYourSelf (www.jamyourself.com)
Jenkins, H. (2006). Convergence Culture: Where Old and New Media Collide. New York University Press:
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Photo given by Nito Gonçalves
PART 5 | Musical production, mediation,
consumption and fruition in the
contemporaneity
5.1. Musicality, culture and sociology of artisticmusical production of Ceará Blues
Carlos Rubens Garcia Alves 1
Kadma Marques Rodrigues 1
Abstract
This article aims to analyze the "cultural movement" of the blues music genre in the city of
Fortaleza. Its indications for reflection discourse among agents that disseminate the style in the city
from the Circuit House of Blues, as well as the evaluative elements that constitute the formation of
the public. From the methodological point of view was conducted fieldwork consisted of: a)
observation of events and concerts promoted by blues bands in public and private spaces of the
city, complemented by semi-structured interviews, b) uptake of audiovisual records, and c) notes in
a field diary. From the theoretical point of view, by analyzing such categories as "musical
rationality" present in Max Weber, the concept of the art world of Howard Becker and that field in
the work of Pierre Bourdieu, it was possible to understand the processes of identity formation and
symbols of distinction with musicality as a substrate for the combination of these concepts.
Keywords: Blues; anthropology, art, city of Fortaleza- Ceará- Brasil.
Musicality aesthetic and rationality: an analysis of the
blues from the sociology of art
In sociology, some authors were pioneers in social analysis from musical elements. We can cite
Max Weber (1995) that the work the rational and sociological foundations of music, examined
the history of Western music and relate it to the process of rationalization of capitalism in a
conceptual and historical perspective.
Thus, Weber emphasizes a relationship between individual artistic creation and use of
technical means used for this purpose. There in his analysis, a search on how a device (or
technical means) favors and / or limited to artistic creation. However, Weber does not affirm
the existence of a causal relationship between the technical means and the artistic field.
Rather, it is a relationship of interdependence between these factors.
Therefore, sociology of art or music lies not only in its aesthetic character may be conducted
through the analysis of the technical means used for expression of art. Thus, for Weber, the
empirical analysis of art is related to the study of means of expression; this would be their
contribution to sociology of art. Max Weber analyzes the artistic field in a rather peculiar way,
because in their view, a sociological research that showed only the enjoyment or artistic
expression, would diverge from the empirical field. With this, the author proposes a
"segmentation" between sociology of art sociology and aesthetics, which would be subject
1
State University of Ceará, Brazil.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
to value judgments on artistic production. However, the artistic sphere, in the musical case is
formed by the interaction of aesthetic, political, cultural values, etc..
Regarding the musical sphere of blues in Fortaleza, I had to adapt to a different sound from
my original context ; I needed to appreciate the blues catch it não apenas como uma mistura
de ritmo e melodia (ou o que está sendo dito), mas sim, atentar para o modo como os três
elementos citados se articulam na composição musical. A isto os bluesmen, a exemplo de um
dos integrantes da banda Blues Label, o tecladista Leonardo Vasconcelos, denomina de
Feeeling Blues (sentimento blues).
The Blues is simple. Few notes. But what defines the magic of the blues is the "how" little
notes on the musician can spend a feeling loaded.. this is where it becomes difficult to Blues
and personal, therein lies the identity of the musician. Never the same song sounds the same.
Will depend on how the musician wants to express, and this relates to the state of mind
himself at the time. (Leonardo Vasconcelos, keyboardist of the band Blues Label)
During the research, I tried to settle me conceptually that blues feeling. In this context, only
the perception of a " sound - art sublimation " tend to be superficial, given that the size of
the aesthetic pleasure as only emphasizes the individuality of the being. In contrast, the
sociological perspective argues that the conception of an artistic and cultural movement goes
by the interaction of many factors both objective order (instruments, distribution networks,
media, art etc..) And specifically the role of subjectivity in the artistic field.
In the proposal formulated by Howard Becker (1977) there is a logical operation of the art
world that shows how it is organized. This is how Becker proposes their understanding of the
art world, thinking the relationship with the collective constraints of the artwork. Moral and
Soares (2000) complement the research through an understanding of the concept of art world
Becker:
In other words, the art world - ie artists, support staff, media distribution and dissemination,
public - operates from conventions (an important concept in the application schema Becker).
It is from the conventions that assigns the role of the artist to a certain member of the
cooperative chain and others facilitating role, as is established between artist and audience
(MORAL; SOARES, 2000).
There are several academic papers on the formation of notional networks linking pleasure,
taste, creativity and identity, which directly relate to the analysis of the object in question. To
João Freire Filho (2006), the important element in this group of fans and critics, the spatial
perspective of the music scene was appropriate - more systematically by sociologists and
anthropologists interested in describing and analyzing circumscribed spaces of cultural
production and consumption (especially music).
The so-called "spatial turn" in research on the diverse musical cultures is in line with the
renewed conceptualisation of urban space is a strategic field of articulation of cultural and
civic political emphasis (How to use the available space? By whom? For whereas) and
increment of regional cultural production, either as a sphere of everyday life which thrive
multiple activities, cultural representations and numerous processes of sociability, constituted
and affected both by local circumstances as per demands and desires translocal (Stahl 2004:
51-53 apud Freire Filho, 2005, p.4-5)
Therefore, according to Freire Filho, the notion of musical scene involves identifying a
specific type of urban cultural context and practice of spatial coding. Therefore, the use of this
"identification" imply the apprehension of networks, affiliations, tessitura that reveal the
cultural practices and identity dynamics of groups in the context of contemporary urban
5.1. Musicality, culture and sociology of artistic-musical production of Ceará Blues
333
spaces, and offer thoughtful features to the sociological understanding of the formation of
alliances affective for certain groups.
The identification of cultural training from musicality
It can be argued that the dynamics of emergence of local aesthetic values may indicate
universal aspirations. The political and cultural significance of the scenes would be defined by
the degree of articulation of common interests (defined by tastes and pleasures). The artistic
scenes can thus interfere with the way in which the urban aspects are organized, viewed and
experienced.
In the course of this article I talk with authors who understand the strategies of valuation
that subjects and social groups put into practice, developing for both, quality criteria that
distinguish the experiences of hearing music while providing information about the formations
of musical groups.
The music (blues), in the context of Fortaleza, through successive identifications undertaken
by individuals and groups, featuring the formation of cultural groups and the hierarchy of
tastes process. Thus, social groups arise, communicate and bring the public their affinities and
shared tastes. Trotta raises questions that are valid for the understanding of this musical genre,
since the aesthetic quality is a recurring point in the testimony of the public and blues
musicians:
Talk about quality means refer to the hierarchical processes produced by individuals and social
groups to enhance their practices over others. Such processes are the result of intense clashes
(...). Entire debate on popular music is crossed by the question of taste, ie, by individual and
collective choices that result from the construction of affinity and musical identities, revealing
shared feelings are always involved in high emotional charge (TROTTA 2007, p.1-2).
The level of aesthetic legitimacy of these reviews varies by social agents that conduct.
Judgments or legitimacy acquire greater relevance in that settle socially shared by the common
sense hierarchies. In this sense, the musical experience presents certain complementarity
between individual and society, since they are produced in the interaction between related
traits through affirmation of a shared style. Accordingly, according to Frith:
The pleasure that pop music is a pleasure to produce identification - with the music we like,
with its artists, with other people who like it. It is important to note that the production of
identity is also a production of non-identity - is a process of inclusion and exclusion. This is one
of the most striking aspects of musical taste. People just do not know what they like, they also
have a fairly clear idea of what they like and do not have a very aggressive way of declaring
this dislike (FRITH cited TROTTA, 2007, p. 5).
For its part, the work of Pierre Bourdieu (2002) offer valuable resources for analytical
understanding of the phenomenon studied. Consider the concept of habitus of these features
providing elements for analyzing cross-cutting issues that shape the practical rationality that
underlies the artistic phenomena. According to Bourdieu:
The habitus is indeed generative principle of objectively classifiable practices and at the same
time, the classification system (principiumdivisionis) of such practices. The relationship
between the two capacities which define the habitus, ie the capacity to produce classifiable
practices and works, plus the ability to differentiate and appreciate these practices and these
products (taste), is that the social world is represented, ie the space of lifestyles' (Bourdieu,
2008, p. 162).
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Considering this as a time of exploratory empirical field, mediated by interviews with public
frequenter of the event, the question was raised of blues music to be considered a "quality",
which manifests itself in the creation of groups with different "styles" that confront cultural
standardization exists in the City. The music in this context shall confer a symbolic status as
much space as the audience, redefining the recurrence of sociocultural identifications.
Final considerations
Through research in spaces intended for presentations blues (both public and private, like the
Dragão do Mar Center of Art and Culture) could get closer to the sociocultural perspective
2
that formed the musical performances.Nesse contexto, a performance musical é identificada
nos diferentes agrupamentos humanos como um universal means of communication, not
necessarily characterized by a unique set pattern, assuming various meanings that are
constituted according to the codes of each cultural context (Queiroz, 2003).
Therefore, the analysis of the cultural movement of the blues in Fortaleza Ceará shows that
musical aesthetic manifestations have different structural characteristics (eg, through the
musical bands or his audience), revealing different uses and functions, expressing the
particularities of each context occurring. In these presentations, I noticed that the complexity
involved in music ethnography employed spaces.
Earlier research my camera recorded only Blues bands on stage, their dress, their language,
their musical styles ; but these aspects have become repetitive surface and after some time. I
had to listen to other sounds that were not only coming from the stage as the audience also
related to my " object of study " and with these spaces. This local knowledge (Geertz, 1989)
could only be raised to the extent that all the related aspects of musical performances.
Given the various ways of conceptualizing the blues in the city of Fortaleza, craved discuss
these senses, hoping to foster discussion of topics such as IDs, taste, social spaces, public
education, musical scenes and forms of cultural distinction mediated music.
The work of Pierre Bourdieu is analyzed based on the concepts of social reproduction and
domination. One of his analysis lies in trying to discover the reasons why certain models of
taste become "naturally " superior to others.
The taste expresses how these symbolic contests are carried out ; because the various social
groups seeking to distinguish themselves from one another in an attempt to enforce social
rules and manners that are so unique, aiming prestige, recognition and social distinction. The
participating public is also part of legitimating particular art form, either by adhering to the
style, or the creation of peculiar symbols that constitute IDs that define the limits, even if
temporary, of the whole group:
What is noticed When Investigating cultural expressions in the music world is even que
Individuals and social groups have que's not exactly a political schedule (eg, clubbers and
funkers) end up Promoting "political experience" (Gilbert and Pearson, 2003), identity, ie
merge a sense of community "(Frith, 2006), Establishing strategies of social distinction
(Herschmann, 2007, p. 57).
2
According to Turner (1988), the notion of performance "reflects" or "express" the social system or the
cultural setting of a particular society. Musical practices in their different hues in the urban context reveals
particularities of these manifestations, as well as broader dimensions of the cultural universe of the city,
such as styles, customs, concepts, behaviors and other sociocultural aspects.
5.1. Musicality, culture and sociology of artistic-musical production of Ceará Blues
335
Therefore, the universe of culture (in this case, music) is not interpreted as an area of
"natural" aesthetic enjoyment, but as a locus of segmentations, barriers, segregation and
struggle for power. Thus, the cultural movement of the blues in Fortaleza, sharing a "cultural
identity" that reinvents itself from contact with other experiences helped form the peculiar
artistic expressions of cultural policies.
Funding: This work was supported by the Coordination of Improvement of Higher Education
Personnel (CAPES).
References
Bauman, Richard. Folklore, cultural performances and popular entertainments: a communicationscentered handbook. New York: Oxford University Press, 1992.
Becker, Howard. A theory of collective action. Rio de Janeiro, Zahar. 1977.
Becker, Howard. Outsiders: studies in the sociology of deviance. Rio de Janeiro, Zahar. 2009.
Becker, Howard. Art Worlds. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1982.
Bourdieu, Pierre. The Rules of Art. Sao Paulo, Companhia das Letras, 2002.
Bourdieu, Pierre. Questions of sociology. Rio de Janeiro: Ground Zero 1983.
Freire Filho, John and Janotti JR. Jeder (org). (2006), Communication & Popular Music Massive. Salvador:
Edufba, 2006.
Frith, Simon. (1996), Performing Rites: On the value of popular Music. Cambridge / Massachusetts:
Harvard University Press
Geertz C. The Interpretation of Cultures. Rio de Janeiro: Guanabara, 1989.
Heinich, Nathalie. The Sociology of Art. Bauru: EDUSC. 2008.
Herschmann, Micael. (2006). Lapa: the city of music. Rio de Janeiro, MauadX.
Morais, Jorge Ventura ; SOARES, P. M. F. (2000). Agency, Structure and Objects Nature: Methodological
Dilemmas in the Sociology of Art. In: XXIV ANNUAL MEETING OF ANPOCS, Petropolis.
PROGRAMME AND ABSTRACTS OF ANNUAL MEETING OF ANPOCS XXIV, 2000. P. 102-102.
Queiroz, LS Music and culture: communication in musical performance Congado Montes Claros
- MG. Scientific Unimontes, Montes Claros, n. 5, p. 50-59, 2003.
Trotta, Philip C. (2007). Popular music and aesthetic quality: Evaluation strategies in practice the samba.
In: Enecult III - Meeting of Multidisciplinary Studies in Culture, 2007, Salvador, Bahia.
Proceedings of III Enecult.
Weber, Max 's rational and sociological foundations of music. Sao Paulo: Edusp, 1995.
5.2. Dodging the middleman: Insights on
disintermediation in the independent music sector
Francisco Bernardo 1
Abstract
The paper presents the findings of an exploratory study2 on how the disintermediation
phenomenon is occurring in the music industry and how it is affecting the business models and
professional practices of independent and DIY (Do-It-Yourself) music artists. The empirical findings
emerge from a multiple-case study in which seven independent music artists and professionals have
been selected and analysed, based on the strategic approach they take in business and in the
evolutive career path they are pursuing. The paper provides a discussion on how independent artists
seem to be adjusting their professional practices, concerning funding, distribution, promotion and
management, as well as the use they give current technologies in order to fulfil project needs,
supported by theoretical concepts around disintermediation.
Keywords: Music industry, Disintermediation, Independent Music Artists, DIY
Introduction
With the advent of the digital revolution and the Internet, business models and success factors
of the traditional players within the music industry's landscape have suffered a significant
change. In this reality afforded by easy access to networked global communications, and with
the maturation of Web technologies, disintermediation effects are succeeding (Chircu &
Kauffman, 1999). Major record labels, which created and developed a lucrative business model
and have been the main driver of the industry in the last decades, have been severely hit
(Young & Collins, 2010). They are now retracting in investment, by cutting costs and laying
off staff and artists – they are signing fewer and fewer artists, mostly investing in the ones
who first prove themselves in the independent circuit (Dahl, 2009).
In their practices, independent artists are making extensive use of home studios and tools
and platforms available online. These platforms are continuously emerging with open and
decentralized new business models that take advantage of social networks and community
resources (Benkler, 2006). They can potentially provide the independent and ‘Do-It-Yourself’
(DIY) music producer with access to essential resources for key components of their business:
financing, collaboration, management, marketing, distribution, and direct communication
with fans. By encompassing these functions and other affordances that typically integrate the
value chains of traditional industry agents (record labels, distributors, record promoters, radio
stations, etc.), these new platforms may constitute a viable alternative to support an
1
Research Centre for Science and Technology of the Arts (C.I.T.A.R.), Portuguese Catholic University,
Portugal.
2
This paper is an abridged version of the author’s master thesis (Bernardo, 2013), written between
September 2012 and September 2013 at Portuguese Catholic University, Porto.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
autonomous and independent approach from the artist to his creative and business
management activities, as well as a more direct and successful relation between him and the
consumer of his music.
This paper dissertation aims to contribute with insights to the reality around independent
music artists. It examines the available literature on independent music artists and on economic
theories around disintermediation, in order to set up a theoretical framework for analysis of
the empirical findings. The methodology for the empirical study is here summarized. Finally,
empirical findings drawn from the study are presented and discussed within the given
framework, focusing on uncovering the business practices and strategies and the motivations
behind them.
The independent music sector
Within the contemporary and popular music industry context, the term ‘independent’ or
‘indie’ is aplied to agents that have no ties to a major record corporation,. It derives from the
industrial organization behind it, the independent record company (Hesmondhalgh, 1999).
According to Hibbett (2005), the indie music movement emerged from the evolution of punk
and anarchist ideals of democratization, decentralization and free access to the music market,.
It “demonstrates the principles and politics of a ‘superior’ art” in which “obscurity becomes a
positive feature, while exclusion is embraced as the necessary consequence of the majority’s
lack of ‘taste’” (Hibbett, 2005, p. 34). Indie stands as both trendy and exclusive, acquiring
meaning from the opposition to mainstream, in a perpetual construction that seeks and
encompasses novelty. Indie correlates to artistic integrity, aesthetic quality and to the cutting
edge.
Hesmondhalgh (1999) analysed two cases of emblematic independent labels, One Little
3
4
Indian and Creation , on the causes and consequences that lead independent record
companies to practices of professionalization and partnerships with major corporations. The
author characterized the conditions of working in the music industry, a high-pressure business
with several strains:
the permanent conflict between surviving bankruptcy, and overriding ideals and selling
out;
the thin line between leisure and work, between public and private life which are often
so diluted;
the relations with co-workers, many times friends, that suffer with the strains derived
from the different roles required to be performed.
Further, given the political background of the independent scene, profissionalization was
seen as a dilution of principles, in what it meant establishing a compromise with comercial
success and pecuniary rewards, in detriment of purism and idealism. According to Hracs
(2012), in the pre-digital revolution, “traditional independent production was really an ad hoc
system with inherent limitations” (ibid, 2012, p. 454); money and specialized professionals
were required even for basic productions and distribution was limited to the streets and after-
3
4
One Little Indian. (n.d.) Retrieved August 8, 2013 from http://www.indian.co.uk
Creation. (n.d.) Retrieved August 8, 2013 from http://www.creation-records.com
5.2. Dodging the middleman: Insights on disintermediation in the independent music sector
339
shows. These circumstances led independants into professionalization in order to cope with
the industry’s needs, while driving many others, musicians and staff, out of the industry
(Hesmondhalgh, 1999).
With the digital revolution, the industry has been consequently restructured, and the
independent music production has evolved from niche market position to the mainstream
model. Independent musicians began to have full autonomy and creative control over their
music, but are now required to perform a wider variety of activities. The set of activities
contemplated in this model ranges between technical, business, performance and
musicianship aspects of the business, which demand organization, careful planning and
management of time and energy (Hracs, 2012).
Independent artists seem to be leveraging on contemporary networks for its structural
arrangement, technological, creative and connective affordances they provide. Wendel (2008)
provides several illustrative examples of music artists and practices that highlight potentials in
establishing autonomy and independence from the mainstream industry, leveraging on both
offline and online networks. The author examines the structure and affordances of the
5
6
networks around UK-based record label Rough Trade and MySpace , focusing on the way
similarities and differences have affected independent artists practices. Valladares (2011)
explored the landscape that web-based and social media tools have provided for independent
music producers. Production, promotion, and distribution have been identified as areas where
the Internet is having a significant impact. Independent music producers seem to be using a
diversified and flexible approach to online social networking platforms and web-based tools,
and to the communication strategy employed in their use.
Disintermediation
In economics, an intermediary offers intermediation services between two trading parties,
a supplier and a costumer, or between other intermediaries. The intermediary acts as a conduit
for goods or services offered by the supplier, providing added value to the transaction, either
by transformation (e.g. manufacturing) or transfer in time (e.g. speculation) or space (e.g.
trade) Bailey and Bakos (1997). Disintermediation, also known as "cutting out the
middleman", occurs when intermediaries are removed from the supply chain (Chircu &
Kauffman, 1999). This phenomenon is typically assigned to several factors such as the
supplier’s internalization of activities traditionally performed by intermediaries (Sarkar et al.,
2006) and the degree of market transparency which leads to the buyer's increased knowledge
of supply pricing (Picot & Bortenlanger, 2006).
Benjamin and Wigand (1995) argue that within an ubiquitous communication network,
such as the Internet, the ability to support direct exchanges efficiently would be beneficial for
both producer and consumer: the manufacturers would be able to retain more surplus value
or profits that are generated, while the consumers would benefit from both a larger choice
and lower prices. According to Whinston, Stahl and Choi (1997) the emergence of
technologies for electronic commerce on the Internet allows new ways of interaction between
the players in a market. In fact, the use of an information technology (IT) infrastructure
shortens the supply chain, cutting costs, optimizing operations, and allowing the consequent
higher captures of value and profit redistribution along the value system.
5
6
Rough Trade – UK based record label (1978 – 1991)
Myspace.com – Contemporary social network (2003 – present)
340
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
In the beginnings of the dot com boom, between 1995 and 2000, electronic commerce
was seen as a tool of disintermediation given that the Internet would allow consumers to
purchase products directly from producers. What actually happened, however, was that new
intermediaries appeared in the digital landscape (Sarkar et al., 2006). This phenomenon is
called reintermediation, which takes place with the reintroduction of an intermediary between
supplier and consumer, whenever disintermediation has occurred first (Chircu & Kauffman,
1999). Carr (1999) defines reintermediation as the reformulation, realignment and pruning of
intermediaries but without total elimination. In the context of electronic commerce,
reintermediation occurs due to problems associated with the e-commerce activity, and to the
technical knowledge and extensive resources that are inherently required. Sarkar et al. (2006)
state that the roles of intermediaries can be multifaceted and cover a set of functions that are
not easily assumed by producers, arguing that intermediation will remain a structural feature
of electronic marketplaces. On the other hand, by aggregating transactions and creating
economies of scale and scope, intermediaries can increase the efficiency of the exchange
process.
Chircu and Kauffman (1999) address the three phenomena in the changes occurring in the
market interaction in terms of a cycle of intermediation, disintermediation and
reintermediation (IDR) stages. This cycle may occur repeatedly, with the introduction of new
technological innovations. The authors provide a series of cases of the IDR cycle, using the
structure for the music industry retail market as one illustrative example, with traditional
intermediaries (e.g., Tower Records, wholesalers) and electronic-commerce-only (EC-Only)
intermediaries (CDNow.com, Musicboulevard.com).
Handke (2010) addresses disintermediation as one of two phenomena (along with
amateurisation) that, among other hypothetical causes such as the deliberate use of the
Internet as a promotion tool, suggest an increase of market competitiveness of ‘indies’. In his
empirical study of the German music sector, Handke focused on determining the market
7
context and significance of self-issuers , among amateurs and more conventional record
companies. According to empirical results from Handke’s study, and comparing to other types
of independents, self-issuers appear to be smaller, both in number of individuals in their staff
and in terms of turnover. Self-issuers are also less dependent on the primary market for soundrecordings than conventional record companies, since creators benefit directly from
complementary markets such as that for live performances. Despite that half of the market is
accounted to more conventional “indie” record companies, the market share of self-issuers
may has raised over recent years. According to Handke, there seems to be a “trend that more
creators set up record companies rather than record companies picking creators to cooperate
with”, with an observable sustained upward trend in the period of 1994 and 2004. This is
suggested as possible explanation to the apparent boom among small, independent record
companies in the middle of a recession in the record industry.
Methodology
In order to explore how the disintermediation phenomenon is affecting business models and
practices of independent artists, an empirical study has been conducted. The research
7
A self-issuer “predominantly commercialises sound recordings by composers or performers who also
work in another function in the firm or who own the firm at least in part” (Handke, 2010, p.345)
5.2. Dodging the middleman: Insights on disintermediation in the independent music sector
341
approach taken was case study, more suitable for a study with a descriptive and exploratory
nature (Yin, 2003), and more specifically, a multiple-case study, which facilitates the
exploration of a phenomenon within its context using a variety of data sources (Baxter & Jack,
2008). In this case, its use leads to a better understanding of the motivations, the influence of
the context and its impact on the business decisions of the independent music artist. This
approach also converged with the approaches of similar studies on independent music artists
and music industry (Wendel, 2008, Valladares, 2011, Ahrens et al., 2012). Therefore, our study
is based on the content analysis of primary data, obtained from five interviews conducted in
2013 to five Portuguese music artists and professionals, and of secondary data of two
international independent artists.
The independent artists that comprise the sample were selected based on the diversity of
organizational structure, business models and approaches (Table 1). The spectrum of subjects
ranges from the minimal structure (one-person band) and full DIY approach, to the
independent band that managed to successfully deploy its global distribution infrastructure
with a professional team. In the middle, stands a set of independent Portuguese artists that
are employing innovative and technological approaches to business, music professionals that
work in the independent music sector and that accumulate different roles such as managers,
agents, and executives at indie labels. These artists are mainly identified as independent and
participate in a variety of music genres, including electronic music, alternative rock and pop.
Case
Projects/Professional Services
Bruno Miguel
:Papercutz
http://www.papercutzed.com
Lovers&Lollypops
http://www.loversandlollypops.net
Milhões de Festa
http://www.milhoesdefesta.com
The Astroboy
http://pad-online.com/category/the-astroboy
Peixe:Avião
http://pad-online.com/category/peixe-aviao
PAD records
http://pad-online.com/
The Poppers
http://thepoppers.pt
Keep Razors Sharp
https://pt-pt.facebook.com/KeepRazorsSharp
SCL Agency
http://scl-agency.com
La Maquina
http://lamaquina.com.pt
AMAEI
http://amaei.pt
METRIC
http://ilovemetric.com
Zoë Keating
http://music.zoekeating.com
Joaquim Durães
Luís Fernandes
Luís Raimundo
Nuno Saraiva
Emily Haines,
James Shaw &
Matt Drouin
Zoë Keating
Table 1. Selected Samples
Interviews were conducted in places of convenience to the participants, which agreed to
speak openly and in personal name. Participants were inquired regarding the business
strategies and practices that they have been using regarding financing, distribution, promotion
342
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
and management, and the role and importance that technology takes in their actions. The
interviews lasted an average of 93 minutes and were audio/video recorded with the consent
of the participants. Hired contractors which were instructed to transcribe the interviews
following a denaturalistic approach (Oliver, Serovich & Mason, 2005). These interview
transcriptions provided the primary data set, supporting this study by enabling content analysis
against our theoretical framework (Figure 1). The data set has been made available to the
academic community for further studies (Bernardo, 2013).
Figure 1 - Analysis framework
This study also uses several sources and types of secondary data, such as industry reports,
specialized press articles, blog entries, and conference videos. Secondary data has been used
to build up the cases of Metric and Zoe Keating. The main source of information about Metric
has been a video-recorded interview that the band and their manager gave to the 2011
Rethink Conference (Rethink Music 2011). For the case of Zoe Keating, several dispersed items
were consulted mainly from specialized blogs, and Keating’s online presence, such as her
website and one Google spread sheet that Keating has publicly shared herself.
Another important source of secondary data considered for this study is the Artist Revenue
Streams (ARS) project and the reports generated from its database. This research initiative,
which is led by the Future of Music Coalition (FMC), aims to assess the earning capacity of
individual musicians concerning the diversity and dynamics of revenue streams (Future of
Music Coalition, n.d.). The ARS project consists of a multi-method, cross-genre examination
of US-based musicians which used three data collection methods: in person interviews with
about 80 different musicians and composers, case studies based on the detailed financial data
from 10 different individual musicians, and on-line survey data from 5,371 US-based musicians
and composers.
5.2. Dodging the middleman: Insights on disintermediation in the independent music sector
343
Findings: perspectives on independent music artists’
business models
Financing
Advances and recoupment are the most usual mechanisms of financing amidst musicians
and record labels. Yet, it is appears that independent artists have been considering and using
several other funding alternatives for their projects.
A common ground to the interviewed artists has been going through an initial selffinancing stage, in which they manage to release their first works on their own. This is typically
a DIY stage, in which the success of those works and all the efforts to potentiate it provide
the opportunity to gather funding for a next step. Some acts, given their specific configuration,
stay in this model; the ones who have the opportunity to step-up, eventually do it, either
through independent labels or private investors backing. In this second stage, artists seem to
use the traditional model of funding, assigned in the form of an advance by an indie label,
with the subsequent recoupment of royalties from sales.
Despite that the number of financing possibilities has been seemingly increasing, the fact
is that many of them have specific benefits and disadvantages, and most of them, significant
constraints to the beginning artist. Discarding direct donations and public funding as atypical,
such is the case of sponsorship, private investment agreement, and even crowdfunding for
different reasons. For crowdfunding to work at its best, an extended fan base is required,
which is unlikely for a minor artist. Other alternatives depend on past achievements and involve
risk taking.
Labels are the private investors that have deeper business knowledge and thus, the least
averse to invest in worthy cases. This general assumption can be extendable from the smallest
indie labels to majors, attending always to the scale of agreements and power positioning that
is involved. Labels keep the capital and funding muscle, and that is an important part of their
competitive advantage; their positioning as an established intermediary keeps strong.
Even so, some illustrative signs of readjustment provided by some interviewees, such as the
renegotiation of contracts, the adoption of other models in which artists keeping control of
copyright and licensing the album only, P&D deals, the all-inclusive 360º deals, and the
lessening of investment in certain traditional business functions. According to its definition,
these adjustments may be seen as reintermediation, in which the traditional intermediary is
refining or changing its model due to changes in its economical context. On the other hand,
the results of qualitative analysis indicate that the use of self-financing at a more advanced
level seems to be a trend among independent artists. This entails financial discipline and
audacity for the independent artist and his management structure, but it does happen at
different career levels, and with artists with distinct projection levels. These cases configure
instances of full disintermediation, as labels may be fully circumvented as intermediaries.
Distribution
The early days of a music project, which coincide with a DIY stage, show specific settings
in what regards distribution. In the physical domain, initial releases have limited editions with
limited physical distribution in concerts sales, or on consignment in a limited set of retail
outlets. In an advanced scenario, the artist or his label actually get an agreement with a
distributor, and physical distribution is settled. In a furthermore advanced scenario, there are
several territories to cover, and more agreements to make. These are the fundamentals for
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
physical distribution that, apart from issues regarding the decline of record sales, are the most
desirable for any artist. Disintermediation would occur here if an artist or his management
structure were to establish direct agreements with the distributor, by circumventing labels as
middlemen. Yet, under these assumptions, physical distributors remain undisputed
middlemen. The issues arise with considerations associated to the digital domain. The
emergence of the digital online retail outlets, streaming services and mobile retailers, gave
way to new intermediaries such as digital aggregators.
Thus, if one goes all the way to consider the extinction of physical sales, or a complete shift
to exclusively digital releases, disintermediation of the traditional distributors becomes a
possibility, as distribution would depend exclusively of aggregators. Nonetheless, digital
aggregators have been, until now, a necessary condition for artists to reach the major online
retailers.
Going on with analysis of qualitative data, there are instances of artists already
circumventing digital aggregators and reaching these markets on their own. Together with
the use of direct-to-fan services like Bandcamp, or MySpace, or SoundCloud and more recently
with iTunes, they configure instances of full disintermediation. This brings the artists the
premise that the value chain can be configured to exclude traditionally necessary pieces that
do not deliver value, and thus optimize their revenue streams.
In all the cases, distribution clearly stands as one area in which disintermediation and reintermediation has been taking a more evident and clear effect. First of all, digital aggregators
are a strong example of new intermediation, according to its definition, by taking control of
digital distribution channels. Secondly, the disintermediation initiated by artists must be taken
significantly in account. There are several instances that show the awareness and effort that
artists take, while striving to optimize revenues streams, to cut off the middleman both in the
physical and digital domain. They also range from the micro scale level to the macro level,
from very localized efforts of tuning revenues through disintermediation, through to the major
strategic decisions that imply assembling a global distribution network. In the former case, we
have the instance of Zoe Keating; she took advantage of a change in iTunes’ affordances,
which turned a market that was only reachable through the intermediation of aggregators, to
a directly reachable market through the use of label accounts. On the other end of the
spectrum stands Metric and Drouin, who fundamentally believe in the need to cut off the
middlemen, as way to reduce costs and make more money in the long run and implemented
a global distribution operation based on that premise. In the middle, stand all the artists that
take advantage of platforms like Bandcamp to perform the distribution on their own, without
intermediaries and with increased revenues.
Marketing and promotion
In general, finding point to the clear separation of concerns between traditional and new
media. There is a general agreement between cases that both media are important, for
different reasons, having different intrinsic challenges and different people to be assigned as
their managers. Typically, the online media promotion is assigned to artists, and managed on
their own, in order to take advantage of and to grow the artist-fan connection. It is also the
most immediate promotional medium used in the early days any act.
With the gradual development of the act, the need for traditional media increases and well
as for professional support in these areas. At this point all the acts refer to the use of
professional specialized help in the form of contracted freelancers, or services provided by the
5.2. Dodging the middleman: Insights on disintermediation in the independent music sector
345
labels. The most off-the-beat positioning is from Metric and Zoe Keating. Drouin seems to
dismiss the importance of radio against a database of direct fan contacts, in particular for
independent and non-mainstream acts. Metric was already a high status act in the context he
mentions, though. For Zoe Keating no information has been found that confirms or refutes
her positioning, except for the general information that points to a DIY and exclusive use of
online promotion.
As for promotion, the initial stage for a music artist, contemplates several efforts using the
DIY approach. Typically, musicians would have to put most of their efforts on the live
performance circuit and with that find new fans for their music. These efforts would consist
of localized actions that would bring them a limited reach.
Today, audience building and fan communication have become both easier and affordable,
as artist have been given access to a huge set of tools and services to build audiences and
promote their work. Furthermore, the tools build on networks and social components that
allow them a global reach. Thus, artists have been leveraging on these tools and platforms to
engage with fans and collaborators, by enhancing direct relationships and developing
dedicated networks. It has been observed that artists have a very flexible and organic approach
to these tools in order to successfully connect with their fans and followers.
However, despite of the digital and online domain being recognized as very efficient for
promotion purposes, artists still feel the need to embrace traditional media to emerge from
the crowd and effectively promote their music. And this is another league, in which the DIY
approach acknowledgedly appears to fall short. In remaining DIY they may be undermining
their projects and themselves concerning creative availability and evolution. Here, the specific
business knowledge and contact networks provide an explicit competitive advantage, which
most artists may not have on their own. Thus, they must either acquire it externally, either
from specialized independent professionals or record labels.
Looking through the disintermediation lens, it is somewhat evident that music artists may
prescind from promotional services and reach an interesting activity level on their own. The
online platforms, as new intermediaries, have provided a great margin of action and
empowerment to the artists. Moreover, on an advanced level, an artist might consider a
specialized marketing and promotional team operating in his own structure.
However, the labels traditionally possess core competencies in this field and have no hurdle
in taking advantage of them. Therefore, concerning promotion, reintermediation is the most
obvious, given that traditional intermediaries maintain a strong positioning in the market and
appear to be adjusting their competencies. Nonetheless, concerning the artist-label power
relationship, there is a different stand for both parties. Promotional power is a core
competency of labels that would most willingly be used by artists, but today there is much
more margin for negotiation.
Technology, team and management
The general attitude of the interviewees towards technology reveals that it is considered
very important for them to manage the overall business functions. Some of these technologies,
like email, Google Drive, Facebook, YouTube and Bandcamp, have become indispensable for
the all the interviewees. Findings indicate a use that highly concentrates around these
technologies. This is confirmed, in general, by an evident attitude of resistance or lack of
interest to try new platforms, or to acquire more advanced or specialized ones, when the
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
essential functions are already granted. This seems to indicate that business-supporting
technology is approached as means to an end, and on a need-only basis.
The interviewees’ testimonials are convergent with the main conclusions of ARS report on
the impact of emerging technology on the careers of musicians and composers. In general,
ARS participants demonstrated good levels of awareness and comfort in making effective use
of technology. “50 to 70 per cent of respondents were ‘very comfortable’ or ‘somewhat
comfortable’ using technologies for common musician-related activities” (Thomson, 2012).
The report concludes that emerging technology has had a measurable impact on the careers
of musicians and composers, empowering them and leveling the playing field. Concerning the
impact of studio technologies, ARS survey participants generally answered that “they have
made them more efficient, and able to produce top quality work in their own studios”
(Thomson, 2012). Regarding promotional and sales supporting technologies, a significant
amount of survey respondents agreed to become more self-sufficient, as technology allows
them to communicate directly with fans, to collaborate with other musicians, and to selfmanage their careers.
One ARS report focuses on the impact of the team and partnerships on the artist’s
revenues. ARS Director Kristin Thomson referred to this data in her article to the Music Business
Journal. Thomson (2012) draws a parallel between the DIY artist that leverages on current
technologies to perform every task, and the musician that has a team of specialized
professionals and partnerships. The goal is to access the impact in the musician’s income and
expose some of the tradeoffs involved in both situations. For that, Thomson went through the
main roles that a musician may have, support this analysis on the different US copyright-based
revenue categories and business practices: composer/songwriter, recording artist and
performer.
For the composer/songwriter first role, the report examines the publishing income and the
impact of having a publisher on the team. It shows that income derived by compositions
accounted for 6% of our survey respondents. However, respondents who “had a
paid/contracted relationship with a publisher, or an attorney, or a record label were deriving
twice to three times as much income from compositions”.
Concerning the recording artist role, income from sound recordings made up about 6%
of overall respondents’ income. But for those with a record label or web-master, that
percentage is doubled. The report addresses the team members that had the greatest impact
on income earned from performances. Booking agent leads the ranking, with a significant
margin in income from live performances over those who do not have one.
One could infer from the analysis of the interviewees’ discourse, that when an artist
achieves a certain initial growth, the DIY path appears to become more distant and
uninteresting, or perhaps even risky. Jack Conté, from Pomplamoose band, issued a very
comprehensive statement regarding this issue:
“We did a really good job taking it from zero to 50% and then I think we got paralyzed, and
we needed to be better leaders and to have a cabinet of smart people around us to help us
take it from 50 to 100, and instead I think we just kind of stopped at 50. Now we're a decent,
well-known band. You know, we play 600-person venues and that's awesome but I think we
could have gone much higher had we been better business people. But at the same time, we
also wanted to be artists. We didn't want to be in it for the money. We didn't want to try and
grow the brand. We wanted to make songs, you know? I spend my days in the recording
studio. I'm very, very careful about how much time I spend doing business and how much
time I spend doing music, and I want to be making music all of my time and so I'm willing to
5.2. Dodging the middleman: Insights on disintermediation in the independent music sector
347
sacrifice certain business ventures because I'd rather be playing songs.” (Conté, cited by Sptiz
and Bylin, 2012)
Considering this testimony, should an artist reach at determined stage of success, it
appears he will have two choices; either signing up with a label, or by following a strict
independent path, contract a manager that helps him building his own structure and
professional team.
One trend that appears to proliferate in the music industry is the shift to the management
model, in which the guiding party takes a minor percentage of every revenue stream
generated by the artist. Labels are also appropriating this model through the 360º contracts.
In this model, managers will be part of the record label. The alternatives are either recurring
to the services of freelance management, or to the most recent approach, à-la-carte
management services. In any of these alternatives the artist does not have to consider working
with a label, but in case he does, the manager will be working in close conjunction with it.
Conclusion
The empirical study contributed with a perspective over the business reality and context of a
meaningful sample of independent music artists. Findings indicate that artists seem to be
increasingly business aware and self-sufficient. The most common pathway for independents
appears to be taking an initial DIY approach, later followed by a flexible and mixed business
approach that depends on team structure, business knowledge and financial availability. They
appear to be configuring the use of intermediaries and professional services in their business
models, in order to optimize revenues and workload.
Independent musicians have been leveraging on currently available online platforms and
web tools. Their efficacy makes them invaluable as they increase productivity and facilitate the
execution of major business functions. Further, these tools leverage direct access to market
and are fundamental in enhancing the engagement between artist and fan. Although new
media seems to stand as an alternative to traditional media and intermediaries, it has a specific
and limited reach, and does not seem to replace the need of professional services.
Furthermore, technology is not the center; music artists rather focus on creativity.
This study indicates that the effects of disintermediation, resulting from a technological
paradigm shift, are mostly observable in the way independent artists are becoming selfsufficient. Business functions, such as management, funding, distribution and promotion,
seem to have different levels of incidence in what concern disintermediation. This appears to
emerge from the inherent difficulties of the self-issuing artists, and from the power that record
labels still maintain over financing and promotion. In the evolutionary path of an independent
artist, the need for a professional structure is evident and may grow along the way. This
structure maybe provided either by a record label, by assembling a professional team or
resorting to independent services.
The consequences of disintermediation may also relate to signs of readjustment by the
record labels, observed in the renegotiation and adoption of distinct contract models, and in
the lessening of investment in certain traditional business functions. Furthermore, the
bargaining power of artists has increased, granting them more control over their career
direction, over the development of their brand, and most importantly, over their creativity.
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5.3. Materialities of the new: processes of destruction
and construction in the work of Einstürzende
Neubauten
Sandra Bettencourt 1
Abstract
My aim is to reflect on the concept of materiality as artistic process based on the theoretical work
of Walter Benjamin and Theodor Adorno. Concepts such as 'ruin' and 'destruction' (Benjamin) and
the concepts 'negativity ' and 'new' (Adorno) of shall be privileged. As a case study for the
possibility of convergent and/or divergent contemporary reading of these authors, I analyze the
work of the German band Einstürzende Neubauten. It interests me to anchor my reflection in
Neubauten since their heterogeneous production enables an update of the theoretical issues
mentioned at several levels: Cultural-historical (The German context of the twentieth century,
before and after reunification); aesthetic (the dichotomies between noise and silence; construction
and destruction; form and content; performance, language and speech); and technological (DIY
musical instruments; processes of composition and recording). The categorization of Neubauten's
music is difficult due to the break with prior musical practices and the creation of new sonic
experiences, which bring us the concept of 'avantgarde' that occupied both the thinking of
Benjamin and Adorno. The critique of such concept enriches and informs the reflection on the
materiality of culture.
Keywords: Einstürzende Neubauten; Ruin; Destruction; Negativity; New
Einstürzende Neubauten
In his essay from 1931, "Der Destruktive Charakter" ("The Destructive Character"), Walter
Benjamin defines such character as the one who creates space for transformation by ways of
destruction:
The destructive character knows only one watchword: make room. And only one activity:
clearing away. (...) The destructive character is young and cheerful. For destroying rejuvenate,
because it clears away the traces of our own age; it cheers, because everything cleared away
means to the destroyer a complete reduction, indeed a rooting out, out of his own condition.
(Benjamin, 2011)
In the 1960's, Theodor Adorno in his posthumous work Ästhetische Theorie (Aesthetic
Theory) defines the notion of the new as the absolute negativity of the collapse, being that
the major artistic utopia:
1
Faculty of Arts, CLP - Centre of Portuguese Literature, University of Coimbra, Portugal.
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A cryptogram of the new is the image of collapse; only by virtue of the absolute negativity of
collapse does art enunciate the unspeakable: Utopia. In this image of collapse all the stigmata
of the repulsive and loathsome in modern art gather." (Adorno, 2002, pp. 32-33).
In 1981, the band Einsturzende Neubauten, which name means Collapsing New Buildings,
launch their first album, Kollaps. Some of the songs are "NegativNein" ("NegativNo"),
"Draußen ist feindlich" ("Outside is Hostile"); "Vorm Krieg" ("War Front"). These titles
manifest a proximity between the band's identity and those seminal concepts presented by
Benjamin e Adorno. In the fragments collected in the documentary about the group,
Liebeslieder, it is even possible see and hear the vocalist Blixa Bargeld, stating that: "My idea
of destructivity corresponds with Walter Benjamin's. He wrote an essay titled 'The Destructive
character 'in which he said,' the destructive character is cheerful and friendly and knows only
one motto: Make Room'" (Maeck & Schenkel, 2005).
Einstürzende Neubauten is formed in 1980, in West Berlin, by Blixa Bargeld (voice) and
N.U. Unruh, FM Einheit (percurssion), being later joined by Alexander Hacke (guitar) and Mark
Chung (bass guitar). Einheit and Chung, leave the group in the middle 1990's. By that time,
the drummer Rudolf Moser and the guitar player Jochen Arbeit join the group until today.
They start playing in a very specific cultural and social context. The city is divided by the
Berlin Wall, the Cold War is present and the effects of the Second World War are still felt and
evident in the ruins and reconstruction projects all over the city. The Neubau (meaning new
buildings of the post-war, opposed to the Altbau, the buildings from the pre-war) are a symbol
of such conditions with their weak construction, leading to many building collapses, such as
the case of the Kongresshalle, Berlin's cultural center and symbol of the relationship between
Germany and the United States of America, which collapsed in 1980. An event that underlines
the critical discourse envisioned in the group's name.
The architectonic, social and cultural turmoil made way to an increasing squat movement,
attracting many foreigner artists to Berlin and feeding hetrogeneous subcultural movements,
artistic works, and social manifestions, many in the form of riots in protest against emergent
capitalist liberal politics and the difficult situations lived in a daily basis. It was in this
environment that Einstürzende Neubauten began to produce their sounds, always surrounded
by a general disenchantment, by the ruins and the lack of future prospects. Their work
expressed such sense of decay and apocalypse, filled with the noise of an imposible, but
desired, reconstruction of the city.
Thus, this generation does not share the hopes and convictions of the prior generation of
the student movements of 1968. The indignation of the generation of 68 was based on the
refusal of an identification with the past and the recent history, as well as a critique of the
silence that govern the generation of their parents towards their involvement in National
Socialism; they also struggled against academic conservatism; and as opposition to the war in
Vietnam; while maintaining the belief in a positive and tranformed future. The latter
generation later was alienated from this luminous conviction. The uprisings were not against
their past nor a future requirement, bu vindications to, and in the, present. However, this
present time is not ahistorical and the relationship with the past is also established but different
from the idealism of the movement of 68. Their aim was no longer to identify and speak to
the past, but to summon it in order to exorcise and build a different present.
In this context, Neubauten wants to occupy such wounds, that is the historical, social and
cultural ruins. They start to do it by singing in German language (while the majority of bands
sang in English, influenced by Anglophone rock, and as a way to conquer foreign audiences),
5.3. Materialities of the new: processes of destruction and construction in the work of
Einstürzende Neubauten
351
and by composing completly different soundscapes: corrupting the silence about the recent
past with musical discourses filled with noise, produced with street found and D.I.Y.materials
and objects (shopping carts, jackhammers, concrete mixers, saws, anvils, steel drums...),
accompanied by screams, whispers and vocalized non-sintagmatic sounds. The group's
attempt to break with the artistic and contemporary cultural reality while creating a space of
difference. They establish an intense relation with material and social spaces, evident in their
choice of unconventional recording and concert venues: Stahlmusik (Music of Steel), was
recorded on tape in the interior of a pillar of a freeway bridge (being the oxygen measured by
a flickering flame of a candle); they performed and recorded in highways, watertowers, and
even in the Mojave desert; many of their gigs were marked by the high level of destruction,
since Neubauten used to explore building structures as new sonic mediums and devices. They
also incorporate sound recordings of everyday life - riots, conversations among acquaintances,
sounds of city life and elements of nature such as fire and sand. And even conventional
instruments such as the guitar and bass are played in subversive ways:
The thing is, I [Blixa] have always looked at the outside techniques of what is considered
“normal” use of an instrument. (...) This is how I play, using this zig-zag strategy to make
music that nobody would expect whatsoever. (...) I could still play guitar without actually
playing it in any conventional way. I approached singing in the exact same manner. If you
don’t do the “normal thing”, you are free to make discoveries, like finding I could scream
while sucking in air to get a much more powerful sound to come out. (Bargeld, 2013)
Einstürzende Neubauten has fourteen studio albums; a series of recordings composed by
8 discs, limited edition by subscription, the Musterhaus Series, comprising the more
experimental work of the band; and a set of four compilation albums, significantly entitled
Architecture Strategies Against I, II, III and IV; among soundtracks, singles and maxi-singles,
live albums and side projects. Although, they always try to create something different in each
work, the year 1993 represents the most striking change in their sound with the release of
Tabula Rasa. This is the first album released after the fall of the Berlin Wall and points for a
seeking for a softness avoided until then, giving way to more melodic environments and for
insights about beauty. Beauty will lead to explorations about the possibility of silence in music,
with Silence is Sexy (2000). Still, when their music seems to follow a less jarring, less subversive
way, is in the forms of production that it is more pointedly present. The new forms of
production gave rise to albums SUPPORTERS'ALBUM # 1 (2000) Alles Wieder Offen and
(2007), the result Supporters Project, and The Jewels (2008), a experimental, collaborative
work on improvisation.
As we can see, the contradictory flow between construction, destruction, failure, nihilism
and transformative capacity experienced in the 1980s in Berlin, enroll consecutively, albeit in
different forms, in the course of over 30 years of Einstürzende Neubauten career, always
guided by elements of chaos, order, noise, silence, improvisation and method.
Destruction and ruin. Walter Benjamin
The image of the benjaminan destructive character proves to be a productive approach to
think about the work of Einstürzende Neubauten. Even more so when related with another
seminal figure of Benjamin's critique, that of the angel of history. The joy and agressiveness
of the destructive character invokes, in a way, the angelic face of the melancholic face of
Benjamin's allegory of history:
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His face is turned toward the past. Where we perceive a chain of events, he sees one single
catastrophe which keeps piling wreckage upon wreckage and hurls it in front of his feet. The
angel would like to stay, awaken the dead, and make whole what has been smashed. But a
storm is blowing from Paradise; it has got caught in his wings with such violence that the
angel can no longer close them. The storm irresistibly propels him into the future to which his
back is turned, while the pile of debris before him grows skyward. This storm is what we call
progress. (Benjamin 2007, pp., 262-263)
His constructive destruction is always a process, never crystallized in ideologies, and his
interventions are located in a more than present chronotope, the Jetztseit - or the now-time:
"History is the subject of a structure whose site is not homogeneous, empty time, but time
filled by, the presence of the now [Jetztzeit]" (Benjamin 2007: 261). The angel presents the
destruction of the aura of the past, becoming the eye of the collective conscience, building a
dialectic and critical relation with its representation: this dissonance of his own image as well
as his revolutionary positioning is what permits to regard history in an critical and alternative
way, avoiding tragic repetitions. In "Die Genaue Zeit" ("Exact Time"), the las song of
Zeichnungen des Patienten O.T. ("The Drawings of Patient O.T") (1983), Eintürzende
Neubauten question this continuous, flat and perennial power and its harmonious movement,
as observed by the angel of history:
Power is a non-stop tape
and my ears are wounds.
It’s so flat here.
Muzak for morgues and new buildings
pleasantly humming
leaving no traces
chord scars
in my face.
(...)
What time could it be?
It’s so flat here.
Between 33 and 45
or in a 2-hour rhythm
It’s a question of volume
and they’re all the same, the same.
The song is marked by constant feedback, obtained by the oscillation of a microphone
swinging from left to right, creating a sense of anxiety in a vertigo effect. Guided by distortions
and the rhythmic voice, this is the sound experience of the sameness. The non-interruption by
the now time creates harmful disorientation. Without the awareness of the difference (traces
and scars), such critical approach of the angel of history is impossible and impeding to see
take consciousness of the "catastrophe which keeps piling wreckage upon wreckage and hurls
it in front of his feet." (Benjamin, 2007, p. 257)
Such disorientation, which is temporal ("What time could it be?") leads to the threat of
historical repetition: "Between 33 and 45", the period of Nazism. The same danger to which
Benjamin warned concerning political aestheticization: a threat that can only be identified and
countered by the unorthodox destructive character. In "Die Genaue Zeit" the microphone, a
resource of technological mediation exemplary of the different band techniques employed
throughout their work, amplifies the sound in an heterodox way. Its conventional meaning is
destroyed and space for a critical perception is created, opening pathways to social inclusion:
it impels an interrogative action, an update of the present that must be radically different.
"Hospitalistische Kinder - Engel der Vernichtung" ("Children Hospitalized - Angel of
Destruction"), from the same album, is a song that creates an apocalyptic environment
5.3. Materialities of the new: processes of destruction and construction in the work of
Einstürzende Neubauten
353
introduced by a children's choir that gives rise to Blixa Bargeld's disconcerting whimper,
underlined by the sounds of jackhammers, the percussion of metal objects and debris. The
lyrics speak of children who are pushed towards a future contaminated by the winds of the
past. These children are awaiting the arrival of a new angel that will release them from their
dying condition and that, together, can abolish the deities:
locked inside dormitory dreams
praying to the new angel
which still my angel remains
like a shadow floating over me
aroused by the sound of weaponry
my angel and I shall abolish the deity
… and I no longer want to wait
until God’s infinite scrotum
finally goes up in flames
exterminating angel
The sound created from a past dominated by mythology (deities) evokes the pile of rubble
that the angel of history sees. Also, these children hope for redemption, but that is only
possible by extermination, the purification by fire of that powerful and divine totality. Children,
young and gay, occupy places of destruction creating new possibilities and different ways, as
the destroyer.
The decay and processing death is evident in the allegory of the album Halber Mensch, an
oppressed person who should enter into decomposition: an half-man opposed to the Nazi
appropriation of Nietzsche's "Uber Mensch", whose physical ruin accompanies this desire for
a twilight of gods and witnesses the humanistic crisis and decadence ("they’ll finish you off/ a
sight fit for the gods/ the reaper sends kind regards,/ sickle be not!/De-compose"). In the
eighth thesis on the Philosophy of History, Walter Benjamin warns of the importance of a state
of emergency as a form of resistance and criticism:
The tradition of the oppressed teaches us that the "state of emergency" in which we live is
not the exception but the rule. We must attain to a conception of history that is in keeping
with this insight. Then we shall clearly realize that it is our task to bring about a real state of
emergency, and this will improve our position in the struggle against Fascism. (Benjamin, 2007,
p. 257).
The material and bodily ruin, that of the impending catastrophe that crosses Halber Mensch
with references to diseases, infections and death, but also the dissonance of sounds of
instruments and voice, express that urgent emergency. A state of destruction on which
reconstruction is possible, as in "ZNS" (Zentralnervensystem), the collapse of the central
nervous system ("Say goodbye to the nervous system!"), followed in the order on the album,
by the destruction of the soul in "Seele brennt" ("Soul Burning"):
every day costs me wounds
though I’m now already
wrecked and festooned with blood
(...) I will be dead within two years
consuming these amounts
all idols have to die (laughter)
…my soul is burning
I go and hide, sit in my hole
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These are sonic, material and lyric symptoms of an urgency for material transformation and
harmony corruption. Such internal and external contructions and destructions of their music
demolish fixed structures and conventions, making room for new possibilities.
The concept of ruin, as presented by Benjamin (Benjamin, 1984), relates the material
condition of the object of destruction with its own dynamics and aesthetic value. Ruin is
presented as a process of corruption of the mythic power of the symbol. The ruin allows for
an approximation to the historical truth through painful dynamics of reduction, and of a
dialectics of present and past time. The ruin is the corrosion of romantic universality and
operates by ways of the mutation of the object into fragment, which subverts the unity of the
structure.
In Einstürzende Neubauten it is possible to recognize such disharmony and complex
relationship between the subject and the different historical temporalities that relate in the
time of a dystopian utopia - the now time of the fragmaent and the ruin:
On this disc [Musterhaus 5, 2006] we have compiled some of these recordings, some in their
original form: “Décomposition d'un Placard” is the memorable event of N.U. taking a
wardrobe apart in his Paris hotel room in order to support his mattress; the “Eisengrau AllStars” was recorded in one day in my shop in Berlin, with whoever came and went.
[…]“Diverse Lokationen”consists of recording expeditions (Watertower, street objects / inner
city railway guerrilla performance / bathtub and so on…) EN did between 1980 and 1983,
mixed with other recordings from the EN archive [...]. Around 1984, cassette based answering
machines became available in Germany and were greeted happily by some of us, the detritus
of those cassettes can be heard here as well. (Bargeld, http://neubauten.org/musterhaus-5)
This paradoxical temporality combines a redemptive impulse with the melancholy evident
in the appearance of the material thing – the ruin – and its ability to enchant without
fascination. It is a relationship of this order that the group develops with the objects with
which they work; with the spaces they occupy; and with the historical evidences on which
they rely: as the sampling of children's voices, riots, the quotations, to the invocation of places:
"Steh auf Berlin" ("Rise Up Berlin"), from the first album, and one of the most disturbing
songs of their discography, begins with the sound of the drilling of a wall, a direct inclusion
of space in music composition, which moreover happens at different times of their work. Thus
Eintürzende Neubauten never presents a tragedy but intrinsically and visually dialectic
apocalypses in their processes of construction and destruction. As destructive characters they
relate directly to the notion of space and complex time in engagement with the material on
which are inscribed the dynamic actions. They perform constructive destructions - it is not the
quest for meaning but an experience of something that depends on the encounter with the
substance. Their performances are always an interruption and mediation of paradoxes
(destruction, construction, silence, noise, convention, subversion,...) which leaves no place for
harmonious buildings, but establishes itself as working on ruins.
It can be argued that this unfinished process resembles the negative dialectical thought as
presented by Theodor Adorno, on the basis of which resides a critique to ideology through
the exercise of negative dialectics.
Negativity and new - Theodor Adorno
For Adorno, identity is the first form of ideology, since the identity thinking subdues the entity
to prior, fixed and dominant conceptualizations. In this sense, the non-identical dialectical
thinking is revealed as the possibility of exceeding the norms of identity. However, Adorno
5.3. Materialities of the new: processes of destruction and construction in the work of
Einstürzende Neubauten
355
rejects any binary thinking, he does not propose the opposition of non-identical and identity.
Moreover, Adorno does not reject one over the other, which would imply an amputation of
the non totalitarian complex reality that he wants to highlight. To ostracize the identity of nonidentical thinking itself, would mean a surrendering to a new ideology. Being such negativity
constituted by processes and never by binomials, the focus is on the building mechanisms that
invoke a precedence of the material object for the reflection, rescuing materiality in the
development of critical exercise. This rescue is not totalitarian, as has been observed, and can
only be negative, that is a construction designed as destruction:
Its logic is one of disintegration. [...] From philosophy we can obtain nothing positive that
would be identical with its construction. In the process of demythologization, positivity must
be denied all the way down to the reason that is the instrument of demythologization. The
idea of reconcilement forbids the positive positing of reconcilement as a concept. (Adorno,
1990, p. 145.)
[...] the nonidentical would be the thing’s own identity against its identifications. (Adorno,
1990, p. 161.)
What is valued in this ontological rebellion against false identity is the experience that goes
beyond objectification and subjectivity, surpassing it through negative dialectics. This
methodology allows an approach to the subject which subverts the conceptual and a priori
constraints imposed by society, as well as it conveys an attention to the transience to which
the entities are subjected, evident in the historical process. That is, negative dialectics promotes
the experience of the difference.
In Einstürzende Neubauten's work the presentation of non-identical and negativity has its
most obvious representationt in songs like "NegativNein" ("NegativNo"), a cry of negativity
and disintegration in contradiction.
Negative No!
life is not colourful amassed we go to ruin [...] what matters:
Negative No!
Negative No!
with a scream it goes to ruin
The contradiction "negative no" is presented in the musical composition with the
integration of liquid and repetitive sounds, like a mantra in contrast to the brutality of noise
of the objects and the voice. But also in "Kein Bestandteil Sein" ("To Be No Part of It") in
which the black and whispery voice accompanies a continuous melodic dissonance interrupted
by guitar and metallic percussion. This song puts in action the tensions of a building in which
deconstruction exposes itself over the non-identical and negative thinking. Non submission to
categorizations and overtaking binomials is mandatory:
Want to be no part of it
no part of it
not of that which was, it was nothing
not of that which soon is coming
not of none of that
not of that which is, by all means no, not of that
[...]
no particle in the net
no dust...
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
The complexity of the fragmentary and changeable identity of their compositions is
presented by the cacophony, the rhythm changes and the inclusion of non-musical objects.
Just as in live performances, in which the stage looks like a workshop in which materials
dialectically play with their conceptual and material identities (a drill pierces; a microphone
amplifies sound, a guitar is played, a hammer hammers) and their non-identity (by carrying
out those socially established actions while making music they produce the difference).
Always with the recent past of Nazism on the horizon of memory, Adorno claims the
presence of suffering in dialectical thinking, laying bare the dangers of integration and pure
identity – the historical and social harmony that prevents the historical approach against the
grain defended by Benjamin:
Perennial suffering has as much right to expression as a tortured man has to scream (Adorno,
1990, pp. 362-63.)
The physical moment tells our knowledge that suffering ought not to be, that things should
be different “Woe speaks: ‘Go.’” Hence the convergence of specific materialism with criticism,
with social change in practice. (Adorno, 1990, p. 203)
The relationship that Einstürzende Neubauten develop with the historical and sonic
materiality embodies that suffering, that updates and transforms the object itself as a form of
resistance to totalitarian conformism. The call to "Schmerzen Hören" ("Listen with Pain") of
Kollaps is an example of the exercise of a physical perception of the difficulty of living, in which
the only possibility is suffering and artistic dissonance. That is the unpleasantness of the
materiality of sound that communicates with the body and senses of the listener. It is the
physical confrontation, not opposed to a mental confrontation but that implies it, which allows
an inscription in a social conscience and criticism.
Thus, the defense of autonomous art proposed by Adorno is not a call for an overall "art
for art's sake", but a negative autonomy – it rejects what it integrates. These are always
relations of negation, of rejection and of fragmentary rupture. So that the social character of
art is to be the antithesis of social art:
The identity of the artwork with existing reality is also that of the work's gravitational force,
which gathers around itself, its membra disjecta, traces of the existing. The artwork is related
to the world by the principle that contrasts it with the world. (Adorno, 2002, p. 7)
This darkness must be interpreted, not replaced by the clarity of meaning. (Adorno, 2002, p.
27)
Art constitutes itself as a dark art, which deals with the opacity and the repressed, and
which has its more creative action in the performance of implosion than in that of the
explosion, as in the case of Einsturzende Neubauten's work. For the band, as for Adorno, art
recreates the destruction, it is not a reference as a form of protest, but destruction is embodied
as an artistic agency. The annihilation of the real is the assertion of an anti-art, a non-identical,
critical and negative form of art:
If i could find that one sentence, we could bring the energy point to a stage high enough to
bring it to a state of KOLLAPS, a final implosion to create black holes. That is my SEHNSUCHT,
my longing. That´s the TANZ DEBIL [Disability Dance] in me." (Bargeld, neubauten.org/kollaps)
By abstraction and autonomy, the artwork becomes constructive, mediating the historicaltemporal relations, with a "now time ". It is in this clashing temporality that the possibility of
5.3. Materialities of the new: processes of destruction and construction in the work of
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the "new" takes form. But the condition of the "new" is to not survive in time: its constitution
can only be incomplete, an always changing fragment, as the embodiment of a desire in
process without a final form. As in the words of Adorno, "[t]he new is the longing for the
new, not the new itself." (Adorno, 2002, p. 32) – the new in its condition of ruin.
The avant-garde art is thus condemned to a performance of a radical desire for the new.
An art which addresses for the future can only truly be a self-destructing anti-art, which creates
self-implosion. In their eagerness to make a difference, to create music as anti-music and with
a critical relation with the historical space, Einstürzende Neubauten is assumed to produce an
art of desire. "Sehnsucht" ("Desire", "Longing") is their only possibility:
Sehnsucht" ("Desire“/"Longing")
Desire
desire
comes out of chaos
desire
desire
is the only energy
This energy is never settled, it is a desire that allows the transmutations of path that the
band has built on its repulsion and absolute denial of conventions. As a kind of ritual which
they follow and deny at the same time, accentuating the non-identitcal and the urgency of
the dark art. With the awareness of the risk that their work can be commodified, Einstürzende
Neubauten condemn themselves to an continuous destruction of false consciousness or false
aesthetic content: a dystopian utopia that is embodied in the act of composition and
decomposition. The avant-garde experience, in this sense, is that of the performance of
erasure and innovation as collapse. Because the collapse is the image of a rupture with
historical, cultural and artistic models, critically integrating them on their heterogeneous
materiality, which is the ruin and the fragment. Never constituted as a totality, the new only
survives as an incomplete process of melancholic desire, that "cryptogram of the new as the
image of collapse", in the words of Adorno. Einstürzende Neubauten establish a dialogue
between autonomous and negative art and socially committed and technically reproducible
art exposed by Benjamin. Thus, Einstürzende Neubauten show the importance of avant-garde
experience in its ontological, epistemological and historical diversity, enriched by the updated
readings of Benjamin and Adorno.
Funding: This work was supported by the FCT - Fundação Para a Ciência e Tecnologia (Foundation
for Science and Techonology) under the PhD Studentship (PD/BD/52251/2013) and developed
under the PhD Program in Advanced Studies in the Materialities of Literature, University of Coimbra.
References
Adorno, T. (1990). Negative Dialectics. Tr. E.B. Ashton. Londres: Routledge.
Adorno, T. (2002). AestheticTheory. Eds Gretel Adorno e Rolf Tiedemann. Tr. Robert Hullot-Kentor.
London and New York: Continuum.
Bargeld, B. (2013). “Einstürzende Neubauten’s Blixa Bargeld: ‘We Are NOT Rammstein!’” [Interview].
FasterLouder. Retrieved from: http://www.fasterlouder.com.au/features/34566/EinstrzendeNeubautens-Blixa-Bargeld-We-are-NOT-Rammstein.
358
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Benjamin, W. (1996). Walter Benjamin: Selected Writings, Volume 1: 1913-1926. Eds Marcus Bullock e
Michael W. Jennings. Belknap Press of Harvard University Press.
Benjamin, W. (2006). “A Obra de Arte na Época da sua Possibilidade de Reprodução Técnica”. In João
Barrento (ed. and tr.), A Modernidade (pp. 207-41). Lisboa: Assírio & Alvim.
Benjamin, W. (2007). Illuminations. Ed. Hannah Arendt. Tr. Leon Wieseltier. New York: Schocken Books.
Benjamin, W. (2011). “The Destructive Character”, Revista PUNKTO. Retrieved
http://www.revistapunkto.com/2011/12/destructive-character-walter-benjamin.html.
from:
Calinescu, M. (1999). As Cinco Faces da Modernidade. Lisboa: Vega.
Ferris, D. (2008), The Cambridge Introduction to Walter Benjamin. Leiden: Cambridge University Press.
Maeck, K., Johanna S. (2005). Einsturzende Neubauten: Liebeslieder. K7. Retrieved from:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MU8r_CCxRVE&list=PL585E598ACB62A626.
Tingen, P. (2004). "Einstürzende Neubauten Alexander Hacke: Recording Phase 1 & Perpetuum Mobile",
Sound
on
Sound.
Retrieved
from:
http://www.soundonsound.com/sos/nov04/articles/einsturzende.htm.
5.4. Isolation: towards the politics of new music:
reflections on the momentum of new music in
Portuguese cultural policy
Gil Fesch 1
Abstract
The increasing gap between musicians and publics has, in the last decades, been raising questions
about the artistic significance of contemporary high art music. Recent literature points out the
necessity of enriching the debate with particular cases, in order to build up guidelines and
recommendations for future educational and state policies. The present work aims at contributing
to a better understanding of current trends in cultural policies, with special focus on those
concerning music. We shall start by twigging recent transformations in Portugal, as means of
grasping inner specificities, but also common grounds. The overarching goal, then, is to reflect on
the momentum of new music within the context of Portuguese cultural policy, starting from a
general portrayal of public support to musical creation. Such an analysis, due to obvious formal
limitations, can only come as a partial contribution, yet we seek to cater an early base for
forthcoming discussions.
Keywords: new music contemporary cultural policy.
Introduction
Cultural policy, though a recent area of public policy-making in Western European states,
suffered significant transformations in the last decades. Conceived in the post-war context,
most cultural policy programs, in their genesis, reified the opposition between legitimate and
non-legitimate art forms, most generally consisting of a tripartite core of action, including
"historical heritage, support of professional artists, and traditional cultural institutions"
(Dubois, 2014: 5). Public debates later came to question hierarchical conceptions of art and
culture, claiming for the promotion of diversity in contemporary public policies. Thus being,
cultural policy regimes progressively started to encompass a wide array of activities in which
youth and local cultures — among others — play a major role, intertwining art and
entertainment, as creative industries take the lead (Silva et al., 2012). Underlying such changes
are different notions of culture itself, with concrete implications. As a widespread tendency,
Donnat (2003) mentions a move towards non-cultural purposes in cultural policies from 1980
onwards, namely social integration and economic development. Public expenditure on culture,
therefore, becomes all the more defined according to economic rather than aesthetic
rationales, i.e. cultural institutions are envisioned qua investments with economic impacts. Far
from meaning the end of legitimist approaches, such shift points to a growing complexity in
contemporary policy practices, in which contradictory logics and objectives coexist (Gomes &
1
Institute of Sociology - University of Porto, Portugal.
360
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Lourenço, 2009). In times of severe financial crisis, it is with no surprise that the public funding
of elite culture manifestations — especially contemporary high art music and experimental
music — ends up facing critiques for hardly meeting the demands of general audiences
2
(Dubois, 2011).
An outlook of Portuguese cultural policy
The Portuguese case matches, in general terms, the evolution of Western European cultural
policy, though a handful of idiosyncrasies can be found. Culture was, at a faster or slower
pace, the driving force of complex structural changes in the Portuguese society — most of
these transformations happening with a lag of decades, yet in a flaming manner. The strict
notion of culture that underlay the trilogy of early cultural policy goals — decentralization,
democratization and education for art (Anico, 2009) — later gave place to a wider
understanding, as alternative forms were legitimized, but also crossover manifestations
(Gomes & Lourenço, 2009). New modes of appropriation and cultural participation came into
being, "associated to the processes of schooling, tertiarisation, urbanisation and reduction of
inequalities between men and women" (Silva et al., 2012: 14), resulting in a broader,
heterogeneous demand for culture. Portuguese cultural policy, thus, developed around a
complex pattern of action, in which national and local strategies intertwine, i.e. a process of
decentralization of cultural institutions and a concomitant concentration of power.
Since the establishment of democracy in Portugal, cultural policy-making embraced the
3
Malrucian project (Dubois, 2011). Despite slight differences in the way it was regarded,
democratization was a crosscutting goal in the numerous government programs. Be they left
or right-winged, Portuguese political parties seem to consider culture to be an essential area
of public policies. One need not say, however, that inherent strategies, priorities and scopes
of action tend to follow social and economic backdrops, but facts point to a general consensus
as to the importance of cultural policy. All things considered, this may have to do with fund
allocations to culture — usually below 1% of the overall budget — being insufficient, leaving
few space for ambitious policy-making (Gomes & Lourenço, 2009). The accent on cultural
infrastructures was particularly evident in the late 1980s, coinciding with the country's
adherence to the European Economic Community and consequent access to designated
funding opportunities. Together with the activity of the municipalities, this boosted territorial
spreading of public cultural facilities in Portugal (Silva et al., 2012).
From the mid-1990s onwards, though, there was a clear shift. After the Ministry of Culture
4
was created, public strategies towards cultural matters started taking advantage of massive
events and celebrations — e.g. Expo'98 and the European Capitals of Culture (Lisbon, in 1994,
and Porto, 2001) —, side by side with the professionalization of private and independent
2
Such classifications, to a certain extent, perpetuate hierarchical distinctions that we seek to overcome.
For the remainder of the present work, we shall adhere to the term new music.
3
For the purposes of the present analysis, we shall overlook what could be regarded as the first public
strategies concerning culture, dating from the decades of fascism. It might be important simply to notice
that culture responded to the regime's ideological interests.
4
Manuel Maria Carrilho (member of the Socialist Party) served as Minister of Culture, during the XIII
Constitutional Government (1995-1999).
5.4. Isolation: towards the politics of new music: reflections on the momentum of new
music in Portuguese cultural policy
361
5
spheres of culture. This meant, for the first time, looking at culture in terms of its economic
revenue and transferring symbolic rationales to the economic field. In other words, culture and
creativity became central to economic growth and international reputation (Santos, 2003).
Due differences aside, there is an obvious parallelism with Lang's médiatico-spectaculaire
agenda (Donnat, 2003: 8). To sum it up, the first stage of Portuguese cultural policy had to
do with the democratization of supply, via territorial distribution of cultural infrastructures,
support to itinerancy, as well as popular culture, amateurship and cultural advertisement in
the media. Later, democratization strategies meant acting on the realm of demand, through
education programs — among others —, as means of widening cultural participation to lower
6
social strata (Gomes & Lourenço, 2009). This does not mean, again, that early strategies were
discontinued, but rather complemented by somehow more inclusive policy programs, in which
culture was assessed in its multiple dimensions. Notwithstanding, there is still a considerable
gap between the goals mentioned in the various government programs and tangible policymaking. In fact, the very reiteration of such priorities suggests an endless postponing of
effective solutions. Despite obvious transformations, the widening of (informed) cultural
fruition is, for the time being, still far from accomplished (Gomes & Lourenço, 2009).
The role of municipalities
Until now, we have stressed the (delayed) correspondence between the Portuguese case and
other Western European cultural policy regimes, more specifically those concerning France.
We could not, however, go without mentioning its distinctive features as well — the
unambiguous importance of local action, namely the role of municipalities. Since the
adherence to the (now-called) European Union, culture became a nuclear concern for local
decision-makers, leading to a close articulation and interdependency between national and
local policy levels (Silva, 2007). Far from being an exclusive feature, authors (e.g. Dubois, 2014)
refer to such functional differentiation as a widespread tendency, yet this seems to be
particularly conspicuous in the Portuguese case, partially due to the "excessive dispersion that
characterises the administrative organisation of Portugal" (Silva et al., 2012: 6). With no
regional level of organization, state institutions tend to focus on the aesthetic concerns of elite
cultural forms, whereas local authorities intervene within the domain of popular
manifestations. If one thing becomes clear, it is the impossibility of analyzing Portuguese
cultural policy without assessing the structures of the local political system.
Likewise the national level, facts point to an overall consensus in terms of local cultural
policy. Though minor divergences in political discourse can be found, local action does not
seem to vary considerably. If right-winged municipalities tend to stress the importance of
culture as local identity marker, and left-winged ones more likely highlight cultural diversity
and the need for infrastructures, that does not end up overruling the relative homogeneity in
local strategies (Silva et al., 2012; Gomes & Lourenço, 2009).
Local political players, it follows, seem to focus on short-term policy-making, often by
complying with the logics of the electoral competition, i.e. a need to advertise the deeds of
5
Lima dos Santos (2007) mentions the strong transformations at work in the cultural field, from 1991
to 2001, though still far from EU standards. Employment in the cultural sector, for instance, increased
34% and featured the highest education rate, in national terms.
6
Implying some degree of articulation between the Ministries of Culture and Education (Lima dos Santos,
2007).
362
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
municipalities, namely those concerning infrastructures, as means of earning public
recognition and political trust. Long-term action and bottom-up strategies — via collaboration
with, and endowment of, local institutions and relevant cultural agents —, thus, find little
space at the local level of cultural policy (Silva et al., 2012).
Although there are numerous cases of innovative approaches to local policy-making —
appealing to younger, more educated audiences, taking advantage of creative industries, and
eager to explore complicitous, but also scathing relationships between cultural spheres —, the
administrative structure of Portugal, along with the economic frailty that characterizes most
of the municipalities, seems to be "hampering the activity of a critical mass to implement
cultural policies that extend beyond the small world of each local environment, and of the
rules of legitimacy and political competition within these environments" (Silva et al., 2012: 6).
Often serving as mere recipients of national decision-making, local authorities,
nevertheless, play a decisive role in the context of Portuguese cultural policy. Far from
contradictory, these two levels intertwine and complement one another, so as to enhance
political action — the municipalities intervening in areas of activity where the state fails to
provide for (Silva et al., 2012).
In a context of "weakening of public policies and improvement of markets,
entrepreneurship and civil society" (Silva et al., 2012: 15), the changes in cultural policymaking become all the more significant. As the creative-economy reasoning — reified in
concepts such as 'creativity' and 'innovation' — colonizes the political status quo in the EU
context, small and medium-sized countries, Portugal included, struggle to reconcile economic
competitiveness and cultural participation, in the quest for a full citizenship (Lima dos Santos,
2007). If the welfare state initially held sway over elite cultural forms, namely the
aforementioned trilogy of early goals, governance issues now force states to readjust public
strategies towards culture. The critical point, however, is the extent to which these
transformations mirror "defence strategies", by fitting to new realities, or simply veil liberal
rhetoric for the "denial or decrease" of its role (Silva et al., 2012).
The political context
In a context of severe financial crisis, such as ours, cultural policy inevitably comes under the
spotlight. Due to present constraints, but also because of neoliberal tendencies, a shift in
cultural policy-making seems to be at work. The ever-present impetus of democratization that
guided recent developments became now a clear sign of governmental backdown, making
European cultural policy regimes come closer to the U.S. model — of partnership between
state cultural institutions and the private sector. Though far from meaning the eclipse of
European cultural policies, these are strong changes that can only be analyzed within the
overall context of redefinition of the welfare state (Dubois, 2014).
For this reason, it is vital to look at current instruments of support to artistic creation,
production and promotion. As austerity measures became the standard response to the
European crisis, it is decisive to trace ensuing impacts on the funding of cultural activities, by
thoroughly examining the extent to which such imposition of economic rationales affected
public investment in art and culture. Did government withdrawal lead to a closer articulation
with private institutions? What kind of transformations in terms of politico-aesthetic programs
came into being? And did recent transformations produce changes in the nature of
cooperation strategies between the state and local authorities?
5.4. Isolation: towards the politics of new music: reflections on the momentum of new
music in Portuguese cultural policy
363
In order to grasp the current state of affairs, our choice was to analyze a chief instrument
of support to art and culture — Apoio às Artes, managed by the Direção-Geral das Artes —
7
and, so, draw conclusions on decision-making processes at the national level. Accordingly, a
time frame ranging from 2009 until present days was defined, thus making use of the
considerable amount of data at hand. But, most importantly, the choice had to do with two
relevant aspects, one being the time period of the last state legislatures, encompassing the
political action of both Portuguese governments involved in the EU/IMF financial assistance
program, as well as the entry into force of the decree-law 196/2008 and subsequent changes
in regulatory framework of the supports granted by the Ministry of Culture.
But let us start by looking at both government programs. Though recognizing the
limitations of a simple reading of these documents, they nevertheless serve as an interpretive
guide by giving valuable hints on the patterns of political action. These two do exactly so. The
8
political guidelines of the XVIII Constitutional Government, for instance, mention three
overarching goals, in terms of cultural policy: 1) reinforcing the operational budget for culture;
2) promoting the articulation of state institutions relevant to cultural matters; and 3)
diversifying cultural participation, by supporting creation and education for art, as means of
valuing the contribution of contemporary artistic creation to the country's development.
Here, we find traces of a cultural policy-making akin to late cultural policy regimes, i.e.
combining classic protection of 'spiritual assets' with support to creative and culture industries.
On one side, there is an obvious will to build education programs for to sensitize young
audiences to culture, together with a focus on the professionalization of the artistic field, by
reviewing legal frameworks and recognizing the need to protect certain areas from the logic
of the markets. On the other, we can also find a clear-cut purpose of promoting the
internationalization of Portuguese culture, rethinking copyright laws, and a strategy of close
articulation between national and local levels of action.
If, as mentioned above, culture seemed to be one of the main priorities, featuring as the
second area of political action, among eight in the government program, the case appears to
be different in the present legislature. Although some goals are shared, the current
government program reveals a sharp turn in the way culture was regarded. To start with, the
Ministry of Culture was transformed into a Secretary of State, decisively reducing its scope of
action — expressed in the will to reorganize and simplify its structure in the name of public
interest. By itself, such symbolic shrinkage would be meaningful, but, again, let us look at the
political guidelines.
Culture, then, shows up in the last pages of the government program. Among the strategic
goals mentioned, there is a clear inclination towards the reassessment of the state's role in
cultural life — the 'freeing' of artistic creation, given that the state is not a producer of culture.
9
The will to support digital business platforms, the strengthening of copyright laws, a focus on
the sustainability and economic value of creative industries, among others, stand out from the
political program. For instance, public support to cinema, it is stated, should take into account
box-office figures of applicants, as means of promoting communication with the audiences.
7
Here forth referred to as DGA.
Gabriela Canavilhas served as Minister of Culture during the XVIII Constitutional Government of
Portugal (2009-2011).
9
For instance, by suggesting the need to increase the number of courts dedicated to intellectual property.
8
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Even when education for art is mentioned, it implies collaboration between public and private
institutions.
The combination of cultural and non-cultural purposes in public policies during the two
years of the previous government was, thus, replaced by a strategy more clearly based on the
latter ones. Subjacent to it was the belief that state intervention in culture should be reduced
to a minimum, emphasizing its role as lever of development, employment and quality of life
— leading to the country's international prestige. So understood, cultural policy-making takes
a decisive step in the process of redefinition of the welfare state, changing from "intrinsic" (at
least partially) to "instrumental" (Orr, 2008 apud Dubois, 2014: 14).
10
Thus being, the decree-law 196/2008 and the ordinance 58/2012 refer to each of these
moments and point to the different political strategies. The former, in general terms, consisted
of a regulatory framework of public support to artistic creation, production and promotion,
but also of the strategies concerning networks of cultural infrastructures. The goal was to
capitalize recent improvements in infrastructures and, so, promote cultural decentralization,
via regular programming with emphasis on education and artistic residencies. For to do so,
new policy instruments were defined, namely the tripartite agreements — aiming at a close
articulation between the Ministry of Culture, the municipalities and cultural institutions — but
also protocols between the Ministry and the private sector.
The latter, in its turn, and in accordance with the government program, emphasized
innovation, entrepreneurship and the internationalization of Portuguese economy, as means
of widening artistic markets. So being, a new form of public support was created, specifically
directed at the internationalization of Portuguese artists and cultural institutions.
11
This is how the big picture can be described, as a brief look at DGA's website will readily
confirm. Its main program of support to art and culture, thus, seeks to promote cultural
activities that project creativity and artistic innovation, both at the national and international
levels, while developing sensibility and critical thinking among the population — i.e.
highlighting social cohesion and economic development as the utmost objectives.
General remarks on the support to art and culture
With this political background in mind, it is time to take a first glance at the data. Contrary to
the previous government program, namely the goal of reinforcing national endowment for
culture, DGA's funding decreased significantly. Starting from 2009, a clear reduction in the
total amount of support to the arts can be identified — especially until 2012 —, though, as a
general tendency, the number of subsidies increased (table 1). Given the economic backdrop,
this seems to point to a strategy of attributing smaller payments and, so, being able to support
a wider number of institutions or artists, possibly as means of encouraging collaboration with
the private sector in the funding of cultural activities.
10
11
Combined with the ordinance 1189-A/2010.
DGA (http//www.dgartes.pt) - visited on June 15th, 2014.
5.4. Isolation: towards the politics of new music: reflections on the momentum of new
music in Portuguese cultural policy
365
Year
Amount
Subsidies
2009
20.793.978,59 €
210
2010
20.702.716,24 €
235
2011
16.646.569,80 €
251
2012
11.774.808,64 €
202
2013
14.516.375,69 €
249 (3)
2014
11.336.670,92 €
145
13
12
Table 1 - Total amount of support and number of subsidies per year
Source: DGA.
From 2013 onwards, however, there is a somewhat paradoxical budget increase, all the
more if we bear in mind the political guidelines of the XIX Constitutional Government, and its
clear focus on austerity measures. In fact, and even if we consider the new emphasis on the
funding of internationalization processes, the results of 2012 show a substantial decrease. All
things considered, this may have to do — we dare to speculate — with a channeling of
structural supports to the realm of DGA, as we will have chance to analyze later on.
By looking at the figures of DGA's endowment per region, the image of a highly
unbalanced country, in cultural terms, springs up (table 2). In some cases, the region of Lisbon
and Tagus Valley, by itself, gets — it should be emphasized — roughly the same amount of
support as all the other regions together. Though recognizing the functional differentiation
between the state and local authorities, and the known role of the latters in attenuating
concentration of cultural activities, it becomes clear that few steps were taken in the process
of decentralization that accompanied cultural policy-making since its early stages.
By the same token, the support distribution per artistic area shows accentuated differences,
a situation that does not seem to vary significantly along the years (table 3). Among the areas
endorsed the most, theater stands out — by far with the biggest percentage —, as well as
cross-disciplinary cultural activities, music and dance — with more or less equivalent amounts.
On the opposite side, we find plastic arts and photography — significantly less supported —,
but also architecture, design and digital arts — these last three not always showing up in
DGA's data.
Once this brief outline of the artistic areas covered by DGA's support to art and culture
was done, we are now in conditions to proceed to a more detailed approach of the data
concerning music.
12
In 2013, DGA anticipated 3 payments of pluri-annual agreements — a total amount of 32.746,08 €.
The amount showed here does not include ongoing application processes. According to DGA, the
total amount of supports granted in 2014 will come close to 15.025 million euros.
13
366
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Region
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
Lisbon & T.V.
10.355.960
10.380.805
8.595.154
5.967.729
6.033.400
5.330.790
North
4.230.292
4.135.774
3.381.365
2.135.230
3.848.662
3.151.708
Center
3.552.975
3.511.635
2.654.603
1.742.435
2.279.757
1.684.084
Alentejo
2.073.290
2.090.958
1.522.533
1.027.926
826.782
834.978
Algarve
581.461
583.544
492.914
313.351
937.785
335.110
International
-
-
-
588.136
589.990
-
Table 2 - Amount of support per region
Source: DGA.
Areas
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
Theater
12.000.437
11.644.166
9.359.830
6.862.758
6.106.188
5.838.513
Cross-disc.
4.035.259
3.931.032
3.116.708
2.315.164
2.968.672
2.654.916
Music
2.191.127
2.466.628
1.896.240
1.254.535
3.188.456*
1.348.218
Dance
2.148.379
2.116.456
1.653.792
1.134.625
1.524.536
1.239.962
Plastic Arts
209.734
42.694
430.144
107.942
334.254
150.693
Photography
145.429
93.757
86.086
36.426
185.161
93.740
Architecture
-
50.000
27.886
23.252
159.109
10.630
Digital Arts
30.000
30.000
15.000
-
50.000
-
Design
33.612
27.984
60.885
40.107
-
-
Table 3 - Amount of support per artistic area
Source: DGA.
The music case
For to make sense of the available data, a typology of musical activities was designed, based
on the assumptions developed along the present paper. It goes without saying, given the lack
of important information, that such a process involves taking considerable risks, making it
more of a speculative exercise. There is no way, for instance, of knowing, according to DGA's
data, the exact purpose of a given support, or, more commonly, certain supports can easily fit
into more than one category. Surely the type of institution/artist subsidized provides hints on
the kind of cultural activity at stake, but the error margin is, nonetheless, significant.
Regardless of such obstacles, the results achieved provide a valid base for forthcoming
discussions.
5.4. Isolation: towards the politics of new music: reflections on the momentum of new
music in Portuguese cultural policy
367
The choice, then, was to go for a typology consisting of seven areas of musical activity: 1)
music conservatories, academies and other education services; 2) cultural associations, support
to popular/traditional music, wind orchestras and amateurship; 3) production of events,
cultural animation and competitions; 4) orchestras, choirs and chamber music groups; 5) jazz,
creative industries and intermediate cultural forms; 6) contemporary and experimental music;
7) libraries and music publishing; and 8) others.
The first results, despite minor incongruences, are consistent with the theoretical
background. On one hand, there is a highly centralized pattern of state action, favoring elite
musical forms, i.e. supporting orchestras, choirs and chamber music groups, as well as
contemporary and experimental music ensembles, with a clear focus on musical education and
training. On the other, we find areas of support that typically fall within the realm of local
authorities, especially the municipalities — such as traditional and amateur music, wind
orchestras and cultural associations, but also the production of events, cultural animation and
intermediate forms —, with considerably less state support (table 4).
Here, too, there is evidence of a strong governmental backdown in late years. If we take
into consideration the period between 2009 and 2012, the decrease in DGA's endowment for
all the areas of musical activity becomes plain. In 2013, however, there was a surprising
increase in support to orchestras, choirs and chamber music groups (table 4). Given the
political guidelines of the current government, this can only be seen as a somewhat
paradoxical situation. By analyzing the data, though, it becomes clear that such an increase
had to do with three abnormal payments to the regional orchestras,
14
implying a possible
change in strategy. One can only speculate that this may be due to a channeling of structural
funds for regional orchestras — typically managed by other state institutions — to DGA's
scope of action, meaning that no actual increase in public funding came into being. This is
consistent with 2014's data, in which public endowment for regional orchestras was, then,
separated from the list of supports to music.
Likewise, if we look at the average amount of support, namely the time frame ranging
from 2009 until 2012, a strong decrease in nearly every area of musical activity can be
confirmed, as the average value went down roughly 30 %. From then on, there was an
obvious shift in DGA's strategy of support to art and culture — though recognizing the
incompleteness of the data concerning 2014 (table 5). Due to our formal limitations, we
cannot go as far as to dissect this apparent budget increase, but it should be signaled that
further work on the subject is of the utmost pertinence.
14
Associação Norte Cultural, 411.873,42 €; Associação Musical das Beiras, 498.570,96 €; Associação
Musical do Algarve, 562.674,58 €.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Music. Activity
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
Conserv/Acad/Educ
607.702
539.527
440.333
334.386
301.193
296.764
Assoc/Trad/Amateur
215.333
255.336
175.308
89.660
351.002
208.703
Events/Anim/Compet
175.000
207.338
178.426
72.446
215.538
182.308
Orch/Choir/Chamber
498.136
662.107
419.213
291.798
1.888.872*
343.469
Jazz/Intermediate Forms
159.165
189.092
185.148
106.066
152.668
100.861
Contemp/Experiment
444.109
501.911
442.248
309.808
209.285
167.602
Libraries/Publishing
37.102
15.787
12.484
10.052
10.576
10.576
Others
54.580
95.530
43.081
40.318
59.320
37.926
Table 4 - Amount of support per musical activity
Source: DGA.
Music. Activity
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
Conserv/Acad/Educ
50.642
49.048
33.872
30.399
27.381
37.095
Assoc/Trad/Amateur
30.762
25.534
19.479
14.943
31.909
69.568
Events/Anim/Compet
35.000
29.620
29.738
36.223
43.108
60.769
Orch/Chamber/Choir
55.348
82.763
41.921
41.686
125.925
68.694
Jazz/Intermediate Forms
39.791
37.818
37.030
35.355
38.167
50.431
Contemp/Experiment
74.018
83.652
55.281
61.962
41.857
55.867
Libraries/Publishing
18.551
15.787
12.484
10.052
10.576
10.576
Others
27.290
23.883
21.541
13.439
19.773
37.926
Overall
46.620
46.541
35.116
33.014
57.972
51.855
Table 5 - Average amount of support per musical activity
Source: DGA.
The momentum of new music
Given our starting point, we could not help but feel struck by the percentage of support
granted by DGA to contemporary and experimental music. Contrary to our early expectations,
available data points to a significant support, in comparative terms, and a steady featuring
among the top three areas of musical activity with the largest endowments — again, if we
dismiss the last two years (table 6).
Regardless of the decrease in public expenditure on culture, the percentage of support
given to new music grew consistently in the first four years — ranging from 20.27 %, in 2009,
and 24.70 % of the total amount of support to music, in 2012. In fact, new music was the
area of musical activity to receive the largest overall endowment, in 2011, surpassing both
support to education and high art music-making (table 6).
5.4. Isolation: towards the politics of new music: reflections on the momentum of new
music in Portuguese cultural policy
369
From 2013 onwards, however, the more or less stable pattern of support changes, mostly
due to the said payments to regional orchestras, as public endowment to orchestras, choirs
and chamber music groups raised up to nearly 60 % of DGA's budget for music. Still, and
even considering the ongoing application process, it becomes clear that the majority of areas
kept an equivalent percentage of support — if we compare 2012 with 2014 —, whereas new
music gets reduced to half the percentage (table 6).
Although an early analysis may lead to the idea that contemporary music is significantly
supported, such numbers should be deconstructed and rather taken as a sign of its precarious,
unstable situation. Contrary to other areas of musical activity, new music, lacks a structure of
state-controlled cultural institutions — the indispensable base for every cultural activity, with
15
DGA, then, working as the main instrument of support.
But let us now turn to the territorial distribution of the supports (table 7). The image of a
centralized country is, again, clear-cut. The region of Lisbon and Tagus Valley received, by far,
the biggest number of supports — being the only region with regular support —, followed by
the North of Portugal. Alentejo benefited from three one-time supports, with minimal
endowments, and a two-year support, while the Center region received a mere one-time
support. Algarve received no funding at all during this period (table 7).
Music. Activity
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
Conserv/Acad/Educ
27.73
21.87
23.22
26.65
9.45
22.01
Assoc/Trad/Amateur
9.83
10.35
9.25
7.15
11.01
15.48
Events/Anim/Compet
7.99
8.41
9.41
5.77
6.76
13.52
Orch/Choir/Chamber
22.74
26.84
21.11
23.26
59.24
25.48
Jazz/Intermediate Forms
7.26
7.67
9.76
8.45
4.79
7.48
Contemp/Experiment
20.27
20.35
23.32
24.70
6.56
12.43
Libraries/Publishing
1.69
0.64
0.66
0.80
0.33
0.78
Others
2.49
3.87
2.27
3.23
1.86
2.81
Table 6 - Percentage of support per area musical activity
Source: DGA.
In addition, it should be emphasized that two endowments were attributed to the Northern
region (in 2011 and 2013), though the cultural institutions belong to Lisbon, possibly due to
a support to artistic itinerancy — accentuating the uneven territorial distribution.
Such an unbalanced situation is also clear if we confront the total amount of support per
region of the country (table 8). Regardless of the year, the region of Lisbon and Tagus Valley
received more than all other areas together.
15
Though established in close articulation between the state and the private sector, Casa da Música,
namely the work of the Remix Ensemble, could be seen as an exception to the situation, by assuming an
important role within the national context.
370
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
But more: if we look at the amount of support given to each project, it becomes clear that,
16
in at least 3 years, the cultural institution receiving the largest endowment of all areas of
musical activity was Miso Music Portugal, known for its important work in the field of
contemporary and experimental music — emphasizing the idea that DGA's support, in this
case, might be of structural significance.
Region
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
Lisbon & T.V.
4
4
5
4
2
2
North
1
1
2 (1*)
1
1*
-
Center
-
-
-
-
1
-
Alentejo
1
1
1
-
1
1
Algarve
-
-
-
-
-
-
Table 7 - Number of supports to contemporary and experimental music per region
Source: DGA.
Region
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
Lisbon & T.V.
360.506
419.144
347.126
259.551
143.524
140.492
North
73.603
72.767
75.122
48.257
30.295
-
Center
-
-
-
-
15.000
-
Alentejo
10.000
10.000
20.000
-
20.466
27.109
Algarve
-
-
-
-
-
-
Table 8 - Total amount of support to contemporary and experimental music per region
Source: DGA.
Final considerations
Portuguese cultural policy, ergo, seems to be at a turning point. The relative balance between
cultural and non-cultural purposes in public policy-making decisively shifted towards the
latters, making the Portuguese case come closer to a model of partnership with the private
sector, as shown by recent government programs. In this overall process of readjustment of
the welfare state, the municipalities assumed an important role, leading to a close articulation
and interdependency between national and local policy levels — seeking to overcome the
problems of the administrative organization in Portugal. Though some overlapping can be
identified, state-controlled institutions tend to focus on elite culture, whereas local authorities
more likely intervene for the promotion of traditional and popular cultural forms.
While looking at DGA's support to art and culture, it is possible to find a match with the
pattern of Portuguese cultural policy, as defined at the national level, i.e. functional
16
If we dismiss the support given to the regional orchestras, Miso Music Portugal would be the cultural
institution with the largest endowment of DGA's budget for music in 2013 as well.
5.4. Isolation: towards the politics of new music: reflections on the momentum of new
music in Portuguese cultural policy
371
differentiation and uneven territorial distribution. This is particularly evident in the budget for
music: 1) orchestras, choirs and chamber music groups, 2) contemporary music ensembles,
and 3) musical education, then, seem to be the main areas of support, while favoring primarily
the region of Lisbon and Tagus Valley, followed by the northern area. Given our starting point,
we were somehow surprised by the relative allowance of new music within the context of
DGA's program. Though we could not go as far as to aptly dissect the issue — due to said
formal limitations, but also because of the known insufficiencies in available data —, this
should be taken as a sign of its precarious situation, especially if we compare with public
support to orchestras.
Lastly, it should be emphasized that our aim was never to draw definite conclusions, but
rather to cater an early base for debate and, thus, promote a better understanding of
contemporary cultural policy-making, namely the momentum of new music. So being, the
present paper is no more than a partial contribution, hoping to be scrutinized in the near
future. If we bear in mind the upcoming changes in public strategies towards culture,
17
it
becomes even more pertinent to ensue thorough assessment of the current state of affairs in
Portuguese cultural policy.
Funding: This work was supported by the Portuguese Foundation for Science and Technology,
under Grant SFRH/BD/98258/2013.
References
Anico, M. (2009). Políticas da cultura em Portugal e Espanha. Pasos Revista de Turismo y Patrimonio
Cultural, Vol. 7 (1), 57-71.
Bennett, T. (2011). Culture, choice, necessity: A political critique of Bourdieu's aesthetic. Poetics, Vol.
39, 530-546.
Dubois, V. (2011). Lowbrow culture and French cultural policy: The socio‐political logics of a changing
and paradoxical relationship. International Journal of Cultural Policy, Vol. 17 (4), 394-404. DOI:
10.1080/10286632.2010.549563.
Dubois, V. (2014). Cultural policy in Western Europe. International Encyclopedia of the Social &
Behavioral Sciences. 2nd Edition. Elsevier.
Donnat, O. (2003). La question de la démocratisation dans la politique culturelle française. Modern &
Contemporary France, Vol. 11 (1), 9-20. DOI: 10.1080/0963948032000067418.
Gomes, R. T.; LOURENÇO, V. (2009). Democratização cultural e formação de públicos: Inquérito aos
"serviços educativos" em Portugal. OBS Pesquisas. Lisboa: Observatório das Actividades
Culturais.
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Euroamericano de Cooperação Cultural, Almada.
Santos, H. (2003). A propósito dos públicos culturais: Uma reflexão ilustrada para um caso português.
Revista Crítica de Ciências Sociais, No. 67, 75-97.
Silva, A. S. (2007). Como abordar as políticas culturais autárquicas? Uma hipótese de roteiro. Sociologia,
Problemas e Práticas, No. 54, 11-33.
Silva, A. S.; BABO, E. P.; GUERRA, P. (2012). Cultural policies and local development: The Portuguese
case. VII International Conference on Cultural Policy Research, 9-12 July.
Soares Neves, J. (1998). Despesa pública em música entre 1985 e 1995. OBS. No. 4, 14-18.
17
E.g. Programa Cultura 2020 — promoted by J. Barreto Xavier, current Secretary of State for Culture.
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Retrieved
5.5. “This is it!”: peak music experiences in the
Brisbane indie music scene
Ben Green 1
Abstract
A popular topic among music fans is the phenomenon of peak music experiences: particular
experiences involving music that are especially memorable and even pivotal for the people involved.
These epiphanies with music are sought, remembered and discussed, becoming important in the
ongoing construction of taste and identity. They are therefore useful windows for research into
music scenes. A case study of musicians, organisers and fans in the DIY/'indie' scene of Brisbane,
Australia, finds that peak music experiences are central to their biographical narratives of
inspiration, taste and motivation. They describe moments in which distinct meanings are realised
and felt with an intensity that leaves an imprint, affecting future interactions. The peak music
experience stories of these scene participants reveal that the core values of the Brisbane indie music
scene, and the roles these values play in the construction of identities, are inseparable from the
embodied pleasures of music listening.
Keywords: Brisbane, indie, peak music experiences
Introduction
One of the ways music fans talk about their relationship to music is by telling stories about
specific experiences with music, which stand out from general experience as important.
Certain experiences with music are remembered, for example, as especially representative,
revelatory or influential. I call these “peak music experiences” and they are significant to the
study of music scenes in two ways. Firstly, examining music in terms of specific experiences
allows due consideration of the contextual aspects of musical practice and meaning. In this
sense, peak music experiences are particularly visible instances of the continual production and
reproduction of musical meanings and deeper values from moment to moment within scenes.
Secondly, peak music experiences are by definition considered special, memorable and worth
talking about, all of which are judgments based on cultural values. Indeed, the circulation of
peak music experience stories is one way in which those values are reproduced and negotiated.
Accordingly, peak music experiences offer insight, for research purposes, into the values of a
scene and the means by which the scene endures and develops.
This paper looks at what the lens of peak music experiences can tell us about the indie
music scene in Brisbane, Australia. A case study with participants in the scene finds that they
credit particular experiences as the inspiration and ongoing motivation for their activities
within the scene. Analysis of these peak music experience stories reveals cultural priorities that
are largely consistent with those described in the existing literature about indie music,
1
School of Humanities, Griffith Centre for Cultural Research, Griffith University, Australia.
374
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
including the significance of live music, otherness, continual exploration and intimate
community. However, the peak music experience stories also challenge any view of these
judgments as dispassionate or merely outward signifiers of symbolic capital, “removed from
the innocuous pleasures of listening” (Hibbett, 2005, p. 57). Instead, they remind us of the
central importance of embodied experience, including strong feelings of pleasure, surprise and
communality, to cultural association and practice. In this case at least, the pleasures of listening
are far from innocuous.
Before presenting the case study, I will discuss briefly how its approach fits with existing
work on experience within scenes and indie music.
Scenes, experience and indie music
The study of music scenes has focused increasingly on the lived experience of the people
comprising them, recognising the variety and complexity of influences involved and the
awareness and agency that people have in relation to them. The academic concept of
“scenes” arose in response to the relative inflexibility of subcultures, and was distinguished
from older notions of musical community partly by its capacity for internal variance and change
(Straw, 1991; Bennett, 2004). At around the same time, work like Cohen’s (1991) study of
amateur rock bands in Liverpool introduced ethnography as a complement to the text-based
forms of analysis that had previously dominated popular music studies. The “experience-near”
(Cavicchi, 1998) studies that followed have challenged a number of assumptions about the
interaction between music and everyday life. Music’s meanings and effects are not inherent,
but contingent and contested; likewise, people’s musical tastes and associations are not predetermined but evolve over a lifetime, not without awareness and effort. A scene therefore
comprises a disparate but entwined bundle of individual and collective trajectories. Some
recent work demonstrates the utility of focusing on particular trajectories, such as hardcore
fans learning and earning cultural capital through embodied experience (Driver, 2011) and
ageing music fans consciously revising their scene-oriented practices over time (Tsitsos, 2012;
Bennett, 2013). These stories show vividly how music scenes make and are made by their
members. At this level of detail, some compelling research questions include: why and how
did these people became involved in this scene? What keeps them interested? When, why and
how have they changed? What else has changed as a result?
One way in which people answer such biographical questions, for themselves and for
others including researchers, is by talking about epiphanies: interactional moments and
experiences which leave marks on their lives (Denzin, 1989). Epiphanies allow people to
concretise otherwise abstract aspects of their self-narratives. Peak music experiences can be
seen as epiphanies with music and, as such, they provide opportunities for research into musicoriented sociality. Since epiphanies are always grounded in cultural expectations and
references, they can be a window into such cultural priorities and the processes that reproduce
and develop them. This paper presents a case study that seeks to use peak music experiences
as windows into the Brisbane indie music scene.
Indie as a category of music is “positioned at the intersection of various aesthetic, social
and commercial phenomena” (Hibbett, 2005) and encompasses a “mixed bag of practical,
historical and aesthetic ideologies” (Rogers, 2008). As the name derived from “independent”
suggests, it is partly defined in opposition to the economic, political and aesthetic values of a
perceived mainstream. This means that indie is an evolving genre. As with punk, the term has
5.5. “This is it!”: peak music experiences in the Brisbane indie music scene
375
become associated with some specific stylistic choices, such as “jangly” guitars and overtly
amateur production values, but especially in this century it has been defined partly by
eclecticism, embracing exotic, often non-Western musics and even commercial pop with
“varying degrees of irony and revision” (Rogers, 2008).
Indie’s conscious otherness and its consequent fluidity have drawn criticism and parody. In
one formulation, the imagined indie music “expert” is desperate to present him or herself as
possessing arcane knowledge, effortless embodied cool and prescient taste, and consequently
loses or even shuns the simple (and therefore “authentic”) pleasures of music. For example, a
character in online comic strip Questionable Content asks, “What’s the best way to piss off
an indie rock snob?” The answer is, “Actually enjoy music” (Jacques, undated). Based on such
representations, Hibbett (2005) focuses on how indie rock “opens up vast space for the
management of power and the manufacturing of identities: purposes far removed from the
innocuous pleasures of listening” (p. 57). He compares indie rock to Bourdieu’s formulation
of high art, as a field of knowledge that distinguishes itself from mass culture. Other studies,
however, have drawn from ethnographic data to conclude that this is not the whole or even
the main story; pleasure and, more broadly, emotion are central to indie music. Fonarow’s
(2006) study in England finds that indie “valorizes emotion as the wellspring of meaning” (p.
196), and its obsession with opposition actually stems from a central focus on “how an
audience can have the purest possible experience of music” (p. 30). The Brisbane indie music
scene is described by Rogers (2008, p. 645) as “a small, informal but close-knit network of
people motivated first and foremost by the desire for intensified leisure”. Based on his
ethnographic work with “hobbyist” musicians, Rogers finds that the drive for distinction
emphasised by Hibbett (2005) is only an aspect of their more fundamental quest for feelings
of meaning and belonging. The scene provides them with opportunities for “pleasurable
engagements with music as a creative canon … and as a social binding agent” (ibid, p. 646).
Case study: peak music experiences in the Brisbane indie
scene
When the present study was conducted in late 2012, the Brisbane indie music scene was
recognisable as that described by Rogers; while only three of the eight venues named in that
study still exist, alternative venues have continued to open in both licensed premises and DIY
spaces. This case study comprised in-depth interviews with five amateur/part-time musicians
who were (and at the time of writing this paper remain) active within the scene. The
participants varied in their stylistic preferences, as set out along with other details in the table
below, and these variations arguably are matched by subtly differing attitudes towards the
2
broader music industry. For example, Dan plays the most radio-friendly music and has made
the most traditional career moves (such as retaining a manager and using professional
recording studios), as well as working in one of the city’s larger venues and in artist
management. By way of contrast, Pete makes post-rock, which he self-records, and has
operated a DIY venue in his spare time from his office-based career.
2
The names of study participants have been changed for this publication.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Name, m/f, age
Education
Employment
Main scene activities
Dan, M, 26
University (drama);
TAFE (music
business)
Music venue bookings
manager; artist manager;
public service clerical (parttime)
Solo guitarist/singer (acoustic/country)
Artist manager
Venue bookings manager
Martin, M, 33
University (arts/law) Coffee shop barista
Guitarist/backing singer in indie band
(AOR)
Nick, M, 26
University (arts)
High-school teacher
Singer/guitarist in indie band
(grunge/rock)
Solo singer/guitarist (lo-fi)
Pete, M, 34
University
Office work (community
sector)
Guitarist/singer in indie band (post-rock)
Recording/mixing engineer
Label/venue manager
Sally, F, 30
University
(psych/law)
Office work (community
sector)
Keyboard player/singer/drummer in indie
band (noise/experimental/rock)
Table 1 - Case study participants
“Getting involved”: peak music experiences as inspiration
The research interviews fell naturally into a biographical format, prompted by such funnelling
questions as, “Do you remember when you became as interested in music as you are today?”
Each of the participants separated their introduction to the practical side of music-making,
such as learning to play an instrument under the influence of family or friends, from a strongly
felt aspiration to “get involved” in music or the scene, which usually came later.
Pete: [G]etting more involved in music probably means that I had an idea of what that would
be like, and I’d seen, I’d been to gigs and I’d seen people who were involved in music, and
they, like there was just, I think there was a sense of going “Oh that’s my crew, you know
that’s, it resonates, that’s sort of what I wanna… wanna be doing.”
Sally: …it was just like really sort of going to see other bands perform and thinking, I wanna,
I wanna make music too and I wanna be part of this process.
An outcome of this burgeoning desire was a shift in social networks, as new bandmates
and friends were found. Entries into scene relationships and scene practices sometimes
involved separations from previous networks, as illustrated in Sally’s description of her band’s
first public performance in Brisbane:
…[a music promoter wrote on our] Myspace page at the time and he wrote, you know, “How
come we’ve never met?” (laughs) […] and he put on a show for us, and also a bunch of other
bands, and we just all of a sudden met all of these other people in Brisbane involved in music
and art, we had no idea existed. Before that time it was just you know the four of us […] we
were just like, pretty mind-blown by the fact that there was that kind of scene in Brisbane
(laughs). […] We invited all of our friends to that first show, and I remember I looked up and,
they just looked horrified. It was really harsh noise. Like ear-bleeding kind of stuff.
Friends could be sources of cultural knowledge, for example by recommending new bands,
but the reverse is also true as cultural preferences drove the search for new relationships with
“like minded people”.
Nick: Yeah, I mean, for me mostly it’s, um, it’s been goin’ to shows and becoming more a part
of a music community as well. […] And that’s been… I think, maybe, for me, something that,
5.5. “This is it!”: peak music experiences in the Brisbane indie music scene
377
um, music was an avenue to, as well. So, it’s like, um, to find like minded people, who enjoy
that experience who can talk – you know wanna talk about that kinda thing, as well as hearing
the music.
The study participants wanted to get involved with the indie music scene because they
believed that its values resonated, which at a practical level meant that it would be a place to
find like minded people. There may be countless ways in which discourse in and around the
scene communicates these values. However, in some cases the study participants pinpoint
their attraction to peak music experiences, which “set off my musical tangent” (Dan), “blew
my young mind” (Martin), “changed my life” (Sally) or were a “big kick-along” (Nick).
Nick: …and when I saw ‘em [the Pixies at the V Festival 2007] I was like, (whispered) ‘Whoa’,
like, this is, this is it! After that I was like, ‘I love this and I wanna, like, get involved in that and
do this’, yeah. […] I might have been talking about it but I don’t think I was actually playing
at that time. It was definitely one of the big… kick-alongs to get myself organised and get
into it.
Dan: …when I picked up the guitar and started writing music was when I first saw John Butler,
of all people. So, um, so that – I always remember that moment as being a big, like, seeing
him at um, I think Woodford Folk Festival. When I was about 15? 16?... And it just… set off
my musical tangent. […] That was when I first said, ‘Okay I wanna learn the guitar’.
At least in retrospect, these memorable experiences have become iconic of the no doubt
longer and more subtle processes of attraction and motivation. They are moments in which
values seem to have been revealed, recognised and strongly felt. Examining these musical
epiphanies can reveal to us what is valued by these people and the culture with which they
identify, which is the Brisbane indie music scene (as they understand it). The following sections
consider some of the priorities that emerge from these various peak music experience stories.
“That sense of passion”: the importance of live music
Many of the peak music experiences described by the participants in this study take place in
the live setting. A number of their youthful memories are set in music festivals, which are one
of the few “all-ages” rock music performance spaces. Martin provides a vivid description of a
festival experience to which he attributed his drive to form his first band:
Tumbleweed were like a revelation. I remember watching them, the crowd was just seething.
People, there were people moshing, I’d never really seen a proper… rock band before. […]
But um, their frontman - you know? – he was so cool, just sort of, this goofy dance that he
did shamelessly. […] Yeah, the fact that he was sort of dancing and singing, and were just
sort of tight and sort of rocked. There was like this light show that it had. And it was just sort
of, the whole thing like sort of – it seemed sort of more like a 60s, 70s rock show than the
other stuff. […] Like yeah, it was exciting to be in the crowd and, ah, jumping along and stuff.
And the crowd was big.
Here the actions of both the performers and the audience were crucial. Martin’s reference
to “jumping along” with the seething crowd exemplifies a factor common to many of the
participants’ peak music experience stories: communality; literally being a part of something.
The references to traditional “rock show” performance values may seem at odds with the
well-known indie values of unpretentious authenticity and unmediated self-expression
(Hibbett, 2005, Fonarow 2006). Martin did go on to explain that Tumbleweed were an early
gateway band whose “dumb riffs” he moved beyond as he investigated what he called the
“indie canon” (for example, The Go-Betweens), and this path was a common one among the
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
study participants. However, the significance of showmanship may be that it actually
emphasised the “realness” of the event, by making it more than just a recitation of songs:
Dan: …[John Butler’s performance] wasn’t that standard, punk band – I’d seen so many punk
bands over the years they’d come out and play their songs and they’d walk back off stage.
There was a big element in his music of improvisation and, you know, using different
instruments and they’d always have like some big drum jam in the middle of their set. […]
And it was, it wasn’t just some guy walking on, or some four guys walking on stage and
playing, playing their songs and walking off again you know, like, um, it was kind of like I
guess it was more considered than a lot of the music I’d seen and it was sort of more intricate,
and it was more – and like, I dunno, I guess it appealed to me. And it was always, like, in those
days as well, still now, like it was very emotional.
Accordingly, stagecraft and musicianship are not necessarily contrasted with authenticity.
Instead, demonstrative performers, as opposed to those who simply play their songs and “walk
back off”, might be seen to possess the crucial emotional presence described by Fonarow as
“beingness” (2006, p. 192).
In these formative concert experiences, cultural values were acted out in exaggerated ways
by both performers and audiences, making them revelatory for the young participants and
providing an opportunity to become, literally, involved. Through these interactions, the
participants learnt to associate particular values with certain music and learnt ways of acting
them out, showing how a single experience can have a significant, enduring effect. Nick
expressly acknowledged this process of learning through experience:
It’s definitely, um, for me, when you go to, the live shows. And that – you get that sense of
passion I suppose that you don’t get when you listen to it on, ah, recorded. I feel that if you
see a band live, and then you come home and listen to them afterwards, you get much more
of a feel for it, for what it’s kinda about. So once I started going to see live shows that’s when
I got into music a lot more.
These peak music experiences were described in ways that emphasised the intense feelings
associated with them, with references to excitement, passion and emotion. As Ahmed (2004)
notes, it is through intensifications of feeling that people recognise and attribute meaning to
objects, people and themselves, so that meaning is mediated by feeling. Accordingly, it may
be that these peak music experiences are memorable and their meanings endure because they
are associated with the strongest feelings.
“From a place that none of the other bands were from”:
the feeling of difference
All of the participants talked about moving on from their early indie-related tastes, with bands
acting as gateways to more obscure or specific music. Pete recalled a peak music experience
that revealed to him how his “crew” was partly defined by difference, when he saw Sonic
Youth perform at the Livid Festival in 1998:
[There were] a lot of people there but it was an interesting kind of experience because, you
know a third of them were just having their minds blown and I was in that third but another,
you know, another third were wishing that they’d play something from Goo [1990, Sonic
Youth’s first major-label album and a commercial high-point], and then another third were
just there for a look and were just going, ‘What the fuck is going on?’, because it was this
sort of, amazing, like my feeling from that was just going, ‘I have no idea what they’re doing’.
Like it was just like, just, it was, I’m sure the acid was helping but it just seemed like they were
5.5. “This is it!”: peak music experiences in the Brisbane indie music scene
379
kind of from a place that none of the other bands at that festival were from […] I think that
at a certain point, that difference was what I came to really value as a criteri[on] in music.
This story bears out the academic definition of indie as an oppositional culture that
consciously styles itself as an “other”. However, in talking about their peak music experiences,
the study participants spoke of their affinities for different music not as coldly calculated, but
as strongly felt. Pete found the Sonic Youth performance bewildering and therefore
“amazing”, demonstrating Barthes’ concept of jouissance, an unsettling experience (used by
Laing (1985) to explain the shock value of punk rock). His visceral experience of difference
continued when the community radio station 4zzzfm, heard in the cab home, played more of
Sonic Youth’s music:
Pete: “Anagrama”? Yeah, those kind of, SYR [record label, used by the band to self-release a
series of experimental works] kind of um, yeah lengthy noise improvisations, and I was just,
still sort of buzzing along, and I got out of the cab and sat in my car, for like an hour, just
having this really intimate kind of experience of noise, really, for the first time. Yeah I think
that evening was really pivotal in a lot of ways to the way that I, what I became hungry for,
and what I enjoyed, and, you know I think that came into – I guess it was like moving away
from form and, you know, pop writing and song structure, and getting more into texture.
Sally emphasised, more than any other participant, her youthful (and continuing) desire to
“explore music and…get to the outer limits of what was out there”. She told a story in which
a malfunctioning playback of an already outré piece of music, in a youthful context of friends
and drug use, created a pleasurable experience:
I remember one time um, we were in Byron Bay and we’d gone, like – it was in 2002, and we
went down to, um, Splendour in the Grass [music festival] (laughs) and um, we were, we were
taking ecstasy as well as um, as marijuana (laughs) and um, we were hanging in the hotel
room and we’d just smoked like, a lot, and we were actually listening to Bitches Brew by Miles
Davis (laughs) funnily enough. And then after about an hour, or maybe more, we realised
(laughs) the CD had been skipping and it was playing the same one minute, like (laughs) it
had been, like we were just like… I dunno, you know, we just kinda thought it was (laughs)
an amazing one minute of music.
Through these stories, the participants show that their appreciation comes naturally for
music that some would find “difficult”. Such comfort with high art concepts can be a marker
of cultural capital. Importantly, however, the appreciation the participants evince is not cool
and intellectual, but associated with direct and embodied pleasure. Their stories emphasise
feelings of surprise, bewilderment, awe and enthusiasm, as opposed to critical distance and
reason-based judgment, in the appraisal of this music. The telling of peak music experience
stories in ways that highlight these feelings shows that for these music fans in the Brisbane
indie music scene, the value of “difference” is not divorced from the pleasures of listening.
Rather, for them, music’s meaning and value are inseparable from the embodied experience
of music, even in the case of music that involves high art methods like formal experimentation.
Scene members become aware of their affinity for scene values like “difference”, and thus
their belonging to the scene, through the strong feelings produced by musical experiences.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
“A thing that I’ve been missing out on”: exploration and
openness
Know that the coolest indie rock band is someone nobody has heard of and is on a label that
doesn’t even exist yet.
- “Soyouwanna Fake Being an Indie Rock Expert?”, quoted in Hibbett (2005)
A much-parodied aspect of indie music culture is the privileging of the new and unknown,
with the constant acquisition of new music betraying the shallowness of the indie fan’s
connection to music generally. It is suggested that the real motivation is not to enjoy listening
to the music, but to display symbolic capital. Some of the study participants’ comments are
consistent with the view of indie rock as a field of knowledge. For example, Pete recalled
buying two “gateway” indie albums in his teens (by Pavement and Gaslight Radio) after
reading reviews that “in hindsight sounded like something I wanted to like”, and Martin
wondered whether he was “triggered” by Tumbleweed and not the headline act, the Hoodoo
Gurus, because the former had “more cool cachet”.
However, the peak music experience stories of the study participants show that for them,
seeking out new music is not (just) a search for distinction but, to a large extent, a search for
transcendent experience:
Interviewer: What do you think it is about hearing something new and different that you
haven’t heard before that you like?
Sally: Um, well yeah, it’s kind of exciting, it’s you know it’s adrenaline or something.
By way of example, Sally told of getting into “Hindustani classical stuff… like Bhimsen
Joshi”, and a trip to Indonesia in which she witnessed “all-night gamelan jams” by “old
masters”, which was “totally incredible”. Like Pete, she valued the feeling of bewilderment:
…they all have this repertoire of hundreds of songs and they’re all kind of scored but, they
can just make it up and change it, and the pace, the tempo will speed up and slow down and,
you have no idea like, it’s very hard to follow what’s going on.
The study participants revealed that they would sometimes go to great lengths in seeking
particular kinds of musical experience. This is what Hennion (2001) calls “setting up the correct
passivity” for a particular experience. He demonstrates this concept using both music listeners
and drug users, on the basis that both seek particular outcomes from their engagements with
objects and use special settings, rituals and modes of attention to create the best chance of
achieving the desired result. On that basis it is unsurprising that in the present study, the active
search for transcendent musical experience is demonstrated most clearly in anecdotes about
using drugs with music. An influential experience recalled by Pete is:
…driving around in my mate’s Datsun Stanza listening to OK Computer [Radiohead, 1997,
“within a week or two of its release”] on acid. Um, taking turns to drive so you know, the
other two of us could be in the back, sort of heads on the speakers and… I think that sort of
connected pretty deeply too.
The aim of such elaborate set-ups was to “listen to how far we can hear into this music”,
which is quite the opposite of the shallow, appearance-based connection that the parodied
indie hipster has with music. The search for embodied pleasure from music is also revealed in
those stories told by the participants in which they had a peak music experience by chance,
which challenged their preconceptions and opened new avenues for their search. These
5.5. “This is it!”: peak music experiences in the Brisbane indie music scene
381
chance moments in the participants’ taste trajectories stand in contrast to the tortuous
aesthetic guidelines followed by the parodied indie hipster:
Martin: I remember in [my housemate] Ed’s bedroom one time, he had like, um, he had
Loveless [1991, by Irish guitar band My Bloody Valentine] playing super loud, and… I’d never
really listened to it before, kind of thought it sounded a little bit tinny and noisy when I’d
previously heard it. So I never gave it the time. But he just, he had it cranked in his room, and
it was a nice day, and his bay windows were open, and um, it was just – yeah I just thought
that sounded amazing, and um, it sort of changed my sensibility a bit straight away. Just by
opening my ears to harsher sounds that can also be really immersive and beautiful.
Thus a chance encounter with music in a particular context changed Martin’s sensibility
and opened his ears to that music, even though he had heard it before and was aware of the
high critical esteem in which the album was held (“if anything it just gave me more of a belief
in music writers as taste-makers”). Similarly, it was a chance experience dependent very much
on its context that led Nick, who had previously held a song’s lyrics to be essential to his
enjoyment, to appreciate instrumental music like violin-led band The Dirty Three:
Nick: …we were driving down to Sydney and Melbourne, to play there last, we were driving
along this road and, you know, it’s kinda like the same style of road and, you know just,
limitless plains kinda thing, and we listened to um… Water Music? I’m not sure Interviewer: Oh um, Ocean Songs?
Nick: Ocean Songs. From The Dirty Three, as the sun was setting, and it’s like, you know,
here’s something that I’ve never experienced before and it was like ‘Whoa’, you know, um,
this is a whole kind of thing that I haven’t been listening to that I’ve been missing out on and
it’s a- it’s amazing, so I can remember at that exact point when the sun was setting in this
landscape and it was like, it just summed up the landscape it was amazing. And then so I’ve
been listening to a bit more of that and, and really getting into it.
Among other things, this experience led Nick to become a fan of a Brisbane instrumental
band with a similar aesthetic to the Dirty Three. These stories of growing through experience
are consistent with Driver’s (2011) findings about hardcore fans learning and earning cultural
capital through embodied experience such as their presence at gigs. However, the focus here
is not on amassing the symbolic capital associated with cultural competency but on developing
techniques for deriving pleasure and insight from music.
Going to gigs: intimate communality and staying
motivated
While a number of the participants’ early, inspirational experiences with music occurred in the
relative anonymity of festival crowds, their current practice within the Brisbane indie music
scene occurs within a more intimate context.
Nick: You could go with one friend to the Hi Fi [a large, licensed venue] and just watch the
show and not talk to anyone, or you could go to something at the Waiting Room [a small,
unlicensed, venue in a house] and know a whole lot of people and talk to them.
This is, in part, a necessity of music-making within the scene. As Rogers (2008, p. 644)
notes, “face-to-face informal networking gatekeeps and governs the indie live circuit”, or as
one of his interviewees puts it: “You’ve got to go to gigs to get gigs”. However, Nick sees this
as a positive end in itself, as he enjoys “meeting the people, and um, going to the gigs, and,
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
you know, swappin’ stories, swappin’ songs”. This is consistent with Fonarow’s (1997, p. 364)
finding that “an emotional feeling of community and connectedness” between musicians and
audiences is central to indie music.
Pete, in a quote presented earlier, noted how getting involved in the scene was motivated
partly by a desire to socialise with an imagined set of people. However, he later emphasised
that his motivation to stay active within the scene was not social achievement but transcendent
moments of pleasure:
…with [our DIY venue] we went on a journey of going “This is awesome!” and then, kind of,
towards the end going (breathlessly) “Fuuck,”(laughs) “I’m tired, I don’t wanna go!” […] and
in the end, like it just seems like it always comes back full circle to those same experiences of
enjoyment that you started with in, like you know as a teen, those things that, when you really
enjoy playing music or putting something on like that’s, that’s all there is, like there’s not a lot
of the other aspects that you thought were gonna be there, I dunno.
[…] maybe a better way to say it is that you can lose, you can lose enjoyment in some of those
pursuits of social, like of, ah, yeah, of what you thought you wanted. And the only way to
kind of sustain it is to, um, come back to that feeling that you had as a kid of you know, really
seeking out just what you really enjoy. […] at many stages it feels like you have to drop the
things that aren’t authentic and keep going back to that really fundamental… […] and it can
be really hard to do that though, like sometimes you’ve gotta fight through, there can be
barriers to getting back to that, and I think the best… the best musicians seem to be the ones
who really live in that space, pretty much all the time of just loving the hell out of what they’re
doing.
These comments are consistent with the findings of Kahn-Harris (2004) and Tsitsos (2012)
that when being an extreme metal or punk fan becomes mundane and routine, the connection
to the scene can be rejuvenated by particular experiences of music through the body. These
findings show sustained commitment to musical practice as more than a marker of abstract
distinction; it is bound up with feeling and especially pleasure. One reason people participate
in the Brisbane indie music scene is to create and recreate peak music experiences through
which they feel their connection to music, feel their belonging to the scene and find out
something about themselves.
Conclusion
Peak music experiences, as epiphanies, are windows into the cultural values of a scene. The
case study presented here provides insight into the Brisbane indie music scene by considering
the peak music experiences that the research participants credit with their own inspiration,
motivation and influence. An analysis of these experiences confirms that, as reported
elsewhere, indie music culture values the live setting, difference, exploration and intimate
communality. However, these values are not, as suggested by parodies of “hipster” indie
music fans, mere markers of distinction “removed from the innocuous pleasures of listening”
(Hibbett, 2005, p. 57). Instead, the peak music experiences of the research participants reveal
that the values and practices that define the Brisbane indie music scene are inseparable from
the embodied pleasures of musical practice, and those pleasures are far from innocuous.
References
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Bennett A. (2004). Consolidating the music scenes perspective. Poetics 32: 223-234.
Bennett A. (2013). Music, style and aging: Growing old disgracefully?. Philadelphia: Temple University
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Cohen, S. (1991). Rock culture in Liverpool. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
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Driver C. (2011). Embodying hardcore: rethinking ‘subcultural’ authenticities. Journal of Youth Studies
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Fonarow W. (1997). The spatial organisation of the Indie music gig. In Gelder K., Thornton S. (Eds.), The
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Laing D. (1985). One chord wonders: Power and meaning in punk rock. Milton Keynes: Open University
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youth cultures (pp. 66-78). London: Berg.
5.6. Experimental music and the reprogramming of
apparatuses
José Guilherme Allen Lima 1
Abstract
This paper aims to discuss the perception that an underground music scene could be articulated
around experimental lutherie, hacking and bending practices, related to a network of contemporary
musicians and sound artists in Brazil. A scene, thus, emerges not from a shared aesthetic as usually
happens in terms of a musical genre, but a shared interest in continuous experimentation in
building and modifying musical instruments, computer music systems and networks, and sound
tools in general. Somewhat central to this association of artists and musicians is the notion of music
and sound making as a collective and improvisational practice, in which participation plays a key
role, and where the creative approach encapsulates a social agenda. It also should be noted that
such musical and sound practices occupy standard performance spaces such as theatres and music
venues, as well as art galleries, squats, open public spaces, and its participants usually stem from
workshops and courses on abilities such as hardware hacking, circuit bending and creative coding,
which also suggests a shared interest in exploring hidden possibilities both in traditional instruments
and within electronic gadgets. The author examines different approaches that constitute this
practice, based on concept of apparatus as described by Flusser (2000), and particularly the notion
of programming and re programming of such apparatuses, which in turn relate to the concepts of
lock-in according to Lanier (2010) and reprogramming according to Bourriaud (2002).
Keywords: apparatus, experimental music, hacking, DIY
Experimental music and the reprogramming of
apparatuses
Don Buchla addresses a crowded room inside the Music Department building at the University
of São Paulo discussing his career's accomplishments and failures, as well as his unique and
2
somewhat maverick approach to music technology . Everyone watches in awe as the inventor
gives his personal account of milestones in the history of electronic music and its instruments,
while making reference to iconic characters on first-name terms. The audience is quite diverse,
comprised as expected of graduate and undergraduate students, but also of musicians of
different styles without academic bonds, synthesizer enthusiasts and a few amateur synth
builders. And even though Buchla is known to have composed some music and played in a
vast number of performances over his life, people are here to see Buchla the innovator, the
man behind the gear, which makes one wonder if ever a room full of violinists gathered to
see a luthier tell the history of his life and instruments.
1
2
University of São Paulo, Brazil.
Buchla's visit to the music department at USP took place on June, 13th, 2011.
386
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Over the course of a weekend, a group of people gathers in the workshops and meeting
rooms of the Pompéia unit of SESC
3
and at the nearby music venue Serralheria
(http://escapeserralheria.org/) – both located in the west side of São Paulo City – sharing their
4
time between debates, short courses and performances as part of an event called Ciclo Hack ,
organized by Giuliano Obici. Guest speakers and performers include hackers standing at
different points of the software / hardware spectrum – such as digital artists Jarbas Jácome
(http://jarbasjacome.wordpress.com/) and Jeraman (http://jeraman.info/), the Gambiólogos
5
hardware-hacking collective and “voltage artisan” Glerm Soares (http://glerm.devolts.org/) 6
and discussions range from the relative ease of building a cracklebox or mantaining hacklabs
active, to ambitious projects such as developing programming languages entirely based on
Inca mathematics.
Inside a nondescript room, which in former times could have been a residential dining room
as well as an office space overlooking a small porch, a crowd of about fifty people is gathered
7
to watch as trio of musicians run through their set . All three brandish different versions of the
same instrument, from which they coax a variety of electronic sounds: the Gatorra, a hybrid
instrument that is part drum machine, part DIY synthesizer, played in standing position as one
would play an electric guitar – hence its name deriving from the portuguese word guitarra. In
the middle of the trio stands Antônio Carlos Correia de Moura, a.k.a. Tony da Gatorra, an
8
electronic technician residing in Esteio , and the inventor and so far sole builder of the Gatorra.
Most of his live performances consist of his own protest songs performed solo or together
9
with other Gatorra enthusiasts to audiences which tend to be fifty-percent ardent fans
shouting the lyrics to old favourites such as “Meu Nome é Tony” and “Assassino”, fiftypercent people staring in amazement having no idea what exactly is going on. The evening
ends with a brand new Gatorra being auctioned and sold to a member of the crowd.
The sonic and musical examples heard on the three occasions mentioned above bear little
resemblance to one another, except perhaps to a listener lacking the will to perceive these are
very different uses of electronic resources for making sound. Should we pay attention to the
attendants instead, some familiar faces begin to be noticed, discussions appear to be quite
3
SESC stands for Social Service of the Commerce, a non-profit organization aimed at providing leisure,
entertainment, educational and sports facilities for the employees in the commerce, services and tourism
sectors and their families, as well as the local community (http://www.sescsp.org.br/en/sobre-osesc/quem-somos/). Since the 1980s the SESC network in the city of São Paulo is known to be an
important sponsor of underground and alternative music scenes.
4
“Ciclo Hack” and “Noite Hack” took place on the 9th and 10th of July,
2011.(http://giulianobici.blogspot.com.br/2011/07/ciclo-hack.html).
5
“Gambiólogos” would translate somewhat like “hackologists”, a word coined from Gambiarra, a term
in Portuguese meaning a hack or a bend in an electric installation that is used to describe any makeshift
solution to practical problems, and the logos suffix.(http://www.gambiologia.net/blog/).
6
The cracklebox is an electronic instrument originally created by dutch composer and performer Michael
Waisvisz (2004).
7
This
performance
took
place
at
the
Casa
do
Mancha
venue
(https://www.facebook.com/casadomancha), in August, 25th, 2013.
8
A small town in the sprawls around Porto Alegre, capital of Brazil's southernmost state, Rio Grande do
Sul.
9
At the time of writing, Tony da Gatorra is working on Gatorras number 18 and 19, plus additional Minigatorras and Batucadores, a portable drum machine (http://tonydagatorra.blogspot.com.br/). Previous
models have been purchased by amateurs as well as professional musicians such as Franz Ferdinand's
Nick McCarthy, and CSS' Lovefoxxx. On the performance mentioned in this paper, Tony was backed up
by Lulina (http://www.lulina.com.br/) and Anvil FX (https://www.youtube.com/user/anvilfx666).
5.6. Experimental music and the reprogramming of apparatuses
387
similar, and maybe someone will make the effort to advertise an upcoming event for likeminded people or addressing similar topics. But the common thread linking such events is hard
to pin down as a musical genre, style or even a fad. It seems equally inconclusive to try and
impose the notion of a shared aesthetic project, either by analysing the end results – whether
it's musical, visual or multimediatic material – or the discourse put forward by its creators.
Instead, we might want to look at the people and their tools, listen to what they're talking
about and to the sounds they're making, discover where it is that they hang out. Knowing
that there's not just a single way of perceiving such coincidences, I will suggest that it might
be possible to look at these common points as indicators of a different sort of music scene,
one that gravitates around a shared interest in the making and modifying of musical / sonic
tools rather than around a specific genre of music or musical attitude. A deeper discussion
about what constitutes a musical instrument and in which way a musical “instrument” is or
differentiates from a musical “tool” lies beyond the scope of this paper, and I believe it will
suffice for the case in hand to embrace a very broad understanding of the term “instrument”.
Grouping around musical instruments is usually associated with the idea of musicians'
guilds and unions, that since time immemorial have acted as chancellors of which tools are
proper for music-making, and what are the correct manners in which they should be employed
to such ends, amongst other things (Godlovitch, 1998, p.68-69; Théberge, 1997, p. 20-21).
Also, musicians guilds have for a long time been responsible for organizing access to
knowledge and training for music theory and specific instruments (Théberge, 1997, p. 132).
In the last few decades, groups of musicians have also gathered and communicated based on
the “user group” format, focusing on certain tools such as digital instruments and music
software in a similar manner of computer users and other groups (Théberge, 1997, p. 69; 139)
associated with DIY activity. In any case – be it the National Guild of Piano Teachers, your
regular Musician's Union, or the local chapter of the Ableton Live User Group – gathering in
these formats have a direct relationship either with the professional aspects of a musician's
job, or with a specific tool and the features it encompasses.
On the other hand, this hypothetical scene is somehow “un-professional”, in that its main
concerns are not so much related to how a given instrument will help to forward one's
presence in the marketplace, what amount of theory a practitioner is expected to know in
order do properly do a job, or which of the instrument projects has more 'bang for the buck'.
In a similar manner to circuit-bending and hardware-hacking circles, there's a strong emphasis
in sharing information and knowledge, and the organization of courses and workshops seems
to be as important a part of the scene as the organization of concerts.
The mention of circuit-bending and hardware-hacking comes in handy as a way of
introducing the people involved, by means of mapping out an intersection between more
established backgrounds. In terms of musical education, a fair number of participants has
formal training in music to some extent, practicing a variety of popular – or perhaps highly
unpopular – music genres, sometimes dabbling into traditional, contemporary or experimental
concert music setups. People classifying themselves as “non-musicians” also feel comfortable
to join in at concerts, workshops and jam sessions feeling that this is an inviting environment
to pursue sonic investigations, an opening partially related to a noticeable participation of free
388
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
10
improvisers . There's also a strong presence of people involved with academic research, but
not to the extent that this could be considered the offspring of academic activity.
And, as expected, there are many participants who fit in more than one description, given
that it's a scene where people are expected to wear many hats, as in jazz or death metal
guitarrists who live coder but also tinker with analogue electronics and Arduino-laced
intonarumori11.
If the crowd that suggests the existence of this scene can be found at an intersection
between several better-known, longer-established cultural groups, the places that host such
intersection can be seen as intersections themselves. Different spaces host such activities, with
different degrees of institutional affiliation. The aforementioned SESC network is a regular
home to concerts, workshops and longer-term courses, which helps interfacing with a more
12
diverse audience . On a weekly basis there are performances in independent venues that also
host regular courses and visual arts shows, such as Ibrasotope (http://ibrasotope.com.br/),
Instituto Volusiano (http://www.institutovolusiano.blogspot.com.br/), Epicentro Cultural
(http://www.epicentrocultural.com/epicentro/),
and
Trackertower
(http://trackers.cx/).
Together with Casa do Mancha and Serralharia, other venues such as Espaço Cultural Walden
(https://pt-br.facebook.com/esp.cult.walden)
and
Puxadinho
da
Praça
(https://pt-
br.facebook.com/puxadinho.dapraca) are keen to open the doors for performances based
around custom-built instruments.
Apparatuses and technological lock-in
Théberge (1997) outlines a process through which the relationship of the musician with its
tools becomes one of increasing consumption of technology, more and more intertwined at
each successive wave of innovations. Writing at a time posterior to the MIDI protocol
introduction in 1984, Théberge points out that this paradigm shift is accentuated during the
1980s and 1990s as digital technology accomplishments are filtered into the marketplace and
digital synthesizers, sequencers and workstations become more accessible, but that a longer
history of musical instrument marketing should be taken into account to fully understand the
complex interplay between musicians, instrument makers and media: “the conventional
dividing line between production and consumption has thus become increasingly blurred [as]
musicians have increasingly become consumers of technology” (Théberge, 1997, p. 4).
This is one of the reasons, for instance, behind the user group phenomenon witnessed
clearly from the 1980s onward, but also connected with the analog synthesizer culture
beginning in the 1960s in which the exchange of technical information between owners of
specific pieces of hardware – and later, software – becomes an integral part of a modus
operandi and a regular habit of a predominantly white, male and middle-class crowd.
Théberge (1997, p. 140) posits that the user group is “not simply a means of exchanging
10
The “Orquestra Errante” free-improv group is an example of a local ensemble of improvisers that
occasionally counts with the participation of players of unconventional instruments – either acoustic,
electronic, or hybrid – as well as live coders, for instance (https://myspace.com/orquestraerrante).
11
Intonarumori are noise instruments conceived and built by the italian artist Luigi Russolo in the 1910s,
as a means to bring to life the ideas manifested in his essay “The art of noises” (Russolo, (1913) In: Cox,
C., Warner, D. (2004)).
12
At the time of writing, for instance, live-coding artist André Damião is running workshops on
electroacoustic music and live-coding for children (http://www.sescsp.org.br/aulas/32612
MUSICA+ELETROACUSTICA+PARA+CRIANCAS).
5.6. Experimental music and the reprogramming of apparatuses
389
technical information; rather, they might be a means by which consumers develop alternative
definitions of their needs and new forms of satisfaction from their relationship to commodities
and other consumers”. This technical aspect of making music, not in terms of acquiring and
developing instrumental technique by means of practice and repetition, but in terms of
acquiring cognitive knowledge of how to operate such and such equipment has a significant
impact on one's sense of musical style and language.
Overlapping with this period, the gradual sophistication of the electronics and microchip
technology since the 1970s slowly helps to transform the electronic musical instrument in a
product akin to a musical black box, in the terminology employed by Flusser (2000). This
metaphor of the black box – a contraption which can only be understood in terms of input
and output, but whose inner workings are shrouded in mystery – is employed to describe the
concept of the apparatus, considering its embodiment in the photographic camera as a
starting point.
What is key to understanding the concept of the apparatus and how it connects with music
technology has to do with its programming, in that the possibilities contained in a given
apparatus are previously determined by the shaping of its program, which could be described
as a preset array of possibilities embedded in the apparatus in its conception, or
“computational thinking flowing into hardware” (Flusser, 2000, p. 31). As such, the apparatus
and its program are “part of a culture, consequently this culture is recognizable in them”
(Flusser, 2000, p. 22).
The side effects of a given apparatus' programming could be related to technological lockin, described by Lanier (2010) in relation to software as a process that causes designs to “get
frozen into place” (Lanier, 2010, p. 7). Both Théberge (1997, p. 127) and Lanier (2010, p. 11)
use the MIDI protocol as an example of how technology is able to crystallise a specific
philosophy or political view in a way that will later impact not only its employment, but the
very perception of reality of its user – or as is the case, his or her notions about music and
music making.
Reprogramming
Fernandez (2013, p. 51) suggests that the instigation behind practices such as circuit-bending
or hardware hacking could be seen as attempts to shed some light inside the Flusserian black
box, eventually discussing that a black box is opened or enlightened only to reveal a multitude
of other black boxes inside. However, the idea that experimental approaches in building
musical instruments could be understood as a contemporary reaction to technological lock-ins
seems worthwhile of investigation by other perspectives, one of which could be the concept
of reprogramming.
Bourriaud (2005) employs the term reprogramming to describe the praxis observable in a
generation of artists in activity during the 1990s, whose work seems to “respond to the
proliferating chaos of global culture, which is characterized by an increase in the supply of
works” (Bourriaud, 2005, p. 13). In the same manner that a DJ and a programmer have the
“task of selecting cultural objects and inserting them into a new context” (Bourriaud, 2005,
p. 13), artists reprogram previous works of art as well as cultural goods and references, aiming
to “inscribe the work of art within a network of signs and significations” (Bourriaud, 2005, p.
14) rather than conceiving of the work of art as an autonomous entity. This represents a shift
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from the idea of working with raw materials to the idea of working with data, information
(Bourriaud, 2005, p. 15).
The term seems applicable to the activity being discussed, in that the practitioners seldom
build their instruments starting from raw materials in the way that a conventional luthier would
start a project with planks of wood or metal alloys. In its simplest form, this instrument building
starts from reprogramming cultural objects both in terms of tangible, fabricated goods and of
intangible source material, in the sense that the diagrams for an electronic circuit or program
code are also cultural objects.
Although it is not being assumed that the notion of program that constitute a given
apparatus' programming in Flusser bears a theoretical relationship to that which makes
reprogramming possible according to Bourriaud, the mere coincidence in the choice of words
by the two authors was enough suggest an approach to this investigation. Instead of trying to
unveil the mysteries of the apparatus as a black box – being confronted with other apparatuses
nesting inside each other in the manner of Russian dolls (Lima, 2013, p. 122) – practices of
experimental lutherie can be understood as attempts to reprogram technical content.
Taking stock
This paper proposes that the idea of reprogramming is a useful tool to describe and
understand the activities of a number of different people dealing with a broad spectrum of
techniques related to sound making and instrument building. It also suggests that the
interaction between these people could be understood in terms of a musical scene, albeit one
that germinates from similar activities and interests rather than aesthetic identities or perhaps
a specific location. This approach is rooted in the conclusions of a research work (Lima, 2013)
and integrates the beginning of another research that aims to investigate the complex network
of connections between some of the artists mentioned, the techniques they employ and the
audience they reach.
Instruments like the Gatorra and the Toscolão (http://vimeo.com/303234) indeed can be
seen as the results of reprogramming different contents in different levels – from the very
concept of guitars, to start with, to the circuitry that each instrument employs – and not only
technical sources, making it clearer that there really is no use in differentiating “technical”
objects and content from “cultural” objects and content. To a certain extent, one could say
that there's also a political attitude permeating the scene, not in terms of subscribing to
established political views, but in terms of believing in the empowerment of the layman as an
artist in potential, and in the idea that sharing and participation are integral to music-making.
These are aspects that often surface on the work of the artists who lend themselves to this
sort of activity, and help to draw themselves closer according to a few points in common: not
their sound or their music per se, but an attitude towards music-making that encompasses the
very choice of how their musical instruments will be structured.
Funding: This work was supported by CAPES and FAPESP.
5.6. Experimental music and the reprogramming of apparatuses
391
References
Bourriaud, N. (2002) Postproduction: Culture as screenplay: How Art Reprograms the World. New York:
Lukas & Steinberg.
Cox, C., Warner, D. (2004) Audio Culture: Readings in Modern Music. New York: Continuum.
Fernandez, A. M. (2013) Circuito Alterado em Três Atos: Abrir, Tatear e Multiplicar. Master's thesis. USP,
São Paulo.
Flusser, V. (2000) Towards a philosophy of photography. London: Reaction Books.
Godlovitch, S. (1998) Musical Performance: a philosophical study. London & New York: Routledge.
Lanier, J. (2010) You Are Not a Gadget: A Manifesto. New York: Alfred A. Knopf.
Lima, J. G. A. (2013) Observações sobre o papel das ferramentas digitais na música experimental
brasileira contemporânea. Master's thesis. USP, São Paulo.
Théberge, P. (1997) Any sound you can imagine: Making Music / Consuming Technology. London:
Wesleyan.
Waisvisz, M. (2004) Crackle history. Retrieved from http://www.crackle.org/CrackleBox.htm.
5.7. Music as as a way of living: the case of
Sonoscopia
Ana Luísa Veloso 1
Maria José Araújo 1
Abstract
Sonoscopia is an association mainly devoted to the practice, creation and promotion of
experimental music and sound art. Strongly tied to a DIY ethics (Peterson and Bennett, 2004),
Sonoscopia´s members, with highly diverse musical and academic backgrounds, have been sharing
and exchanging their knowledge, in a joint effort to accomplish new ways of living and thinking
Porto’s underground musical scene. This study examines in which way the individual and collective
musical practices at Sonoscopia may provide resources for new modes of agency and forms of living
(Frith, 1978, 2002; DeNora, 2004). The data used in this study was generated from interviews to
members, audio and video recordings and artefacts produced within Sonoscopia’s work. It was
found that the deep engagement of members in the activities and projects of Sonoscopia seems to
arise from a strong sense of belonging, a feeling of collective ownership and active participation in
all decisions and chosen pathways. It was also found that the DIY logic lived at the association
seems to have its roots in the strong commitment of its members not only to a specific musical
scene but also to the relationships that have been established among them. Findings suggest that
contexts devoted to a particular musical scene may foster personal and social transformations that
have a major impact in the life of its participants. In such contexts, musical practice seems to provide
a space for self-worth and self-achievement and to give new meaning to individual, social and
musical identities.
Keywords: musical scene, creativity, participation, transformation, DIY ethics
Introduction
Sonoscopia is an association devoted mainly to the practice, creation and promotion of
experimental music and sound art. It was officially created in 2012 and one year later it had
its own facilities equipped with a studio, an atelier, a rehearsal room and a larger room for
concerts and presentations. Sonoscopia’s facilities also include a large apartment with kitchen,
and a loft which is ideal for artistic residences and for housing musicians during long term
events.
More importantly, Sonoscopia is a group of people that have been making music together
for more than a decade and that:
a) Share a common interest - Experimental music;
b) Have diverse musical and academic backgrounds;
c) Has developed joint efforts to accomplish new ways of living and thinking Porto’s
Underground Musial Scene;
1
Polytechnic Institute of Porto, School of Education, Portugal.
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d) Have similar understandings of the world and of the individuals.
This text describes the main purposes of this association and the work they have been
developing in Porto’s social and cultural life and explores the ways in which the individual and
collective musical practices of Sonoscopia may provide resources for new modes of agency
and forms of living.
It is our belief that this research will bring a fresh insight to further understand Porto’s
underground musical scene, from the musicians’ and music lovers’ perspective.
Theoretical background
Music, identity and meaning
Music has an active role in the construction of our personal and social life, which is often
organized around musical practices and values (Frith, 2002; DeNora, 1999, 2003, 2004). Here
we draw our attention to the aesthetic dimension of personal and social organization, focusing
not only on “how music comes to be implicated in the construction of the self as an aesthetic
object” (DeNora, 1999, p.31), but also on “how aesthetic materials are appropriated and used
to produce social life” (DeNora, 2004, p.6). In this respect, there are two major lines of analysis
we can address. On one hand, following Frith (2002), we can ask ourselves what is that “much
more mysterious power of music in itself” (p.46) that we can feel but seem to fail to categorize.
On the other hand, we can think of all our daily activities that are deeply connected to music,
things like turning off the alarm clock in the morning and the music we listen to in our car.
The first line of analysis addresses the issue of music and emotions. Music affects us
through our body and our emotions. This phenomenon is deeply related to the concept of
embodiment and the way emotions and the subsequent feelings that emerge from them
influence our thinking, being and acting (Bowman, 2000, 2004). The second line of analysis
focuses on music as an aesthetic and active resource in the organization and definition of
social life. Music materials are related to particular celebrations, particular conducts, or
personal associations. Most importantly, music is part of who we are. Using the words of
DeNora (2004), music is “an active ingredient” (p.5) of our self, of our identity. It is not
something that we add to ourselves and to our lives. It is an active constituent of our being
and of our being with others. It is a medium that provides an aesthetic way to understand and
respond to the world and to others. Our interest lies in understanding “what the appropriation
of cultural materials achieves in action, what culture does for its consumers within the contexts
of their lives” (DeNora, 2004, p.6).
Together, these two lines of thought stress the dynamic relation between music and
individuals, the flowing movements that occur in the diverse interactions that happen among
them when human beings are listening, performing or creating music. Meanings emerge from
these interactions. In this context, it is important to understand that the process of meaning
making does not occur in a vacuum, but in the web of interactions that take place in the
personal and social trajectories of enacting musical worlds. In this respect, Wenger (1998)
clarifies that:
By living in the world we do not just make meanings up independently of the world, but
neither does the world simply impose meanings on us. The negotiation of meaning is a
productive process, but negotiating meaning is not constructing it from scratch. Meaning is
5.7. Music as as a way of living: the case of Sonoscopia
395
not pre-existing, but neither is it simply made up. Negotiated meaning is at once both historical
and dynamic, contextual and unique. (pp. 53-54)
It is, therefore, a process that transforms our identity, that changes who we are, creating
new ways of becoming in the contexts where we live our lives. Accordingly, identity and
participation are two concepts that live in mutuality, changing and transforming each other.
In fact, identity, in the context of this theoretical approach, evolves through the ways each
individual participates in the practices of a community. Through their multiple journeys of
participation, individuals reconfigure their lives and their selves in collaborative musical
activities that involve action and connection (DeNora, 2004; Wenger, 1998, 2006). By
communicating their thoughts, feelings, ideas, and by playing together, helping each other
and dialoguing, participants grow both as musicians and as individuals and social actors,
transforming not only their own identity, but also the relations they establish among them and
the roles they undertake outside their group or community.
Music scenes and DIY cultures
The concept of “music scene” is strongly related to concepts like “music community” and
“music subculture”, and is used to designate musical contexts that exist somehow apart from
the mainstream music industry. Borrowed from the journalistic discourse, the concept of
“scene” works as a cultural tool that allows fans of particular musical genres to create
alternative identity pathways to the mainstream (Peterson & Bennett, 2004).
More recently, in the academic field, the term “music scene” has been used to refere
situations music scenes have embraced situations where “performers, support facilities and
fans come together to collectively create music together for their own enjoinment” (Peterson
& Bennett, 2004, p.3). But, above all, what is more important to stress here is that the term
“scene” acts as a cultural recourse, a metaphorical baggage that contains the core values and
ways of expressions of an identity that distinguishes itself and moves away from the
mainstream (Peterson & Bennett, 2004; Bennett, 2004).
Living alternative pathways in music means living, somehow, and using the words of Peter
Abbs (2003), “Against the Flow”. It means to live music for the music itself, rejecting its
commercial, and sometimes very appealing, calls, doing the music one loves and believes to
better express the thoughts and feelings of inhabiting this world in the present moment. This
means looking for authenticity in art, to be honest through music. This means being a musician
in a quest for meaning in life, through music (Frith, 1978; Guerra, 2013). This means having
music as a way of living through a specific scene that one feels connected to. But musicians
living inside these scenes do not isolate themselves from the world. In a recent study, Guerra
(2013) found that most musicians belonging to Portuguese alternative rock bands have high
cultural and scientific competences. And, in fact, they use these competences to promote their
music: they create and write in blogs, magazines, fanzines; they use complex software and
audio recording devices to record CDs; they use internet and e-mail to establish several
networks with other musicians from similar scenes around the world, and also to promote
among fans their concerts, performances, CD or DVD releases. They create, as Peterson and
Bennett (2004) suggest, a kind of “industry that works in a Do-It-Yourself (DIY)” (p.5) ethic.
Strongly related to punk musical scenes, DIY can be characterized as an attitude that
involves a desire for maintaining the authenticity of bands and musicians, rejecting large-scale
marketing. It requires hard work, high levels of participation and a deep commitment toward
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values such as sharing and collaborating with each other (Gosling, 2004). And, although
originally related to the punk musical scene, it has been extended to:
“(…) other cultural creations and to everyday politics, wherein participants avoid the ethicopolitical compromise of participation in institutions and practices they consider exploitative,
doing as much as possible themselves, according to an autonomous anarchist ethos.”
(Nicholas, 2007, p.1)
Ryan Moore (2004) explains this ethical commitment as a reaction to the postmodern
alienation of societies living under the forces of global capitalism, a reaction directed to selfsufficiency and independence from the large industrial markets. The motivations of DIY artists
rely on putting forward their own ideas and projects. This involves experimentation,
improvisation. They do whatever is needed in order to have the conditions to work on their
ideas. They do not have aspiration for fame and fortune. They want to put in action whatever
they are thinking about and they will collaborate and work hard in order to get it. It is the
passion for their music that makes them try, experiment, try again, search for new means,
tools, places. It is this passion that makes them move ahead.
Methodology and methods
In the specific case of this study, the researchers’ social and cultural context is similar to the
one of Sonoscopia’s members. This means that this paper is the result of a research with artists
in a context where music is understood like something we share with others in different ways
and as something more important than anything else. When we started this study case with
Sonoscopia’s members, we knew that we were in a very inspiring context, guided by the
intuition and creative power of its authors, and so we considered this possibility as a new
challenge to analyse and understand this music world. As DeNora (2004) mentions "there are
very few close studies of how music is used and works as an ordering material in social life"
(p.11).
We decided to use a comprehensive methodology that allowed us to pay attention to the
speech of our interviewees and to extract from it a sense that was adjusted to them. In fact:
“(…) the comprehensive approach aims to apprehend and to set out the sense of the
individual and collective social activity while realization of an intention. It is justified as the
human action, essentially the expression of a conscience, the product of values, the result of
motivations” (Bruyne et al., 1991, p.139).
So, to be able to explain the precise sense that the actors attribute to their deep motivations
and to the way they cooperate with each others to reach this objective, it is essential to
privilege their speeches as well as their actions.
Since it is not possible to obtain explanations for people's actions in a system of regularities,
the comprehensive methodology allows an approach of the social processes that privileges
their speech as a source of explanation. On the other hand, that speech has to be interpreted
on the basis of its particular context; hence, the work of interpretation must take into
consideration “the possible significations (...) within the meaning lived” (Dartigues, as quoted
in Bruyne et al., 1991, p.78).
The importance of the central discourse for the authors of the Chicago School (Mead,
Blumer and Goffman) is clear in Blumer’s reference to one of the fundamental premises of
symbolic interactionism: “the human being directs his actions towards things according to the
5.7. Music as as a way of living: the case of Sonoscopia
397
meaning he attributes to them” (Blumer, as quoted in Fernandes, 1998, p.42). In short, the
purpose of the comprehensive sociology that shapes the methodological perspective of this
research can be defined as the attempt to obtain a ‘greater clarification of what those who
live in the social world think about it’ (Schutz, 1993, p.249).
Collecting and analysing data
In order to understand the origin of Sonoscopia and its purposes, we used participatory
observation as well as semi-structured interviews to the founders (three in total) and members
(six in total) of the association. As it happens with other qualitative methods, non-standardised
interviews are valuable as a strategy for discovery. They are fundamental when the topic of
research is already familiar to us, and also when there is no danger of meaning being lost
when standard questions are asked (Gilbert, 2008, p.247). Founders and members were asked
different questions with the intention of understanding both worlds: a) the world of the artists
(the musicians) and the way they organize themselves as a group, their purposes and
challenges; b) the way members live and participate in this association. It is necessary to say
that we questioned the persons interviewed in an open way in order to gain spontaneous
information. In the visits we made them, as well as in the activities in which we participated,
we were able to understand that we were in the presence of a very peculiar and interesting
context. All members work together, they organize shows, workshops and other activities
knowing exactly what they could expect from each other. “A useful observational tactic is the
cultivation of an impression of naivité, so that members feel obliged to explain things that
seems obvious to them” (Fielding, 2008, p.267).
In this study, data was firstly coded in order to capture the “datum’s primary content or
essence” (Saldaña, 2009, p.3). During this phase, pieces of audio and text were labelled
according to their evocative characteristics and meanings; these codes were then used to
organize data in meaningful categories. It is important to refer that codes and categories were
not endorsed as the same thing. Following the perspective of Saldaña (2009), our
understanding is that “qualitative codes are essence-capturing and essential elements of the
research story that, when clustered together accordingly to similarity and regularity – a pattern
– they actively facilitate the development of categories and thus analysis of their
connections”(p.8).
In the process of categorization, data was triangulated in order to clarify meaning by
focusing on the participants’ multiple perspectives on the specific issues that were analysed
and interpreted. In this sense, triangulation was used as a differentiation process that led us
to acknowledge the multiplicity and plurality of the participants’ feelings, perspectives and
meanings.
Findings
A living space…
“Whenever someone asks me what is Sonoscopia, I answer: Well… it’s a group of freaks!”
Miguel laughs, directs his blue eyes towards me, trying to make himself clear:
I mean… freaks because they have the courage to challenge the world, to do things in such
different ways! They keep a line of action straightly connected to what they think, to the way
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
they feel it should be, and that is totally outsider to everything society knows. ‘Outsider’ as a
way of living and making music!
2
With these words, Miguel is stressing some of the core values and ethical commitments of
all those who actively participate in Sonoscopia. First, and most importantly, we would say
that Sonoscopia is a living space without hierarchies, marked by mutual respect and informal
relationships. In fact, Sonoscopia’s members don’t even like to think about their association in
formal terms, as an institution with a president, a vice-president, etc. When Tiago, Manuel
and Maria invited other people to create the association, they assumed, as a common ethical
principle, that those they were inviting would have the same committed attitude towards
Sonoscopia that they had. They invited new members to join them as equal partners, sharing
the responsibilities of organizing concerts, cleaning, cooking, rehearsing, taking care of the
materials, divulging the activities promoted by Sonoscopia. Moreover, as Tiago explained to
me, although everyone at Sonoscopia is somehow related to experimental music and sound
as an artistic medium, their profiles are tremendously heterogeneous. And for us, researchers,
but also artists and questioning human beings living in a world that seems to have no escape
from a generalized egocentric position towards the individual, this was one of the most
fascinating things that we saw and heard about. At Sonoscopia we met punk rockers, pop
rock musicians, film lovers, writers, painters, sound artists, performers, educators, musicians
and other professionals doing their master and PhD degrees. Anyone of them could be found
working in front of a computer, experimenting with new sounds, cleaning the house, buying
food to make the dinner. This association is not related to the punk music scene, and it is
important to refer here that, as was already mentioned in the literature review (Nicholas,
2007), DIY it’s not exclusive to the punk movement. DIY is related to an ethical position toward
life and others (Peterson and Bennett, 2004; Nicholas, 2007; Moore, 2004). And it is a reality
at Sonoscopia. The fact that they have strongly diverse musical and academic backgrounds is
seen by Sonoscopics (as they sometime call themselves, laughing) as something very positive.
For them, everyone has something unique to share with others: a passion, a special aptitude,
talent or expertise that makes that person special to the lives of those who meet at Sonoscopia.
And that is enough.
Everything that happens at Sonoscopia emerges from the ethical demand of giving,
respecting and sharing that is inspired on (although, as already mentioned before, not
exclusive to) the libertarian model of anarchic movements, such as punk (Gosling, 2004).
As Fernando explained us:
I don’t have to tell you what you have to do, and you don’t have to tell me what to do, and
we respect each other, and this works, doesn’t it? People may argue and discuss about their
perspectives, but I think that is a healthy thing if you don’t overreact and respect the person
you have in front of you.
Having all this in mind, it is our belief that this spirit leads to an overall feeling of well-being
that invades those that arrive at Sonoscopia. ‘People come here and they feel this kind of…
spirit… They feel that… it works, that you’re cool, you’re ok!’ For that reason, Sonoscopia has
become an almost ideal place to exchange ideas in Porto, to learn with others, to share, to
attend concerts and performances and to discuss freely about all this. Sonoscopia has become
a meaningful place where persons meet, relate to each other, learn and create new things
2
In English, in the original.
5.7. Music as as a way of living: the case of Sonoscopia
399
because of music. It is this way music has an active role in these peoples’ lives. From the
interviews and from what we observed and heard during informal conversations we could see
that the lives of Tiago, Manuel, Maria or Fernando have changed dramatically since they
arrived at Sonoscopia (DeNora, 2003, 2004, Frith, 2002). At Sonoscopia their work and other
aspects of life flow together, there is not a rigid separation, perhaps because their work is
really a very important part of their lives, it is a way to assign new meaning to situations, to
read and rewrite the world.
As a consequence, they have created a place in Porto, a scene that has changed the way
other musicians and fans live and understand experimental music.
A working space…
Tiago smiles at me as he finds himself finally ready to be interviewed. After three highly
demanding performances at the chapel of the house of Serralves, at the “Serralves em Festa”
festival in Porto, Sonoscopia’s musicians and performers are feeling very tired. They are quite
happy with the result of their work and I clearly understand that this is a moment for relaxing.
I am almost giving up on interviewing Tiago, as he talks and laughs with the ‘crew’, drinking
a beer before preparing everything for the next day. But Tiago doesn’t give up on me. It is
Saturday evening, on Sunday they will have another day full of performances and, on Monday,
he will leave at dawn for a European tour. Very well aware of all this and knowing that his
days run like a John Zorn’s frenetic sax line ‘improv’, he kindly says: “ Let’s go?” I get up
immediately, looking around so that I don’t forget anything. We walk a little bit by the
monumental garden of Serralves and we sit in a quiet place, far from the other concerts and
from the crowd.
Tiago talks about Sonoscopia with passion and devotion. Their new space, a former nursery
school that they transformed all by themselves, has become a centre, in the Porto experimental
underground musical scene, for the practice, creation and promotion of experimental music
and sound art. The place is huge, comfortable, and offers all kind of resources for musicians
and other artists related to sound: a studio, an atelier, a room for rehearsing, two other offices,
a bigger space for working in ensemble, making presentations and concerts. All these spaces
are totally equipped with all kind of tools, musical and electronic material, something they
accomplished, according to Tiago, as a natural consequence of their living philosophy:
At Sonoscopia we leave totally in a DIY culture. We did everything without money, and there
are amazing things like... previously we were in a room where we didn’t even had a PA to
rehearse, we could not hear each other, and suddenly we are in a space where we have three
PAs, several columns, microphones to rehearse, you see? And this is only possible because we
live and share our things. There is this spirit strongly connected to the punk aesthetics that is
part of the past of many of us.
This seems to create the basic conditions for what Tiago and the other members of
Sonoscopia have stressed again and again in their interviews: Sonoscopia as their own place
to work, to experiment. There is, indeed, this strong sense of ownership, of owning something
that is precious: the freedom to experiment, to try, to take risks. Strongly disconnected from
the mainstream industries and from the capitalist way of life, they found, through music, an
alternative way of being in the world. They used the aesthetic dimension of their lives to obtain
an answer to the questions that pursued them, to bring meaning to their lives (DeNora, 1999,
2003, 2004; Frith, 2002; Wenger, 1998). Fernando, one of the most active members of
Sonoscopia, explains it this way:
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
The idea of a lab where you can experiment things, which otherwise you could not…
Because… Well... First of all, you don’t have the space or the material to do everything that
comes to your mind… But here… Well… You know you have a space; it’s like an oxygen
balloon, where you can imagine whatever you want, try it and fly…
But this is not the only significant aspect found in Sonoscopia’s working world. One of the
most striking things seems to be knowledge exchange, the possibility of having constant
feedback from other musicians, artists and a regular audience. Fernando continues explaining:
I spent lots of time doing music alone, I missed the feedback, I missed sharing my ideas with
someone, you know? And now, this is happening, and it’s great! All this idea sharing, the
feedback, and the audience! You have people making comments about what you do!
André, a guitar player, seems to agree with Fernando in this respect:
I… Musicians have this tendency… I have my stuff, I am always isolated, composing, and doing
my own stuff, and here I feel much better, you know? I feel… I see other musicians working!
I see their work appearing, disappearing… And this is so cool, because you are here, you are
feeling and you learn, you really learn.
As a working space, Sonoscopia is a place of encounter, a place where no one has to ask
what to do, or if it can be done. Sonoscopia is a place where people trust each other, where
musicians and performers go in order to develop their own work. Sometimes they do it alone.
Sometimes they do it together. Some of them are rehearsing for a rock concert they will have
the following week, some of them are working on the sound material for their PhD thesis.
Some of them are building new musical instruments, others are editing a new a recording.
They use each other’s material. They leave the room they are working in, ask for an opinion,
discuss possibilities. Someone talks about a book, a website, a recording. Someone says “ I
have it here! Keep it with you!” Someone smiles and goes back to work.
And again, and again. And tomorrow they’ll see each other again.
Resonances
These two ways of appropriating the physical space of Sonoscopia lead to a deep engagement
and a strong commitment of its participants to the specific musical scene that grows at
Sonoscopia and to the relationships that are established among them. At the same time, these
two feelings, which seem to sustain the lives of those participating in Sonoscopia, breath
through a double pathway (Figure 1.) that characterizes their ethical and aesthetically identity:
risk taking, exploratory attitude, and a set of values strongly tied to a libertarian model, to
anarchy and community sharing.
5.7. Music as as a way of living: the case of Sonoscopia
401
Figure 1 - Sonoscopia’s ethical and aesthetical identity
This seems to work in a circular way, in which these strong feelings of belonging,
ownership and participation support an attitude of constant risk taking and only exist due to
a strong commitment and deep engagement tied to the particular ethical ethos that
Sonoscopia’s members have towards each other and towards their work. This is making
Sonoscopia sound louder and louder in the Portuguese artistic media. They leave their
footsteps wherever they go, they have now a faithful group of followers, they have regular
activities, performances and concerts, and they have been invited to participate in festivals and
multidisciplinary projects and to give several workshops. We will now describe some of these
activities which, we believe, are the living manifestations of Sonoscopia.
SROSH and DIY instruments
Manuel, one of the members we interviewed, explained the different DIY music
instruments they usually make. These new musical instruments, not commercialized, are
unique (sole instruments). They began to appear at the same time as Srosh, a project created
with the support of Casa da Música. The goal was to create a music and artistic community in
the field of experimental music and sound art. Nowadays, the Srosh ensemble creates sound
sculptures, non-conventional instruments, sound interventions and installations in specific
spaces. They work in the area of sound art, field recordings, acousmatic, electronic
manipulation field recordings, soundscape and indeterminism. Each Srosh’s member has built
at least one musical instrument, and some of them were made collectively. They also do it
many times in workshops with children. “That's what I love the most! I think this is a huge
experience for children but also for adults”, explains Manuel. For him, to build with recycled
materials − like tin cans, bottles, drink straws, bamboo sticks, bottle caps, pots and pans or
any other different objects − is a very interesting experience, a new vision of musical
involvement. Young children can tap and bang on the cans like playground drums, they can
blow up in bamboo sticks, clap, touch and feel the sound. During these workshops,
Sonoscopia drums, maracas and xylophones, together with Manuel's music boxes, create the
conditions to involve all children in activities such as music composition and improvisation. In
the Portuguese music education scenario, such opportunities are ‘multifaceted, diverse and
heterogeneous; they extend to a wide range of activities, (…), cater to varied interests, and
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include many different approaches, styles and genres (O'Neill, 2008, p.461). Sonoscopia
represents all this in Porto.
Microvolumes
Microvolumes are a series of concerts in the field of experimental, ‘improv’ and
electroacoustic music. They first took place in 2004 at the bar Artes Múltiplas, that is nowadays
closed. During that year twelve editions of Microvolumes were organized and they included
28 concerts with 33 national and international musicians. The beginning of a new edition of
Microvolumes happened in 2011, this time in the new working space of Srosh Ensemble. In
this new edition, each concert began with a dinner, which helped to create a more cheerful
ambience. Besides listening to the concert, people met, talked to each other, exchanged ideas
about music, musicians, etc.
The third edition, which is still ongoing, began in 2013 in the new building of Sonoscopia.
Two ideas remained from the previous editions: a) musicians should play at low volume; b)
there should be a dinner before the concert.
Microvolumes are still happening nowadays, usually once month but sometimes twice. The
main goal is to create and maintain an international web of musicians with ideological and
musical conceptions similar to those of Sonoscopia.
Porto Sonoro
Porto Sonoro is a project that seeks to identify, catalog and understand the sonic identity
of the city’s historical center, using its surround sound, sound marks, located musical elements,
phonetics, and phonology. This Project has theoretical and practical objectives. The theoretical
objectives are:
“To understand sound as an asset of modern day life in its most spontaneous form, this sound
research aims at exposing its potential by rethinking the city and its sound basis. By recollecting
and reorganizing its fragments we believe that spaces can be re-conceptualized. Sound
paradigms can overcome and integrate different academic fields and the community in
general, using diverse sound tools to describe soundscapes or to create new ones.
A creative approach is also incentivized. The sound sources of a certain place may serve as a
dynamical motive for transformations, instead of acting as a static phenomenon or being
reduced to mere noise pollution problematic” (Magalhães & Costa, 2013, p.2).
The practical objectives are:
“To create an online platform, open to all to access and contribute. The content of this
platform can be used by the scientific community for research and analysis and by the artistic
community to use in a sound design context, visual integration or music composition.
With this expanding platform we aim at preserving and increasing the city of Porto’s sonic
patrimony, which contributes to the general population collective memories and imaginary
through its actors and ambiences” (Magalhães & Costa, 2013, p.2).
In brief
Our research shows that Sonoscopia is a very special Portuguese association, an association
with international recognition and that receives other musicians and bands in a regular basis.
Music is a universal language that facilitates the communication, something most people enjoy
and like to share. It is the kind of art that allows people to take part in it in different ways. As
Zask (2001) proposes, to participate is to take part in something: to contribute, to receive and
5.7. Music as as a way of living: the case of Sonoscopia
403
to benefit as a democratic ideal. Each Sonoscopia’s member can do his musical scene
according to his own interests and build his own identity in a mixed environment. All members
can propose and challenge others to be a part or to take part in other member’s projects. In
spite of their financial difficulties they never gave up. They work in a social and cultural
community trying to show their point of view, their scene, in a positive, constructive and
affirmative way. They are concerned with the sustainability of the environment as well as with
the cultural inheritance. As Sonoscopia’s members mentioned to us, to bring people together
in a common project like this one does not mean to divide a community property, but to
produce in common something which, later on and in various ways, can be appreciated by
each participant. On one hand, all members chose freely to be a part of this group and know
what they can expect and, on the other hand, they all chose music as a way of living.
Acknowledgements: We would like to acknowledge all the member of Sonoscopia that kindly
welcomed us in their space, and generously shared with us us and explained us their work and way
of living.
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Bord de l’eau.
Photo given by Ondina Pires
PART 6 | Underground music scenes
6.1. Above and below ground
Will Straw 1
Abstract
Underground musical cultures within cities have been celebrated or condemned for their visibility.
They have confounded journalists and would-be members of such cultures through their invisibility
and through the barriers which they pose to entry. This dual character of underground music scenes
– their visibility and invisibility – is the focus of my article.
As visible expressions of taste and political identity, undergrounds contribute to the theatricality of
cities. They occupy space, invite judgement, and participate in the spectacle of visual diversity which
has long been one of the key features of cities. At the same time, as obscure worlds whose logics
and practices often escape easy identification, musical undergrounds enhance the sense that key
features of contemporary urban life are invisible, indecipherable, mysterious.
This tension between the visibility and invisibility of musical undergrounds regularly poses problems
for those (journalists, tourists, critics) seeking to find and observe musical scenes. If the notion of
music scene has continued usefulness in musical analysis, it is perhaps for the ways in which it joins
the labour of cultural expression to the effervescence of urban sociability. The relationship between
these two things is not one of simple translation. Cultural labour may be hidden behind sociability
just as the making of culture may obscure the building of social links which is one of its key effects.
Scenes make cultural activity visible and decipherable by rendering it public, taking it from acts of
private production and consumption into public contexts of sociability, conviviality, interaction. In
these public contexts, cultural activity is subject to the look which seeks to understand. Just as
clearly, though, scenes make cultural activity invisible and indecipherable by ‘hiding’ cultural
productivity behind seemingly meaningless (or indistinguishable) forms of social life.
Keywords: urban, subculture, music, visibility, scene
The main issue I want to address in this article is that of the visibility of music scenes. In
doing so, I’m bringing together two of my key interests. One of those is the very notion of a
musical or cultural scene, to which I have returned intermittently in my work over the last
twenty years. The other, a more recent interest, is the culture of the urban night. I have recently
completed a two-year team project on the urban night, and am seeking to expand this into
an international network.
Let me begin by talking about where I live. I come from Montreal, in Quebec, in Canada.
To say that is already to say something politically sensitive: many people in Quebec do not
think of themselves as living in Canada. And many people in Montreal do not think of
themselves as living in Quebec. This is symptomatic of the ways in which identification with
one’s city has become, for so many, a primary identification. We speak of a Montreal music
scene now, but hardly at all any more of la Musique Québécoise or Canadian music.
1
Professor at Department of Art History and Communications Studies, Director of McGill Institute for the
Study of Canada, McGill University, Canada.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
More precisely, I live in a neighbourhood of Montreal called “Mile End”. Since the late
1990s, Mile End has been considered the most vital area for rock-based music in Montreal and
probably in Canada. It is the home of the influential group Godspeed Ye Black Emperor, of
their record label Constellation Records, of house music label Mile End Records; it is the
“birthplace” of Arcade Fire, the location of Casa del Popolo, probably the most important
venue for alternative rock-based forms of music in Montreal, and of the important venue
Cabaret de Mile End; and it is the neighbourhood in which dozens of bands and other musical
configurations started and in which some continue to live: Mozart’s Sister, Grimes, Blue
Hawaii, Braids, Sean Nicholas Savage, Mac DeMarco and TONSTARTSSBANDHT, Purity Ring,
Doldrums. My friend Francois Mouillot will be speaking later in the conference about some of
this activity.
The Mile End neighbourhood is slowly losing some of its centrality now, as musical activity
moves north, in the face of ongoing gentrification. But for much of the 2000s, Mile End was
considered the epicentre of Montreal and Canadian musical activity. In 2010, it was the centre
of what, borrowing from Greil Marcus, people began calling the “New Weird Canada” a
musical
underground
characterized
by
high
levels
of
eccentricity
(http://www.aux.tv/2012/09/the-new-weird-canada-exploring-the-emerging-musicunderground/).
And so journalists came to report on the Mile End scene. The challenge they confronted,
though, was that the Mile End music scene was difficult to capture in visual terms. Music
consumed in dark rooms, in lofts or bars, is not particularly photogenic. This is particularly the
case for music which is not particularly theatrical, and which is often marked by a cultivated
casualness. In any case, darkened rooms convey little of the geography of a scene. As a result,
most of the images of Mile End which circulate are images from which music is absent. Music
was the cultural activity which founded the idea of Mile End as a scene, but the visual signifiers
of that scene communicate little of music.
As an experiment, I typed the phrases “Mile end” and “Music scene” into Google Images.
Here are the first 31.
In only 3 of these images do we see any relation to music: in one, a musician performs at
the inauguration of a park; in another, a musician speaks in a seminar; in the last one, we see
the logo for the Montreal house music label Mile End Records. Mostly, we see images of
buildings which bear no necessary relationship to music: churches, shops, restaurants. We see
streets. We don’t, in fact, see many people, and those we do see are mostly in one photo of
people, in the lower left, of people sitting outside the Café Olympico. This is the café which
journalists typically describe as the meeting place for Mile End’s hipster music scene.
I’m interested in the way in which this absence of images of music in Mile End does many
things. First of all, this absence of images enhances the sense that the music here is
underground music – it is underground, not only in the sense of being experimental and often
transgressive, but because it is invisible. The scene does not offer itself up for easy
understanding. When I first moved to Montreal, the markers of a scene were highly visible, in
the ways in which punks dressed and occupied public space. In Mile End now, it is rather as if
musicians are like aliens who live among us, undetectable. Secondly, because the image of
Mile End focus on buildings and streets, they contributes to the sense that music here is deeply
grounded in space and locality, even if music itself is almost never shown in the places in which
it happens. Thirdly, and I will return to this later, the absence of images of music confirms a
st
tendency of 21 century urban life: that cultural activity, even of the most avowedly
6.1. Above and below ground
409
oppositional kind, will be absorbed within a generalize sense of lifestyle whose most visible
features are the spaces of public consumption, like restaurants and cafés.
Figure 1 - Google search: “mile end” “music scene”. Accessed June 30, 2014
Now, we can contrast representations of the Mile End scene with those of another “scenic”
phenomenon: that is the scene around what Eric Davidson, in his very fine recent book, calls
the “Gunk Punk” scene (Davidson, 2010). Basically, the Gunk Punk scene is a loosely
connected scene devoted to music of the 1990s which fell, stylistically, between hard core
punk and messy power pop or garage. The scene was constituted of bands like the New Bomb
Turks and the Ding Dongs. If representations of Mile End’s music scene are so often devoid of
any pictures of music, Davidson’s book is the opposite. It is full of pictures of music: every
image, it seems, is of a band playing in a club, like the image on the cover. With time, all of
these images come to look the same. Of course there is no other specificity to the Gunk Punk
scene beyond the generic club… there were no spaces or neighbourhoods with which it was
associated, no places in which the scene converged and drank coffee in the afternoon. The
scene was held together by a thin line of taste which joined together, across the United States
and Western Europe, those musicians who were too archival in their tastes to simply want to
make hard-edged punk and too punky in their tastes to simply want to be 1960s garage band
revivalists. The Gunk Punk scene was just the name of the network which formed along this
line of taste. It was visible only in its moments of enactment. The Mile End scene of Montreal,
on the other hand, could claim to be a community, with infrastructures for living and eating
and socializing.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Let me talk more broadly now about music scenes and visibility. The question of the visibility
of musical scenes and subcultures may be said to fall between two positions which were
elaborated in the 1980s and 1990s. One of these is the idea that subcultures already are
subject to a look: the look of surveillance, the look of power. Subcultures inhabit that look,
and they seek it out. But everything they do is devoted to ensuring that the look of others
does not reach at the understanding which is one of its objectives. Here is Dick Hebdige, in his
1989 book Hiding in the Light: “Subculture forms up in the space between surveillance and
the evasion of surveillance, it translates the fact of being under scrutiny into the pleasure of
being watched. It is a hiding in the light” (Hebdige, 1989, p. 35). And later: “Subcultures are
both a play for attention and a refusal, once attention has been granted, to be read according
to the Book” (p. 35).
Two years later, in 1991, Hakim Bey will suggest a very different kind of politics. The enemy
is no longer, as with Hebdige, a marginalized underclass which must find ways of asserting its
identity. Nor is the enemy a power engaged in surveillance which seeks to understand and
therefore to control. Rather, the enemy is a logic of consumerism which turns every subcultural
image into a cinematic commodity. Subcultures seek to undermine the Society of the Spectacle
by building marginal, short-lived spaces of invisibility. In a society which transforms everything
into “cinema”, the radical gesture is that which fails to attract the look. For Hakim Bey, the
purpose of a radical politics is to create temporary autonomous zones which leave no traces
and attract no looks:
Getting the Temporary Autonomous Zone started may involve tactics of violence and defense,
but its greatest strength lies in its invisibility--the State cannot recognize it because History has
no definition of it. As soon as the TAZ is named (represented, mediated), it must vanish, it will
vanish, leaving behind it an empty husk, only to spring up again somewhere else, once again
invisible because undefinable in terms of the Spectacle (Bey, 1991).
Now Hebdige and Bey are not offering different theories of the same thing. Hebdige, as
we know, is talking about the long line of spectacular subcultures, which runs from the
London street gangs of the 19 century through the punks of the 20 . Bey’s idea of Temporary
th
th
Autonomous Zones will become a key part of the ways in which rave culture in the 1990s
came to theorize itself. They are talking about very different sorts of undergrounds and very
different sorts of cultural politics. One way of describing the difference between them,
perhaps, is to say that Hebdige is iconophilic: he sees visibility and the image as key to
resistance, and conceives cultural conflict in terms of semiotic warfare. Bey, on the other hand,
is iconophobic, condemning the image for its inevitable complicity with a mediatized consumer
culture.
We can say many things about these two approaches to visibility, but I want to talk for a
moment about their implications for the question of identities: for the question of bodies
marked by race, gender and sexuality. Let me just offer two hypotheses:
1) One hypothesis is that what, for Dick Hebdige, is typical of street subcultures has long
been true for racial minorities, sexual minorities and so on. The resistance of African
Americans and Latinos, of transgender communities and so on has involved the claim
to the right to occupy public space and to assert those visible identities where they
might not be wanted. However, this occupation of public space will often include a
resistance to any easy understanding. This is the classic struggle for the visibility of the
oppressed and marginalized.
6.1. Above and below ground
411
2) Hakim Key’s fight for invisibility, on the other hand, is a refusal to fight at the level of
the image. There is a history of this struggle for invisibility at the heart of black American
politics, and in particular in the thinking of Ralph Ellison. To be invisible is to find places,
not just of refuge, but of community and self-development. By the time Hakim Bey is
writing, though, the refusal to fight at the level of the image is also a refusal to conceive
of cultural struggle in terms of race, gender, sexuality –all of these things which function
at the level of the visible. Hence, we have the perception of 1990s rave culture as sexless
or ungendered, as implicitly white and unconcerned with a politics of social identity.
Perhaps we might say, in 2014, that neither of these positions, nor the things they describe,
continue to have pertinence. We might want to say that spectacular subcultures, seeking out
and resisting the gaze of power in public space, are hardly with us anymore. We might want
to say, as well, that Temporary Autonomous Zones of utopic invisibility only exist in parodic
forms, like the Burning Man Festival or beach parties in Ibiza. This might be the case in Western
Europe and Canada and the United States, but I suspect it may be different elsewhere.
Let me now return to the Mile End scene in Montreal. In March of 2014, the newspaper
the Ottawa Citizen, ran an article entitled “Day Trip: A day in Mile End, Montreal’s ‘hipster
capital”
(http://www.ottawacitizen.com/Trip+Mile+Canada+hipster+capital/9669130/story.html).
What interests me about this piece, which was generally successful in its characterization of
the neighbourhood, was the image which accompanied it: the image of a vintage boutique
selling old clothes and other kinds of vintage objects. Images such as these now serve with
increasing frequency to represent the neighbourhood. If the original center of the Mile End
cultural scene was music-making, that activity was and largely remains invisible and
unrepresented. There are obviously formal problems with representing music in visual terms,
and it is commonplace to note that the material supports of music – records, instruments, etc.
– are usually used to stand in for a substance that is sonic rather than visual. What is interesting
in the case of Mile End is that imagery now quickly steps over the material supports of music
to show us the non-musical material supports of a scene originally founded on music: like the
objects which have accumulated and been repurposed and which now fill hipster vintage
shops. Scenes generate this accumulation of material goods as one of their underlying
processes; these material goods then become the visible tokens of the tastes which
characterize the scene. Their relationship to the scene is kind of indexical: they point towards
tastes, but express them only impartially.
The more interesting image of Mile End, in my view, one which figures among the first 31
images turned up in the Google Search which I spoke about earlier. Half of all the media
pictures of Mile End seem to be pictures of people sitting outside one particular café, the Café
Olympia. Journalists rush to this café as if the secrets of the Mile End music scene are contained
there. When I was interviewed by a radio station once about the scene, they insisted that we
record the interview there. If this is the Mile End scene, however, it is clearly not spectacular
and resistant, in Hebdige’s terms, seeking the light of surveillance. And it is clearly not in any
way a Temporary Autonomous Zone working to produce and maintain its invisibility. Even if
many of the key people in the Mile End music scene may be found there, at particular times
of the day or night, the Café Olympico does not offer much more than an image of relaxed
conviviality.
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The idea of scene has benefitted a great deal, I think, from the recent boom in what we
can call urban cultural studies, from studies of city culture. Within the study of the urban, the
concept of “scene” has been able to leave the debate over subcultures and tribes, a debate
which David Hesmondhalgh so expertly summarized several years ago. “Scene” now returns
us to the question of visibility in urban life. Scene, as sociologist Alan Blum once argued,
designates the theatricality of urban life, the ways in which part of the pleasure of the city
comes from seeing people together in convivial situations (Blum, 2003).
But this image of public conviviality sits in an uneasy relationship to music or other cultural
forms. Does the image of people at Café Olympico reveal the secrets of the music scene or
disguise them? Scenes make cultural activity visible and decipherable by rendering it public,
taking it from acts of private production and consumption into public contexts of sociability,
conviviality and interaction. Seeing people who look like musicians or artists sitting together,
drinking coffee, we may think we have witnessed and understood a scene. Just as clearly,
though, scenes make cultural activity invisible and indecipherable by ‘hiding’cultural
productivity behind seemingly meaningless (or indistinguishable) forms of social life.
Five years ago, when both national and international media sent reporters to cover
Montreal’s high-profile Mile End cultural scene, these countervailing logics of a scene played
themselves out in ways that were both revealing and amusing. Journalists hung around the
two main Italian coffee shops, which were the conventional ports of entry to this scene,
uncertain as to where to begin. They were unsure whether the easily observed social
effervescence in these places was the scene itself or simply a set of distractions which
camouflaged a real, more secret scene to which they would never find access.
It is in relationship to these ideas that I want to conclude with a number of hypotheses
about the place of cultural and musical scenes in city life. Some of these are obvious, I think,
others, I hope, less so.
(1) the notion of scene now is difficult to separate from a logic of gentrification.
Here is a possible definition of scene now: A scene is that cultural phenomenon which
arises when any purposeful activity acquires a supplement of sociability and when that
supplement of sociability becomes part of the observable effervescence of the city. This is not
a complete definition, but I think every definition of scene must account for something like a
supplement of sociability. If there is only cultural work and no sociability, we have little more
than a network or a production centre. If there is all sociability and no underlying cultural
expression, we have only leisure and consumption. In today’s cities, a scene is the supplement
of sociability, conviviality and effervescence which gathers around the making of culture. And,
as we know, this supplement has come to be highly valued in the economic transformation of
cities, within in processes we call gentrification.
(2) what were once marginal or secondary aspects of scenes – their “support” system –
are now fully assimilated within ideas of creativity and innovation. The problem of cultural
undergrounds now is that they are easily assimilated within official discourses of incubation
and innovation. I don’t want to belabour here the critique of ideas of the creative city or the
creative class. But I do want to note that those things which Harold Becker once saw as part
of the “support system” of an art world or scene – cafés, bars and restaurants– are now
enshrined as full players in a culture of creation and innovation. “Food is the new rock,” a
Washington Post journalist suggested last year, and the displacement of music by food as the
locus
of
creative
energies
is
visible
in
a
variety
of
places
(http://www.washingtonpost.com/entertainment/music/are-foodies-quietly-killing-rock-and-
6.1. Above and below ground
413
roll/2013/05/10/632f1718-b8fb-11e2-b94c-b684dda07add story.html). It is also the case that
cafes and restaurants are dominant in the visual representation of cultural scenes: we do not
see, very often, images of studios or venues, but we see images of restaurants and cafés which
are taken to express the same tastes as might be expressed by those studios or venues were
there visibility more available or seductive.
(3) Hypothesis 3: From the 1960s through the late 1990s, music was severed from the
conviviality of public eating and drinking. In the 2000s, the connection between them has
been restored.
I’ve been interested for some time in a period which roughly begins in the 1960s, when,
in Western countries at least, activities like dancing became separated from activities like
eating an evening meal. In many countries, the “supper club” was a central cultural format:
one sat and ate, one got up and danced, live performers played. This broke down in the 1960s
with the rise of the discothèque and the dance club: one no longer went out only in couples
or groups of couples; the taking of drugs to a certain extent displaced the activity of eating;
and the rise of the DJ meant that one danced to unbroken sequences of records, rather than
pausing between songs to return to a table. The severing of relaxed conviviality from the
consumption of music in a sense freed music to move later into the night and to assume more
experimental and oppositional forms.
The late night consumption of music continues, of courses, but I’m interested in the ways
in which music and the conviviality of eating/drinking are now collapsing back on each other.
In France, for the past several years, people have noted the rise of “Bars à ambiance musicale”,
and the same phenomena is noticeable in Montreal, Mexico City, Sao Paulo, Bogota and other
cities where I have been recently. In a bar à ambiance musicale, people eat and drink to the
accompaniment of curated music, usually involving a dj. Music recedes from the centrality of
live performance but moves forward from the status of unnoticed background.
There is obviously much to regret in this shift: music has been pulled back, in many cases,
from its association with the deepest night, from that space/time in which, historically, the
most transgressive forms of expression have been thought to unfold. The conviviality of
conversation has long been considered, by musicians and others, as a stark contrast to the
unsettling force of music. The bar à ambiance musicale presumes a clientele drawn in equal
measure to the possibility of interesting music and convivial conversation. what was once (and
still is, sometimes) a battle over transgressive noise caused by music is more and more a battle
over loud street-level conversation and collective smoking.
More broadly, we can see changes in the relationship between cultural forms and spaces
of conviviality. In Mexico City, repertory cinemas add restaurants or bars as appendages, to
make up for the declining attraction of cinema itself and to add sociability to the consumption
fo cinema. Bookstores in the same city added cafés to attract customers and increase revenues.
These cafés became restaurants, with outdoor terrasses and curated music and now the
bookstore is little more than a decorative backdrop to what is essentially a restaurant.
In Montreal, as in Paris and several other cities, one of the most widely perceived threats
to a certain kind of culture has come with the transformation of almost every available space
into a restaurant or bar. Retail book or record shops, and small music venues are dying. The
restaurants which replace them are not usually corporate or obviously evil; they are very often
opened by genuinely creative people for whom food and drink are full participants in the new
culture of urban creativity. But here, again, many of the cultural processes we once associated
with music are now taken over by food and drink. Since the 1960s, music promoters have
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
played a key role in repurposing older forms of urban architecture: the ballrooms of the 1930s
became the psychedelic concert halls of the 1960s, ethnic social clubs became punk venues in
the 1970s, abandoned industrial lofts became performance spaces in the 1980s and 1990s.
Now it is restaurants who are central to this conversion, usually at the expense of small,
independent retail stores which close, but whose markers of entrepreneurial authenticity are
so often maintained by the owners of the restaurants which open within them.
(4) Hypothesis 4: The organization of culture follows the perception that what is scarce is
sociability, not interesting cultural expression.
In the 1990s, those who theorized what is called relational aesthetics in the world of the
visual arts came up with a similar idea: what art must resolve, they argued, is not an absence
of meaning but an absence of interconnection. (See the various articles collected in Bishop,
2006.) Meaning was everywhere, it was claimed; sociability was scarce. And so we saw the
wide variety of artworks which saw as their mission to produce new kinds of interconnection:
through such things as the serving of meals in a gallery.
We might ask whether something similar is happening with music: the late night venue in
which one encountered the new and the previously unheard is losing ground to the midevening bar à ambiance musicale. Here, one talks with friends against a background of music
that is kind of interesting but demands no intensely focused attention. This is not all that is
happening, of course: interesting music continues to be made and heard, late-night spaces of
transgression continue, in cities around the world. But as images of convivial café life come to
define important cultural scenes, like those of the neighbourhood in which I live, we need to
ask the question: Have we finally found that more perfect world, in which culture settles into
the routines and the intimacies of everyday life? Or is this the triumph of a soft complacency
in which the divisive cultural struggle over meaning has disappeared?
References
Bey H. (1991). The Temporary Autonomous Zone, Ontological Anarchy, Poetic Terrorism [online].
Retrieved from http://hermetic.com/bey/taz3.html.
Bishop, C. (ed.) (2006). Participation. London, Cambridge, Mass: Whitechapel, MIT Press.
Blum, A. (2003). The imaginative structure of the city. Montreal: McGill Queen’s University Press.
Davidson, E. (2010). We Never Learn: The Gunk Punk Undergut, 1988-2001. Milwaukee, Wisconsin:
Backbeat Books.
Hebdige, D. (1989). Hiding in the Light: On Images and Things. London: Comedia.
6.2. Why it makes sense to speak of emancipation:
an overview of futureplaces as a current space for
Punk to rise and reinvent
Heitor Alvelos 1
Anselmo Canha 2
Fátima São Simão 3
Project website: futureplaces.org
1
PhD (Royal College of Art). University of Porto, Portugal.
MA (University of Porto). University of Porto, Portugal.
3
MA (City University London). University of Porto, Portugal.
2
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
We begin by positing a perplexity in this day and age: this perplexity is media-driven, and it
concerns us. New media seem busy carving a paradox, one where the tacit and proclaimed
promise of endless (and endlessly renewable) self-expression betrays itself in a cathedral of
algorithmic determinism, a foreboding banality - while maintaining that yes, the Sky is the
limit as far as one's existential promise is concerned. The allure of connectivity to the point of
a saturated, hallucinatory frenzy knows no nemesis, no redemption: it hovers hostile, halfbaked, as pseudo-ontological evidence, seductive bullying. Instant segments of hilarious
stimulation, endorphins rather than cognition. Add the ever-expanding spiral of statistical
complexity, the allure of "all is in order" in face of the sore evidence that all is not. This vertigo
on steroids, this bored expectation to be blown away. This conviviality of opposites, this serene
paradox, a paradox that, by virtue of overwhelming presence, no longer formulates itself as a
driving existential conundrum: 2014, no less.
No wonder a benevolent anger emerges. The overwhelming, desolate hunch that
somewhere, somehow, something went the wrong way… Not so much the acrobatic mantra
of economic hubris, as the realisation that cultural emancipation, voided of ideological
investment, has become an infantile hall of mirrors entertaining themselves and their opposite.
The post-WW2 birth of the concept of Youth, and its vast landscape of possibilities: youth
cultures, subcultures, counter-cultures, the will to dream harder, the ability to play harder,
transgress, cultivate, reinvent from scratch. The urgency of all this, the nobility, the gravitas:
the paradox of our times is the evidence that all of these still apply, still live and thrive as
narratives, as conscious possibilities - and yet no longer act, they no longer come to be,
overtaken as they are by a magical paralysis... Shoved instead to the annals of museography,
the cruel status of historical footnote, the peripheral role of a meme, a cute, disengaged cliché.
Let us therefore focus on the deterministic dominance of the template that governs the
dynamics of the human fabric. We speak of technological structure, and how it sets up camp
in relationships and routines, providing a discreet character. We speak of the unquestioned
ruling ethical assumption of how labour is processed, how survival is preserved, how elevation
is treasured. We speak of how this template merges, in its birth, with the illuminist roots of
science, driving (for the time being) the global scope of civilization. Yet we also speak of reason
as an apparently infallible tool - when in truth, it is equally as subjected to untilateral and
perverse shaping of agendas. The underlying paradigm of most contemporary algorithmicbased exercises seems to be a deep mistrust in the human. The proclaimed imperative of
“smart technology” somehow implies a “dumb user”, an individual unable to fulfill the
premise, untrustworthy, incapable of self-transcendence if not for the gadget in question,
automatism rather than pedagogy; the offer for help becomes an order of compliance.
Even if there was a viable absolute determination for our social, physical and biological
complexity, and even if that determinism was applicable to human aspects that transcended
circumstance, we would not escape the raw notion that reducing the field of possibilities to
visible or probable ingredients corresponds to the reduction of the actual concepts of
"possibility" and "future". This reduction serves objectives - ironically, often undetermined
themselves. And it has consequences. The shaping of rationales operates discreetly through
daily routines, using formats and procedures to produce individual hideouts in the name of
collective labour ethics, of survival and elevation. But what it effectively is, is the absence of
risk, an exercise of maintenance, inductive ideological immutability disguised as liberation. It's
risk reduction through the algorithmic annihilation of the simple idea of possibility, the voiding
of proposition, the aversion to prospection - all anchored in the structure of discrete,
6.2. Why it makes sense to speak of emancipation: an overview of futureplaces as a current
space for Punk to rise and reinvent
417
apparently inescapable elements, whose ultimate self-agenda is an evasion from the
continuous and uncertain physicality of experience.
It's the condition of the constrained word, of the Human held hostage to the reduction
that emanates from his/her circumstance. Design as hypnotic seduction to this perversity,
science as technical authority supporting alien and indeterminate ends, a radical
disappearance of agendas. Creativity a looped reiteration of reduced expectation, a rarefaction
of discovery. It is this loss of the sophisticated continuity of difference that generates nausea
and demands action, demands a reconsideration of words and meanings.
The exhaustion of words is equally the exhaustion of the means of expression, of social
and academic apparatus, of technological devices. The reduction of vocabularies stands in
inverse proportion to the field of possibilities. The growing hermeticism of professional jargon
echoes the volatile abbreviation of words in social media: LOL, AFAIK, IMHO - an
unsurmountable generational gap of codification. Hermeticism further parallels the severe
impoverishment of metaphor in informal conversation, as language becomes an end in itself,
as the brightness of its modus operandi outshines its instrumental condition. The hypnosis of
technology has overtaken the Life is was supposed to serve, and now issues command words:
magic passwords, as evidenced while overlooking the media-driven constructions of possible
Revolutions, just as much as in our small private daily exercises:
Egypt, Syria, Palestine, Youtube, Twitter, Facebook. Like, Comment, Share. Like, Comment,
Share. Visceral manifestations, diluted in their own media lexicon. Simultaneous decapitation
and embrace, in the very same flat surface. Share. Socio-cultural circumstance sterilised in a
forest of papers. Submit. Buildings that contain the city. Selfie. Youth besides the body, youth
besides time. Perpetuations of the idea of rebellion or revolution, but not their hard, impactful
experience. "Share" as a pure process of statistical amplification, yet perversely willing to
maintain an apparent narrative of generosity at all costs. A fatal semblance of Life, an absence
of the Death that generates Life. Life. Like.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Project website: futureplaces.org
Futureplaces, incubation of emancipations
Futureplaces is one of the key initiatives of the UTAustin-Portugal program in digital media,
and it remains an event deeply rooted in the cultural landscape of Porto. Work began very
intuitively in late 2007, around the thought that rather than organizing a digital media festival
according to expectations, it would be best to propose an unequivocal focus on socio-cultural
impact. This was a means of territorial differentiation, but was also an acknowledgment of
the purpose of a festival within an advanced R&D program joining universities, partners and
entrepreneurs.
What we did not expect was the magnitude of possibilities to connect with the sociocultural fabric, beyond the institutional framework. Social promiscuity, we learned to call it:
politicians, musicians, homeless citizens, hackers, universities, graffiti writers, NGOs, techheads, and disabled citizens. Researchers, DJs, human rights groups, artists, museums, sexual
minorities, other festivals, pirates, schools, street musicians, start-up companies, bloggers,
activists, security guards, designers and cooks. Mayors, headhunters, academics, media labels,
car tuning communities, radio producers, anarchists, seamstresses, entrepreneurs, immigrants,
tourists, and people who just happened to pass by. All of the above were and are part of this
experiment, and the unifying thread is the simple evidence that these endless crossroads raise
the standard of dignity for all.
The experience of futureplaces is an intuitive antidote, a counterpoint, consciously
returning to direct contact with ambivalence and the amplitude of Life. It is shock therapy for
6.2. Why it makes sense to speak of emancipation: an overview of futureplaces as a current
space for Punk to rise and reinvent
419
nausea and a training ground for possible emergency exits. It configures itself as a long-term
laboratorial condition, of deliberately undefined contours: where ingredients and outputs
burst as capacitation to autonomous navigation in uncertainty, as a deepening and a renewal
of its own experimental factors that may improve this training, and as a focus of small,
contaminating particles beyond the temporal and functional circumscription of the lab.
At futureplaces, the rigour and accuracy that are convened are of an existential and visceral
nature, and it is from there that they revert to creative activity, keeping technical dexterity in
its effective, instrumental place. Actions are critically directed towards circumstances and
practices that make us, not with the goal of providing them with a judgment but establishing
a fertile relationship with them - whether they translate as a rescuing of the residual or the
apparently irrelevant, or deconstructing and provoking paradox to the point of caricature.
Affectionate and heritage dimensions, epiphanies of various scales, revelations of the actual
meaning of "sharing", sudden images that open up possibilities and readings of who we are.
Unexpected (and improbable) convergence of talents, repertoires and sensibilities, bringing
down walls that weren't there after all, accessibility of the creative act. An all-encompassing
pedagogy of nothing to lose.
The actions of the Lab in its whole cultivate a complex multi-dimensionality that stems from
a permanent questioning that drives the process - while feeding its own, ontological condition
of mystery. A happy accident, or maybe not, that avoids premature labeling (tagging), that
would signal a resignation at the core of its existence. Each practice often emerges without a
clear or singular author, alchemic as it is in a dense negotiation between concept and praxis,
provocation and proposition, intuition and structure, beyond system, taxonomy or category.
And yet, an awareness breaks through in each participant: an awareness of their own
possibilities for contribution, of the potentially tangible impact of their own intrinsic capacities.
A brave and rigorous experience in the complex and indeterminate, towards effective, intimate
change: incubation of emancipations.
Futureplaces is primarily a semantic territory where students and researchers challenge
communities and usually end up being challenged themselves. Case at hand: October 2014.
A group of non-guitarists - people with no prior experience in playing the guitar - get together
one morning. They have never met before, and all know that, in 12 hours, they will be
performing live, as guitar players, on a formal stage, in front of an audience. In one stroke,
acoustic sensitivity is enhanced, compositional formats are shattered, the concept of a
"concert" comes into question, and the notion of "experimental" itself is suddenly a question
mark. Someone in the audience whispers: "I so wish I had something to join and make noise
with". Meanwhile, a sound recital by 10 non-musicians proves: it is possible. And it is Punk.
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Project website: futureplaces.org
And meanwhile, this same experiment is the understandable focus of greed from particular
media sectors. A seductive and exotic concept, it will sort out a few seconds of broadcasting,
and the channel will once again fulfill its role of connecting with citizens: even if the price to
pay is the painful orchestration of the intimate rehearsal of these guitar anti-heroes. It must
be shared, disseminated, all working towards a common good.
There are warning signs. Mass communication, talent-hunting agencies, brands in search
of the exotic twist of the month. All have performed its own denial as agents of a system
supposedly without a face, literally a system of appropriation, of transformation of the
intimate, sacred and benevolent into alien hallucinatory entrenchment.
An essential part of the calibration of the futureplaces lab and experience is played outside
and inside, between the cryptic and the communicable, between itself and its public image,
between intuition and legibility. In other words, futureplaces is itself a territory of conflict. This
is also Punk.
Since the early days of futureplaces, back in 2007, the word "future" has ceased its
function as a projective space of affirmation, and now carries the ghost of imminent
dissolution. We may of course extract the opposite from its operative surface: that the
projection was hallucinatory, and dissolution may just be the gift of reinvention. Punk knew
better than to hang around waiting for "no future" - it proclaimed the absence of a future as
the actual lexical act of its own rebirth.
Johnny Rotten's worn-out jacket, held together by safety pins so it would not fall apart,
became an enduring fashion statement, an anti-fluffy if there ever was one. But what matters
is not only the reference of the image as emanating urgently from circumstance: at
futureplaces it is often a surface of rugged exoticism, an imperative that shelters and preserves
the body and its manifestations, immune to appropriation: a cathartic space of sobriety, an
emotional absence of fear. It is the necessary shelter for the intimate, rigorous work that
demands to be made: a proposal of forgotten introspection giving way to intimate revolutions.
Even in this text, what is hereby described somehow breaks apart: somewhere along the way,
and in face of the inevitability to share the research, a dense, seven-year-old-and-counting
fabric of actions risks reduction, through the desire and the faith of its communicability. And
this is Punk.
6.2. Why it makes sense to speak of emancipation: an overview of futureplaces as a current
space for Punk to rise and reinvent
421
It is therefore the time to be viscerally aristocratic: not entitlement, but courage; not
abandonment, but wisdom; not mannerism, but precision; not mindless connectivity, but
generous self-exaction. Futureplaces aims at this throughout its seven-year stream, under the
belief that new media are still extraordinary in their potential, yet only able to fulfill their
promise in direct relation with our own visceral aristocracy. It seems we're finally getting the
hang of it: this is why the word "festival" was dropped - once the territory of collective
epiphany, the word is now paved with self-indulgent, hyper-visible consumerism. And this is
why we'd rather be a lab, even if to attempt the most celebratory rebuttal of expectations,
and in the process, do exactly what needs to be done.
Project website: futureplaces.org
Further reading
Alvelos, Heitor. Beyond Like: thoughts on psychic octopi, soft superstition and wishful activism. In Alvelos
and Gustafson (eds). Calling All Futures: an overview of futureplaces past, present, and. Porto:
University of Porto, 2010.
Alvelos, Heitor, Karen Gustafson and Fátima São Simão. Between Riot and Rave: five years into a digital
media festival. Essay based on futureplaces keynote by Heitor Alvelos, 2012. Available at
futureplaces.org
Alvelos, Heitor. Dissolution as Reinvention. Essay for futureplaces.org, 2014.
Canha, Anselmo. It’s the Ecostopy, Stopid!. In Alvelos and Gustafson (eds). Calling All Futures: an
overview of futureplaces past, present, and. Porto: University of Porto, 2010.
Canha, Anselmo. Stopnonstop: independent contexts of creative production and their exchange
processes within the social fabrics, the case of Centro Comercial Stop. MA Image Design
dissertation. Porto: University of Porto, 2008.
Canha, Anselmo, and Heitor Alvelos. The day Stop Stopped Stopping. In Alvelos and Gustafson (eds). I
Am A Future Place – Future Places 2008 Festival Proceedings. Porto: University of Porto, 2009.
Canha, Anselmo, and Ana Pedrosa. Visita Guiada ao Manobratório. In Alvelos et al (eds). Manobras no
Porto. Porto: Porto Lazer, 2013.
Moreira, Sara. Bring Your Tapes: welcome to the post-digital era. Interview/essay for Global Voices, 2013.
Available at globalvoicesonline.org
6.3. ‘Ironbound’? A sociospatial perspective on
network diachrony in the Portuguese metal subfield
André Aleixo 1
Abstract
Integrated in an undergoing investigation – focused on a wider multidimensional, synchronic and
diachronic (1980-2014) analysis of Portuguese metal (both as a cultural/artistic element and as a
relational social space - a system and a network of material and symbolic transactions between its
creators, publics and mediators), whose main empirical unit lies on the sphere of creation (musicians
involved in currently active, on hold or split-up bands/projects linked to the multiple and distinct
metal subgenres), on a national scale -, the presentation essays a critical exploration of the
partial/provisional data currently collected (stemming from a more quantitatively-oriented analytical
dimension of the research). The proposed delimitation of the ever-evolving Portuguese metal
scene(s) derives from two main tasks. Firstly, it results from a diachronic account of the
morphology/configuration of the aforementioned universe of creators (and their interconnected
specific positions in the subfield of Portuguese metal), underlying the main spatial-temporal
traits/processes related to: the creation, dissemination and dissolution of bands/projects; the
territorial distribution/fragmentation of distinct metal subgenres; the categorization of musical
outputs/releases; the creators’ connections with other agents involved in the art-world of
Portuguese metal music (namely, local and international record labels, events promoters and
organizers); secondly, this delimitation arises from the structural analysis of the patterns, regularities
and singularities that emerge from the participatory/collaborative (trans)local networks established
between bands and musicians - addressing the homophily/assortativity, multiplexity, closure,
propinquity and tie strength of their respective connections, the centrality of particular nodes and
clusters, as well as the segmentation/cohesion processes present in this artistic subfield.
Keywords: scenes, networks, metal, Portugal
Contextualization
The present article reflects research procedures deployed within a specific dimension of a wider
2
investigation project , associated to a multidimensional analysis of Portuguese Heavy Metal
music (henceforth, metal) - both as an artistic creation (a myriad of sonic, visual and lyrical
codes) and as a socially constructed phenomenon (a dynamic system of material and symbolic
interactions/transactions between its creators, public and mediators) -, focusing on the
clusters/groups/communities of metal musicians as analytical units for interpreting the
(re)constructed and (re)negotiationed identities, affiliations and appropriations of and within
1
Faculty of Arts, Institute of Sociology, University of Porto, Portugal
A ‘Beast’ of Many Faces – Identities, Affiliations and Appropriations of Metal in Portugal (1980-2014),
a project supported by FCT, the Portuguese Foundation for Science and Technology (Individual Phd
Grant SFRH/BD/91404/2012).
2
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
3
this milieu (Webb, 2007) - scene and subfield - of Portuguese rock. Based on secondary source
analysis procedures, integrated in an exploratory stage of the research, the article essays a
diachronic reconstitution of the social relational space of Portuguese metal, its morphology
and configuration, by considering the networks of shared membership between bands, in
relation to their territorial inscription.
Data collection derived from multiple sources; after the selection of a main secondary
source and the constitution of original databases, the compiled information was cross-checked
and complemented by data extracted from alternative sources, whenever deemed relevant.
That main source (relating bands, their members and discography) was Encyclopaedia
Metallum: The Metal Archives4 (M.A.), reputedly the most reliable online metal music
database, due to its comprehensive multicriterial account of global metal. Notwithstanding,
two additional procedures have been deployed: a systematic articulation with primary sources
5
(namely, the official websites and social network pages of bands , whenever available), seeking
full substantive and temporal validity of M.A. data; several auxiliary secondary sources were
consulted, filling up confirmed information gaps - especially those derived from “overzealous
gatekeeping” , temporal distance and regional omissions . Still, genre inclusion in metal music
6
7
8
and having at least one release remained central criteria for cataloging. In sum, M.A., as the
main source, provided data for 1092 bands (76.4%) and the auxiliary sources contributed with
the remaining 336 cases.
3
In an attempt to articulate, in our perspective of Portuguese metal, “long-range” theory, such as the
bourdieusian conceptualization of “fields” (as a system of social positions and, more specifically, as a
social arena of struggle over the appropriation of certain species of capital - cf. Bourdieu, 1993; Hilgers
& Mangez, 2004) with “middle-range” contributions such as the subcultural and post-subcultural
perspectives on, respectively, music-based subcultures, neo-tribes and scenes (cf. Hebdige, 1979;
Maffesoli, 1998; Bennett, 1999; Bennett & Kahn-Harris, 2004; Shildrick & MacDonald, 2006; Negus,
1996), analysing metal music as a social construct and as a relational social space (Bourdieu, 1984, 1996,
1997) requires that it be referred to as a “subfield” (historically circumscribed, it still appears as fairly
dependent and correlational vis-à-vis the positions and forces that permeate the broader fields of music
and art production, as well as the contemporary cultural contingencies, pluralities and instabilities) – cf.
Becker, 1982; Crane, 1992; Guerra, 2013:183.
4
See: http://www.metal-archives.com.
5
Sources: Facebook, MySpace and Bandcamp.
6
This relates to uncatalogued (in M.A.) Portuguese bands which, although standing in some “genrecrossover” positions, are commonly associated to metal music both by fans, the specialized media and
other musicians, develop their live performances mostly in metal festivals or events, and have a following
significantly composed of metal fans, therefore having clear sociological affiliations to the metal subfield.
The website Spirit of Metal (http://www.spirit-of-metal.com), the two most representative Portuguese
online forums (Metal Underground and Irmandade Metálica), as well as the “benchmark” national
specialized news sites SoundZone and Perigo de Morte, were the selected auxiliary secondary sources.
Cf. http://www.metalunderground.pt/; http://irmandademetalica.forumeiros.com/; http://perigo-demorte-new.blogspot.pt/; http://www.soundzonemagazine.com/.
7
Being a fairly recent site (founded in 2002), the M.A. can be somewhat omissive concerning some
relevant Portuguese bands from the 80s; to diminish this effect of “temporal omission”, the blog
Portugal 80s Metal (http://portugal80smetal.blogspot.pt/) was systematically consulted.
8
In this instance, several auxiliary sources, dedicated to local metal scenes of some more or less peripheral
portuguese regions, were relevant – Metalicídio (Azores), Vila Metal (the northern region of Trás-osMontes) and Portalegre Core (Alto Alentejo).
Cf. http://metalicidio.com/bands/lista/; http://vilametal.blogspot.pt/; http://www.portalegrecore.com.
6.3. ‘Ironbound’? A sociospatial perspective on network diachrony in the Portuguese metal
subfield
425
Portuguese metal – between subfield, art world and
network
Territorial(ized) traits of the structure and dynamics of the Portuguese Metal Subfield (PMS)
invoke the bourdieusian perspective on the complex relations established between physical
and social spaces: just as physical space is defined by the mutual externality of parts (with a
central perception of difference at the basis of the very notion of space, i.e., a set of distinct
and coexisting positions which are exterior to one another and are defined in relation to one
another through relations of proximity, vicinity, or distance, as well as through order relations,
such as above, below and between), so is social space defined by the mutual exclusion (or
distinction) of positions which constitute it, as a structure of juxtaposition of social positions
(1996: 11-12).
Following this notion, the social space of the PMS is based on an a set of relationships
which tends to retranslate itself, more or less directly, into physical space in the form of a
definite distribution arrangement of agents and properties, just as much as the produced
physical distinctions resonate in the appropriated social space. As “subfield”, Portuguese
metal milieu has its own set of particular and relatively autonomous enjeux, its own stakes and
interests, which motivate and give consistency to a permanent relational kinesis of struggle
for the monopoly of the imposition of legitimate categories of perception and appreciation,
within a space of objective relations between positions defined by their rank in the distribution
of competing powers or species of capital; PMS can also be viewed as a field of forces, where
underlying objective relations structure manifest social relationships, tending either to
orthodoxy (by agents standing in dominant positions in terms of detention and imposition of
the specific capitals – or combination of capitals – most valued in the field, therefore deploying
“preservation strategies”) or to heterodoxy (by agents in dominated positions, which tend to
develop “”subversive strategies”, intended to transform the power relations within that arena)
- cf. Bourdieu & Wacquant, 1992; Guerra, 2013: 82-89.
However, relating the PMS, the bourdieusian overview of fields requires articulation with
other theoretical perspectives - namely, Becker’s view on “art worlds” (1982) and Social
9
Network Analysis (SNA). Two main aspects justify this articulation:
Firstly, to reconstruct the real connections established between structures and
interactions in this subfield, since in Bourdieu, the concept of “objective relations” (that
compose the fields) seems somewhat irrevocably divorced from concrete social
relationships. Interaction itself (via processes of mutual adjustment and the sharing of
information, networks of agents actively converge on lifestyles, transforming prior
aspects of their lifestyles to unify practices – Bottero, 2010) must be reappraised as a
central component in the reproduction and transformation of the fields, questioning an
undisputed primacy of social structure over any reference to the actions of people doing
things together which create those structures;
Secondly, to complement the bourdieusian permanently conflictual focus on (material
and symbolic) power struggles and relations with a not less relevant assessment of
cooperation (rather than focussing solely on the question of who dominates who, using
9
“Art Worlds”, as “the network of people whose cooperative activity, organized via their joint
knowledge of conventional means of doing things, produce(s) the kind of art works that art world is
noted for” (Becker, 1982) – or as Sarah Thornton puts it, "a loose network of overlapping subcultures
held together by a belief in art” (2008:43).
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
what strategies and resources, with what results, it discerns who is doing what with who
that affects the resulting work of art (Becker, 1982).
Applied to the PMS, these ‘articulations’ will be essayed on contemplating one of the three
key analytical vertices of “art worlds” : Networks.
10
Portuguese metal and the difference(s) time (re)makes…
Sociospatial differentiation in PMS maintains no neutral bond with time itself. In fact, it can
only be fully comprehended in the light of temporal (re)arrangements of the sets of relations
and (dis)positions that characterize it in specific periods ( Table 3). Agreeing with Mayer &
Timberlake (2004) in the assumption that metal music is, in most cases, included in a
decentralized political-cultural system of diffusion (as it mainly involves individual - or clusters
of - decentralized non-institutional actors - namely, bands, fans and non-central mediators and, due to its often accentuated distance from more marketable mainstream music genres,
presents no more than residual economic motivations) (cf. Wejnert, 2002; Cushman, 1991),
PMS evolution – amidst innumerous regional adaptations, and specific connections between
emergent local scenes and emergent subgenres (Kahn-Harris, 2000, 2002; Lucas, Deeks,
Spracklen, 2011; Shank, 1994) – displays many of the major traits depicted in the Rogers’
11
Curve of Innovation and Adoption (CIA) - applying the different categories of adopters to
distinct regional frameworks. Hence, the transitions between “Pioneer/Innovator” , Early12
13
14
Adoption , Early-Majority , Late-Majority
15
and “Laggard”
16
stages project a prominent
structural trait of the subfield: its firm correlation to the territorial idiosyncrasies of the urban
system development in the last decades. Not only are “Late-Adopter” and “Laggard” regions
predominantly typified by the combined presence of “ Very Small Dimension” and “Small
Dimension Urban Areas” (Classes 1 and 2) with comparatively rarer case presence of
“Medium-Sized-and-Intermediately-Dynamic-Urban-Areas” (Class 3), the “Pioneer” and
“Early-Adopter” areas also display the antipodal prevalence of “ Metropolitan Centres”,
“Large-Sized, Highly Dynamic Urban Centres with high Population and Employment Densities ”
and “Medium-Sized Highly Dynamic Urban Areas” (Classes 7, 6 and 5, respectively) – basically
10
The triangular connection between “resources”, “conventions” and “networks (of interaction)” is
based on the fact that “conventions” – i.e. earlier set agreements that have become customary in a
specific art world – display a basic framework for action and strategy coordination between actors;
“networks (of interaction)” derive from and permit the collective action involved in artistic production –
i.e., they facilitate the emergence and diffusion of conventions, while being bounded by them (art
worlds’ networks only extend and endure to a point where acceptance and adherence of conventions
are maintained); resources (material or symbolic) depend on networks to flow / circulate - whilst defining
their boundaries (networks only extend and endure to the point where exchange of adequate or relevant
resources is maintained) and be exchanged in the process of artistic (inter)activity (Becker; 1982).
11
Everett Rogers (2003) defines an adopter category as a classification of individuals within a social
system on the basis of innovativeness, suggesting a total of five categories of adopters in order to
standardize the usage of adopter categories in diffusion research, and stating that the adoption of an
innovation follows an S curve when plotted over a length of time – cf. Fischer, 1971.
12
Maps 1,-2,-3.
13
Maps 1,-2,-4.
14
Maps 1,-2,-5.
15
Maps 1,-2,-6,-7.
16
Maps 1,-2,-8.
6.3. ‘Ironbound’? A sociospatial perspective on network diachrony in the Portuguese metal
subfield
427
corresponding to the more attractive and dynamic regions in terms of the demographic,
17
economic and employment structures .
Map 1 – Portugal (continental and insular) – NUTS III Division
17
18
Cf. the 7 Levelled Typology of Urban Areas in the Portuguese Urban System (Marques, 2004; Marques
& Ferrão, 2003).
18
The territorial division is based on the consideration of a NUTS (Nomenclature of Territorial Units fos
Statistics) III level as the preferable geocode standard for referencing the countries’ subdivisions for the
present article, which points out to the existence of 30 distinct NUTS III regions in continental and insular
Portugal.
428
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Map 2 – Portugal (continental and insular) – NUTS III / Type of Region
Map 3 – Metal Bands in the Pre 80s
Map 4 – Metal Bands in the Early 80s
Map 5 – Metal Bands in the Late 80s
6.3. ‘Ironbound’? A sociospatial perspective on network diachrony in the Portuguese metal
subfield
429
Map 6, 7 – Metal Bands in the Early and Mid 90s
Map 8 – Metal Bands in the Early 2010s
Figure 1 – Curve of Innovation/ Adoption (CIA) in Portuguese Metal
430
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Current Activity Status
Active
Changed Name
On Hold
Split-Up
Unknown
Total
N
781
65
37
465
80
1428
%
54,69%
4,55%
2,59%
32,56%
5,60%
100,00%
Table 1 – Bands by Current Activity Status (June 2014)
NUTSIII
Açores
Alentejo Central
Alentejo Litoral
Algarve
Alto Alentejo
Alto Trás-os-Montes
Ave
Baixo Alentejo
Baixo Mondego
Baixo Vouga
Beira Interior Norte
Beira Interior Sul
Cávado
Cova da Beira
Dão-Lafões
Douro
Entre Douro e Vouga
Grande Lisboa
Grande Porto
Lezíria do Tejo
Madeira
Médio Tejo
Minho-Lima
Oeste
Península de Setúbal
Pinhal Interior Norte
Pinhal Interior Sul
Pinhal Litoral
Serra da Estrela
Tâmega
Multiple International Affiliation
Multiple National Affiliation
Unknown / Non Identified
Total [PT]
Active
39
9
8
28
3
3
21
3
18
27
4
6
28
16
10
10
13
218
117
8
12
13
10
20
70
2
1
19
1
14
4
2
24
781
Changed Name
2
On Hold
1
4
2
3
2
1
1
3
1
Split-Up
22
6
2
16
3
14
4
11
14
1
1
1
15
2
3
7
5
147
64
6
8
9
6
7
59
1
3
1
18
1
65
1
1
1
1
37
4
1
1
9
465
3
2
20
15
11
8
1
1
2
1
7
Unknown
4
2
1
6
1
1
3
1
1
1
20
9
1
1
2
12
2
1
2
1
8
80
Table 2 – Bands by Activity Status and NUTS III
Total
68
17
13
57
4
6
38
8
33
45
4
7
47
19
13
20
18
416
213
14
22
23
19
30
149
4
1
43
2
21
7
4
43
1428
Weight in Total
Number of
Bands [%]
4,76%
1,19%
0,91%
3,99%
0,28%
0,42%
2,66%
0,56%
2,31%
3,15%
0,28%
0,49%
3,29%
1,33%
0,91%
1,40%
1,26%
29,13%
14,92%
0,98%
1,54%
1,61%
1,33%
2,10%
10,43%
0,28%
0,07%
3,01%
0,14%
1,47%
0,49%
0,28%
3,01%
100,00%
Activity Rate [%]
57,35%
52,94%
61,54%
49,12%
75,00%
50,00%
55,26%
37,50%
54,55%
60,00%
100,00%
85,71%
59,57%
84,21%
76,92%
50,00%
72,22%
52,40%
54,93%
57,14%
54,55%
56,52%
52,63%
50,00%
100,00%
44,19%
50,00%
66,67%
57,14%
50,00%
66,67%
46,98%
55,81%
54,69%
6.3. ‘Ironbound’? A sociospatial perspective on network diachrony in the Portuguese metal
431
Table 3 – Relative Weight (%) of Active Bands by NUTS III and Period
subfield
432
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Graph 1 – Distribution (%) of Bands by Types of
Graph 2 – Distribution (%) of Total Releases by Types
Regions (CIA Position)
of Regions (CIA Positions)
Graph 3 – Distribution (%) of Musician Participations
Graph 4 – Average Number of Releases within Types of
by Types of Regions (CIA Positions)in the Late 80s
Regions (CIA Positions)
Graph 5 – Average Number of Releases per Year of
Graph 6 – Time Gaps (years) between Band Creation/
Activity
1st Release/ 1st Full-Length
6.3. ‘Ironbound’? A sociospatial perspective on network diachrony in the Portuguese metal
subfield
433
PMS Networks and the Difference(s) Ties (re)make(s)…
Amidst the beckerian triangle, we shall solely focus in one of its vertices: Networks.
“Resources” (relating this, it must suffice to say that resource inequalities project a very strong
correlation with the time-space coordinates of Portuguese metal diffusion: be it in terms of
the number of bands and participations – Table 3, Graphs 1 and 3 -, or outputs released and
specific conditions in which these occur - Graphs 2, 4, 5 and 6; resources distribution stresses
very clear distinctions between the “constraints” and “possibilities” associated to CIA
positions) and “Conventions” (taking subgenre differentiation as the main artistic convention
in metal music’s Artistic Classification System - Weinstein, 1991a, 1991b; Walser, 1993;
DiMaggio, 1987 -, it must suffice to say that, either by means of a distinct conjugation of
subgenres, miscegenating more overtly orthodox or heterodox inscriptions in the subfield’s
canons, or via idiosyncratic appropriations of some of these very same subgenres, marked by
the introduction of specific local(ized) nuances in their output , the participation of Portuguese
metal bands in the “game of subgenre conventions” largely encompasses their capacity to get
recognized, noticed and admitted, and so to win a place in the social order of the subfield –
cf. Bourdieu, 1984; in this case, conventions seem to be more attached to a dimension of
“field possibilities” than to its structural constraints) will then be put aside.
Despite the differences between Social Network Analysis (SNA) and more “conventional”
approaches and perspectives in Social Sciences (a major one being that SNA focuses on the
relations among actors, and not individual actors and their attributes – Hansen et al., 2011;
Wasserman & Faust, 1994 – i.e., its focus is between, not within actors), SNA has been, in
recent years, widely used as a tool of theoretical and empirical enrichment in a growing
number of academic fields and scientific researches (Crossley, 2008a, 2008b, 2009;
Haythornthwaite, 1996; Buda & Jarynowsky, 2011), complementing methods that focus more
narrowly on individuals, adding a critical dimension that captures the connective tissue of
societies and other complex interdependencies.
Applied to PMS, SNA can be used to point out multiple ways in which networks create
opportunities and constraints for (inter)actors which affect their (inter)actions, articulating the
extraction of “structures”, “positions” and “relations” between “positions” (Bourdieu), and
the empirical connections of joint action and cooperation (Becker). This allows “ world”
analysis to address the issues of field analysis, without sacrificing its strengths or succumbing
to the problems of field analysis (Bottero & Crossley, 2011).
We shall try to capture these dimensions of constraints and opportunities in four different
dimensions of the networks: general connectedness; territorial distribution of ties; diachronic
patterns of networks and their structure; and individual positioning (with)in networks.
General connectedness
Considering the most basic condition of metal bands in regard to networks - their general
connectedness (i.e., having or not established current or past liaisons with other bands,
following a criterion of common membership cases) -, three quarters of the 1428 bands (1074,
75.2%) that constitute PMS since 1980 to the present day sustain connections to other bands,
which means that 354 bands (24.8%) are/were unconnected. In average, each Portuguese
metal band holds currently active links to 2.73 other bands and past/inactive links to 3.73
bands, summing up to a total of 6.46 other bands with which each metal band has shared, in
a given moment of their careers, common members.
434
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Connectedness of bands has steadily increased throughout time; ever since 1980 until the
Early-2000s (when it reached its highest point 81.6% of the bands with confirmed activity
between the years 2000 and 2003 had at least one link of common membership with at least
one other band), this growth trend was uninterrupted. Since then, the block of active bands
with no reported connections of shared membership with others has slightly increased.
The territorialized distribution of overall connectedness (Graph 8) correlates, yet again, to
the specific positions occupied by the ideal-type CIA regions. The two extremes – “Innovator”
and “Laggard” regions – present, respectively, the highest and lowest percentage of
connected bands (78.9% and 66.7%), a pattern complemented by a relatively clear decreasing
19
tendency as we move towards areas with a shorter track record on PMS . However, a finer
look, considering the internal distribution (in each type of region) of connectedness within
time periods, marks a considerable progression in the availability of this particular resource –
shared memberships – in the subfield, especially in the “Laggard” regions.
Graph 7 – Global (Un)Connectedness of Bands within Periods of Activity
19
When considering the connectedness levels within the ranks of active bands at the end of 2013, and
with the exception of the “Laggard” regions – which display an 85.7% (6 out of 7 active bands) rate –
this pattern becomes even clearer, as we move from the “Pioneer” regions to the “Late-Majority” areas,
via the “Early-Adopter” and “Early-Majority” territories (with a decreasing curve of 80.7%, 77.4%,
76.5% and 71.3%, respectively).
6.3. ‘Ironbound’? A sociospatial perspective on network diachrony in the Portuguese metal
subfield
435
Graph 8 – Global (Un)Connectedness by Types of Regions
Graph 9 – Connectedness (Internal % Distribution) of Active Bands within Time Periods by Types of Regions
Territorial distribution of ties
An overview of the global network of bands highlights a total of 4907 connections (ties, edges
or links, based on the single criterion of past or present emergence of common membership
20
cases) between nodes - bands which share(d) one or several individual members, since 1980
to June 2014. Concerning tie activity, 947 edges (19.3%) are currently active
20
21
and 3960
Overall, each of the 5723 individual participants in Portuguese metal bands generates an average of
0.86 links of shared membership/participation between bands.
21
Cases in which a musician is a current member or a live/session musician in both nodes (s)he connects.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
22
23
(80.7% of all ties) of them are presently inactive . Here again, the CIA position (CIAP) has
significant impact in the way bands establish ties; in terms of CIAP homogamy/heterogamy,
24
out of 4317 classifiable cases, 839 are active ties, 75.8% of which (636) are established
between homogamous bands (pertaining to the regions with the same CIAP). Subfield
prevalence of Innovator regions is reconfirmed: active ties between bands included in this CIAP
represent more than 41% of the total currently active ties (clearly standing out as the most
significant homogamous combination) - Table 4; additionally, if we consider the sum of cases
in which at least one of the connected bands is associated to this CIAP, Innovator territories
25
represent more than 63% of all established active ties .
Homogamy /
Heterogamy
Homogamy
Homogamy
Homogamy
Heterogamy
Heterogamy
Homogamy
Heterogamy
Heterogamy
Heterogamy
Heterogamy
Heterogamy
Heterogamy
Heterogamy
Heterogamy
Homogamy
Regions (Band 1_Band 2)
Innovators_Innovators
Early Adopters_Early Adopters
Early Majority_Early Majority
Innovators_Early Adopters
Innovators_Early Majority
Late Majority_Late Majority
Innovators_Late Majority
Early Majority_Late Majority
Early Adopters_Early Majority
Innovators_Laggards
Early Adopters_Late Majority
Early Adopters_Laggards
Early Majority_Laggards
Late Majority_Laggards
Laggards_Laggards
Active
349
136
116
112
44
35
24
12
9
2
0
0
0
0
0
839
Inactive
1523
504
367
498
168
200
103
16
53
0
40
1
1
0
4
3478
Total
1872
640
483
610
212
235
127
28
62
2
40
1
1
0
4
4317
% (within Total
of Active Ties)
41,60%
16,21%
13,83%
13,35%
5,24%
4,17%
2,86%
1,43%
1,07%
0,24%
0,00%
0,00%
0,00%
0,00%
0,00%
100%
% (within Total of
Inactive Ties)
43,79%
14,49%
10,55%
14,32%
4,83%
5,75%
2,96%
0,46%
1,52%
0,00%
1,15%
0,03%
0,03%
0,00%
0,12%
100%
% (within Total
of Ties)
43,36%
14,83%
11,19%
14,13%
4,91%
5,44%
2,94%
0,65%
1,44%
0,05%
0,93%
0,02%
0,02%
0,00%
0,09%
100%
Table 4 – Ties (Active/ Inactive) between Ideal-Type Regions, according to their CIA Homogamy/ Heterogamy
Ideal-Type Regions
Innovators
Early Adopters
Early Majority
Late Majority
Laggards
Active
531
257
181
71
2
Inactive
2292
1096
605
359
6
Total
2823
1353
786
430
8
% (within 839
Active Ties)
63,29%
30,63%
21,57%
8,46%
0,24%
% (within 3478
Inactive Ties)
65,90%
31,51%
17,40%
10,32%
0,17%
% (within 4317
Ties)
65,39%
31,34%
18,21%
9,96%
0,19%
Table 5 – Ideal Type Region Involvement in Active/ Inactive Tie establishment (within Region or with other
CIA Regions)
22
34 years of accumulated history in terms of the musicians’ trajectories within and between bands are
being considered.
23
Reflecting cases in which a musician is no longer part of the current line-up or a present live/session
musician in one or the two bands linked.
24
Cases of singular bands with multiple national affiliations involving more than one ideal-type region
have been excluded. International ties have, of course, also been excluded.
25
Table 5 also demonstrates the impact of CIAP on the bands’ networks, as a clear decreasing pattern
of the percentage weight emerges as we move to the areas with more recently established local metal
scenes (in terms of Active, Inactive and Total Ties).
6.3. ‘Ironbound’? A sociospatial perspective on network diachrony in the Portuguese metal
subfield
437
26
Only the Innovator regions have presently established ties with all other types of regions ,
consolidating a general effect of subfield dominance both in terms of maintaining the highest
rate of “within position” active ties – i.e., having more than 65% of its total currently
established active ties located within its internal scope (see Graph 10) – and, naturally,
sustaining the highest percentage of active ties with regions that have “adopted” metal later.
Graph 10 – Distribution of Active Ties in Ideal Type Regions (within Region or with other CIA Regions)
Regional distribution of active ties – Table 6, Maps 9 and 10 - confirms its prominence in
PMS structuration and network dynamics. Edges between bands from the same region
account for 72.5% of all active ties, with a clear quantitative predominance associated to the
coastal line of the country as well as to the Pioneer and Early-Majority areas – the GreaterLisbon, Greater-Porto and Setúbal-Peninsula regions concentrate 45.7% of all active ties and
almost 63% of all currently shared memberships within the same region, whereas 10 NUTSIII
display no current intra-regional activity in terms of shared memberships (Map 9), a situation
that is felt in only 4 regions in terms of inter-regionally established ties (all areas that
accumulate this absence of active ties on both intra and inter-regional scales have “Laggard”
and “Late-Majority” CIAPs). The Greater Lisbon-Setúbal-Peninsula axis stands out head and
shoulders above all other inter-regional liaisons. The Greater-Lisbon–Greater-Porto
27
connection, in spite of their PMS dominance , is composed of 11 active ties, making it only
the third most representative inter-regional tie (the second one being the Greater-Porto–Covada-Beira link). Nevertheless, the predominance of these regions in networks of shared
membership is overwhelming: connections with Greater-Lisbon account for 64.5%, links with
the Setúbal-Peninsula represent 42.9%, and edges involving Greater-Porto constitute 23.8%
of active ties between regions. More than 8 out of every 10 active inter-regional links presently
established in Portugal involve at least one of these three regions (80.5%).
26
Bands from the Early-Adopter areas only maintain active links with bands from Innovator and Early
Majority territories; Early-Majority groups have current ties with bands from Innovator, Early-Adopter and
Late-Majority regions; Late-Majority bands have no present connections with Early-Adopter and Laggard
regions’ bands; finally, the bands involved in local metal scenes of the Laggard areas only sustain active
connections with Innovator regions (no currently shared memberships within Laggard areas).
27
Greater-Lisbon and Greater-Porto areas are the only ones who sustain active ties with more than 10
NUTS III (16 and 13 other regions, respectively).
438
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Table 6 – Distribution of Active Ties (within Regions and Inter-Regional)
6.3. ‘Ironbound’? A sociospatial perspective on network diachrony in the Portuguese metal
subfield
Map 9 – Active Ties within Regions (NUTS III)
439
Map 10 – Active Ties (Inter-Regional)
Network structures
For a global overview of the myriad of PMS networks, we shall focus only on active links,
(shared memberships between active bands in specific time periods, excluding inactive link
28
cases ). Therefore, the analysis will be set on full/complete networks (Stork & Richards, 1992)
of active bands. Including only one type of vertex or node (active bands within periods) and a
single type of edge or tie (shared memberships), these networks are therefore unimodal and
uniplex (Hansen et al., 2011; Scott, 2000), respectively, and composed of symmetric /
undirected edges.
A network structure analysis of PMS brings forth two major transformation processes:
networks as a whole (reflecting correlated dynamics of “growth” and
“differentiation”); within their specific groups/clusters (reflecting simultaneous and polarized
dynamics of “macro-aggregation” and “micro-insularization”).
within
28
For the specific purposes of this article, this basic decision presents two main advantages: it enhances
the visual comprehension of graphic representations (which would be incommensurably more difficult if
the past connections were included); it provides a more accurate “real picture” of concrete links in each
time period, eliminating residual data relating other time periods.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Table 7 – Aggregate Networks Metrics within Time Period
Growth relates, firstly, to the sheer size of networks. Table 7 shows that active networks
29
have undergone a process of considerable size enlargement , from 5 (Early-80s) to 661 bands
(end- of-2013). Not dwelling on critical mass theory
30
intricacies, it seems clear that the
gathering of a segment of adopters/creators of metal music that was sufficient and expansive
enough to provide for PMS self-sustenance and continuous growth was instrumental,
especially in the 80s and 90s; PMS configuration as an almost invariably underground subfield
of Portuguese rock made it a form of collective action highly sensitive to (and, to a certain
31
extent, critically dependant of) a minimum number of adherent nodes to the networks .
32
Still relating to growth dynamics, network-density is of paramount importance; from the
80s (when it was at its peak – 0.4, indicating that 4 out 10 possible edges were established)
33
onwards, this particular measure displays continuous decrease . Notwithstanding, denser
networks in the formative years of the metal scene have been seminal to the generation of
social capital, the construction of effective and aggregative reputation mechanisms (Crossley,
2009), the maximization of contexts, spaces and places of trust and cooperation, and the
achievement of relatively agile, simple and efficient information, support and resources
exchange circuits, globally contributing to an equilibrium between brokerage and closure
within the networks, as well as to the sedimentation of a sense of identity, commitment,
29
Exponential growth rates as high as 280% (from the Early 80s to the Mid 80s), 121% (from the Mid80s to the Late-80s) and 198% (from the Late-80s to the Early-90s) mark the years of subfield emergence
and early consolidation, and comparatively lower but steady and continuous growth since then.
30
Cf. Rogers, 2003; Olson, 1971; Krauth, 2011; Markus, 1987; Oliver et al., 1985; Crossley, 2007,2008a;
Kim & Bearman, 1997.
31
As Nick Crossley states: “Size is important because collective action involves ‘costs’ (broadly defined)
which may prove prohibitive if they cannot be sufficiently distributed, and because the required work
may exceed that possible for a small group. Moreover, claims to credibility and legitimacy often invoke
size (would we be prepared to call a single band with three fans a ‘scene’ or a ‘movement’?)”-(2008b:
101).
32
An aggregate network metric used to describe the level of interconnectedness of vertices. Density
counts the number of relationships observed to be present in a network divided by the total number of
possible relationships that could be present – a quantitative way to capture important sociological ideas
like cohesion, solidarity and membership (Hansen et al., 2011:40).
33
Reflecting a general principle that states that densities tend to vary in inverse proportion to the size of
networks or groups.
6.3. ‘Ironbound’? A sociospatial perspective on network diachrony in the Portuguese metal
subfield
441
distinctiveness and autonomy, all of which indicators of subcultural substance – Hodkinson,
2002, 2004; Coleman, 1990; Burt, 2005.
Graph 11 – Diameter and Average Geodesic Distance within Time Periods
Equally relevant are distance measures: both the diameter (the shortest path between the
two vertices that are farthest from each other, estimated by the degree - number of
intermediary connections - that stands between those vertices) and the average-geodesic-
distance among all vertex pairs display a process by which, as the whole network grows, bands
tend to become less adjacent to others.
Nevertheless, the smaller diameters average geodesic distances in the 80s have been vital
for the emergence, diffusion and consolidation of PMS subcultural codes, symbols, references
and practices, making it easier to spread them with relative celerity and consistency and to
avoid distortion and adulteration elements that often arise when longer paths between actors
have to be followed (Crossley,-2008b). Both measures exponentially rise during the-90s, yet
remained fairly stable since then; in spite of slight variations in diameter analogous change
hasn’t manifested in terms of the average distance values (unlike diameter, that recently
reached a peak during the Late-2000s/Early-2010s, average distance was never as high as it
was during the Mid-90s).
Graph 12 – Number of Components within Time Periods
442
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Besides growth, differentiation is another main trait of PMS evolution, deriving, firstly, from
34
an increasing number of connected components .
Graph 12 evidences the steady course of component multiplication, an overall rise in the
number of self-sufficient and isolated clusters of shared membership, especially in the passage
to the Early-90s and the last two thirds of the 2000s (in which 31.6% of the 1428 bands were
founded, pointing out to a rejuvenation of the metal scene and the musicians’ contingent
alike, with the massive introduction of a ‘new generation’ of actors with limited or inexistent
previous experience in previously established networks, tendentially generating new
components).
Similarly, differentiation within the community structure of PMS networks concerns the
emergence of densely connected clusters of bands, with much rarer tie-establishment
between clusters (Danon et al., 2005; Newman, 2004).
35
Hence, modularity ascends uninterruptedly from the Early-80s (no modularity at all, since
all bands were tied in the same component) until the Late-80s (peaking at a 0.732 value), and
from then on found a pattern of slight decrease, stabilizing in values lower than 0.7 ever since
the Late-90s. Modularity being a measure of the “quality” of the grouping within a network,
and networks with high modularity tending to project dense connections among the nodes
within the same group and sparse connections among vertices in different groups, these values
are congruent with the patterns of PMS dissemination, firstly by establishing new, fairly
autonomous and inwards-structured clusters of bands within newborn local scenes (especially
in Early-Adopter and Early-Majority regions) and emerging patterns of inter-regional
connections, and afterwards, from the Early-90s onwards, by experimenting and consolidating
inter-cluster ties (a process mostly led by bands from Innovator regions), therefore
compensating for the effect of component multiplication and generating a trend of modularity
decrease/stabilization.
34
A connected component is a cluster of vertices that are connected to each other but not to the rest of
the graph, almost like disconnected pieces within a single network – Hansen et al., 2011.
35
A measure of the structure of networks or graphs, designed to evaluate the strength of division of a
network into modules (also called groups, clusters or communities), calculated as the fraction of the
edges that fall within the given groups minus the expected such fraction if edges were distributed at
random – cf. Reichardt & Bornholdt, 2006; Newman, 2006.
6.3. ‘Ironbound’? A sociospatial perspective on network diachrony in the Portuguese metal
subfield
443
Graph 13 – Percentage of Groups/ Clusters by Cluster Size/ Dimension within Time Periods
Graph 14 – Percentage of Bands involved in differently sized Clusters within Time Periods
Focusing the structural analysis of PMS networks mainly on the way they are internally
organized
in
“sub-structures”
(Newman,
2006),
these
divisions
of
bands
into
clusters/groups/sub-structures stand out as a key-aspect of the social structuration of PMS
network as a whole.
Graphs 13 and 14 emphasize the simultaneous processes of macro-aggregation (particular
sub-networks in the metal scene become increasingly connected within their very boundaries,
444
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
having larger quantities of bands involved in them and forming an expanding diversity of
community structures) and micro-insularization (with a growing number of small
groups/clusters detached from other groups). Becoming clear that small groups of bands
(dyads or triads) diachronically correspond to successively higher percentages in relation to the
total number of clusters (Graph 13), representing 67% of all groups of actively shared
memberships in the Early-2010s (indicating an “insularization” effect, i.e., the production of
“islands of habitats”, that allows for very small clusters of bands – mostly, newcomers or more
recent bands – to develop their interchange of musicians in micro-community
environments/components, insulated from larger and wider membership share circuits), Graph
14 evidences, on the other hand, that, in a macro-scale, these insulated micro-communities
represent an increasingly residual parcel of active bands. Again, as a “ macro-aggregation”
effect affirms its influence, more and more bands get involved in more extended dense clusters
(namely those who aggregate 11 or more bands in their ranks), regardless of their specific
(central/peripheral) position within those sub-structures.
Period
Early 80's
Mid 80's
Late 80's
Early 90's
Mid 90's
Late 90's
Early 2000's
Mid 2000's
Late 2000's
Early 2010's
Since 2014
Mean
1.60
2.21
2.05
3.04
3.29
4.02
4.72
5.19
5.38
5.62
5.62
Std. Deviation Maximum Edges
1.34
4
1.81
7
1.39
7
2.16
17
3.09
23
4.33
29
5.35
42
5.50
46
5.88
51
6.34
56
6.34
49
Table 8 – Mean, Standard-Deviation and Maximum Edges of Networks within Time Periods
The articulation of these two processes seems clear in some basic descriptive statistics. The
steady rise in terms of mean degree (the number of ties established by any given band) would,
if read superficially, encourage the assumption that networks have become increasingly well
integrated, theoretically maximizing both the potential benefits (solidarity, resource exchange)
and the potential constraints (less opportunities for brokerage, accentuation of peer-pressure
and control, diminished margin for innovation, etc.). However, as standard-deviations also
seem to be consistently high, and the maximum edges established within the networks
associated to the several periods farther the distance between the truly highly connected
bands and the large majority of others (the median degree in the Early-80s was 1, only rising
up to 3 in the Early-2010s), the real impact of this dual flow of “ aggregation” and
“insularization” is thus felt.
Individual positions in networks
Besides the aggregate networks metrics, a distinct set of metrics focusses on individual
units/actors, in terms of their positions within a network, assessing how particular vertices
occupy a central or a peripheral place in it. These centrality measures (Marsden, 2002) can
serve different purposes, evaluating an actor’s position by comparing the total number of
edges that are linked to him with the analogous degree values that characterize other actors
6.3. ‘Ironbound’? A sociospatial perspective on network diachrony in the Portuguese metal
subfield
445
in the network (Degree Centrality - DC) – Bonacich (1987), by measuring how often this
particular node lies on the shortest path between two other vertices (Betweenness Centrality
- BC) – Freeman, 1977 -, by capturing the average distance between this actor and every other
vertex in the network (Closeness Centrality - CC) –Freeman, 1979; Opsahl et al., 2010,
Wasserman & Faust, 1994 -, or by acknowledging that even if an actor has few connections,
if these few connections are themselves very well connected, then this actor can potentially
benefit from this scarce but “high-value” connections more than he would from more yet
relatively disconnected nodes (Eigenvector Centrality - EC) (Hansen et al., 2011). Combining
these elements, and determining its overall relative importance in networks, a PageRank
36
measure can be attained. To illustrate this, and some other topics relating the diachrony of
PMS, the whole networks associated to the entire 80s decade, the Early-90s and the period
since January-2014 shall be briefly discussed.
Diachronic transitions in PMS networks display the aforementioned structural traits: small
and tightly-knit, highly-densed networks in the formative years (Graph N1), topographic
diffusion and spatial differentiation (Graphs N2 and N3), macro-aggregation in large clusters,
micro-insularization in small groups, component multiplication and intense clusterization
(Graph N4). From the Early-90s on, most of these processes have been consolidated, fully
expressing the development of increasingly complex and diversified network configurations,
involving all the country’s regions (in Graph N5, even the “Laggard” areas - such as Serra-daEstrela (“Estr”) and Pinhal-Interior-Sul (Pi-Int-Sul) -, enhancing the number of components,
dyads and triads while simultaneously concentrating increasingly larger quantities of bands in
37
clusters with 11 or more actors internally involved .
What PMS diachrony also brings is the renewal of network protagonists – emergent
centralities occupied by new nodes, most of them directly connected to PMS transformations
regarding the rise and fall, in popularity, of subgenre conventions.
Nonetheless, it should be stressed that, despite network complexity, diversity and
polymorphism, all these dynamic processes of transformation and development have come to
fruition without losing touch with the general traits laid out by the specific CIA regional
positions – in fact, ever since the end of the 80s (a decade in which only the Innovator, EarlyAdopter and Early-Majority regions established any ties between bands), CIA position has
38
consistently maintained significant correlations with the measures of Degree, Betweenness,
Closeness and Eigenvector Centralities, as well as with PageRank, suggesting that, even amidst
36
PageRank is a link analysis algorithm and it assigns a numerical weighting to each element of a
hyperlinked set of documents, such as the World Wide Web, with the purpose of "measuring" its relative
importance within the set; the same principle is here applied to the assessment of the relative importance
of specific actors / nodes within a given network – cf. Grolmusz, 2012.
37
For instance, in Graph N5, Group 1 – dark blue – presents 106 vertices and 305 unique edges, and
Group 2 – light blue – accounts for 103 nodes and 386 ties.
38
A Pearson product-moment correlation coefficient was computed to assess the relationship between
the position (POS) of the different regions in the CIA and the measures of Degree (DC), Betweenness
(BC), Closeness (CC), Eigenvector (EC) Centralities and PageRank (Rank), in the several time periods of
metal music diffusion. To illustrate these procedures, two cases shall be presented. In the Early-90s, with
n=125, there were positive correlations between POS-DC (r=0.304, p=0.001) and POS–EC (r=0.379,
p=0.000) – both significant at the 0.01 level (2-tailed) -, POS–BC (r=0.208, p=0.001) - significant at the
0.05 level (2-tailed) -, and a negative correlation between POS–CC (r=-0.371, p=0.000) - significant at
the 0.01 level. In the Early-2010’s, with n=661, there were positive correlations, all of which significant
at the 0.01 level, between POS–DC (r=0.240, p=0.000), POS–BC (r=0.119, p=0.002), POS–EC (r=0.248,
p=0.000) and POS–Rank (r=0.149, p=0.000), and a negative correlation, significant at the 0.01 level,
between POS–CC (r=-0.113, p=0.002).
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
general transformation trends that incorporate more and more translocal and inter-regional
processes and dynamics, territorial precedence and accumulated subfield predominance in the
Portuguese metal scene are still factors whose weight has to be reckoned with. “Elites” may
vary individually in PMS networks, but they invariably come from the same dominant blocks.
Conclusion – networks: dual space(s) of “constraint” and
“possibility”
We have tried, in the present article, to avoid basic theoretical antinomies relating the impact
of spatial structures/variables on the diachronic evolution of PMS (not overrating them as an
underlying infrastructure of the subfield itself, determining all its inertias and dynamisms; not
underrating them as mere vapid representation schemes). We have essayed, additionally, to
demonstrate how SNA may be useful in terms of comple(men)ting bordieusian and beckerian
perspectives on “fields” and “art worlds”, without aiming to replace them.
Theorized as subfield, the Portuguese Metal scene is transversed by structural inequalities
and constraints, consolidated in spatiotemporal flows of field construction/expansion,
especially in terms of resources distribution. Seen as a more cooperative “art world”, it
encounters a dimension of possibility ouverture, mainly within a beckerian vertex of
convention flexibility and subgenre heterodoxy/innovation.
Nevertheless, the “beckerian third vertex” of networks does not provide definitive stances
on the overall constraintness/openness of its evolution; nor should it, in a way, since SNA
perspectives are most fruitful at pointing out empirical patterns for other middle-range
approaches to interpret more thoroughly.
The global (un)connectedness of agents, while not rupturing established regional
dominance exhorted by the historical epicentres of PMS, seems to, at the very least, indicate
a more recent track of network democratization.
Territorialized distribution of ties reaffirms the prevalence of hegemonic physical/social
locations of the subfield, imprinting a gravitational effect of network linkage towards the
epicentres of resources.
Diachronic organization of Network Structure, conjugating whole-network dynamics of
growth/differentiation and clustered polarization trends of macro-aggregation and microinsularization, opens debate regarding the degree of constraint and opportunity brought forth
by its evolution: while actors from traditionally peripheral locations in PMS have increased
chances to participate in ever growing groups of creators, breaking previous isolation barriers,
they do so mostly by partaking in them from relatively peripheral positions; whole-network
and cluster protagonisms are mostly shared in elite propinquity and circularity associated to
dominant physical/social spaces of PMS. On the other hand, the emergence of a growing
number of (apparently) self-sufficient clusters (by agents linked to both central and peripheral
regions) does not necessarily signify “subdued/ostracized isolation”, as it may bear an
additional “insularized” degree of agency liberty and autonomy, favouring the usage of
subgenre innovation.
As for individual positions in networks, although actors autochthonous of dominant
regions still concentrate in themselves a large majority of established ties (especially, “highvalue” ones) and the ability to interconnect (to) other agents, a fair amount of emergent
polymorphisms and clique-building processes seem to proliferate in traditionally peripheral
quadrants. Moreover, “centrality”/“periphery” elements do not represent, per se, monolithic
6.3. ‘Ironbound’? A sociospatial perspective on network diachrony in the Portuguese metal
subfield
447
(dis)advantages: “central actors” may enjoy higher degrees of influence and easiness to
mobilize whole segments/clusters/components of networks (with likely increased access to
central resources) but they may simultaneously experience enhanced pressure due to a much
larger number of solicitations they have to attend to, as a collateral effect of their position;
inversely, more “peripheral” players, although deprived of those high-levels of connected
influence, can discover other types of opportunities in terms of diminished peer-pressure and
the development of fresher approaches on what Portuguese metal is and what it can be (a
prominent property in terms of convention negotiation). And as network centralities and
peripheries maintain a relatively tight connection to physical territorialities, the analysis of their
correlative ratio between constraints and possibilities should not be depleted of its particular
spatial arrangements.
Our main conclusion is that, much like social and physical space, networks do make a
difference in the enjeux and positions that (in)form the subfield. Either by stressing overall
structural frameworks in which, as Hannerz (1988:6) puts it, “the centre essentially talks, and
peripheries essentially listen, without replying”, or by alternatively evidencing (otherwise
opaque) spaces of possibility, subversion and transformation - compatible with Kahn-Harris’s
(2007) assertion that metal stands out as a translocal subculture in which local tastes and
specific conditions can interact with and alter a global metal culture.
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Graph N1 – Network of between Active Bands (Early 80s)
448
6.3. ‘Ironbound’? A sociospatial perspective on network diachrony in the Portuguese metal
449
Graph N2 – Network of between Active Bands (Mid 80s)
subfield
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Graph N3 – Network of between Active Bands (Late 80s)
450
6.3. ‘Ironbound’? A sociospatial perspective on network diachrony in the Portuguese metal
451
Graph N4 – Network of between Active Bands (Early 90s)
subfield
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Graph N5 – Network of between Active Bands (since 2014)
452
6.3. ‘Ironbound’? A sociospatial perspective on network diachrony in the Portuguese metal
subfield
453
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6.4. Ideology and identity in underground circuits
Bernardo Álvares 1
Abstract
In this essay we seek to approach the possible ideological and identitary unity amongst several
music circuits, such as noise, near-silence, free-jazz, creole rap, improvisation, electronic and pop
or rock lo-fi. We aim to reflect on the different or equal relations between musician networks,
critics, curators, enthusiasts and specialized audiences and the political and economical dimensions
of artistic movements associated with these underground or counterculture circuits. We will try to
deliver an argument aiming to justify the existence of a broader notion of contemporary
underground. As previously discussed by Baudrillard and Debord, we will use the concepts of
consumption and spectacle to approach an economical dimension of counterculture. Hence we will
raise questions on the connection between artistic and political dimension through an historic study
of artistic vanguards. Ultimately we will analyse Rancière’s words to comprehend the emancipation
through DIY culture.
Keywords: ideology, identity, underground, lisbon musical circuit
“We believe that the supreme task of art in our epoch is to take
part actively and consciously in the preparation of the revolution”.
André Breton & Leon Trotski
Is there a communisation based ideology and identity unity in Lisbon’s underground music
circuits? That’s the question that will lead this whole theoretic communication.
In order to try to verify this hypothesis, we’ll distinguish underground artistic expressions
from the others through spectacular system (in Debord’s words). Although entangled amongst
several heterogenic artistic circuits overlapped in an intricate cluster of distinct realities, we
believe it is possible to identify what we consider to be underground. Another fundamental
concept to understand them will be “communisation”, which Mikkel Bolt Rasmussen defines
as “the direct destruction of the capitalist production relations and a rejection of the identities
of the spectacle, including ‘worker’, ‘artist’ or ‘writer’”. We’ll also differentiate ideology and
identity from reputation, criticizing Richard Florida’s idea of creative cities. There are other
authors who criticize Florida but we’re particularly interested in ideas from scholars and artists
such as Martha Rosler, which writes about a place of critic claims for artists besides "neobohemian" cultural consumption and gentrification dynamics presented by Florida.
To fully understand local and translocal musical circuits in the twentieth-first century Lisbon
we also need to study artistic autonomy and DIY, which we’ll compare to Rancière’s notions
of emancipation. In this case, what we call "artistic autonomy" is related to artistic production.
The people in the circuits we propose to study have been cutting the middlemen, being the
1
ISCTE - University Institute of Lisbon, Portugal.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
same person, for example, responsible for the entire artistic process (in the musical case:
recording, editing, disseminating, performing, etc.). That emancipation is possible due to a
technological evolution but we believe that might also be an ideological-identity element
associated with these postmodernists practices; heirs to an anarchist punk culture.
One of the fundamental concepts to understand the underground music circuits is the
“spectacle”. It is an ever-present conception in the realms of art and politics, as we’ll discuss.
Guy Debord’s spectacle is an agent of seduction and distraction of the spectator towards
the contemplated object. The author considers that this is how the alienation expresses itself:
“the more he contemplates, the less he lives; the more readily he recognizes his own needs in
the images of need proposed by the dominant system, the less he understands his own
existence and his own desires” (Debord, 1994). Capitalism, in its golden years, could have
been referred as “an immense accumulation of commodities” (Palmieri Jr., 2012). With the
increased massification of commodities, Debord alleges about “an immense accumulation of
spectacles”. And he continues, saying that “[t]he present stage, in which social life is
completely taken over by the accumulated products of the economy, entails a generalized shift
from having to appearing: all effective ‘having’ must now derive both its immediate prestige
and its ultimate raison d'etre from appearances. At the same time all individual reality, being
directly dependent on social power and completely shaped by that power, has assumed a
social character. Indeed, it is only inasmuch as individual reality is not that it is allowed to
appear” (Debord, 1994).
Jean Baudrillard also addresses these questions affirming that this phenomenon is deeper
than just the logic of commodities (which dwells in all areas of social life). The author of The
Consumer Society claims that everything becomes consumable symbolic patterns.
Studying Baudrillard, Palmieri Júnior claims that “nowadays lifestyles are a production and
consumption of signs as well as the establishment or maintenance of a hierarchical order of
values, which characterizes the universe of consumption as a reality that goes beyond the
economic frontier” (Palmieiri Jr., 2012). This notion goes further deeper than the idea of the
adulation of commodities as consumable goods. Most social activities takes the form of
commodity, whether or not they are material goods. “It is the quantity of labor incorporated
in these objects, rather than their concrete qualities, which defines their fate, and this quantity
is always reflected in a sum of money. The products created by man thus take on a life of their
own, ruled by the laws of money and its accumulation in capital.” (Anselm Jappe, 2009)
Lipovetsky also wrote about these ideas, criticizing theories about a post-consumerism. He
claims that “this is the post-modern society: not beyond consumption, but its apotheosis, its
extension to the private sphere” (Lipovetsky, 2007: 11). And Anselme Japp goes further in his
analyses:
There is a profound idiosyncrasy that connects the entertainment industry with capitalism’s
drive towards infantilization and narcissism. The material economy is extensively linked to the
new forms of the “psychological and libidinous economy”. (Anselm Jappe, 2009)
There is a strict relationship between consumption, identities and values (Debord, 1994). If
capitalism sells itself with the spectacle, than identity is the tool for a “circular process of
isolation” . As Debord, who claims that consumerism is the cause of individualization,
2
2
“The reigning economic system is founded on isolation; at the same time it is a circular process designed
to produce isolation. Isolation underpins technology, and technology isolates in its turn; all goods
proposed by the spectacular system, from cars to televisions, also serve as weapons for that system as it
6.4. Ideology and identity in underground circuits
459
Lipoversky affirms that that individualization culminated because of consumerism: “the right
of individuals to be absolutely themselves, to enjoy the most of life inseparable from a society
that erected the free individual in principal amount and not merely a last manifestation of
individualistic ideology; but it was the transformation of lifestyles associated with the
consumer revolution that allowed this development” (Lipovetsky, 2007: 9). He also argues
that the individual becomes a project and a process choosing amongst a wide range of options
which define himself. Consumerism’s ideology and marketing promote the belief that one can
buy lifestyles and, somehow, identities. If someone wants to be something he would buy and
consume that something. This is an helpful idea in order to understand distinct cultural
identities. Identity and consumerism are, therefore, strongly linked in the post-modern world.
So, one can argue that consumption is avowed as the subject's intention to adhere to certain
values (Palmieri Jr., 2012).
There is an overvaluation of individual choice and the individual is put at the center of
issues, giving him the right to be "himself and unique", which also reveals a major trend
towards personalization in social and even economic relations. As individualism, customization
process refers to the rupture towards a system of rigid socialization and the development of a
flexible society based on desires’ stimulation, spectacle fomentation, sensibility and an alleged
authenticity and individual freedom (Lipovetsky, 2007).
Stuart Hall considers that identity becomes a "moving celebration": formed and
transformed continuously in relation to the ways we are represented or challenged in the
cultural systems that surround us (Hall, 2006).
Taking this into account it will be easier to realize why Baudrillard believes that “it’s vital
for the system to control not only the production apparatus, but the consumer demand; not
only prices but the demand at such prices. The overall effect of what’s before and after
production itself (surveys, market studies and later advertising, marketing, conditioning) is to
steal from the buyer the power of decision and transfer it to the company, where you can be
manipulated” (Baudrillard, 1995).
Individualism, while it is an apparent manifestation of freedom, waves a dark side. In his
Liquid Modernity, Zygmunt Bauman compares this spectacle driven and controlled by
3
consumerism to the false freedom of Aldous Huxley dystopia in Brave New World.
4
Like all other commodities, culture (massified by cultural industries ) is a symbolic object
par excellence. Cultural consumerism brings together many of the essential conditions for
studying these issues.
strives to reinforce the isolation of "the lonely crowd." The spectacle is continually rediscovering its own
basic assumptions and each time in a more concrete manner”. (Debord, 1994)
3
“Much like those thinking men of another time, Aristotle and Plato, who could not imagine a good or
bad society without slaves, Huxley and Orwell could not conceive of a society, whether a happy or a
miserable one, without managers, designers and supervisors who jointly wrote the script for others to
follow, staged the performance, put the lines in the actors' mouths and fired or locked in dungeons
everyone who would improvise their own texts. They could not visualize a world without controlling
towers and controlling desks. The fears of their time, much as its hopes and dreams, hovered around
Supreme Command Offices.” (Bauman, 2006: 58)
4
“O efeito tecnológico tem o seu modelo na publicidade omnipresente, na estética das mercadorias do
mercado mundial. A ideia de conteúdo não possui qualquer existência própria; ela está à partida ao
serviço de uma coisa que lhe é exterior e por isso ela é também casual, tornada irreal de modo formalista
e abafada no mero efeito. É justamente para esta dimensão da estética das mercadorias que Adorno e
Horkheimer apontam já em 1944, na fase final da totalização do design publicitário no mundo da vida:
«A cultura é uma mercadoria paradoxal. Ela está tão completamente submetida à lei da troca que não é
mais trocada. Ela se confunde tão cegamente com o uso que não se pode mais usá-la. É por isso que ela
460
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Despite all its controversy and complexity we can try to define underground and
counterculture, simplistically, as opposed to the mainstream and against the dominant culture
and politics.
In a brief analysis through the past Alexandre Melo observed that the relationship between
art and the official institutions (contemporary politics and culture) has had different modalities.
(Melo, 2012: 22). But these clashes between the avant-gardes and the cultural-politic canon
did not permute a mentality for another, “coexisting [several mentalities] in an internally
contradicting complex network” (Melo, 2012: 22). Those historical clashes have had
consequences in today’s underground, which is entangled amongst several heterogenic artistic
circuits overlapped in an intricate cluster of distinct realities. Melo also states that “a first
scenario to consider is, roughly speaking, the passage from 'academic art' to ‘modern art'. (...)
The modern or, later, avant-garde art, emerges as an unofficial art, against the academic and
official art, creating their own mechanisms of legitimation within the global society” (Melo,
2012: 22).
The classic Sociology of Art author, Howard Becker, also writes about political concerns of
art:
“[Political and administrative leaders] own aesthetic beliefs lead them to view what supports
their own political interests as great art or beautiful, and to see what might undermine their
interests as bad art, or not even art, mere trash. The merging of politics and aesthetics thus
affects what can be counted as art at all, the reputations of whole genres and media as well
as those of individual artists. The interests of states vary, and their interests in art vary
accordingly. An industrialized society’s government may prize order and harmony over discord
and «anarchy»” (Becker, 1982: 166)
Due to this increasing complexity we opted for the use the concept of “underground” in
order to involve a whole network of people. Later on we’ll specify and differentiate deeper,
but we understand to be underground not mainstream artistic manifestations, united by a
5
sense of common self conscience , with personal mechanisms of legitimation and a subversive
6
and transgressive approach to official institutions .
se funde com a publicidade… A publicidade é seu elixir da vida. (O seu) produto… acaba por coincidir
com a publicidade de que precisa por ser intragável».” (Kurz, 2012)
5
Recently the Lisbon record store Trem Azul, which, for lack of "necessary conditions", had been
prohibited by health and security police to perform concerts, formal and legally reopened as a bar and
concert hall. Speaking at the (re)opening, the president of the company that owns three specialized
record companies beyond the store/bar/venue, referred to some "we" that overflowed the shop workers
or the hard core artists more interconnected to the label, his "we" was referring to an entire network of
musicians, critics, programmers, enthusiasts and the public - a self-conscious of its network identity.
Although reopened with all the bureaucratic- legal formalities, the store took a very interesting decision
on entry to the concerts: the entry will cost 5€, but this is only 3€ for "musicians". There’s no order of
musicians, so this ticket policy means that there is a network associated to some musical trends, where
often the audience is almost exclusively composed by other musicians and friends/enthusiasts.
6
“The victims of the rationalisation of bourgeois society, which standardises and categorises human life
and marginalises mankind’s spontaneous creativity, are given a voice and awoken to life in art, which in
this way, according to Marcuse, functions as a refuge or a waste dump for marginalised experiences and
modes of expression. Modern art thus possesses a subversive potential in Marcuse’s view.” (Rasmussen,
2012: 230)
“If rulers refuse to consider poems as crimes, then someone must commit crimes that serve the function
of poetry, or texts that possess the resonance of terrorism. At any cost re-connect poetry to the body.
Not crimes against bodies, but against Ideas (& Ideas-in-things) which are deadly & suffocating. Not
stupid libertinage but exemplary crimes, aesthetic crimes, crimes for love.” (Bey, 1991: 13)
6.4. Ideology and identity in underground circuits
461
The artist has turned into something like an entrepreneur capable of create profit, despite
the historic avant-garde’s revolutions (Rasmussen, 2012, Melo, 2012). “The British artist
Damien Hirst is of course the most obvious and perhaps most extreme example of this
development, where art ends up as nothing but a financial transaction, and the artist cynically
overidentifies with capitalism. In the aftermath of Hirst’s vulgar diamondstudded skull, For the
Love of God, the idea of the revolutionary power of art no longer plays any major role in art;
whether in visual art, on the stage or in literature. When revolution does finally appear as a
reference or theme in art, it is almost always as a historical reference, not as a future
possibility” (Rasmussen, 2012: 233).
“Today neither the image nor the word seems particularly antagonistic towards the
prevailing order; neither is apparently capable of dissent, not to speak of more extensive
subversion”, continues Ramussen to argue. “The very limited endeavours of relational
aesthetics are a telling indication of this. Here the desire of the avant-gardes for another world
has been replaced by the production of ‘social interstices’” (Rasmussen, 2012: 233-234). And
Matteo Pasquinelli asks the ultimate question to understand what kind of underground culture
is possible in a time of spectacular economy:
“This issue is related once again to the question: what kind of underground culture is possible
in a time of spectacular economy? What looks like a nostalgic question points in other ways
to the political autonomy of the ‘social factory’ of culture and to new coordinates for cultural
agency that may be more effective on the economic ground. The hypothesis advanced here is
that the contemporary form of ‘underground’ has to be found along the new chain of value
accumulation — along the new ruins of financial crisis. The good old underground has become
part of the cultural industries and the spectacular economy, as well as our life has been
incorporate by a more general biopolitical production (that is the whole of our social life has
been put to work).” (Pasquinelli, 2010)
There’s a particular underground we’re interesting in study, which defines himself against
some of the ideas worked in the previous chapter, such as spectacle and consumption.
These underground movements have been quarreling with the dominant forms of mass
consumerism and spectacle. The alienation that Guy Debord claims to be a result of the
spectacle gathers in the same category both entertainment mainstream and underground
culture. However, it’s the same notion of spectacle that assists us in this matter. Debord states
that the spectacle is broad enough to include what opposes it (Debord, 1994). So, even the
underground art claims will adopt mainstream formats, although it sometimes might have a
different approach to entertainment. While Debord denounces the divestiture of the
entertainment spectacle, our counterculture precludes it as something that is not intended to
7
entertain but rather to disturb , something that does not appeal to distraction but to
concentration. The whole notion of society of spectacle is therefore something central to
distinguish underground from mainstream. Even though sometimes they both share the same
aspect, they differ in attitude.
In a radical approach, (anarchist) Hakim Bey’s idea on Art Sabotage is one example of how
this can be perceived:
7
“A arte de vanguarda, praticada nos extremos mais radicais, surge totalmente dissociada dos gostos e
da mentalidade dominantes na opinião pública - «as pessoas não percebem», «para as pessoas aquilo
não é arte» - e incapaz de se afirmar e sobreviver no mercado” (Melo, 2012: 23-24). In English:
“Vanguard art doesn’t have a connection to dominant tastes or mentalities - «people don’t understand»,
«it’s not art» - and cannot thrive and survive in the market”.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Art Sabotage is (...) creation- through-destruction--but it cannot serve any Party, nor any
nihilism, nor even art itself (...) Art Sabotage serves only consciousness, attentiveness,
awakeness. A-S goes beyond paranoia, beyond deconstruction--the ultimate criticism-physical attack on offensive art-- aesthetic jihad. The slightest taint of petty ego-icity or even
of personal taste spoils its purity & vitiates its force. A-S can never seek power--only release it.
(Bey, 1991: 8-9)
Richard Florida came out with the concept of Creative Cities, an economic perspective on
how the creative classes (artists, designers, architects, etc.) are an engine of territorial
development. But Florida seems to harbor no interest in the potential of the creative class for
liberation (Rosler, 2010, Pasquinelli, 2010), so we’ll need to reinterpret his words in order to
8
understand fully the extent of Identity and Ideology in underground circuits.
As Rosler points out, in Florida’s vision “the concentration on taste classes and lifestyle
generally evades questions of labor organization and political control. Richard Lloyd, in Neo-
Bohemia: Art and Commerce in the Postindustrial City (2006), more pointedly finds that artists
and hipsters are not only complicit in the realm of consumption but also serve capital quite
well in their role as casual labor (‘useful labor’ in Lloyd’s terms), whether, say, as service
workers or engaged in freelance design” (Rosler, 2010) . One can easily see the resemblance
between these ideas and the ones from the Situationists or Henri Lefebvre, who theorized the
role of the cultured classes in facilitating the elite management of both labour and urban
9
change .
If we keep on dissecting Florida’s words, we might understand that it is like a “gospel of
creativity [that] offers something for mayors and urban planners to hang onto — a new
episteme if you will. Florida’s thesis also finds support in management sectors in the art world
that seek support from municipal and foundation sources” (Rosler, 2010). Besides the
glamorous cover, it doesn’t matter if the bohemian index is good or bad for urban growth.
If the creative cities don’t represent an underground ideology and identity, we need to try
to define it differently. The concept that might help us to understand what is happening is
“communisation”. The term is one of the fundamental ideas expressed in The Coming
Insurrection by The Invisible Committee, an anonymous French group of free thinkers. Mikkel
Bolt Rasmussen wrote an helpful essay on how to understand this ideas entitled “Art,
Revolution and Communisation”. “The Invisible Committee and the milieu around the now
dissolved periodical Tiqqun build further on the radical part of the avant-garde’s critique of
everyday life in the direction of what they call ‘communisation’, which is the direct destruction
of the capitalist production relations and a rejection of the identities of the spectacle, including
‘worker’, ‘artist’ or ‘writer’. This is an attempt to transcend art with revolutionary activity in
which theory and praxis are united” (Rasmussen, 2012: 235 - 236).
8
“The name of this newborn chimera is ‘creative cities’ — an asymmetrical chimera, as the mask of
culture is used to cover the hydra of concrete and real-estate speculation. The chimera of cultural cities
is a complex machine, no longer based on the opposition between high and low culture that was central
to the Frankfurt School canon of the culture industry. Specifically, culture production is today a
biopolitical machine where all aspects of life are integrated and put to work, where new lifestyles become
commodities, where culture is considered an economic flow like any other and where, in particular, the
collective production of imaginary is quickly hijacked to increase the profits of corporate business.”
(Pasquinelli, 2010)
9
“Our domain is thus the urban network, the natural expression of a collective creativity capable of
understanding the creative forces being released with the decline of a culture based on individualism. To
our way of thinking, the traditional arts will no longer be able to play a role in the creation of the new
evinroment in which we want to live.” (Nieuwenhuys, 1998)
6.4. Ideology and identity in underground circuits
463
In the Surrealist Manifesto of 1924, the surrealists made clear that they intuitively rejected
capitalism’s division of life into work and daily life, art and science. Later, the situacionists also
rejected the “framed” art institution and urged to set creativity free in everyday life combining
at the same time these ideas with the revolutionary tradition’s critique of modern capitalist
society, state and work . “The Situationists could draw on the intuitive forecasting by
10
Surrealism of a different kind of daily life, to show that the revolution had nothing whatsoever
to do with a group of armed men turning up in front of parliament, seizing state power and
announcing that something new will now happen. The revolution is not this kind of separate
political event based on seizure of power and a planned route to a different society”
(Rasmussen, 2012: 236).
It is now important to reflect about the emancipation in order to complete the
underground culture analyses. Jacques Rancière, in his Emancipated Spectator, refers that the
emancipation “begins when we dismiss the opposition between looking and acting and
understand that the distribution of the visible itself is part of the configuration of domination
and subjection. It starts when we realize that looking also is an action which confirms or
modifies that distribution, and that ‘interpreting the world’ is already a means of transforming
it, of reconfiguring it. The spectator is active, as the student or the scientist: he observes, he
selects, compares, and interprets. He ties up what he observes with many other things that he
has observed on other stages, in other kind of spaces. He makes his poem with the poem that
is performed in front of him. She participates in the performance if she is able to tell her own
story about the story which is in front of her. (...) They are distant viewers and interpreters of
what is performed in front of them. They pay attention to the performance to the extent that
they are distant” (Rancière, 2007). Although the author refers essentially to the spectator of
artistic performances, we can easily associate this idea to a broader notion of spectacle. As
Debord claims: “the spectacle is presented at the same time as society itself” (Debord, 2010:
8).
As it were a performance, Debord says that “All that once was directly lived has become
mere representation”. The spectacle is a social relationship between people that is mediated
by images and an objectified vision of the world (Debord, 2010). The process that leads to
emancipation in performances is the same needed to interpret of the spectacular world and,
that way, reconfigure it. Rancière itself uses Debord as a reference, claiming that “The more
man contemplates, the less he is” (Rancière, 2007). This statement is also a reference to Plato’s
11
idea of simulacrum .
Emancipation in a spectacular consumerist capitalist society might have a lot of
12
consequences . If society is based in simulacrum, as Debord and Rancière claim, the simple
10
“‘The only useful work that remains to be done is to rebuild society and life on an altogether different
foundation.’ For the Situationists the revolution had to bid farewell to all the separate spheres and
identities, as well as to wage labour and the commodified ways in which we live.” (Rasmussen, 2012:
236)
11
See also Gilles Deleuze text “Platão e o Simulacro” in Lógica do Sentido (2000).
12
“Art was a subversive force, in so far as it was no longer rooted in the art institution. To be true to
itself, art had to negate itself and the art institution and take part in an all-encompassing overhaul of
bourgeois capitalist society. This was why inter-war avant-garde groups like Dada and the Surrealists
were involved in attempts to challenge the art institution; all the challenges took place with a view to
permitting the creativity with which the artist had been furnished – as part of the constitution of art as
an autonomous sphere – to seep out into everyday life. This was why the avant-gardes ridiculed the role
and identity of the artist and tried to abolish it in favour of an activation of the viewer, who otherwise
only stood passively contemplating the leavings of the artist, and who thus both pointed towards another
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
act of seeing beyond that could have radical results. But many see this with cepticism. Zygmunt
Bauman, about emancipation, argues that we’re probably “a generation with greater critical
predisposition and whose criticism is more daring and uncompromising than ever”, but adds
that this criticism is “toothless” and “unable to affect our choices” (Bauman, 2006: 23).
Even the concepts of what is art and how should it be consumed or appreciated might
take some conscious and critical groups to question themselves. DIY cultural expressions (but
not only) thus arise from the idea that anyone can be an artist and that art should not be a
13
canonical idea . It is born than a culture of fanzines, poetry slam, lo-fi music, performances,
graffiti, small budget independent cinema, etc.
As a consequence of spectacular emancipation is the creation of circuits, groups and
informal venues. Underground expressions of counterculture where, in a DIY logic, happens
revolutionary art.
“But the autonomy of art is both a blessing and a curse”, adds Rasmussen, “thanks to it,
the artist is on the one hand not subject to externally formulated rules or prescriptions; on the
other hand this autonomy also has a built-in limitation, since it means that artistic praxis in
reality has limited social impact” (Rasmussen, 2012: 229).
References
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13
“There is nothing more annoying than those museums that become «teaching institutions» and seek
to make «culture» «accessible» to the «common people» with a series of explanations on the walls and
by means of the headphones that tell everyone precisely what they should feel about the work, videos,
interactive games, museum shops, sneakers. . . It is claimed that this makes it possible for culture and
history to be enjoyed by the non-bourgeois strata, too (as if today’s bourgeoisie were cultured). To me,
it is just this user-friendly approach that seems to be the pinnacle of arrogance regarding the popular
strata, concerning whom it is supposed that they are by definition insensible to culture, which they can
appreciate only if it is presented in the most frivolous and infantile manner possible. This also signals the
end of that pleasant, somewhat dusty atmosphere of the museums of the past; pleasant because it
seemed that one entered a separate world, where one could relax away from the tornado of activities
that always surrounds us, and this was to some extent true because these museums were seldom
visited.” (Jappe, 2009)
6.4. Ideology and identity in underground circuits
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Human Geography, 92 (2),115–130.
6.5. Grito Rock Festival: from do it yourself to do it
together
Daniel Domingues Barbosa 1
Luiza Bittencourt 1
Abstract
The paper aims to identify the social practices and to discuss the cultural actions related to the Grito
Rock Festival, which is considered the largest integrated event in the world based on the Do It
Yourself principle. The paper aims to identify how the festival that occurs in hundreds of cities
around the world simultaneously asserts the national identity through many live concerts that
include not just Rock, as the name would suggest, but also diverse aspects of Brazilian culture. This
project analyzes the organization of the Grito Rock festival in different cities. The aim is to
determine whether it is possible to create a network of producers that could integrate these
currently independent events: from do it yourself to do it together.
Keywords: Festival - Grito Rock - Do It Yourself - Do It Together - Music
Reconfiguring the music industry and the rise of
independent festivals
In recent years, several researchers from the music industry have pointed to the emergence of
new business models for the dissemination and distribution so that the players in this market
will adapt to the reconfiguring of production, circulation, and consumption patterns
(Herschmann, 2013; Sá, 2006; De Marchi, 2005) that have been occurring in the industry.
After a transition period, the music industry is reaching a level of restructuring, and what
is happening is the emergence of a new music industry (Herschmann, 2012), in which there is
a gradual appreciation of live music performances, often arranged in the form of festivals. This
occurs once festivals emerge as the space where an artist shows his work, achievements, and
close relationship with his audience, besides being one of the most favorable opportunities to
sell CDs and promotional products. It creates an experience with new patterns of sociability.
Different music festivals have been independently put together in various states of the
country, organized by local producers motivated to create cultural options in their cities. It can
be confirmed that through these festivals, these cultural agents are creatively and successfully
building new circuits of production, distribution and cultural consumption (Herschmann,
2010b), giving their work the power of distinction (Bordieu, 2007). It is precisely within this
context that, in 2002, Grito Rock, the largest integrated independent festival in the world and
is the object of this work, emerged. With this study we seek to map its main features,
identifying existing social practices and forms of interaction that occur among its agents;
understand the symbolic struggles that emerge in connecting to various local cultural identities
1
Fluminense Federal University, Brazil
468
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
and organizing a national identity; and finally, investigate the possible existence of a global
network of culture.
The Grito Rock Festival and new social practices
The Grito Rock Festival began on February 2002 in Cuiabá, designed by the cultural collective
Cubo Mágico, which sought to create an event with performances by local and regional artists
as an alternative to Carnival. In 2006, members of the same group - which has been renamed
as simply Cube - met with cultural producers, members of collectives in Uberlândia (Goma),
Londrina (Demo Sul), and Acre (Scull), also independent festival organizers and promoters of
local culture to form the circuit Fora do Eixo, a network of cultural agents whose activities
consist of "powerful laboratory experiments of the new dynamics of work and subjectivities"
2
(Bentes, 2011, online ).
Since February 2007, the Grito Rock Festival has been jointly held by all of the collective
belonging to the circuit. The Festival grew with the growth of the network and started to be
held by partner producers in various cities and continents as well. The 2014 festival was held
in 400 cities in 30 countries (Figure 1).
Figure 1 - Map of Grito Rock Festival
Grito Rock is considered the largest integrated event in the world because it occurs in
hundreds of cities simultaneously, and each local producer has the autonomy to manage the
event according to the particularities of his region, ownership, and disputes. The Festival is
2
Available at: http://www.trezentos.blog.br/?p=6056. Accessed on 15/02/2014.
6.5. Grito Rock Festival: from do it yourself to do it together
469
known for its collaborative aspect that allows an environment of circulation at festivals for
dozens of Brazilian and international cities, which together form a large circuit.
The advent of independent festivals such as Grito Rock led to "the emergence of new
social practices that suggest alternatives to the restructuring of the music industry"
(Herschmann, 2012, p. 1). On this aspect, the same researcher highlights the relationship
between the production of these festivals and new digital media communications in shaping
these new social practices related to the world of music:
It breaks away from the assumption that social practices that are related to organizing new
independent festivals reveals a new way for artists to engage with their audience, increasingly
employing new information and communication technologies. It is increasingly possible to find
multimedia platforms on the Internet that encourage artists and consumers to initiate their
production and exchange content and information. (HERSCHMANN, 2012, pg. 10)
It is therefore a new method of production, as explained by Martin-Barbero who points
out that technological revolution introduces into our society a new way of producing,
confusingly associated with a new way of communicating, transforms knowledge into a direct
productive force (Martin-Barbero, 2006).
The members of the Fora do Eixo circuit stimulate connection among cultural agents from
more than 30 countries to hold a joint festival in which the producer of each branch should
follow a few guidelines for conformity but also has various aspects of freedom (such as
fundraising). The guidelines are organized by a team from the Circuit and are sent to registered
producers in a guide format.
Producers usually join in one of three different ways: (1) by signing up online at the site
3
Toque no Brasil during the registration period (which usually occurs in January); (2) over the
phone or online (emails and social networks) promoted by the managers of the Fora do Eixo
circuit who present the project and invite the producer to participate and register on the site;
or (3) through direct, personal contact.
4
Whereas in the first two hypotheses social interactions occur in cyberspace (Lévy, 2000),
the third option happens through personal contact, generally facilitated during the "Colunas
Fora do Eixo" which are trips taken by members of the Circuit to share experience, according
to the description on the site: "Fora do Eixo agents circulating in Brazil and other Latin
American countries are sharing social technologies and network information. Those "Colunas
3
The Toque no Brasil site (http://tnb.art.br/) was launched on January 5, 2010, as a collaborative platform
with the aim of using the internet to approach bands and event producers for free. The platform was
the result of the collective work of the Fora do Eixo circuit (mainly represented by members of the Amerê
collective from São Paulo), Casas Associadas, ABRAFIN, and BMA. According to the current description
on the aforementioned site, Toque no Brasil is "a network of opportunities that is intended to streamline
and strengthen the bond between the links in the chain of value of music, facilitating the meeting
between music makers and those who hire musicians and bands, that is, serving as a work tool. On TNB,
artists of any style can create their profile and sign up for various opportunities such as live performances
(shows, festivals, tours), publicity (advertising, jingles, soundtracks), and brand interaction (sponsorship,
competitions, contests). These opportunities are open in notice format, where the talent seeker to
manage and release the results online, all within the site. Still, this is all done with the logic of a social
network, where each user has a fully customizable profile where you can upload files and interact with
others."
4
As conceived by Pierre Lévy (2000, pgs. 92 and 93), cyberspace "is the new medium of communications
that arose through the global interconnection of computers. The term refers not only to to the material
infrastructure of digital communications but to the oceanic universe of informations it holds, as well as
the human beings who navigate and nourish that infrastructure."
470
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Fora do Eixo" articulate new relationships and establish more partner points, beside providing
a consultancy specializing in collective training" (Figures 2 and 3).
5
Figures 2 and 3 - "Colunas Fora do Eixo" Flyers
These trips often occur by car within states in order to meet new cultural agents who are
interested in participating in the network's activities. This collaboration with the network
includes associative actions such as the formation of a cultural collective or organizing the
Grito Rock Festival in your city. After this first contact, the interested producers shall do the
registration via Toque no Brazil. The producers shall participate in the collective construction
of the Festival.
The main method of communication between the managers of the Circuit and the
associated producers is mediated through computers: After the registration period, all
producers are included in an email group (on the Google Groups platform). That way,
subscribers receive all of the information and can even get in touch with producers in other
cities to organize joint activities such as systematizing circulation routes or exchanging
products and services in solidarity.
Besides the aforementioned group, meetings are held on Skype, in chat rooms (IRC), and
6
7
even on social networks like Facebook and Twitter .
5
Available at: http://foradoeixo.org.br/glossario-out-of-eixes/
The Facebook "works through profiles and communities. It is possible to add app modules (games,
tools, etc.) to your profile. The system is often perceived as more private than other social networking
sites, because only users in the same network can see each other's profiles." (Recuero, 2009, p. 171).
7
According to Raquel Recuero: "Twitter is a site popularly deemed a microblogging service (...),
structured with followers and people to follow, where each user can choose whom they want to follow
and be followed by others. There is also the possibility of sending private messages to other users. The
individual timeline of each user therefore contains all public messages posted by those individuals whom
they follow." (Recuero, 2009, p. 173).
6
6.5. Grito Rock Festival: from do it yourself to do it together
471
Through these digital platforms, it is possible to ask questions, exchange contact
information, share experiences, and encourage producers to follow guidelines and to adhere
to suggested campaigns, which are divided into the areas of promotion (Promote your Grito,
Record your Grito, ExpoGrito, Grito Doc, Grito Live, Collaborative Media, and Grito
Photography); training (Grito Kids, Organize Your Campus and Grito Gay); circulation of
languages (Stage Grito, Grito Routes, OrFel, Compacto.Cine, Camelô 2.0, and Grito Hip Hop);
and sustainability (Capture Your Grito, Mount your Compacto.tec, Host Culture, Green Grito,
Collective Grito, and Pitch Your Coin at Grito Rock).
As can be seen, the leading social practices applied by cultural collectives in planning the
8
9
10
Grito Rock Festival is based on association , in cyberculture and solidarity economy . These
practices relate to the realization of what Castells has defined as "network society": "social
structure which is characterized by networked communications technologies and information
processing. This includes such social phenomena as economic interdependence among nations
as well as globalization and social movements related to individual identity" (1999, p. 20).
Even by following Pierre Lévy's concept it is possible to see the formation of a virtual
community dedicated to the execution of Grito Rock. This community is built on the affinities
of interests and knowledge and mutual projects in a process of cooperation or exchanges, all
independent of geographical proximity and international affiliations (Lévy, 1999).
It is interesting to note that Jenkins, in "Convergence Culture," highlights, upon analyzing
Lévy's studies, the power of collective intelligence evidenced by the author:
On the Internet, argues Pierre Lévy, people subordinate their individual expertise to common
goals and purposes. 'No one knows everything. All knowledge resides in humanity.' Collective
intelligence refers to the ability of virtual communities to leverage the combined expertise of
its members. What we cannot do alone, we can now do collectively. (Jenkins, 2006, p. 56).
On this point it is worth stressing that during the entirety of the Festival production the
managers from the Fora do Eixo circuit share files collaborating with the execution of the
event, such as explanatory spreadsheets to achieve control and accountability, releases,
publicity photos, press kits, and presentations to assist in fundraising. All this material is made
available in online directories (mainly Google Drive).
This kind of attitude dialogues directly with Pierre Lévy's notes, whereas in his
understanding, cyberspace's is the main channel of communication of and memory support
for humanity from the next century (2000).
Regarding face-to-face contact, it deserves to be emphasized that during the execution of
the Grito Rock Festival there is often exchange among collective agents of the circuit and also
among associated producers to participate in other cities' events. This occurs in many ways
8
According to Brazilian Micro and Small Business Support Service, the "concept of association is related
to the adoption of work methods that promote trust, mutual aid, and strengthening human capital,
among other factors." Available at: http://arquivopdf.sebrae.com.br/customizado/desenvolvimentoterritorial/temas-relacionados/associativismo-e-cooperativismo
9
According to Pierre Lévy, cyberculture "is the set of technologies (material and intellectual), practices,
attitudes, modes of thought, and values developed along with the growth of cyberspace" (Lévy, 1999,
p. 15).
10
In this article we consider the concept of Paul Singer, who defines solidarity economy as "another
means of production, whose basic principles are collective or associated capital property and the right to
individual freedom. Application of these principles unites all those who produce in a single class of
workers who possess capital equally in each economic cooperative or society. " (Singer, 2002, p. 2)
472
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
but mainly through artist, production team, collaborative media, and speaker/training
workshop host circulation.
From the above, it is clear how the Fora do Eixo Circuit resorts to new social practices to
organize the Grito Rock Festival and that they occur mainly through digital media, although
there is still a relevant offline liaison.
11
Based on this first aspect of understanding how to train a "virtual community" (Lemos,
2002, p. 93) to plan the Festival, it now remains to analyze how each city's events relate to
the cultural identities of they places where they are held, as examined in the next section.
Local cultural identities in the Grito Rock Festival
Considering territories as spaces in construction full of disputes and negotiations, it is
interesting to try to understand the connection between local cultural identities while planning
the Grito Rock Festival. After all, independent festivals exercise an important role in the
reconfiguration of the music industry once they emerge as arenas of disputes of symbolic
struggles.
This aspect can be seen in Grito Rock from the time that the festival is born in Brazil, in an
environment outside of the Rio de Janeiro-São Paulo hub, from a growing demand for cultural
options. The first wave of expansion of the event was to other cities outside the traditional
circulation route: Londrina (PR), Rio Branco (AC), and Uberlândia (MG).
That is, local producers felt excluded from the usual cultural circuit and through the festival
sought to intermediate a new relationship with their territories in order to encourage new
public policies and promote a transformation in the local cultural environment. This
reconfiguration process is consistent with the disputes over attribution of meaning to the
geographical spaces the Ana Enne highlights in her studies:
Historically, the symbolic struggle for the significance of social and geographic spaces involves
classification systems that generate procedures of exclusion and inclusion that, although
dynamic, mark "fences" and "bridges" and define Mary Douglas (2006) to talk about goods
and their social uses. In this sense, forms of (de)valuation of urban areas, in their multiple
perspectives, involve a number of agents and situations, including public policies of
occupation, tactics of appropriation, and use of space by multiple specific subjects in which
they travel and the media representations of places, among other possible extents. We face,
therefore, an intense and everyday dispute over the attribution of meaning around the space,
in its transformation into a significant place" (ENNE, 2012, p. 27).
Grito Rock is a festival full of associative activities that have various embodiments because
each producer can organize it in the way that is most adapted to their local situation. That is,
although in Rio de Janeiro the Festival occurs in the Circo Voador with popular prices, in
Macapá (in the north of Brazil) the festival is held in a square with free admission (Figures 4
and 5). Some events have the support of local governments; others are produced by only
private campaigns. The number of artists varies as much as the range of the public and media.
11
Virtual communities "are aggregations around common interests independent of fixed boundaries or
territorial limits" (Lemos, 2002, p.93).
11
6.5. Grito Rock Festival: from do it yourself to do it together
473
Figures 4 and 5 - Rio de Janeiro and Macapá editions
For these characteristics, the relationship between the festival and the territory is often
magnified in proportion to the size of the reach of the festival to the size of the city where it
is held and if it really fits the cultural needs of that locality. Thus, cultural producers use the
social practices described in Topic 2 of this paper to give a new way to operating through
which they "reappropriate the space organised by techniques of sociocultural production"
(Certeau, 2002, p. 41). These ways of operating are “ruses of other interests and desires”
(Certeau, 2002, p. 41).
Thus, we can understand that through the collective experience of assigning new meaning
to the territories where Grito Rock events are held is a process of formation of a cultural
identity, following the assertion of Thompson that "when some men, as a result of common
experience (inherited or shared) feel and articulate the identity of their interests as between
themselves, and as against other men whose interests are different from (and usually opposed
to) theirs (Thompson, 2001, p. 10).
In fact, it is worth noting that the existing feeling among producers who plan Grito Rock
is belonging to a network, based on associative practices, which form a collective identity of
the event while keeping up local individual cultural identities, respected throughout the
planning process.
It is important to note that the construction of this collective identity does not presuppose
that there is unanimity only during the production of Grito Rock. Rather, there is an intense
exchange of emails and in-person meetings and online through which associated producers
question, debate, disagree, and come in line for running the event in accordance with the
reality of their territories. This characteristic approaches the understanding of Stuart Hall that
it is "impossible to think the construction of identities as resulting only in commonalities of
common points or establishment of contrasts and oppositions. The production of identity as a
process must contain the two axes or vectors, as he calls it" (Enne and Lacerda, 2011, p. 8).
One of the major targets of discussions between the film makers at the festival was
precisely the question of rock.
With a completion date scheduled for the carnival, the initial proposal was to take
advantage of the festival to showcase what was promoted by the carnival festivities to
consolidate and targeted those who had no interest in samba alternative rocker, acting in this
way as a practice "of resistance to these hegemonic impositions of taste "(ENNE, 2012, p. 10).
However, over the past few years, the agreed direction (after extensive debate) is that a
more plural selection, which turned Grito Rock shows into having a large Brazilian cultural
diversity and includes varied artistic styles (in both music and language), not just rock.
474
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Of course, there are cities that maintain the rocker tradition, but a growing number is
opting to diversify musical genres. Hip hop, for example, is the object of a specific campaign 12
Grito Hip Hop - which aims to promote the hip hop culture during the Festival (Figure 6).
Figure 6 - Flyer of Grito Hip Hop
This measure combines the interests of farmers. For a few years, the festival has directed
its efforts to form a national cultural identity in the sphere of Brazilian independent music
between hundreds of local identities. On the concept of national identity, Nercolini clarifies
that "is no longer seen as a natural attribute acquired by the subject to belong to a given
nation. We are not born with a national identity; it is formed and processed according to the
representations we acquire and create." (Nercolini, 2006, p. 125).
Grito Rock collaborates with the creation of a national identity while going in the only
direction that it has toward the movement of artist copyright. Each edition of the Festival must
receive at least one artist from out of town, and all artists should present their own
productions.
Through this model the festival promotes, between February and March, the biggest
exchange period for independent artists in the country. Many bands are articulated to organize
tours at this time, so make the most of the amount of vacancies.
And so, with events that include several local bands and still promote the movement of
others, Grito Rock forms a connection between local and national identities.
The creation of a global network of culture
Accompanying the growth of the network it is possible to notice that Grito Rock experiences
a new step with the expansion of its internationalization process. While in 2014 there were
events in 400 cities of 40 countries, the goal for 2015 is to cover 500 cities in 50 countries
(i.e., increasing the festival is projected worldwide).
Given the social practices developed in implementing the festival, it is possible to note a
concern of the Festival in collaboration with the global construction of a more fluid and less
closed Brazilian identity by encouraging the exchange of cultural agents and artists
representative of our musical diversity in foreign events.
Plus, you can also see an effort to expand the boundaries ordained by the idea of
multiculturalism as an effect of globalization that can generate a relevant cultural hybridization
12
Available at: http://gritorock.com.br/produtores/guia-do-produtor/.
6.5. Grito Rock Festival: from do it yourself to do it together
475
of a global scope in the future. Martin-Barbero explains these terms: "Globalization does not
mean a greater diffusion of products but the rearticulation of the relations among countries
through an off-centering mechanism that concentrates power, and an uprooting process that
hybridizes cultures" (2006, p. 63-64).
About how hybridization occurs, Canclini points out that these are processes in which
discrete structures or practices, previously existing in separated form are combined to generate
new structures, objects, and practices. It is clear that the discrete structures called were the
result of hybridizations; reason cannot be considered clean sources." (2001, p. 19).
Based on these points, it is possible to understand Grito Rock as an event that can enhance
a cultural hybridization through new digital technologies and by its widely associative
character, configuring it as a legitimizing institution, disclosing and mainly organizing high
volumes of current musical production (Queiroz, 2010, p. 7).
Finally, we conclude that the expansion of Grito Rock can be considered an important step
toward the creation of a global network of culture marked by an intense and constant process
of cultural hybridization.
Funding: This work was supported by the CAPES Foundation by Masters scholarship.
Acknowledgements: The authors would like to thank PROAES - Pró Reitoria de Assuntos Estudantis
of Fluminense Federal University for sponsoring the airline tickets that allowed the presentation of
the paper.
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6.6. Developing tourism locally through a heavy
metal music festival: an attempt to maximize
resources and tourist services in Viana do Castelo,
Portugal
Jorge Coelho 1
Abstract
Tourism is one of the main sectors of international trade. It is also noted that touristic development
is usually associated with benefit for countries, regions or localities. Preferably, under the yearnings
of sustainable tourism concept. To achieve sustainability through tourism it becomes imperative to
reach a compromise which can only be possible when, from the process of planning, the
community is seen as a partner and co-responsible. Cultural events, including festivals, can help
achieve these goals, as events are an essential tool in the tourism process, since they allow an entire
drive in the tourism production chain. Given the absence of a common or unique feature to the
totality of events and festivals, because each has its own peculiarities, this study reflects some
specific features of a specific heavy metal music festival, which, due to its size and socio-economic
dynamics, enables the existing specific relationship with tourism, including involvement and
partnerships. From data collection and analyzes, as well as from perceptions and concrete
observations by this festival organization, a first attempt at designing tourist programs involving
existing resources and tourist services in the city of Viana do Castelo, Portugal, was made. Once
implemented, the goals are to maximize the tourist potential offered by the dynamics created by
the festival, promote the region as a tourist destination and boost the local economy as much as
possible. The adoption or reinforcement of this kind of procedures taken by organizations of
festivals with identical characteristics, or not, in other Portuguese regions is desirable.
Keywords: tourism, local development, partnerships, festivals, heavy metal.
Tourism
By implying a complex network of economical activities involved in providing tourists
accommodation, food and beverages, transport, entertainment and other services, tourism is
a structuring element of the economy (UNWTO, 2013).
In Portugal, and according to the 2010 Sustainability Report elaborated by the entity
Turismo de Portugal, the tourism sector concurs, in a significant way, to wealth generation for
national - local and regional - economy, and, additionally, promotes the creation of direct and
indirect jobs. On the 2011 Sustainability Report, also by Turismo de Portugal, tourism
continued to consolidate its significance to the Portuguese economy, having developed in all
activity indicators.
1
Polytechnic Institute of Viana do Castelo, Portugal.
478
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
It is a fact that there are multiple reasons for the tourism to be an economic development
engine, and several authors mention that on one hand, tourism leads to capital and income
movements of regions and causes the export of goods and services through the visitors’
purchasing of products from the receiving region, as well as their own expenditure in the
places - export that would not occur any other way. On the other hand, this activity implies
investment which, in the beginning, focuses on the rehabilitation and construction of touristic
infrastructures, and then widen to other equipments. These, namely infrastructures and social
equipments, which would hardly be built under circumstances not involving the touristic
development of the area (namely due to dimension issues), favor local population and enable
the installation of other activities which extend to local production (Cunha, 1997; Vogeler, R.
& Hernández, A., 1997; Gómez, B., 2001 cit in Vareiro, 2008).
Still, tourism is much more than an economic phenomenon; it has replications on the
cultural basis (intercultural dialogues, social hospitality relationships), starts from a historical
inheritance (architectural and historic heritage) and develops in a specific environment
(ecological and environmental effects on the natural landscape). Hence, besides economic
effects generated by tourism, one should consider socio-cultural and environmental effects
(Milani, 2002 apud Vareiro, 2008).
Events
Following what has been mentioned in the previous paragraph, and according to Zottis (2006),
events are a fundamental instrument in the touristic process, and their contribution does not
confine to the increase of the number of visitors, generating income and business, but also
enables a drive in the tourism productive chain. The author also indicates that it is necessary
that they are planned, arranged, carried out and assessed under the same complex and
multifaceted perspective conducted when approaching hospitality.
For an event to take place, it needs a great number of professionals and suitable
infrastructures, thus bearing social and economic profits to the local community and,
depending on its dimension, to the whole country. Suitable infrastructures are needed, such
as basic (sanitation, treated water, sewage treatment and network), support (transport,
hospitals, public security), or touristic (accommodation, restaurants, travel agencies). Holding
events in a municipality can, therefore, stimulate the improvement of those urban services
and, accordingly, bring improvement to the inhabitants’ life quality (Oliveira & Januário, 2007).
Howsoever, local entities (both public and private), conscious of the impossibility to
maintain artistic performances throughout the year, choose to concentrate those initiatives
and performances in certain periods of the year, providing to citizens a cultural offer adequate
to large metropolitan areas (Getz, 1991; Hernández, G. et al., 2003; Gratton & Taylor, 1995
apud Pardellas de Blas, X., Fabeiro, C., Vareiro, L. & Ribeiro, J., 2005, p. 64).
Nevertheless, the effects of tourism seasonality can be reduced by holding events, as they
stimulate flows of people in periods of the year when the demand is usually lower (Oliveira &
Januário, 2007, p. 56).
Still, on the other hand and in order to monetize investments, it is important to incorporate
events (often too concentrated in terms of time) in the global touristic offer in the
municipality/region in question (Pardo, 2001 cit in Pardellas de Blas, X., Fabeiro, C., Vareiro, L.
& Ribeiro, J., 2005, p. 66). Events can also encourage people to visit a place more than once
(Richards & Wilson, 2004).
6.6. Developing tourism locally through a heavy metal music festival: an attempt to
maximize resources and tourist services in Viana do Castelo, Portugal
479
Therefore, so that events are crucial in terms of local development, it is necessary that
residents have profit, but, above all, take an active part in the process (André et al., 2003 cit
in Pardellas de Blas, X., Fabeiro, C., Vareiro, L. & Ribeiro, J., 2005, p. 72). Indeed, on the basis
of its success lies the participation of the local population, required to collaborate in event
holding, supporting them by volunteering and considering them local happenings (Getz,
1991).
It becomes imperative to achieve a compromise which can only be possible when, since
the process of planning the event, the community is seen as a partner and co-responsible
(Zottis, 2006, p. 4). This direct intervention of residents, particularly when there is a special
focus on visitors, is an unquestionably significant factor of touristic attraction, since it
reinforces the authenticity and the identity of the place where the event is held (André et al.,
2003 cit in Pardellas de Blas, X., Fabeiro, C., Vareiro, L. & Ribeiro, J., 2005, p. 72).
On the other hand, tourists may have a significant role in the community development
giving residents the possibility to obtain additional income (Richards, 2005 cit in Fernandes,
2011, p. 103).
Thus, a well-succeeded strategy of events is reflected in the creation of an institutional
framework, involving businessmen, commerce, services sector and public power, emphasizing
the promotion of associations and entrepreneurship (Melo Neto, 2001 cit in Zottis, 2006, p.
4).
The significance of events, therefore, is also reflected in the idea advocated by Hamam
(2004 cit in Zottis, 2006, p. 4), considering that an event is a product and, from the premise
that there being an activity designed to, directly or indirectly, generate profit to everyone
involved, it is easy to conclude it is a product of high value and should be explored and offered
to a public eager for information, knowledge, technological innovations, releases related to
their area of operation, entertainment, and all that can be represented as new experiences
and emotions.
Cultural events have lately shown a rather dynamic “touristic product”, concerning both
demand and offer. According to Getz (1991), cultural events, namely festivals, can help to
achieve these goals, in that: they meet the local needs of local leisure, reducing the desire to
seek other destinations; they keep traditions authentic, which might attract tourists more
sensible to endogenous resources; they improve the relationships between residents and
tourists, favoring understanding and a greater exchange of mutual benefits; contribute to the
preservation of natural, historic and cultural heritage; and, lastly, they encourage local
organizational development, leadership and cooperation between all involved agents, which
is crucial if one intends a touristic development based on the community. This last role can be,
perhaps, the most important one concerning this kind of events.
Festivals
In modern society, performing arts are a complex phenomenon of economic analysis, as they
usually involve aspects related with hobbies, modes of personal expression, entertainment,
social status and even public policy. However, in all these manifestations there is always a
unifying theme: arts consume resources amenable to alternative uses, and therefore
susceptible to economic analysis. As in any other economic activity, at market level, art
production and consumption is reflected in offer and demand, regardless of the markets being
more or less developed and/or competitive (CETRAD, 2004, p. 6).
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The increasing dynamics tendency of live performances reflects socio-cultural changes
which have occurred in our country over the past decades and have casted culture to the
centre of political, social and even economic rings. In fact, the scope of public musical
performance has been expanding, assuming an intensely diversified character, being
organized at changeable scales, developing in spaces and formats more and more
heterogeneous, and, although presentation and performance circuits are already organized at
national or international levels, they always depend on time, space, operators and local or
localized consumers in specific places (Abreu, 2004).
But there is not a common or unique characteristic to all the events and festivals, as each
of them has its own peculiarities. There are festivals designed for profit and others for no profit
at all, with local, regional, national or international approach, an entertaining or an educative
goal, etc, but most of them share intangibility, convergence in time and place, as well as their
frailty (Rivero, 2009, p. 13). Yet, one can say that the essence of a festival is its public
orientation and the feeling of shared values it bears (Jafari, 2000 cit in Rivero, 2009, p. 13).
After having studied in depth the festivals theme, Bowen & Daniels (2005 cit in Rivero,
2009, p. 13) have defined music festivals as events which, contrary to other concerts, are
manifestations in which music is part of culture. Moreover, music festivals often include other
activities beyond music itself, usually deeply related to the theme adopted by the festival.
Heavy metal subculture
And music while universal art goes beyond geographic barriers, and any person, from any part
of the world, can feel as a member of that community (Silva, H., 2010).
Heavy Metal, one of Rock subgenres with greater longevity, transcends the purely musical
sphere, showing several aspects which characterize it as a subculture disseminated in several
countries (Silva, J., 2007).
And it matters to be promptly aware of the subculture concept presented by Gelder (2005
cit in Silva, H., 2010): “Subcultures are groups of people somehow represented as nonnormative and/or marginal through their interests and particular practices, what they are, what
they do and where they do it”.
Nevertheless, Heavy Metal community and the music style which distinguishes it do not
show as something against rules or as a radical counterculture directly contesting. While
extreme and alternative in its origin, the fact is that, inserted in their mother-culture, which
one consider to be the music industry, many music groups of this type have directly entered
the top of charts worldwide. Heavy Metal, despite its contesting and rupture characteristics,
is completely ingrained in music industry, in spite of being socially marginal (Silva, H., 2010).
This kind of subcultures intends to distinguish from mass cultures, seeking a more
individual voice which tends to be set aside by global communities, more standardized, whose
primary logics is of production and consume, deleting individuality in the process (Gelder,
2005 cit in Silva, H., 2010). This community, by its visual and sound aesthetics, moves in a
world apart, in a more limited group of individuals, in search for individuality, apart from
massification of cultural processes (Silva, H., 2010).
In spite of its style being aggressive, insurgent and somehow marginal, Heavy Metal has
never been totally ostracized or even taken lightly. Mainstream media have never ceased to
pay attention, one way or another, or even to bring to limelight news related to the style, even
6.6. Developing tourism locally through a heavy metal music festival: an attempt to
maximize resources and tourist services in Viana do Castelo, Portugal
481
at the beginning. Although this music style has never been truly globalized, key players have
always considered it had something to say (Laaksonen, L. et al., 2010, p. 6).
Thus, even briefly it is important to know the origins and essence of Heavy Metal. The
expression heavy metal firstly emerged, as directly related to music, in the lyrics of Born to be
Wild, by Steppenwolf (USA), in 1968, which state “ I like smoke and lightning, heavy metal
thunder”, and became the expression used to identify the music genre one could hear in Black
Sabbath’s seminal albums, a band from the industrial suburbs of Birmingham (England) who
gave start to Heavy Metal movement, together with Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple. The
expression heavy metal is also a literary reference from the 1964 novel Nova Express, by
William S. Burroughs, and recovered by Black Sabbath’s critic and defender Lester Bangs, in
his music critics. Character Uranium Willy, literally Heavy Metal Boy, was the reference used
to define Black Sabbath’s music. Together with Steppenwolf’s verse, the expression gave origin
to the music genre (Christe, 2005 cit in Silva, H., 2010).
Distinguished by a strong sound of guitars and percussion, heavy Metal has been a
controversial issue since its creation in the 1960s. As the popularity of the music genre raised,
an increasing number of fans developed into a new youth subculture (Gross, 1990, p. 1).
The major differences between Heavy Metal and other music forms lie in four areas: music
structure and elements of recording production, lyrics, public performances by the artists, and
the subculture which has joined the genre (Gross, 1990, p. 2).
By the characteristics assumed by Heavy Metal one can identify this subculture as a market
niche. According to Novelli (2005) we can speak of a market niche as a more limited group in
which its individuals are identifiable by the same needs or specialized interests . The size of a
market niche may vary considerably, but effectively needs to be balanced between being large
enough to create business in a significant way and small enough to be forgotten by
competitors.
Concerning the approaches previously described, the music festival dedicated to Heavy
Metal genre, which takes place in Barroselas (Viana do Castelo, Portugal), can be framed in
Kottler’s idea (2003 cit in Machado, R., 2006) when he mentions a touristic product as
“something that might be offered in a market, to be appreciated, acquired or consumed, and
includes physical objects, services, personalities, places, organizations or ideas, which
contributes to meet a need or desire.”
Barroselas, locality and festival
Steel Warriors Rebellion (SWR) Barroselas Metalfest, a very Do It Yourself (DIY) festival, took
place for the first time in 1998 and in 2014 it was its 17th edition, always in Barroselas. A
small town from the municipality of Viana do Castelo, in the North of Portugal.
The main economic activities in the place are locksmiths, metalworking, wood processing,
textile industry, civil construction, commerce and small farming (Câmara Municipal de Viana
do Castelo). According to National Statistics Institute (INE) - Censuses 2011, the population
consists of 3.927 individuals, but Barroselas totally transfigures itself when population almost
doubles during the festival.
According to the organization, the festival always takes place in April, to avoid competition
and take advantage of the lower prices of some services and equipments prevailing at that
time of year. The budget covering the structure and artists` cachets needed to the 2014 edition
was about €150.000 (one thousand and fifty euros). Concerning human resources, the
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organization had specialized staff, such as sound and light technicians, stage managers,
runners, security guards and electrician. Globally, the staff was composed by 100 people, hired
and volunteers.
Adding to this, the 2014 SWR festival edition had around 50 bands from more than 20
countries, as it is happening in the last years.
In 2013, a study conducted by Coelho, J. & Brázio, M. (2014) assessed the economic
impacts of the event. After using a specific model, suggested by Crompton, J.; Seokho, L. and
Shuster, T. (2001) they reached significant and important numbers and information; In 4 days
of festival the total direct impact of visitors’ spending (the effective money spended, not
including tickets) was €51.466,40; With the tourism multiplier coefficients the impact on sales
was €87.492,84; The impact on the community`s income was €3.087,96; The economic
dynamics helps to maintain the employment on some local companies.
Partnerships in tourism as a natural step
From the factual event evolution and development, at many levels, and also from the
assessment and analysis of perceptions, needs and evidence collected and observed,
concerning both visitors (demand for accommodation, feeding and extra activities outside the
festival area) and festival organizers (need to expand and improve supply, as well as the need
to provide an integrated supply), the establishment of partnerships with local tourism and
leisure businesses has become a natural step.
Tourism is widely regarded as a means to achieve development in destination areas
(Sharpley e Telfer, 2002) and the success of tourism development is always the result of
partnerships between various stakeholders (Ignarra, 2003). So, according to Rocha (2006)
partnerships between sectors is very important for the proper development of tourism projects
from any locatity.
In that way, partnerships are increasingly used in the tourism sector, in order to achieve
business goals (CTC, 2003). Thus, the success of touristic development is always the result of
partnerships between various agents of tourism, from public and private sectors, who are able
to meet consumer demands (Ignarra, 2003).
But, it is important to note that partnership opportunities are not only with or through
organizations traditionally seen as being part of the tourism sector. Organizations are
beginning to think in a creative way about partnership opportunities with non-traditional
sectors (CTC, 2003). Partnership between sectors is rather important for the proper
development of tourism projects of any location (Rocha, 2006).
The underlying impulse to partners, or the key-motive for cooperation, is that all partners,
whether private or in the public sector, are benefited with the alignment of resources and
aims. And partnerships are indeed created due to a variety of reasons. They can be formed in
order to create new products or services, to achieve higher levels of efficiency or scale
economies, to open markets previously inaccessible, or simply to gather financial and/or
human resources (CTC, 2003).
The economic consequences of partnerships between public and private sectors will be
considered, directly and indirectly, from the increase in touristic flow, and can be reversed in
improvements concerning infrastructures, development of industries associated to the sector
(feeding, transport, etc.) and increase in demand for local products, among others (Barreto,
1995 cit in Vernaglia e Goulart, 2003).
6.6. Developing tourism locally through a heavy metal music festival: an attempt to
maximize resources and tourist services in Viana do Castelo, Portugal
483
In Barroselas, and at this level, the existing partnerships between public and private sectors
are between the festival organizations and Viana do Castelo City Council, União de Freguesias
de Barroselas e Carvoeiro and the Instituto Português do Desporto e Juventude (Portuguese
Sports and Youth Institute).
In order to face interests and needs previously mentioned, which come from visitors and
event organizers, but also recognizing the importance of partnerships as a means of
potentiating better and greater economic dynamics, partnerships have been established with
small companies related to tourism, hospitality and leisure in the area surrounding the place
where the festival is held, namely in Viana do Castelo.
From the contacts made, there were created partnerships with eleven accommodation
2
3
4
5
units , three restaurants , a touristic and leisure activities company and a travel agency . The
latter was carried out so that all offer that had been made, with special prices, around SWR
Barroselas Metalfest could be marketed. That offer became integrated and more complete
that the one previously provided by the event, what was in fact the objective. Promotion of
the created offer was done locally, regionally, nationally and internationally.
An important fact is that one could note interest from companies in keeping partnership
agreements with the festival organization in the future. This is extremely positive, as it allows
us to assess the openness in attitudes towards the dynamics created by a subculture such as
Heavy Metal.
Conclusions
It is noted that touristic development is usually associated with benefit of countries or
destination regions, also contributing to the creation of opportunities to develop rural areas,
as is the case of Barroselas.
Holding a music festival, despite associated to a subculture, has proved an opportunity,
recognizing the community’s individual and collective efforts, which is in its essence music as
universal art that goes beyond geographical barrier, thus creating enough motivation, giving
place to multiculturalism, approaching generations and stirring local development.
Despite having some problems of acceptance by the local community in the early years,
the festival organization has now the support of public and private entities. A fact that provides
the continuity of the event.
The whole dynamics associated with the SWR Barroselas Metalfest, the Heavy Metal
subculture and the Do It Yourself culture proves that with effort and dedication it is also
possible the development of localities and regions, namely in the creation of opportunities to
develop rural areas, as is the case of Barroselas.
Since considering that Barroselas is not a touristic destination, the truth is that the town is
located at about 15kms from the municipality of Viana do Castelo - admittedly a prominent
place and city in the national touristic panorama – and because of that, it is expected a raise
in the tourists flow in both places.
2
Hotel Viana Sol, Hotel Rali, Pensão O Laranjeira, Absoluto Design Hotel, Hotel Jardim, Hotel do Parque,
Pensão Dolce Vianna, Hotel A Ponte, Hotel Calatrava, Pousada da Juventude, Hostel Ó Meu Amor
3
O Laranjeira, Casa Primavera, Dolce Vianna
4
Vivexperiência
5
Viprecepcion
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
In practice, partnerships have been established to carry on touristic programs with cultural
and leisure elements, taking advantage of the interest perceived among all who have visited
the event, benefiting from the attractiveness and source of natural, patrimonial, symbolic and
creative resources that exist in Viana do Castelo.
Hereupon, one can remark the significance of this event, also with effects on the reduction
of seasonality in the touristic area where it is inserted, as well as its relevance to touristic and
thus economic, sustainability of the destination.
In a certain manner, the way that this event is planned, organized and developed can be
an example for other organizations or localities.
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6.7. The disturbing voice of the lower-class: from
eighteenth century “Gracioso” to punk rock
Isabel Pinto 1
Abstract
As the “gracioso” presented himself/herself as a dismissive servant, always trying to survive his/her
hunger, and also the love entanglements of the master, his/her subversive role in eighteenthcentury mainstream public theatre has been acknowledged (e.g. Pereira, 1985; Santos, 1993;
Dacanal, 2011). Based on the idea that a “necessity of history” (Miura, 2010, p. 77) sometimes
determines the replacement of universalism by the “rhetoric of identity”, we have found similarities
between the “gracioso”, and what he/she stands for, and the punk rock ideology, mainly in what
concerns the refusal of hierarchy, and class, and an unruly attitude towards authority in general.
Therefore, we will prove that although distant in time the “gracioso”, following an ethics of say-ityourself, and a band like Crass, with its do-it-yourself, have something in common, despite the fact
that eighteenth century opera, unlike punk rock, had no drum.
Keywords: eighteenth century; opera; subversive role; “gracioso”; punk rock.
In the eighteenth century, opera was the most flourishing performance genre in Portugal, and
also in Europe in general. Opera was a court entertainment, involving considerable amounts
of money: the sceneries were luxurious, the costumes were rich and refined, and opera was
in its whole an exquisite show, addressing an intellectual and aesthetic demanding audience
(Brito, 1989).
But in the first half of the century, more precisely throughout the decades of 1730s and
1740s, in Mouraria and Bairro Alto Theatres, opera was also being staged in a puppet show
version (Braga, 1871), with plays from authors like António José da Silva (1705-1739) and
Alexandre António de Lima (1699-1760). These shows introduced a particular type of servant,
the “gracioso”, a subversive character that despite his/her ambiguous and ironic comments
also took part in the singing highlights, alone or in duet, usually with the master or with
another “gracioso”. The singing takes his/her defying attitude further, as he/she approaches
it as a golden opportunity for extensive mocking of the events of the plot, making use of a
plain and crude language. So, amidst love entanglements between princes and princesses
from distant and exotic reigns, drawn from mythological narratives, the “gracioso” claims the
vanity of it all, adding his unique tone to it and, at the same time, testing the aesthetic limits
of the opera genre (Barone, 2012).
Taking the study on the “gracioso” as a starting point, we will try to develop a comparative
approach on the subversive role played by this character and punk music in their respective
societies. Therefore, in this article, we will draw insofar as possible a parallelism between the
core values enacted by the “gracioso”, in the first half of the eighteenth-century, and those
1
CECC - Center for the Study of Communication and Culture, Portuguese Catholic University, Portugal.
488
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
pursued by British punk rock, trying, at the same time, to engage punk on its own terms. With
that in mind, we will take into consideration the main ideological features of both, namely in
the speech of “gracioso”, in the opera Anfitrião ou Júpiter e Alcmena [Amphitryon or, Jupiter
and Alcmene] (1736)2 by António José da Silva (1705-1739)3, and Adolónimo em Sidónia4
5
[Adolonymus in Sidon], by Alexandre António de Lima (1699-1760) , and in punk lyrics by
emblematic bands such as the Sex Pistols and Crass.
The “Gracioso”
The “gracioso” has allegedly a Spanish origin, aiming at enjoying the public through lively and
witty performances. On the one hand, the plot can almost unveil without him/her, but on the
other hand almost all the comic effects rely on the enactment he/she is capable of. The
“gracioso” adds to the concept of theatrical character to the extent that he specifically
comments on the genre that situates him/her, frequently in quite dismissive terms. Therefore
the “gracioso” addresses the theatrical phenomenon in two different and contrasting modes.
One can directly pose the question “How does he/she do it?” The answer lies in always
knowing what to say and whom to address.
Regarding the Spanish origin of the “gracioso”, we believe that it overshadows the true
belonging of the character to a universal tradition of comic characters, ranging from the
servants of Ancient Roman comedy to entertainment professionals of nowadays like Paul Birch,
hired by the British Airways as “corporate jester” (Otto, 2001). This group of historical
characters dedicated to laugh, entertainment, and creativity goes back to Plautus’ and
Terence’s comedies, and is to be found both in Western and Oriental theatre. Otto (2001, p.
268) traces their origin from Ancient Rome to our days, and lists their dominant features: “[…]
they challenge without threatening, act as confidants, ease tensions, advise and question, and
are given the license to think outside that proverbial box.” She contends that this type of
character is universal by nature, therefore refusing to associate it with a particular culture or
historical period:
The crux of this work is that the jester was a universal phenomenon, not the product of a
particular culture or era. […]
Jesters in China, Europe, the Middle East, and India aimed their humorous arrows at the same
targets – religion and its representatives, self-important scholars, venal officials and nobles,
2
We are using the following edition: Teatro Cómico Português ou Colecção das Óperas Portuguesas,
Vol. I. Lisboa: oficina patriarcal de Francisco Luís Ameno, 1759.
3
António José da Silva or, The Jew, as he was commonly known, composed a total of eight operas: Vida
do D. Quixote de La Mancha [Life of Don Quixote of La Mancha] (1733), Esopaida ou Vida de Esopo
[Esopaida or, Life of Aesop] (1734), Os Encantos de Medeia [Medea’s Enchantments] (1735), Anfitrião
ou Júpiter e Alcmena [Amphitryon or, Jupiter and Alcmene] (1736), Labirinto de Creta [The Labyrinth of
Crete] (1736), Guerras do Alecrim e Mangerona [Wars between Alecrim and Manjerona] (1737),
Variedades de Proteu [Proteus’ Variety] (1737), Precipício de Faetonte [Phaethon’s Ruin] (1738).
4
We are using de following edition: Teatro Cómico Português ou Colecção das Óperas Portuguesas, Vol.
III. Lisboa: oficina patriarcal de Francisco Luís Ameno, 1760.
5
Alexandre António de Lima, besides his poetic works, wrote the following operas: Adolónimo em
Sidónia [Adolonymus in Sidon], A Ninfa Siringa ou Os Amores de Pan e Siringa [The Ninphe Siringa or,
The Love Affair between Pan and Siringa] (1741), Novos Encantos de Amor [Love’s New Enchantments],
Adriano em Síria [Adrianus in Syria], Filinto Perseguido e Exaltado [Filinto Persecuted and Disturbed], Os
Encantos de Circe [Circe’s Enchantments], Semiramis em Babilónia [Semiramis in Babylon] (1741), Os
Encantos de Merlim [Merlin’s Enchantments] (1741).
6.7. The disturbing voice of the lower-class: from eighteenth century “Gracioso” to punk
rock
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and erring, corrupt, or lazy rulers, together with anything deemed sacrosanct. (Otto, 2001,
XXIII)
Regarding specifically the “gracioso”, several studies mainly consider how the character is
approached by famous classical authors such as Pedro Calderón de la Barca (e.g. Güntert,
1980; Barone, 2012) and António José da Silva (e.g. Pereira, 1985; Dacanal, 2011). To this
respect, it must be added that the plays by Alexandre António de Lima have not yet been an
object of scholar interest, with the exception of Santos (1993). This study also considers the
use of the “gracioso” in Alexandre António de Lima’s plays. In particular, it situates his use of
the “gracioso” within a specific trend, the popular one, of eighteenth century Portuguese
theatre.
Brito (1989, pp. 20-21) argues that António José da Silva’s operas “are somewhat akin to
the French opéra-comique or to the German singspiel, for they sometimes start with a sinfonia,
and include recitatives, arias, vocal minuets, duets, trios and other choruses, as well as choirs,
alternating with spoken dialogues, with an average of twenty-one musical numbers in each
opera.” The “gracioso” played a big role in all this musical variety, since despite his/her
condition as servant he/she was not excluded from any of these numbers. Thus, as we shall
further demonstrate, his/her musical and verbal versatility were the means to state an
ideological position towards a world where he/she barely fitted.
Punk rock
Also a number of studies have been dedicated to punk, whether focusing on the careers of
the main bands, and their influence (e.g. Savage, 1992; Cross, 2010), on its main ideological
features (e.g. Laing, 1978; Miura, 2010), or on the survival of punk as a very particular
subculture (e.g. Clark, 2003; Moran, 2010). The beginning of punk rock is linked to the need
for a political stand in England during the late 1970s:
The First Wave of the punk subculture was intertwined with making a political statement, and
it is generally accepted that the punk movement became involved with politics in England. Jim
explains how the major economic depression that occurred in the United Kingdom during the
late 1970s left an entire generation on welfare, without hope for steady employment. The
British class system, institutionalized poverty, and unemployment, acted as fuel for bands like
the Sex Pistols and the Clash. (Moran, 2010, p. 64)
Punk lyrics reflected the most striking issues of the time, addressing unemployment,
political decay, etc., and disseminated an attitude of general rebellion against the status quo
(Laing, 1978). In particular, the origins of punk rock can also be traced in strong class tensions.
The working class was, in fact, greatly affected by economic recession, and punk rock was
also assumed as its unrestrained voice.
Important marks in punk rock in England were the release of Anarchy in the UK (1976),
and God save the queen (1977), by the Sex Pistols, and in what concerns anarcho-punk
specifically, the release of The feeding of the 5000, in 1978, by Crass. Another leading British
punk bands include the Clash (1976-1986), the Poison Girls (1976-1987), and the Damned
(1976-).
God Save the Queen was about revealing the contradictions and mischief that surrounded
the monarchy in the 1970s. The lyrics presented it as something pointless and meaningless:
“God save the queen/ It’s a fascist regime/ They made you a moron/ A potential H-bomb//
God save the queen/ She ain’t no human being/ There is no future/ In England’s dreaming//
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Don’t be told what you want/ Don’t be told what you need/ There’s no future, no future/ No
future for you.”
With the Sex Pistols ending as a group in 1978, there was a second punk turn, headed by
Crass, a band from outside London (Essex) mostly linked to the trend of anarcho-punk.
According to Cross (2010), one of the main contributions of Crass to the British punk scene
was their ideological and ethical consistency towards rebellion and anarchy. The group defied
authority as necessary means for social organization, and proposed a new social landscape
based on the do-it-yourself (D.I.Y.) ethics, exposed in Yes sir, I will (1983): “You must learn to
live with your own conscience,/ your own morality,/ your own decision,/ your own self./ You
alone can do it./ There is no authority but yourself.”
Crass was quite engaged in the political ideology that fuelled their music and
performances, and thus assumed a key role in disseminating punk statements over what was
going on in the society of the time. They used their own means to record independently, they
gave concerts regularly, and a number of fanzines were distributed with opinion pieces. One
of the group’s main goals was to showcase life outside the mainstream. In fact, they were able
to conduct their life, and make choices, outside the domain of institutionalised power, at least
to a certain extent.
Clark (2003) states plainly that punk is the last subculture, the only one that managed to
survive global capitalism. He claims that punk movement was able to fake its own death, in
order to reinforce itself in contemporary terms. Nowadays, according to his view, punk has
adopted going unnoticed as a general survival strategy, making for ways out of the mass
media consumption that characterises twentieth-first century society.
Minding the (historical) gap
From “gracioso”, the eighteenth century opera character, to punk rock in the late 1970s, a
long time has gone by. Nevertheless, some similarities between the two are unmistakable,
calling our attention for the revival of persistent cultural trends. Of course, there is little or
nothing in common between the musical composition of eighteenth century opera and the
style of punk music. But this should not prevent us from analysing how the “gracioso” and
punk rock both question their respective social orders, emphasising rebellion against the status
quo as an everyday life path. Additionally, it must be acknowledged that the “gracioso” is the
first Portuguese theatrical character whose critical discourse can be allocated to class
awareness, as in Adolónimo em Sidónia [Adolonymus in Sidon] (except indicated otherwise,
all translations are mine), by Alexandre António de Lima:
PIMENTÃO: Ai que estou perdido, que se queixa de amor! É possível que um cavador de
enxada padeça o achaque dos que fazem a barba duas vezes na semana; que tenha forças
para andar às lutas com Cupido quem todo o dia anda alagado em suor? Mas o certo é que
também pegam debaixo da água as armas que amor carrega. (Lima, 1760, p.7)
[PIMENTÃO: I am really lost, for he complains about love! Is it possible that someone who hoes
the land suffers from the same harm of those that shave twice a week? That someone
sweating all over still has the strength to fight Cupid? However it is still true that Cupid’s
arrows even fly underwater.]
“Pimentão”, the “gracioso”, calls for a class distinction when it comes to love affairs.
According to him, only the ones that shave twice a week, and do not have to work hard, can
afford to worry about Cupid. Thus, only masters have the time and disposition to indulge in
6.7. The disturbing voice of the lower-class: from eighteenth century “Gracioso” to punk
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love affairs. Nevertheless, this boundary between ways of living is not presented as absolute,
since it is admitted that love can make a difference whatever the circumstances might be.
Notwithstanding, we do not wish to deny that, for instance, sixteenth century Portuguese
theatre is full of a number of servants discontent with their masters. Instead, we wish to point
out that the social clash between servants and masters only became acute with the “gracioso”,
as he triggers an initial phase of political engaged theatre. It is from here that we will look into
the ideological ethos of punk rock. This urge for an historical perspective is also evident in the
song Yes sir, I will (1983), by Crass:
Those of us who stand out against the status quo
Do so against all odds.
We cling so closely together
Because we have little other than ourselves.
Critics say that it's just punk rock or that we're just naive anarchists.
They hope to discredit us with their labels and definitions.
Throughout history societies have condemned those who are later celebrated as heroes,
In so many bourgeois homes Van Gogh’s sunflowers radiate from the walls,
Yet he lived in utter misery, condemned by those very same people.
Why is it that the kind and gentle are subjected to violence and ridicule?
How is it that the small and mealy-minded have gained so much power?
What perversion has taken place that we are governed by fools?
In fact, throughout history societies have tried to impose dominant models as status quo,
and, along with it there have always been groups of resistance that do not comply with the
institutional roles being imposed on them. The “gracioso” and punk can be addressed as
representing resistance through cultural/ artistic initiatives to reenact a new social context, and
to cast tradition aside.
In order to mind the historical gap between the “gracioso” and punk rock, we will address,
as mentioned above, the opera Anfitrião ou Júpiter e Alcmena (1736) [Amphitryon or, Jupiter
and Alcmene] by António José da Silva (1705-1739), and Adolónimo em Sidónia [Adolonymus
in Sidon], by Alexandre António de Lima (1699-1760), staged as puppet shows in the first half
of the eighteenth century, in Bairro Alto and Mouraria Theatres respectively. It should be
added that by this time theatre ought to be considered a flourishing industry, with shows
being produced on a regular basis by different companies, established in several public
theatres: Teatro do Salitre [Salitre Theatre], Teatro da Rua dos Condes [Condes Theatre],
Academia da Trindade [Trindade Academy], etc. As punk was produced amidst a music
industry, “gracioso” was also a product of the theatre industry of the time.
In the eighteenth century, the relationship between master and servant was not meant to
be questioned, i.e. it was a sort of taboo. Pereira (1985) accounting for the role of the
“gracioso” in António José da Silva’s operas underlines how much the character could add
laugh to social criticism by using ambiguity to enhance the ideological strength of his/her
discourse. According to Pereira, by doing so the “gracioso” sets free from the dominant
ideology through the capacity to question tradition, and its rigid doctrine, even conveying a
rebel attitude towards the master’s dominance: “o resgate através do servo da submissão a
que todos estão sujeitos numa sociedade injusta” (Pereira, 1985, p. 33). [It is the servant that
frees all those that in an unfair society must show submission]. Furthermore, he contends that
the “gracioso” is a central character in António José da Silva’s politically engaged theatre,
which crudely depicts a narrow minded country slowly heading towards the Age of
Enlightenment. So, the “gracioso” aims at mocking submission and obedience as the
traditional behaviour code of the servant. He/she manages to make it a joke literally speaking.
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Much of the show relied on the “gracioso’s” competence to play around with the love
endeavours of his/her master by systematically opposing to them the urge to eat:
ADOLÓNIMO: I have yet to face some desperation, because tonight, I will attend the marriage
ceremony disguised, as it is allowed in this reign, and I will offer my life in sacrifice, and you
shall come with me.
PIMENTÃO: I would my lord, if I only had a life to offer.
ADOLÓNIMO: How come you don’t have it?
PIMENTÃO: Because I am dead starving.
What the quotation exemplifies is how the “gracioso” proves that the master/ servant
relationship can be subverted, through a proper amount of mockery and irony. Defying
authority is then a common ground between the “gracioso” and punk music. By showing a
rebellious attitude towards dominant forms of authority, and by not compelling to social
hierarchy, they both try to state a new power, based on everyday life difficult experience. Life
is hard as they experience it.
In the eighteenth century the servant does not have enough to eat, must attend to all the
master’s wishes and desires, and, at the same time, is ill-treated by him; in England, by the
end of the 1970s and beginning of the 1980s, there was an increasing rate in unemployment,
considerable cuts in state subsidies, additional funding to police and law and order agencies,
and general expansion of state power (Cross, 2010). Both the harsh social atmosphere around
the eighteenth century servant and the working class in the 1970s and 1980s originated new
cultural interventions, in order to claim for a new sharper awareness regarding what was going
on. The “democratic power” of the “gracioso’s” acting and punk music, trying to reach a
broader audience, was effective in the sense that they were both meant to be signals of alert
of a situation that owe to be clearly assumed and changed.
Although in relation to punk, “the fact that politics served as the driving motive of the
movement’s founders has been accepted by both supporters and critics alike” (Cross, 2010,
p. 4), the same does not entirely apply to the “gracioso”, since one is forced to consider his/her
comic endeavour side by side with his/her unruly behaviour towards the master’s authority. It
is undeniable that one of the fundamental features of such a character is to be funny, and
overwhelming witty. Thus, the “gracioso’s” acting has to be recognised as a clear contribution
to a performance genre that aimed at entertaining the audience. Therefore, we must consider
first, prior to any ideological survey that the “gracioso” ought to say amusing words to
provoke laugh, and general delight among an eclectic audience, composed of all classes (Brito,
1989).
Despite his/her comic and loosen attitude, the “gracioso” is not to be taken for a fool or
jester. He/she does not need madness to cover up for his/her bold attitude, for he/she is a
servant in denial, one that does not comply with the traditional role and behaviour that society
wants to impose on him/her.
Furthermore, if the key role of the “gracioso” was entertaining the audience, the operas
in which he/she took part could never be political works in essence. Accordingly, although
Crass contended “that all music, like all forms of art, was by definition political” (Cross, 2010,
p. 6), that cannot apply to the essence of the operas by António José da Silva and Alexandre
António de Lima. These plays were not driven by a political agenda, but aimed mostly at
enjoying the audience. Driven by this non-political goal, provocation had to be calculated and
wisely used. That is in fact the reason for the uniqueness of “gracioso” as an opera character.
He/she is the only subversive and provocative character amidst a sumptuous spectacle that
6.7. The disturbing voice of the lower-class: from eighteenth century “Gracioso” to punk
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was to reach consensus on the part of the audience. So, even if “At the heart of early punk
was calculated anger” (Clark, 2003, p. 2), the discourse of the “gracioso” had to reflect
serious thought on the most effective combination of comic lust, literary achievement, irony,
self-indulgence, mockery and wittiness.
As much as punk rock showed radical opposition to the authority that denied and alienated
citizens’ rights (Cross, 2010), the “gracioso” had to take an alternative course of action.
He/she does not refuse the system in which he/she lives in, but he/she only bears it through
constant criticism. The only way in which he/she accepts to live in a system in which a servant
resemblances a slave is by making every occasion suitable for a piece of criticism. In this way,
he/she is systematically undermining the hand that barely feeds him/her, opposing to it from
the inside. Throughout his/her discourse he/she frequently adopts an outsider point of view
allowing for considerable detachment in relation to the plot he/she enacts.
Another similarity between the “gracioso” and punk music is that by engaging in
provocative and creative performance, both asserted for the full potential of the common
people: “Crass were attacking the cumulative oppressions of the family, church, state, police
and courts and asserting the dignity, capability and creativity of ‘the people’ in contrast”
(Cross, 2010, p. 9). By enacting the “capability and creativity” of the common people, the
“gracioso” was also urging for a new social order capable of acknowledging that potential.
Both the “gracioso” and punk, namely through the do-it-yourself (D.I.Y) aspect, looked for
ways to achieve a society where every individual would have the opportunity to reveal, and
enhance, its full potential. Consequently, the commitment to singularity characterises their
course of action, as defined by Miura (2010, p. 75), “Commitment to singularity is
commitment to freedom by way of making one’s essence a radical difference”, as he identifies
singularity as a key concept in the aesthetics of punk. The argument presented by Miura traces
the replacement of universalism with the “rhetoric of identity” as a “necessity of history” (p.
77). In this sense we can interpret “gracioso” and punk rock as two historical moments
determined by critical social and political issues, where the demand for the “rhetoric of
identity” was huge: “It is commitment to singularity that necessarily only translates the
aesthetic into the political” (Miura, 2010, p. 67). By enacting singularity, the “gracioso” and
punk rock promoted meaning transference from aesthetic to political realm, opposing to the
too many social constraints of their time. The praise of an individual voice, and choice, and
the focus on individual sovereignty, i.e. singularity, is indeed appalling both in “gracioso’s”
and punk performances.
How the individual can rise above the social constraints imposed on it is a recurrent subject
within the performances of both the “gracioso” and punk rock, by electing self-expression as
a core value. In fact, the most alluring feature of the “gracioso” is his/her constant urge for
self-expression, as he/she does not stop replying to his/her master, or commenting on the plot,
saying poetry, using Latin expressions, and also calling things by their right names, as
“Saramago” in Anfitrião ou Júpiter e Alcmena (1736) [Amphitryon or, Jupiter and Alcmene],
by António José da Silva:
Aria
I come from the war, and I am going home.
I come from the war, and I am going to the war.
If there is war in the war,
there is also war at home.
The house of war
is the home of war.
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I come from the war, and I am going to war.
I come from the war, and I am going home.
(Acting) In less than nothing, we are at the front of our house which I could barely believe I
would see again! Oh, gentleman, the hole we call home is a great thing, even if full of holes
itself, for a home with holes is more worthy than a body hit by bullets, but then they have
already gone by, and I am not gone. (Silva, 1759, pp. 365-366)
As the quotation puts in evidence, the “gracioso” goes from singing to acting in an eye’s
blink. He sings an aria, short, repetitive but full of ambiguity, criticising how the war influences
everything negatively, spreading its setbacks to one’s own home. According to “Saramago’s”
point of view, the war can never be left behind instead it will hunt you wherever you go.
As one can easily recognise the main instrument of the “gracioso” is the capacity to cause
an impression through language. He/she plays with the double meaning of certain words to
foreground his/her critical condition in a world of masters. Despite the difficulties and
hardships, the “gracioso” never loses his spirits as long as he/she manages to make
himself/herself heard. In this case, singularity has everything to do with self-expression. This
character never gives up the right to testify, explain, comment, reply, suggest, rephrase, etc.
His/her “radical difference” lies in verbal ability. By contrasting with the frequently
monotonous voice of the master in love, the servant fights for the right to an independent
life, quite apart from the illusions coming from the master’s idleness. In this context, the
“rhetoric of identity” coincides with enactment towards autonomy. Insofar the servant mirrors
the vanity of the master’s world, he/she detaches himself/herself from it, turning his/her back
as much as possible on a world that annihilates the capacity to think and speak for oneself.
The “gracioso” lives for self-expression, and he/she mostly lives by the ethics of say-it-yourself
(S.I.Y), in an era where servants were supposed to have no mouth, and instead be all ears for
their masters’ orders and wishes. The freedom that allows for a character such as the
“gracioso” is the same in which punk is based on.
Nevertheless, if it is admitted that punk gave rise to a subculture (Clark, 2003; Moran,
2010) it is difficult to assume something equivalent regarding the “gracioso”. First, because
we are considering different artistic levels, since a character in an opera cannot be considered
an artistic or cultural movement. Punk was the result of an ideological commitment of a group
of artists, and performers in a twentieth century world, already dominated by the media. The
“gracioso” was a character with unique features in a mainstream show supervised by the
censorship court. On the one hand, the “gracioso” could not dare being radical in any sense
of the word, but on the other hand his/her trend would be even more subversive as he/she
was fighting the system within the system. To this respect, there are eighteenth century
testimonies that can attest the reception of the “gracioso” as a quite subversive character.
Manuel de Figueiredo (1806), an eighteenth century playwright, member of the “Arcádia
Lusitana” [Lusitanian Arcadia] (1757-1774), a literary academy that aimed at renewing the
national theatre, in a letter to his friend Isidoro Soares de Ataíde, gives his opinion on the role
of the “gracioso” within the Portuguese theatre: “Daquele tempo para cá é que pegam os
Portugueses em uma ópera de Metastásio, metem-lhe dois ou quatro graciosos, desaforados
e porcos, põem-lhe por título Comédia de tal em tal parte, no gosto do teatro português, e
imprimem-na” (pp. 539-540). [From that time onwards to the present time, the Portuguese
grab an opera by Metastasio, they add it two or four graciosos, nasty, and with a big mouth,
and then call it a Comedy, according to the Portuguese theatrical taste, and publish it.]
As one can well see, the “gracioso” does not resist the negative appreciation of an author
engaged in rebuilding the national theatre according to strict moral and educational
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imperatives, as this was truly the goal of the Lusitanian Arcadia. Notwithstanding, what is
worth noticing is that the “gracioso” is understood by Manuel de Figueiredo as simultaneously
breathing life into the comedy genre, and calling undesirable attention due to the overflow of
his/her speech and obscene remarks.
In relation to the efficiency of the “gracioso” in triggering social change, one must always
keep in mind that the operas by António José da Silva and Alexandre António de Lima were
to be puppet shows. Although the puppets could well resemble human figures, the amount
of detachment on the part of the audience in relation to what was happening on stage was
surely higher when compared to a show with human performers. With this, we do not intend
to say that theatrical illusion was not prevailing, but rather introduce a qualitative distinction
between this kind of show, and others enacted by human performers. Even in the preface of
Teatro cómico português ou Colecção das óperas portuguesas [Portuguese comic theatre or
Collection of Portuguese operas] (1759) the differences, and sometimes the limitations, of this
particular kind of show are acknowledged:
… saberá discernir a dificuldade da Cómica em um Teatro, donde os representantes se
animam de impulso alheio; donde os afectos e acidentes estão sepultados nas sombras do
inanimado, escurecendo estas muita parte da perfeição, que nos teatros se requer, por cuja
causa se faz incomparável o trabalho de compor para semelhantes interlocutores, que, como
nenhum seja senhor das suas acções, não as podem executar com a perfeição que devia ser;
por este motivo, surpreendido muitas vezes o discurso de quem compõe estas obras, deixa de
escrever muitos lances por se não poderem executar.
[ … [one] will be able to grasp the difficulty of the comic art in a theatrical genre where actors
are moved by the hands of others; where feelings and events are buried in the shadows of the
inanimate, diminishing these a great amount of the perfection generally required in theatres.
That is the reason why writing for these characters, none of them self-dependent, is beyond
any comparison. Because they cannot enact the plot with the desired perfection, the author
is frequently taken by surprise, and chooses not to write certain sequences, since they cannot
be executed.]
Despite the technical disadvantages of the puppet opera, in a sense, we believe that the
character of the “gracioso” might be closely related with this specific kind of show, for some
speech would be more acceptable coming from the mouth of a puppet than of a real person,
in particular within the censorship court’s ideological framework.
The two major common features between the “gracioso” and punk rock are social and
political awareness, since they both comment critically, and with lavishing irony, on the social
constraints upon the individual, and the way one should not conform to the system. Both the
“gracioso” and punks see themselves as outsiders, guided by a spirit of constant and restless
rebellion. In this way, they wish to arouse an engaged audience that like them seeks ways to
disentangle the dilemmas presented. At the same time, by rebelling against the status quo,
they challenge the mainstream in which they operate. In fact, the “gracioso” mocks the same
plot in which he takes part, and punk addresses “artistic excellence” in very critical terms.
Barone (2012), analysing the versatile role of the “gracioso” in Pedro Calderón de la Barca’s
plays suggests that the character unsettles the boundary between the comic and tragic, as
he/she is systematically in between reality and fiction, truth and untruth, by using such an
expressive mode that pervades the very own domain of the effectiveness of theatrical make
believe.
As the “gracioso” puts in question opera as legitimate fiction, Cross (2010) claims
something similar regarding anarcho-punk:
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That movement proved capable of establishing not only networks for recording, distribution,
publishing and organizing, but also a distinctive and well-defined sub-culture, with its own
recognizable moral and political ethos. Rallying around their call, Crass and the other bands
claimed to take punk’s anarchist imperative seriously—to identify their ambitions as ‘anarchy,
peace and freedom’— and to reject mainstream punk’s squalid nihilism as another act of
political capitulation, an unacknowledged rehash of hippy’s ‘drop-out, cop-out’ politics.
(Cross, 2010, p. 5)
Punk music also encompasses the capacity to generate its own means of production, and
dissemination. This autonomy in relation to the mainstream asserts for the importance, and
invigorating dynamics of the do-it-yourself ethics as a plan of action against a system in which
labour is low-paid, and, at the same time, the prices increasingly high. Punks just refuse to pay
the price.
In what concerns the “gracioso”, in a theatre full of people, he/she has, in fact, little to
hide. The non-alignment practiced by the “gracioso” foregrounds his/her rebellious attitude
towards the theatrical mainstream of the time. One can infer that the only reason why he/she
accepts to be part of such a scheme is because he/she needs to support himself/herself. In this
sense, the dependency of the “gracioso” does not entail submission. Accordingly, he/she
accepts to be part of the mainstream but under his/her own terms. These necessarily imply
opera seeing its illusory effect seriously questioned and put to proof.
Conclusion
The contradiction within the insider/ outsider approach that drove the eighteenth century
“gracioso” is ultimately the same for punk movement, since its beginning to the present day.
How can one be outside if, at least to a certain extent, one is living inside? We believe that
the “gracioso” and punk rock contributed to an answer by defying their own performance
realm. If the “gracioso” did not compel to the seriousness, or even to the legitimacy of opera
genre, stressing the importance of a say-it-yourself practice, punk music, through the do-ityourself ethics, inaugurated networks for producing music on its own terms. The rebellion
towards their own art, theatre and music respectively, is the best signal of their commitment
to social change.
Furthermore, we shall note that the “gracioso” and punk ultimately correspond to a
“fruitful phase of ideological struggle” (Laing, 1978, p. 128) within an entertainment industry
embedded in “universalism” and adopting an increasing sophistication. We can also come to
the conclusion that the core values enacted by the “gracioso” and punk music are cross
cultural by nature, arguing that they are based on “basic human values” (Moran, 2010, p.
64), which connect to the “rhetoric of identity” asserted by specific historical contexts (Miura,
2010).
Funding: This work was supported by the Foundation for Science and Technology under Grant
SFRH / BPD / 65068 / 2009.
6.7. The disturbing voice of the lower-class: from eighteenth century “Gracioso” to punk
rock
497
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Portuguesa Editora.
Brito, M. C. (1989). Opera in Portugal in the Eighteenth Century. Cambridge and New York: Cambridge
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Clark, D. (2003). The Death and Life of Punk, The Last Subculture. In D. Muggleton, & R. Weinzierl (Eds.),
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Actas del Sexto Congreso Internacional de Hispanistas celebrado en Toronto del 22 al 26 agosto
de 1977 (pp. 360-364). Toronto: University of Toronto Press.
Laing, D. (1978). Interpreting Punk Rock. Marxism Today, 123-128.
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Ameno.
6.8. Counterculture in the periphery of capitalism:
Raul Seixas and the Brazilian underground scene in
the early 1970s
Lucas Marcelo Tomaz de Souza 1
Abstract
In 1969 Woodstock Festival galvanized insurgent feelings of young Americans. There were shouts
chanted against the war in Vietnam and North American politics, mixed with an apology to drugs,
pacifism and naturalism. The rock came to be core language flow that tangle of feelings that
constituted the so-called counterculture. It would not take long for these ideals would spread
worldwide. However, some countries have received and endorsed the countercultural feelings
faced very different political situations where those formatted this rebellious ideology. One of the
most interesting cases was in Brazil. While the counterculture was in its infancy in the country, in
the early 1970s, a military dictatorship, established in 1964, intensified its action within civil society.
It was the beginning of a nebulous outlook of censorship and persecution of political and artists.
This vicissitude produced different contours the counterculture that spread throughout Brazil.
Reinventions in the classic themes of the counterculture would supply the musical repertoire of the
artists of that period. The main Brazilian Rocker to raise this flag was Raul Seixas. He sought to
infiltrate in your musical arsenal themes related to madness, anarchism, Satanism and the occult
he caused controversy in the early 1970s. The purpose of this study is to analyze the characteristics
of Brazilian counterculture scene, trying to keep up with the particularities that gained depending
on the state of repression established there. Concomitantly, we reflect on the musical production
of Raul Seixas, as the recognized representative of the national counterculture.
Keywords: Counterculture in Brazil, Brasilian rock, Raul Seixas, Military dictatorship
Between 15 and 18 August, 1969 on a farm in the town of Bethel, in upstate New York,
United States, 500,000 people gathered at a music festival that made history. The sound of
the guitars of Jimi Hendrix, Santana, Joe Coker, The Who and Janis Joplin rocked the fuzzy
dreams of young people who were there. “There were since they sought to conquer sexual
partners who had an appointment with the Divinity. Going by that not sure if they were there
or not” (Goodwin. In: Bahiana, 1983). While some sought an opportunity for contact with
nature, enjoying the bucolic setting, others marked a strong political presence, “both in the
partisan sense of protest, as customs, subversion” (ibid.) The event was symptomatic to typify
the hippie era and the counterculture of the late 1960s. Seeds of this movement are in the
50s, “the fusion of the libertarian party rock'n'roll in discovery inner/ outer beatnik movement
(…) and a few pinches of Sartre's existentialism” (Miguel. In: Bahiana, 1983). When the
legendary Woodstock festival drew attention of American society, the counterculture had its
ideologues rebound: Timothy Leary, Alan Watts, Jerry Rubin, Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac.
1
University of São Paulo (FFLCH), Brazil.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Anyway, from Woodstock, echoes those mismatched protests gain the world. The ideology
spread by the counterculture, of course, was not homogeneous and found among their own
diffusers fierce criticism. However, it was unable to prevent the counterculture to expand the
United States and Europe, adapting, often to regional boundaries, but even so, enlisting a
legion of followers. The soundtrack quintessential counterculture – the rock – gained the world
and became a profitable business with big blockbusters such as The Beatles, The Doors, Janis
Joplin and others.
In the peripheries of capitalism the countercultural ideas arrived with some delay and have
to accommodate that a distinct political and cultural scenario that condense the hippie scene
in the United States. In Brazil, the first to import and also digest the information
countercultural were Gilberto Gil, Caetano Veloso and the team that was devising an
important renewal movement of Brazilian popular music, called Tropicalism. A sharp break in
the creative intent of this group was when, in 1968, an Institutional Act downloaded by the
military dictatorship, began to control and censor accurately not only the music but the entire
cultural production of the country. Tropicalistas leaders were soon exiled and Brazil were the
echoes of impactful movement that really rocked the national art scene.
A new artistic generation arrived in the early 1970s, trying to continue the innovative
proposals that Gil and Caetano had undertaken years before and acclimating to the contours
of the international counterculture Brazilian. “With the exile of MPB forefront of the season,
opened up a space for rock” Brazilian, then popping “the first attempts to merge this influence
with our music. If the Bahian News. Also a landmark of ‘Brazilian equestrian’: rock and samba,
soccer and road, communities and children, vegetarianism and travel” (Miguel. In: Bahiana,
1983, p.96).
Other artists came adapting the rock in hinterland viola ( Sá, Rodrix and Guarabyra), rock
to ballad (Raul Seixas), rock the Northeastern regionalism (Fagner, Belchior and “Staff Ceará”),
rock and visual elements (Secos&Molhados). However, some specificities of the Brazilian
cultural scene have made this generation responsible for publishing the counterculture in the
country, each in its own way, found a much less fertile land that existed, for example, abroad.
The 1960s were rich when they witnessed the outbreak of “musical movement” that, in
different ways, if communicate or rivaled. In this context, “individualism”, one of the core
brands of the counterculture, found great difficulty in reception from the critics. Accustomed
to a musical production with certain equalities, disseminated through designative
terminologies that join “similar” songs and at the same time, the differences between increase
artistic groups (for example, Bossa Nova, Protest Song, Young Guard and Tropicália)
journalistic criticism could not see that new generation that emerged in the ‘70s , some
equality between the musicians and decreed the end of the great “music schools”. What it
must be emphasized is that this finding was already accompanied with some disbelief. The
revelations of the 1970s appeared to some as a stagnation of rich artistic output of the past
years. Zuenir Ventura, a renowned journalist of the time, coined in 1971, a symbolic term,
called him “Cultural empty”, which somehow translates well to the climate of distrust that
were received in these new artists. According to Ventura:
“Some severe symptoms are indicating that, unlike the economy, our cultural life goes bad
and could get worse if not rescued in time. What are the factors that would be creating in
Brazil called “cultural empty”? Responding to a distributed vision early in the year and
organized with the goal of making cultural balance 1970, many intellectuals expressed their
disappointment and pessimism about the recent past and worry about the future
questionnaire. The conclusion revealed that Brazilian culture was in crisis. In contrast to the
6.8. Counterculture in the periphery of capitalism: Raul Seixas and the Brazilian
underground scene in the early 1970s
501
vitality of the economic development process, the process of artistic creation would be
completely stagnant. A dangerous “cultural empty” was taking over the country, preventing,
plant growth, whose indices terrify the world, matched identical cultural development. While
our gross domestic product reaches record increases, our cultural domestic product would be
falling alarmingly.”
Along with the symptoms, several factors were suggested cause of this creative recession, or
“cultural cesspool” but two vied general preferences: Institutional Act Number 5 and
censorship. Unlike the early years of the last decade, now does not show in any of the various
sectors of our culture or proposed new or that creative effervescence that characterized the
early 1960s, anticipating some of the moments of Brazilian culture rich in innovation and
research .
The current situation, in contrast, offers a bleak outlook: the amount surpassing the quality,
the disappearance of the subject of controversy and cultural controversy, the circumvention
of our best brains, the exodus of artists, purging the universities, the drop in sales of
newspapers, books and magazines, the mediocrity of television, the emergence of false
aesthetic values, the hegemony of a culture of fetching only the easy consumption. (Ventura
, 1971 , pp . 40-41 )
Being an article whose sources were in a series of researches and surveys conducted by
prominent journalists of the period , as Vladimir Herzog , Maria Costa Pinto, Duda Guedes,
Sérgio Augusto, Maksen Luiz , Tárik de Souza and Ana Amélia Lemos, brought the conclusions
by Zuenir Ventura may transpire much more than the sight of a single critical. The strength of
discrediting the terms “cultural empty” or “cultural cesspool” may reflect the size of
pessimism faced by new artists that scenario, often blamed for “qualitative debasement” that
characterized the second part of the review, the cultural productions in the '70s. Amid
comparisons with past years , marked, according to Ventura for “new proposals” and a
“creative spirit”, economic growth and the tightening of censorship reinforce the causes of
an “aesthetic descent” which broke, he said: “the rich inventive process begun by the Bossa
Nova of João Gilberto and then taken by Caetano and Gil” (Ibid , p.49 ) .
One of the specific brands of Brazilian and also responsible for giving natural contours,
both the Brazilian counterculture, as their reception in the country, was the context of the
development of new media. In the United States, Adorno and Horkheimer (1986) identified
since the 1950s, a process of rationalization in the production of cultural goods, developed
through an integrated industry, whose laws resembled the production of goods. When the
counterculture consolidates and wins the world through rock, the country was already
minimally used to see a closer relationship between cultural production and market. According
to Renato Ortiz (1989), the consolidation of a rationalized cultural industry, the American
model, only occurred in Brazil in the late 1960s and early 1970s. Therefore, the rock and the
counterculture, the intricate relationship market emerges, in Brazil, almost like a novelty that
transpires the new economic scenario of capitalist development which the country was seen
immersed. The sudden spurt of growth in the Brazilian economy, in what became known as
the “economic miracle”, contributes effectively to scare you, suddenly the cultural productions
of the country came to be governed by the laws of the market. The national music industry
presented in this period, uninterrupted growth rates of about 400% per year between 1966
and 1979, leading Brazil to become the sixth largest market world records, at the end of the
decade. (Vincent, 2006; Paiano, 1994)
The counterculture really came to Brazil symbolizing something quite different from that
represented in their country of origin. If the United States harbored the countercultural
expressions on seeds of rebellion and protest in Brazil, its features sounded so much less
critical, as they portray that scenario capitalist development. The same Zuenir Ventura, matters
for Vision magazine, where he finds the end of the “musical movement” says:
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
“Counterculture, underground, “udigrudi” or knockout, this trend has more difficulties in
revealing some undeniable talent of his paintings than in exposing many of overt adherent
counterfeits. The ease in attracting the same time false adherents among the young and free
antipathies between the old, perhaps his greatest accomplishment. Living among the urge to
receive a marginality that threatens to take his creation to a dangerous autism and the risk of
being consumed by producing perhaps cease to Brazilian culture more an attitude than a
work.”
In his own formulation, the counterculture did not abandon critical thinking, but appears as a
general protest that encompasses everything from that set: Culture, history, politics,
dehumanization, pollution, moral norms etc., and proposes new attitudes toward life that can
even be recovered: a certain Rousseau's return to nature, an oriental mysticism. Since society
is the realm of dehumanization, is getting better each his own. Although originally marked by
an unconformity, this attitude will result in a resigned objectively that the world and things
can’t be changed attitude. This state of mind – both critical, abstract and individualistic time –
marked much of the artistic production of the new Brazilian forefront in recent years.
Creating a widespread cultural atmosphere – perhaps more properly aesthetic atmosphere
than natural products – the counterculture was another way to fill the cultural vacuum,
implicitly accepting the restrictions that the overall situation required the most directly facing
the reality debate. (Ventura, 1973 p.63- 64)
It is visible in the speech of the journalist that the vector of the new criticism that arrived
at the art scene at the beginning of the decade is not nurtured, for him, of great value. By
emphasizing the individualistic, pulverized and abstract aspect of the counterculture, it is clear
the opposition – and obvious inferiority – to the idea of popular unity and hope in “the day
will come” (Galvão, 1976), which featured the critical part of style artistic production of past
years. The way the police were seen as the first hippie communes that appeared in Brazil, gives
us a good idea of how well the military regime saw as harmless, or at least much less
dangerous, that class of “knockout”. Veja magazine reported a hippie commune that arose
in Salvador, as something harmlessly curious, which sparked an almost insignificant reaction
of local police chief, who only threatened to arrest for vagrancy those young people with their
“velvet pants, colores neck and ribbon in her hair”.
2
Perhaps the difficulty in receiving the counterculture from the critics, in Brazil, it gives both
the hegemony that the “institution MPB” (Napolitano, 2001) was achieved from the 60s and
the difficulties of acclimatization to this underground culture Brazilian contours. When the
cultural and political discourse of the counterculture came to Brazil in the early 1970s, it had
here a very different picture than thicken the hippie scene in the United States. The cultural
and political surveillance of the military regime, especially after the AI- 5, buried the hopes of
a committed ideological left and replaced the social and ironic speech by the Tropicalism an
attitude of disenchantment and discouragement. Began to emerge in this context, what Paulo
Henrique Brito (2003) called “night theme of post – Tropicalism rock”. The classic themes of
international counterculture – pacifism, psychedelia, sexual freedom and political criticism –
have been replaced by songs more subjective and individualistic character, emphasizing
themes such as fear, loneliness, personal defeat, exile and madness.
Brito identifies this nocturnal theme in the works of a number of new artists of that decade.
In the song “Dê um role”, composition de Moraes Moreira and Luiz Galvão, Brito notes that
“the basic theme of Flower Power” appears in verses like “Eu sou amor da cabeça aos pés”
however, “the opening lines of letter to undermine what's amazing in such a statement in the
Brazilian context: ‘Não se assuste, pessoa/ se eu lhe disser que a vida é boa’ ”. In the work of
Sérgio Sampaio the theme of madness appears sometimes explicitly — “doido meu pai/ sete
2
Revista Veja. 12 \11\1969.
6.8. Counterculture in the periphery of capitalism: Raul Seixas and the Brazilian
underground scene in the early 1970s
503
bocas mastigando o jantar/ sete loucos entre o bem e o mal” (“Pobre meu pai”), sometimes
“through nonsense lyrics with climate nightmare, like ‘ Eu sou aquele que disse/ tanto limão
pelo chão/ soltem cachorros nos parques/ ou não’” (“Eu sou aquele que disse”). “The work
of the Mutants set, the song “Balada do louco” (Arnaldo Baptista and Rita Lee), “says a radical
way the opposition between happiness and rationality: ‘ Mais louco é quem me diz/ que não
é feliz/ eu sou feliz’”. According to Brito, the song that best captures the mood of hopelessness
national counterculture is “Vapor Barato”, by Macalé and Waly Salomão, who combines
exhaustion, depression and uncertainty : “Ah, sim, eu estou tão cansado/ mas não pra dizer/
que eu estou indo embora/ talvez eu volte/ um dia eu volto/ quem sabe ”
In the works of Raul Seixas, this “theme night” can be identified in songs like, “Mosca na
Sopa” (Philips, 1974) and “As Aventuras de Raul Seixas na Cidade de Thor” (Philips, 1974).
The themes of loneliness and failed love are found in the songs “A Hora do Trem Passar”
(Philips, 1973), “A Maçã” (Philips, 1975) and “Medo da Chuva” (Philips, 1973). The themes
of fear and madness are also very common in his songs, such as “Paranóia” (Philips, 1975),
“Metamorfose Ambulante” (Philips, 1973) and “Maluco Beleza” (WEA, 1977).
Even regarded as harmless to the regime and to the critics, the countercultural ideas that
were coming group considerable public consumer. “The cornerstone of the ‘new
consciousness’ was in the ‘Underground’ column, Luiz Carlos Maciel maintained – 68-73 – in
the Quibbler.” (MIGUEL. In: BAHIANA, 1983, p.96). From this pioneering venture, if
proliferated in early decade dissemination vehicles such countercultural information, which
soon became known as “dwarf press” or “alternative press”. Newspapers such as The
Quibbler , Opinion, the Brazilian version of Rolling Stone, Flower of Evil, Cable Car, The Dove,
Navilouca, JA -Journal Amenities, Presence and Patata, Brazil distilled by the latest news related
to rock, hippie communes, drugs psychiatry and psychiatry, literature, theater, Eastern
religions, etc.. It was also common in the early imitative of the achievements of the legendary
Woodstock festival. The biggest festivals of this type were: Guarapari Festival (Espírito Santo,
1971), Concerto Pirata (Rio de Janeiro, 1971), Day of Creation (Rio de Janeiro, 1972),
Kohoutek Festival (São Paulo, 1973).
Understand the difficulties faced by the singer-songwriter Raul Seixas, in the early 1970s,
allows us to see part of the process of legitimation of the counterculture in Brazil, which
garnered some more sectarian fans, even faced immense disrepute by the criticism. Singersongwriter Raul Seixas began to dawn on the Brazilian music scene as a solo artist in 1972.
During the seventh International Song Festival, sponsored by Globo TV network, he qualified
for the finals the song “Eu Sou Eu, Nicuri é o Diabo” performed by Lena Rivers, and “Let Me
Sing my Rock'n roll” performed by Raul Seixas own. Like other artists who were trying to draw
attention of the jury through the performative role in the presentation, Raul Seixas also used
this feature and sang “Let Me Sing” dressed in jeans and leather jacket, belt gunman, starched
and hair tuft posed. His frenetic dance mixed characteristic steps of the baião and imitations
of Elvis Presley.
This event was the latest in a series of established festivals which began in 1965 and rocked
the music scene in that decade. To Enor Paiano (1994) folk singer began to gain a status of
intellectual producer in the late 1960s, when the festivals have become a new instance of
consecration for musicians. So far, the weak institutionalization of the musical field increased
dependency on external bodies, with greater legitimacy, located in American and European
cultural centers. Bossa Nova, according Paiano, needed a performance at Carnegie Hall in
1962 to establish himself as a movement, both abroad and in Brazil. According to the author:
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
“festivals, with its competitive environment, its hierarquizadora feature (1st place, 2nd place)
and the guarantee of a distinguished jury, said that the new generation had its biennial Your
Salon of the rejected, with all media to which they were entitled.” (Paiano, 1994, p. 165).
However, the VII FIC was immersed in a distinctly different scenario which established
festivals in the past decade. In a way, the VII FIC opened the doors of a new decade for popular
music, marked by the crunch of military censorship and the development of cultural industry.
Music festivals during the 1970s, then kept the “longing” and the expectation of rich art scene
who commanded these events a decade earlier. Now they found themselves immersed in a
strongly consolidated economic context of a cultural industry. In the words of Ana Maria Bahia
(1979a, p 43): “the FIC had been reduced to an open market for new hires, a show for large
audiences where the presentation was worth more than the music itself.” It was in this context
that season came the first wave of artists of the 70s, squeezed between “discussions raised in
the 60s (content/ form, direct political participation/ aesthetic revolution, search for roots/
assimilation and synthesis of external elements), and repression that took hold in the present”
(ibid.). The consolidation of the cultural industry, coupled with the increased purchasing power
of the population, enabled a segmentation of the National disk market since the beginning of
that decade (VINCENT, 2002). When Raul was hired in 1972 by Philips Phonogran, label
market leader in Brazil, the recording industry has envisioned, and strong growth, a segmented
market performance. Says André Midani, general manager of Philips, which:
To reach the front line that formed this year (Luiz Melodia, Raul Seixas, Sergio Sampaio, Renato
Teixeira, Fagner) started by the cold call statistics. A survey of a year of chart success, divided
by tracks (genres, composers, singers, sex) to find out what the missing label (...) was done.
“The ideal”, explains Midani , “is to have a star on each range of preference” (Odair José, for
example, has an option of Phonogran, after having tried unsuccessfully to hire Waldik Soriano,
who worked in the same current). (...) And there were layoffs and hiring, most following a
criterion that investigates the psyche of the affiliated record label. “We avoid”, says Midani,
“working with psyches down, guys who are born losers and sometimes dispense even if they
have a good margin of sales, but do not fit into our philosophy.” Explaining this attitude by
the type of work Phonogran (...) Midani says it invested about 80, 000 cruise only on advice
3
to new hires.
According to the testimony of André Midani, the record when hired Raul Seixas, looking
and investing in artists possessing something more than mere artistic qualities or a good
bandage. This “psyche”, the entrepreneur sought, is a differentiator able to establish some
durability in exposure of its contractors, an artistic image sold and published along with the
songs. The same André Midani said in 1974: “More important than the music is the artist's
personality. A durable, resistant to crises, the fads and the failure of a disk product” (Apud.
Paiano, 1994, p. 224).
This “artistic personality”, so that the manager mentions, might be identified with certain
properties of artists in reporting, positioning itself together to cultural or political debates of
the time – or even posing new quarrels discussions. The music world had already witnessed
the consecration of the great names of Brazilian music in the sixties, by, among other things,
this form of cultural-political positioning of the artists, the song festivals both polemicize. The
search for this kind of artist, with the ability to enter into the music scene through other
resources, not only the music, Raul Seixas may have approached the then most prestigious
record label in the country.
3
Jornal Opinião. 29/10/1973.
6.8. Counterculture in the periphery of capitalism: Raul Seixas and the Brazilian
underground scene in the early 1970s
505
Hired by Philips, Raul began to be entrepreneurs by Guilherme Araújo, a figure known in
the music of the 1960s, having been manager of most of consecrated artists Tropicália. Araújo
was known for extravagant and aggressive character that he built for its artists, using strong
imagery exposure and making use of bold marketing techniques for the period. The first works
to disseminate Raul Seixas were performed with leading names from the label. In the spectacle
Phono 73, for example, conducted at the Anhembi Conventions Palace in Sao Paulo, Philips
tried to launch their newly hired under the shadows of their already established artists. In this
show, Raul Seixas sang three songs: “Loteria da Babilonia” (Philips, 1974), “Let Me Sing”
(Philips, 1973), and “As Minas do Rei Salomão” (Philips, 1973), in partnership with Paulo
Coelho; and its presentation was highlighted in the media.
Beards and long hair, wearing a short purple cloak that made the show his thin chest and
a medallion around his neck, long boots and corduroys, Raul Seixas sang the last verse of the
song “Lottery of Babylon” splicing snippets Little Richard, I'm feel all right, repeating several
times feel all right while launch kicks and punches in the air to the music. Halfway through
the presentation, Raul picked up a red lipstick and drew chest an esoteric symbol, which would
later appear on the album covers of Krig-ha, Bandolo! (Phlips, 1974) Gita (Philips, 1974) and
Novo Aeon (Philips, 1975). While drawing what was later known as the symbol of Alternative
Society, Raul shouted: “here is cast the seed, the seed of a new age; a new age in which you
are all witnesses” (NETO, 2011).
With lyrics that criticize the values of bourgeois society and such a unique performative
action, Raul seems to have been able to show to critique and Philips label that he could have
the qualities of such an “artistic personality”. After the show Phono 73, Raul Seixas launched
a compact single with the songs “Ouro de Tolo” (Philips, 1973) and “A Hora do Trem Passar”
(Philips, 1973) and, soon after, the LP Krig-ha, Bandolo! (Phillips, 1973). The launch of Krig-
ha, Bandolo! resumes construction of an image, Phono started in 73, that the singer and her
label both would strive to build. Raul Seixas would no longer be a cover sort of Elvis Presley,
as part of the media judged in his presentation at VII FIC, from now to avail themselves of new
elements in her performing repertoire. In the physical aspect, Raul Seixas left his hair and beard
grow and put a dark glasses that would take a few times of the face.
Musically, the album has a very diverse array of genres and aesthetic features being
operated in the songs. As much as the rock has a greater weight in the overall composition of
the LP, there exists an intense dialogue with the cheesy sappy and weepy chants, northeastern
ballad, samba, drumming Candomble, plus more orchestrated melodies, next to songs
romantic. Among the many critical values of bourgeois society – central vector of the content
of the letters – mingled brands esoterisms dressed in the garb of an easy language and “tacky
musicality” (Sanches, 2004).
With an always very accessible language, Raul Seixas launch their content under a heavy
criticism always frank and direct, showing skill in handling cheesy musicality with tropicalist
procedures, “juxtaposing rock'n'roll, forró, sieve and Candomblé” (SANCHES, 2004 p. 180).
According to Pedro Sanches (2004, p.180) in “Metamorfose Ambulante” Raul Seixas decreed
one of its guiding principles: “put your popular strictly ideological and politicized discourse of
language, direct communication with the masses.” The same goes for “Ouro de Tolo”, the
great success of the disc, with an autobiographical lyrics, the song distills criticism of bourgeois
society, entering mystical elements, like the sight of a flying saucer, in a tearful voice, syrupy,
tacky music similar to the procedure. Disclosure of Krig-ha Banbolo! occurred through a series
of promotional strategies that Raul and his then partner, Paulo Coelho, explored enough.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Marches, flying saucers, appearances on radio and television programs, but mainly interviews
and testimonials to many different newspapers and magazines, were used as a diffusion
mechanism disc and Raul Seixas own. According to Souza Tárik:
“In folksy TV show entertainer Silvio Santos, he even contrite, narrated his encounter in the
Barra da Tijuca with a flying disc. By Uruguayana Street and Rio Branco Avenue, the crowded
downtown Rio, he led spectators to view an unusual number of his success Golden Fool,
singing over 30 times. Was seen in virtually all types of TV and radio program in recent months,
while his music, mixing Roberto Carlos Caetano Veloso, and maybe Jerry Adriani, escalating
dramatically in the charts (...). Loose onstage at Rachel Tereza in Rio, he remains one of São
Paulo started climbing toward the capital, armed only with his songs and some body language,
studied with the partner and musical director Paulo Coelho. (...)”
At the center of many paradoxes, and much fed by them, Raul Seixas, using an agile
commonplace, is a means and not an end. So his career, his shows, and somehow his
interviews, are inhabited by a vacuum region where it is possible to assume, but not to allow
any certainty, reasons even contrary to what you hear or see. Disk, with a praline always careful
production, Raul looks like a complete entertainer finished. But the shows, confronted live,
4
we emphasize their areas of shadow, an inevitable outcome defined by time and place.
Raul Seixas spoke much more about different subjects possible and always very enigmatic
and cryptic way, always leaving a “kind of vacuum” between artist and participant, as defined
in Tárik de Sousa transcribed above matter. Paulo Coelho, in an interview with Hérica Marmo
(2007, p 38), talking about his partnership with Raul Seixas, said: “It was fun to create stories.
We said: ‘Let's figure what no one did. What! We will give an interview on a plane. Let's invent
a legend of how we met.” And the legend was actually invented. Raul told the Regina
Penteado, told the Folha de São Paulo, Paulo Coelho who met through a flying saucer that
had seen both in Praia da Tijuca. If sounded strange for music criticism this encounter between
partners Raul and Paulo Coelho, Seixas other statements trying to leave, somehow, even more
enigmatic your artwork. In the same interview, Raul Seixas said:
“Actually I'm not a singer. I find myself here giving the interview, recording for Philips, and
find it amazing. But everything is just a vehicle for my mission. Listen, you can not use logic or
reason to explain God. Logic and reason are things of the earth. I divide things into things of
the Earth, the Universe and Things Things Thing. And Things of thing my daughter, these are
the business understands. Who can explain it?. The reason can not.” (...) God? Is writing a
book about him is called Way of Great Answer. Because God, Raul Seixas, is not called God
but the Great Response. “Do you think that God knows us? He did not even know we exist.
5
And we can not reach it. The thing yes you can download about us”.
Among these many interviews will be highlighting an artist with some ability to bring
unique elements to the musical debate, but mostly still seemed very ill-defined and confusing
for criticism. Anyway, speaking publicly to many different newspapers and magazines was an
important tool, both for the dissemination of its work and for building your image. The music
critic of the period responded with much distrust these statements confusing, strange designs
and quite ephemeral: while Raul Seixas said to be releasing a book about God he claims to be,
from very young, wanting to publish a treatise on metaphysics, and says while wrapped in an
esoteric society, says it is planning a film and debuting a play.
Faced with an artist who had just released the first LP, suspicion about a rookie musician
grew even more doubts and fears about this image that had been building. The musical critic
4
5
Jornal Opinião. 1/ 10/ 1973.
Jornal Folha de São Paulo. 14 / 06/ 1973.
6.8. Counterculture in the periphery of capitalism: Raul Seixas and the Brazilian
underground scene in the early 1970s
507
was quick to enumerate a number of criticisms to their projects and testimonials. The
MANCHETE Magazine of 07 December 1974 notes that:
“Raul Seixas returned from the United States, a few days ago, as quietly as he left, and, while
rehearsing his next show is giving interviews that paraphernalia of concepts, ideas and
opinions that has left a lot of crazy people. There are two options for a conversation with Raul:
if serious, will not be one stone upon another, because it is – or trying to be – the less rational
men; already the second hypothesis is more attractive: it makes the fact that it is a kind of
Gyro Gearloose, is always inventing things that few people take it seriously; but the big
problem is who talks to Raul how far he takes it seriously. ( ... )”
What Raul says not to write ten minutes later:
“Raul obviously does not care to be understood, and also does not ask for faithfulness in their
statements. ( ... ) Raul accepted with pleasure talking to journalists, is the New York Times, is
the Tribobó News. And no one cares to see faithfully reproduced all that said, as five minutes
6
later you will not remember 10 % of the things said.
7
In his regular column Som de Hoje , the Rio newspaper Diário de Notícias, Luis Carlos
Cabral says:
“Okay, Raul Seixas sold his 73 Charger and bought a bike. Now, I think a tremendous
overthrow this be warning the fact to everyone. So he runs the risk of turning into another
victim of the terrible assassin named folklore. And Raul is a guy who does not absolutely need
these things, you ensure the work. In a little while until macrobiotic meal may be being used
commercially.”
In a way, these numerous projects, understood as mere resources for the promotion of
Raul Seixas, in 1973, still could not achieve a certain artistic value. In that context, his
statements were nothing to critique, meaningless phrases, which the press were reporting
often the unusual character of its contents, but were still treated with some contempt.
If doubts about Raul Seixas personality were still great, for recognition of his work on the
LP Kri-ha, Bandolo! assured him legitimacy in the music scene. Many materials that raised
suspicions about the broad artistic figure that was being built there applauded the work of
Raul Seixas. The own Luiz Carlos Cabral, the above-mentioned matters, recognizes the artistic
value of their musical production stating that “Raul is a guy who does not absolutely need
these things, the work is guaranteed.” José Carlos Oliveira, after analyzing the lyrics Gold Fool
makes a comparison between the work of the newly released artist Raul Seixas and super laid
Chico Buarque. According to Oliveira:
“This is Raul Seixas. Has no artist name, much less rock singer (actually mixes everything: rock,
samba, maxixe, the devil). But I was surprised to hear his long-play entitled Krig-ha, Bandolo!
I remembered a time when, returning to Rio after a long season in Europe, I asked Nara Leão:
“Any news on Brazilian music?”. Well, she said, have there in São Paulo a very strange little
boy ... He makes music after a letter of the boot size of a trolley and the music does not break.
His name is Chico Buarque de Holanda.”
Raul Seixas, often in partnership with Paulo Coelho (but Golden Fool, I have transcribed above,
is his alone), interwoven with extraordinary ability lyricism, sarcasm, complaint, hope, love,
pessimism-but always making a point of telling us, the voice, the guitar or the word that does
not take any of this seriously. (...) Raul Santos Seixas is the newest and equally sensational
8
Bahia arriving.
6
Revista Manchete. 07/12/ 1974.
Diário de Noticias. 25/10/ 1973.
8
Jornal do Brasil. 9/08/1973.
7
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
There was then a gap right in 1973, when Raul released his first disc, as part of a music
critic was quick to recognize the artistic qualities of Raul Seixas, but still looked very suspiciously
at public persona that is presented here. While their songs could some recognition, their
statements did little to enhance artistic or intellectual Raul Seixas. Celso Arnaldo Araújo says,
for example:
“His musical work has traces of genius – ensures the most critical. Have opinions about the
personality of Raul Seixas are not unanimous. In many interviews he's given since stepped
onstage Maracanãzinho last year, to resurrect the image of Elvis Presley's “Let Me Sing”, one
of the biggest hits of the last International Song Festival, he has made statements such strange
that question was inevitable: it is a case of lucidity or madness? Raul says he was a Jacobin in
the French Revolution. Also said to be fighting for the extinction of the money. He likes to
9
leave people in doubt, confuse them, to outrun them. “
Evidently, these interviews and testimonials from Raul Seixas, even if often undervalued by
critics, made him a coveted artist by the media, by bringing often, something new and
interesting to be disclosed. Besides appearing in “virtually every type of TV and radio program”
as highlighted Tárik de Sousa, the above-quoted matter, Raul Seixas assiduously frequented
the newspapers and magazines. Even facing criticism from the press, which can not be denied
is that Raul had been popularizing the music scene of the 1970s as a rather unusual artist.
Lacked Raul Seixas, according to some journalists, the confirmation of a continuing and
lasting, able to show that the singer would not be one of many artists of a song only, that had
already emerged in the music scene success. Even very anxious to social judgments, novelties,
surprises and resistance (MOTTA, 2000) criticism still viewed with reservations novice artists.
That unprecedented and rapid growth of the market drives increased the frequency with
which sporadic artists disappear after the first works. Thus, the news was viewed with some
reservation by music critic (MORELLI, 1988). Faced with such an unusual artist with testimonials
and so strange projects like Raul Seixas, until we understand the constraints that the criticism
was.
The continuation of the work of Raul Seixas was decisive for his consecration, showing a
possible sequence would confirm the expectations that were created around the newbie
singer. According to José Carlos Oliveira:
“Raul Seixas, after all, was the artist who emerged in 1973 with tremendous force, boasting
an imperturbable originality and laughing uproariously all the serious stuff. Did intense oral
advertising that singer-songwriter who came from Bahia, starved for some time and soon
found its place on the cutting edge, recognized by popping intellectual, man of the people,
and more surprisingly, conquering children. To all those who doubted what they were
listening, I tried to persuade as follows:
- It may just be an overflow. Photographer can be a single disc. Will see that tomorrow he's
coming with any crap. But it can also be fully confirm his first LP, in which case we will have
10
to take his hat-especially now that does not wear a hat. ”
The second album released by Raul at Philips in 1974, entitled Gita reiterates the theoretical
and mystical aspects of their first LP. With songs like “Gita” (Philips, 1974) and “Alternative
Society” (Philips, 1974) , was clearly a kind of continuity with the first work of singer, implying
that Raul Seixas, more than a simple sporadic success, sought to develop a compact and
homogeneous work. This LP was accompanied by a huge commercial success, which gave the
9
Jornal O Globo. 15/11/1973.
Jornal do Brasil. 14 /01/ 1974.
10
6.8. Counterculture in the periphery of capitalism: Raul Seixas and the Brazilian
underground scene in the early 1970s
509
singer his first gold record. The 600,000 copies sold rendering began to Raul Seixas a privileged
space in the media and a recognition of the hitherto unpublished unusual artist who, until
then, only talked about flying saucers. The proof of this critical and commercial recognition
was recording the first video clip of the colorful history of Brazilian television, Fantástico
program, the Globo television audience leader on time. The clip, which was a revolution in the
Brazilian audiovisual scene, brought, featured in a slim Raul, mystical and stripped Seixas,
didactically speaking with callers about the existence of a multifaceted God, countless
expressions, sometimes even contradictory.
Sergio Chapelin by announcing the clip Raul Seixas in Fantastico program said: “To
Cyprian, Lucifer gave a coup in Beelzebub, taking power. And the differences between the
two delayed evil on earth for five hundred years. Five centuries have just finished.” Soon after,
Raul Seixas enters explaining the content of the song saying: “This magical phenomenon. This
sudden interest, so to speak, by this magic, which is now painting like the movie The Exorcist.
This whole thing is being considered because, when in reality it is an effect. And the Gita
music, which I do now, puts it well. She awakens in each of which the person is. The good
and evil as being only one thing. And God awakens in the person as a whole” .
11
Fleeing the specific content of the testimony of Raul and Sergio Chapelin, we can deduce
that, that “paraphernalia concepts, opinions and ideas” was beginning to have some
credibility in a few debates that had emerged. As himself said Raul, his music “Gita” is
embedded in a common interest in magic, which had appeared and became more popular.
The testimony of Raul Seixas already clarified fermented possible discussions or possible
scenarios that sociocultural context. Raul Seixas, besides producing music recognized by
audiences and critics, began to have their voice heard and those testimonials, apparently
meaningless, began to find common ground meanings.
The ideas of the counterculture, who arrived in Brazil at the beginning of the 1970s, linger
a bit to be received as a more dignified style of social criticism, while his musical representatives
face some troubles to claim their careers in the field musical. Arriving in a period of
unprecedented economic growth and consolidation of the Brazilian cultural industry, the
counter appeared to be only a reflection of a new economic context which Brazil was seen
immersed. The difficulties faced by Raul Seixas, early in his career may be brands that.
Understood as mere marketing resources, their public statements and presentations sounded
like ironies meaningless daydreams that they could not raise the respectability of other
discourses.
Helped to gain legitimacy in the counterculture Brazil popularization and translation of
some important literary works. Already circulating in the country, at the very beginning of the
decade, some books of Carlos Castaneda as “A Separate Reality”, “The Teachings of Don
Juan”, “Journey to Ixtlan” and “The Devil's Herb”. The impact of the book “Counterculture”,
Theodore Roszak, translated and released in Brazil in late 1972, published by Vozes, was also
important in building a theoretical foundation for the counterculture. Theodore Roszak's notes
about the “technocratic society” meant that the countercultural thinking ceased to be
associated only to the spread of a genre and passed to articulate themselves within a broader
framework of social criticism, behavior and culture. The rock as an expression of the
counterculture, in Brazil, face, besides the discredited by some wards of the press, the
difficulties of a cultural scene dominated by “Institution MPB”. Formatting to Brazilian
11
Idem.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
contours occurred through a series of mixtures with genres and regional styles. Suspicions
lurking about new artists, hits passenger and trademarks of economic growth, demanded
Heralds countercultural assertions to demonstrate the durability of their work.
References
Adorno, T. W. Horkheimer, M. A indústria Cultural: O Esclarecimento como mistificação das massas. In
: Dialética do Esclarecimento. Rio de Janeiro, Jorge Zahar Ed., 1986.
Bahiana, A. Org. ROCK. 2 Vol. Rio de Janeiro: Ed. Rio Gráfica Ltd, 1983.
Bahiana, A. A “Linha Evolutiva” prossegue – a música dos universitários. In: NOVAES, Adauto (Org.).
ANOS 70 ainda sob tempestade, música, literatura, cinema e televisão. Rio de Janeiro: Europa
Editora, 1979.
Britto, P. H. A temática noturna do rock pós-tropicalista. In: DUARTE, Paulo Sérgio e NAVES, Santuza
Cambraia. Do samba-canção à tropicália. Rio de Janeiro: Relume Dumará, 2003.
Galvão, W. “MMPB: uma análise ideológica”. In: Saco de gatos: ensaios críticos. São Paulo: Duas
Cidades, 1976.
Marmo, H. O Som do Mago. A Trajetória Musical de Paulo Coelho. São Paulo: Futuro Comunicação,
2007.
Morelli, R. Indústria Fonográfica: relações sociais de produção e concepções acerca da natureza do
trabalho artístico. Dissertação (Mestrado em Antropologia)- Universidade de Campinas,
Campinas, 1988.
Motta, N. Noites Tropicais. Rio de Janeiro: Editora Objetiva, 2000.
Napolitano, M. Seguindo a canção: engajamento político e indústria cultural na MPB (1959/69). São
Paulo: Annablume, 2001.
Neto, J. O ROCK'N ROLL invade os palcos MPB: A PERFORMANCE DE RAUL SEIXAS NOS FESTIVAIS DA
CANÇÃO. Anais do XX Encontro Regional de História: História e Liberdade. ANPUH/SP – UNESPFranca, setembro de 2010.
Ortiz, Renato. A Moderna Tradição Brasileira. São Paulo: Brasiliense, 1989.
Paiano, E. O berimbau e o som universal: lutas culturais e indústria fonográfica nos anos 60. Dissertação
(Mestrado em Comunicação Social) - Universidade de São Paulo, Escola de Comunicações e
Artes, São Paulo, 1994.
Sanches, P. Como dois e dois são cinco. Roberto Carlos (& Erasmo & Wanderléa). São Paulo: BOITEMPO
EDITORIAL, 2004.
Vicente, E. Música e disco no Brasil: a trajetória da indústria nas décadas de 80 e 90. (Doutorado em
Comunicação Social)- Universidade de São Paulo, Escola de Comunicação e Artes, São Paulo,
2002.
Ventura, Z. O Vazio Cultural. 1971. In: GASPARI, Elio; HOLLANDA, Heloisa Buarque; VENTURA, Zuenir.
Orgs. Cultura em Trânsito: da repressão à abertura. Rio de Janeiro: Aeroplano Editora, 2000.
Ventura, Z. Falta de Ar. 1973. In: GASPARI, Elio; HOLLANDA, Heloisa Buarque; VENTURA, Zuenir. Orgs.
Cultura em Trânsito: da repressão à abertura. Rio de Janeiro: Aeroplano Editora, 2000.
Others
Araújo, C. Raul Seixas dá seu grito de Guerra e vem aí com seu 1 Lp . Jornal O Globo. Rio de Janeiro,
15/11/1973.
Bahiana, A. Souza, Tárik de. Os Pós-Caetanistas. Vindos do Ceará, da Bahia, do rock, do baião, do samba,
são os novos compositores da música popular em cujas ideias, discos e shows habitam ruídos
incríveis. Jornal Opinião, Rio de Janeiro, edição 37, 29/10/1973.
Baiana, A. As Confusões de Raul Seixas. Jornal Opinião. Rio de Janeiro, edição 95, 2\7\1974.
Cabral, L. Diário de Noticias. Rio de Janeiro, edição15835, 25/10/ 1973.
Hippies, Onde será a festa? Revista Veja, Rio de Janeiro, edição 62, p.41, 12\11\1969.
Oliveira, C. Ouro de Tolo. Jornal do Brasil. Rio de Janeiro, edição 154, 9/08/1973.
Oliveira, J. O Galaxis cor de ouro. Jornal do Brasil, edição 274, 14 /01/ 1974.
Penteado, R. A Metamorfose de Raul Seixas. Jornal Folha de São Paulo, São Paulo, 14 / 06/ 1973.
6.8. Counterculture in the periphery of capitalism: Raul Seixas and the Brazilian
underground scene in the early 1970s
Revista Manchete. Rio de Janeiro, 07/12/ 1974.
Souza, T. O voo do homem mosca. Jornal Opinião. Rio de Janeiro, edição 51, 1/ 10/ 1973.
511
6.9. Sing it yourself! Uses and representations of the
English language in French popular and
underground music
Michael Spanu 1
Abstract
This article aims to show how French underground and local bands used the English language in
their music. Seen as a hegemonic language in economy and pop culture, English, however,
remained appropriated in a very subjective, negotiated and intimate way. For French bands, this
appropriation was enhanced by anthropologic elements such as loud technology and group impact,
and revealed a contentious relationship with the French language and culture, as well as with the
French mainstream market. The language choice then had and still has a strong impact on a band’s
career, creation and production process. Besides, if bands have used English as a tool to draw the
public’s attention to the music more than to the lyrics, it has also been a way to renegotiate the
traditional French identity, implying gender and race issues.
Keywords: music, underground, English language, French identity
Until very recently, almost no French band could sing in English and expect to achieve success
in France, unless it became famous abroad first. This has been the case for French mainstream
2
disco music, with artists like Patrick Juvet or Patrick Hernandez, or the so-called French Touch ,
who had to get recognition from Anglo-Saxon audiences and media before getting real
attention in France. In the past, the French mainstream industry has used English as a
marketing tool to cross borders and make profits beyond the national market. This strategy
has always favoured a politically correct English. In the case of disco, English was used to sing
about dominant cultural values, for instance a passion for the United States (“I Love America”)
or heterosexuality (“Where Is My Woman”, “You Turn Me On”). The major record companies
also created English-singing “ghost bands” in France, such as Jupiter Sunset (1970) or Time
Machine (1971). These bands did not exist as stage bands, only studio outfits. Unlike the
underground bands I am dealing with in this article, the use of English for “ghost bands” did
not take part in the ritual of the rehearsal and only aimed at a marketing-oriented, short-lived
imitation of foreign bands.
Indeed, the use of English by underground and amateur bands implies aesthetic and social
representations that are not necessarily commercially oriented, it also has a cultural value that
remains to be examined. A part of this value consists in a reaction to the mainly French-sung
mainstream music and, more generally, in a contentious relationship with the French
language. This is why I argue that this use of English is political at a micro-social scale, despite
1
2
Université de Lorraine, France.
A group of French house music producers and two rock bands (Air and Phoenix).
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
the fact that the bands’ lyrics are not necessarily politicised. Here I will consider the question
from a historical perspective, examining different examples of the use of English in French
popular and underground music.
Horde and technology
During the 1920s and 30s in France, when the major popular musical format was the variety
show, there was almost no use of any language other than French. The image of otherness in
music was mainly a caricature aiming to make the audience laugh or dance (Josephine Baker
perfectly embodies this phenomenon; Perault, 2007). At that time, France was still a colonial
empire, which was a convenient position from which to mock other cultures. Besides, the
variety show technical apparatus became more sophisticated and moved the centre of
attention from the lyrics and singing (café-concert style) towards the lights and dancers. The
bigger the spectacle, the less attention is paid to the lyrics and the language. This technological
aspect remains important as it can be related to the use of loudness in the emerging genre of
rock music.
However, during the early rock and roll period in France, (1960s and early 70s), even if the
technology (amps, electric guitars, etc.) already allowed the bands to reduce audiences’
awareness of the lyrics (and the language), and despite the desire of many bands to sing in
3
English , the traditional record industry did not produce any English-singing French bands.
French producers forced bands to sing in French, often telling them exactly what and how to
sing. The modus operandai was to standardize the young artists through “mentor”
relationships with older music hall artists (opening for them and getting technical tips from
them). This musical standardization also affected the language (in its semantics and in its
formal aspects). In the end, the French music hall producers translated English rock and roll by
removing all of its subversive aspects (Morin, 1965). Although original blues and rock could
be sung in a rough language, their French early translations used a rather soft language. Even
the singers were probably too old, nice and white to represent a real social or aesthetic
subversion/corruption, as they did in the US and the UK (Guibert, 2006, p. 112).
Thus there were, on the one hand, the authentic and original rock bands, singing in English
and coming from abroad (The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, etc.); and on the other hand, there
were their French versions (Les Chaussettes noires, Les Chats sauvages, Les Sunlight, Les
Players, etc.), produced by music hall industry standards, which meant a central and clear voice
and a minimum of noisy sounds coming from the accompaniment. This original situation of
rock is called the “great division” (Guibert, 2006, p. 132) and, from my point of view, is related
to the common idea that the French language makes rock music sound silly or cheesy. At that
time and for many years later, there were almost no references of recorded music roughly
sung in French with heavy instrumentation. Meanwhile, when it came to the music, at that
period English was the language of the rebel and the hip, a language that old people did not
really understand.
In the early 70s, a few English-singing French bands tried their hand in the popular music
market, but with very mixed results. Les Variations (1966-1975) got a contract with Pathé and
toured around the world with big bands like Led Zeppelin, but their only single with significant
3
Most of these bands started playing music by playing covers in English and were fascinated by British
and American music.
6.9. Sing it yourself! Uses and representations of the English language in French popular and
underground music
515
sales was their one French-language song: Je suis juste un rock’n’roller (7 in the French
th
charts). Dynastie Crisis (1970-1974) started singing in English, then signed a contract with EMI
and changed to French. Chico Magnetic Band (1969-1972) gained attention from the media
and signed a contract with CBS, but the label did not put any money into promotion, the band
did not sell any records and they split soon after (which was typical at that time, even for
French-singing bands).
Rock and pop critics were another source of conflict for these small rock bands. Many
critics considered them as a translation/imitation of foreign bands (Vassal, 1971), and therefore
lacking authenticity, which was more likely to be found in the singing-songwriting of artists
like Georges Brassens, considered to be a true French artist. Moreover, the few journalists
willing to talk about those bands had to face the fact that their records were very hard to find
and that a French band making the cover of a magazine would sell a lot less than an American
or British pop idol benefitting from heavy promotional support. During the same period, the
only other examples of linguistic resistance to the French-singing mainstream industry were to
be found in the experimental underground French scene, especially that produced by the jazzoriented record label BYG. First there was Gong (1967-present), a progressive rock band with
an Australian singer stranded in France because of a visa complication. And Magma (1969present), another progressive/experimental band, well known for its invented language
(Kobaïan). If the language choice was related to the way the music was produced and
distributed (in BYG’s case, a “do it yourself” way), the aesthetic ideology also had something
to do with it: jazz amateurs focus more on the music than the lyrics, which makes it easier to
sing in whatever language in whatever way.
So what would lead a rock or punk band to keep using English to sing at that time? Among
those bands, we find the early hard rock band Shakin’ Street, who played at the punk festival
in Mont-de-Marsan in 1976 and 1977. Singer Fabienne Shine had studied English at a
secretarial school and through movies and music. She had a great passion for the United
States, where she finally went and met Jimmy Page. About the writing process, she declared:
When I used to write with Shakin' Street, I was writing with a full impact of the five members,
I felt more aggressive, more delinquent, outlaw. We were like a family, like a gang. (…) French
music sucks! All the rockers in France know that, and by the way I am very grateful to my fans
4
in France who know the difference!
Thus there was a “horde” effect in their music (the “impact of the five [aggressive]
members”) that was related to the use of English, especially when the sonic impact was so
important that meaningful words were almost not needed anymore. The voice was still there,
though, being the “popular” element of the music. And this “English voice” had a dangerous
and powerful dimension. In this case, if we look at the lyrics, there was no protest song-like
reference but more an American-influenced anger, a collective and technologized energy that
could not be translated into French without losing its authenticity in the eyes of the singer. In
fact, in regard to the “horde” dimension of the foreign language choice, It appears that there
were no French solo artists singing in English at that time, only bands. And even today, it is
not common to see English-singing solo artists in the indie or amateur French scene.
Even if this use of English seemed not to be politicized when it came to the lyrics, the bands
still expressed class-consciousness through their social origins (Parisian suburbs for Shakin’
4
http://www.earcandymag.com/fabienneshine.htm
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Street, Lyon suburbs for Ganafoul, Le Havre harbour for Little Bob Story, etc.) and also by the
fact that they did not always know the language very well.
Indeed, the use of English also existed beyond the collectiveness of the band. It had a
connection to the audience’s body that could also be found in disco music through dancing.
For rock and punk rock, it was more a kind of physical release, where sensuality (the hip
shaking) alternated with brutality (the pogo during punk rock concerts). It is this relation to
the body that diminished the semantic power of singing. The English language thus became
a partly “dramatic and meaningless” aesthetic object “within the consensually validated
norms” (Hall, 1993, p. 71). Using English did not fit the habitual conception of the authentic
performer who was supposed to sing in his/her own language and, in this sense, these Englishsinging bands “breach our expectancies” (Hall, 1993, p. 71). Yet the injunction to use clear,
unambiguous language is intimately related to dominant conceptions of social order: “the
limits of acceptable linguistic expression are prescribed by a number of apparently universal
taboos. These taboos guarantee the continuing ‘transparency’ (the taken-for-grantedness) of
meaning” (Hebdidge, 1979, p. 91). This is why the major record companies, seen as
representative of dominant cultural and social values, completely ignored these bands in the
first place or forced them to sing in French. Nevertheless, this ideological frame towards
language norms does not seem to apply to English-singing French disco music, which was
easily produced and distributed. In my opinion it can be explained by the fact that the lack of
meaning in the English singing was compensated for in some way. The music industry’s first
goal was still to make profits, so going through a more internationally-oriented and easylistening music production would make that possible. Only in this way was singing English
acceptable and encouraged. In other words, French artists could not sing in English if they did
not clearly claim they wanted to “conquer” an international audience.
Trance, subversive diversity and cultural ideology
Following the punk wave coming from the United Kingdom, many local punk and post-punk
bands emerged around France. Each big record company tried to find its own alternative band:
Téléphone for EMI, Bijou for Phonogram, Starshooter for CBS. All those bands sang in French,
but many bands from the era still had a strong connection with English, either in their name
(Asphalt Jungle, OTH for “On Tenter Hook”) or in song titles (“Betsy Party” from Starshooter,
“Love Lane” from Asphalt Jungle, “Lady Coca Cola” from Metal Urbain). Even the press
became interested in this new phenomenon, but this enthusiasm did not last long. The major
record companies decided they had produced enough of this “punk rock” fashion, thinking
that regular pop music (variété) was more appropriate for the French market. For the rest of
the “new” and “young” music, there was the Anglo-Saxon catalog (Guibert, 2006, p. 157).
Paradoxically, by giving priority to this catalog (with bands like The Cure, U2, Police, Depeche
5
Mode, etc.), which actually represented more than half of sales in France , the industry
favoured a more authentic conception of English as a singing language for “new” music. Most
new French bands displayed a tendency to respect this linguistic mimicry, especially in their
early years, by making covers. When they started composing their own songs, most of them
strategically switched to French, because it was easier and also because most of the labels
(even independent ones) were more interested in French singing.
5
B.I.P.E., L’économie du domaine musical (as cited in Guibert, 2006, p. 158).
6.9. Sing it yourself! Uses and representations of the English language in French popular and
underground music
517
However, a significant number of bands continued to sing in English in the country’s
emerging scenes: Marquis de Sade (1977-1981) in Rennes, Stinky Toys (1976-1979) in Paris,
Kas Product (1980-1990) in Nancy, Thugs (1983-1999) in Angers, Dau Al Set (1983-1985) in
Toulouse, The Brigades (1981-1989) in Paris, Burning Heads (1988-present) in Orléans, etc.
Looking at these bands’ interviews, there was no clear claim to “make profits” or “to please
everybody in the world”. Most of them preferred to talk about “being understood” or about
the “beauty” of the language, which proves that singing in English was not about marketing
and had a more complex cultural and social meaning: “We used to sing in English for the
standing, to be understood internationally. But it was also about how the words sound. English
is better for rock. I find it more beautiful, more melodic. French sounds jerkier” (The Brigades,
6
in Rudeboy, 2007); “I sing in English because it’s the most suitable language for our music
style. If you want to sing in French, you really need to really assimilate the language if you
don’t want to sound ridiculous or cliché” (Dau al set, in Rudeboy, 2007).
Figure 1 - Kas Product (1980) – Mind, 7'', Punk Records.
Source: http://www.spirit-of-rock.com/album-groupe-Kas_Product-nom_album-Mind-l-en.html
For some reason, many bands seemed to find it difficult to sing in French. Even with
more recent bands, I have encountered this idea that French is a difficult language for singing,
often because musicians perceive it as the language of classical literature they had to study at
school, while English was for them a language of pop songs and movies, an easy and colourful
language. In this way it became a more instinctive and spontaneous language.
6
“On chantait en anglais pour l’aspect rayonnement, pour pouvoir être compris au niveau international,
et le second aspect concernait la musique des mots. L’anglais est plus favorable pour faire du rock. Je
trouve ça plus beau, plus mélodique que le français qui est plus heurté.”
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In Le Havre, the proximity to the United Kingdom led to the creation of various Englishsinging bands (City Kids, Bad Brains) connected to the label and record shop Closer. In Nancy,
the band Kas Product became a local post-punk leader after being praised by the media,
especially Jean-Eric Perrin who conducted the “Frenchy But Chic” chronicles in Rock&Folk. The
same happened to Marquis de Sade in Rennes (Perrin, 2013). In both cases, the bands’
members did not consider themselves as belonging to a national territory. Kas Product singer
Mona Soyoc pictured herself as a “traveller”, not interested in the “French rock” category ,
7
because French was too “down-to-earth”, while English could lead you to a more
transcendental state, or “acid state” (Seca, 2001), that is typical for underground musicians.
In this case, English was mainly about using the “aesthetics of incomprehensibility” (Szego,
2003), which consist in compensating for the lack of comprehension by a more intense
emotional commitment in the music. If you do not understand the words, your attention is
transferred to other musical aspects (rhythm, flow, tone, etc.), which enhances the trance
feeling. Marquis de Sade were also known for their mystic and intense shows. Moreover, they
were not ashamed of claiming their “Europeanness” (Perrin, 2013, p. 115), aiming to
symbolically deconstruct national barriers and rebuild a new space through their art.
Figure 2 - Marquis de Sade (1981) – Rue De Siam, Vinyl LP, EMI.
Source: http://www.discogs.com/Marquis-De-Sade-Rue-De-Siam/release/866246
In opposition to this intellectual or even spiritual attempt through English singing, Thugs
was a much more modest and “do it yourself” band, playing extremely loud for a French band,
and claiming not to cultivate any fascination for the US or the UK (Manet, 2013, pp. 106-107).
Their early-shoegaze noisy sound and loud live performances made them noticed by the
American label Sub Pop. Would have been the case if they had sung in French? It is a difficult
matter to solve. What can be said is that their English was marked by a deep French accent,
7
Les Enfants du rock, 1987. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=- 0aH8fOkHk
6.9. Sing it yourself! Uses and representations of the English language in French popular and
underground music
519
but in their case, it probably added an exotic feature to their music that was already well
received. Moreover, despite the fact that the French accent was often considered as amateur;
in punk, grunge and hardcore styles, it is more likely to be seen as positive, because it is a
proof of authenticity. In the Thugs case, keeping the accent showed that the members did not
seek to hide who they were. In fact, they were well known for their integrity and their rejection
to any kind of showing off. In terms of lyrics, their message was clearly political, “between
lower class and anarchist” (Manet, 2013, p. 33), criticizing nuclear plant programs for
instance.
So the appropriation and diffusion of a foreign and hegemonic language was, first, a part
of a complicated process in which the artist perceived this language as more authentic, more
socially efficient and more aesthetically adapted. Later, this language took on a function of
encryption of the artist’s subaltern position, which is why some bands continued to use it
despite the hostility of French record labels. For instance the punk band members of The
Brigades had to create their own label, Rock Radicals Records, in order to keep their music in
English and produce other bands like them (Rudeboy, 2007).
If English could be seen as a mainstream music language, it also was the main language of
alternative music (from abroad), while French was mainly a language of mainstream music.
The first punk bands singing in French did not reach a large audience, like the Sex Pistols did
in the UK. Metal Urbain was probably the major and most radical figure in France, but was
blacklisted in all the media. It was only in the late 80s that a more significant number of
alternative bands singing in French gained real attention from the media (Bérurier Noir’s radio
hit “L’empereur Tomato Ketchup” was in 1986). The interesting point is that, unlike the major
record companies, most of these bands did not employ a dogmatic use of French and were
liable to borrow from different foreign languages. A noteworthy example would be Mano
Negra, which became an essential band from the rock metis era (Lebrun, 2009), singing in
Spanish, Arabic, French and English.
Even Noir Desir, today famous for their poetic French lyrics, used English a lot in their early
days. More generally, the linguistic malleability of this period in the French underground was
also a musical one. For instance the label Boucherie Productions was characterised more by its
independent manner of producing and distributing than by a specific musical style. There were
punk rock bands (Les Garçons Bouchers), crossover alternative bands (Los Carayos, Mano
Negra), French solo singers (Clarika) and metal bands singing in English (Witches and Hoax).
Bondage Records was also in the same position, with famous bands like Washington Dead
Cats (psychobilly in English), Parabellum (punk rock in French), Nonnes Troppo (French
chanson), and Kortatu (ska punk from the Basque Country).
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Figure 3 - Les Thugs (1996) – Strike, Vinyl LP, Roadrunner Records.
Source: http://www.discogs.com/Marquis-De-Sade-Rue-De-Siam/release/866246
Some of these bands achieved significant sales in the late 80s and early 90s, attracting the
attention – again – of the major record companies. Mano Negra signed a contract with Virgin
and was criticised for it. But the Puta’s Fever album released with Virgin kept all its authenticity,
being subversive both linguistically and politically, in the sense that it was using foreign
languages to perform a new type of otherness in French music. It was completely new for a
large audience to see a French band with such a hybrid identity, without the usual exotic
connotation of “world music”. Nor was it a coincidence that the languages were Arabic
(because of France’s postcolonial state), Spanish (immigration and political relations,
antifascism, etc.) and English (rock and punk tradition, globalisation).
Other bands followed the path of signing contracts with major companies (VRP, Wampas,
Sattelites), all of them singing in French. Bands playing in English, for instance metal and
hardcore bands (Condense in Lyon or Cut The Navel String in Angers) all stayed in the
underground, while the extreme metal French scene (also mainly sung in English) organised
itself in a very autonomous and genre-oriented network (Listenable Records started in 1990,
Holy Records in 1992, Season of Mist in 1996). Other English singing alternative bands finally
switched to French, like the Little Rabbits, claiming it was a more mature and natural way of
making music (Guibert, 2003). But most of them just disappeared when the commercial radio
channels, which had been a very important media to discover these alternative bands, were
suddenly forced by law to broadcast a certain percentage of French music – music in French,
8
to be more precise.
During this period of musical and linguistic diversity, the imposition of a 40% of
francophone music on French radio came back to the idea that “French culture was in
8
See “Le fondement juridique des quotas” on the Conseil Supérieur de l’Audiovisuel’s website:
http://www.csa.fr/Radio/Le-suivi-des-programmes/La-diffusion-de-chansons-d-expression-francaise/Lefondement-juridique-des-quotas
6.9. Sing it yourself! Uses and representations of the English language in French popular and
underground music
521
danger”. If the French language was an essential part of French culture, not using it therefore
meant that you did not represent that culture. The use of French language became a marker
of national authenticity.
The law also included a requirement for the broadcasting of 20% new productions, aiming
at more diversity in the media. If the French music industry (major and independent) did not
wait for this law to have a French oriented production, the law certainly accentuated this
phenomenon. However, in terms of diversity, this law failed. Indeed, the same artists and the
same songs, usually from the major companies (that are in fact international holdings not very
interested in national matters) got broadcasted endlessly, leading to a lower number of
scheduled artists (Perona, 2008). Besides, another obstacle to diversity was that English sung
music genres such as metal had no chance of being broadcasted, which is why French metal
stayed underground for so long. During the 90s and early 00s, singing English was in fact the
best way for a band to be underground.
Conclusion
The last decade has been marked by a major change in terms of what being underground
means. The Internet and especially social networks such as MySpace offered many bands the
possibility of distributing their music on a large scale without any help from a record company.
It has now become possible for bands to be autonomous and to disseminate digital records
around the world. In linguistic terms, one would think that all this would have increased the
number of English-singing bands trying to reach an international audience. This may be true
to some extent. But in fact, this “global” audience was unreachable for the majority of bands,
or at least for French bands. Labels have maintained an important role in the distribution and
production process, which means that French is still the dominant language in both
independent and mainstream music.
Nevertheless, the growth of underground electronic music at the end of the 90s also
formed a significant linguistic change. Mainly because this seemingly “deterritorialized” music,
using voice samples from Anglo-Saxon records, found a very positive echo abroad by exploiting
the chic image of Paris (Dimitri From Paris, St Germain). Moreover, their music was mainly
played in clubs and commercials (Etienne de Crécy for Renault, Air for l’Oréal, Daft Punk for
Sony and Gap, Mr. Oizo for Levi’s), where there was no French quota (Jourdain, 2005, p. 123124). It opened a door for pop-rock French bands Air and Phoenix who could sing in English
without any amateurish accent, but still with an indescribable hint of Frenchness and class that
made them famous. Their international success opened another door for the French indie
music scene which was less and less pressured to sing in French, creating ambivalence towards
language choice which is reflected in the bands’ ambiguous attitude towards profit,
commercial endorsement and deals with major record companies. At the same time, the
9
increasing number of venues (SMAC and independent venues) allowed many bands to tour,
also thanks to digital media support (no quota for them either).
In the end, the language in which a band chooses to sing does not determine its career in
terms of mainstream or underground anymore. This is due to the fact that the line between
underground and mainstream has been partially blurred. However the language choice still
expresses different cultural values depending on the music genre. For instance, most of the
9
“Scènes de musiques actuelles”, a venue run by an association with public financial support.
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French metal bands have kept singing in English, except for the “nu-metal” scene that actually
got the most mainstream attention, signing many contracts with major record companies
(Pleymo and Watcha with Sony, Enhancer with BMG, Mass Hysteria with Wagram).
The interesting point here is that the “nu-metal” genre became very popular in AngloSaxon countries regardless of the language matter. Thus it is hard to argue that French “numetal” was popular because it was sung in French. Its proximity to rap music probably made
it easier to use French for both technical and cultural reasons. Nevertheless, despite the relative
success of “nu-metal” bands, their use of French continued to be seen as too soft, or even
gay for some people. A common reaction from conservative metal fans was that “nu metal”
was “queer stuff” (“un truc de tapette”). If metal is mainly played by white males, it is
interesting to compare it to the French rap scene, dominated by non-white males using French
in a very altered way. Indeed, the queer issue about language is also at stake in rap: “rapping
is not singing”, a young hip-hop artist once told me, “if you sing in French you have to be
careful with your words, otherwise you’ll sound like a faggot”. If language permits musicians
to “avoid the queer” in some way, this probably explains the recent emergence of queerinfluenced female artists singing in both French and English such as Le Prince Miiaou and
Christine and the Queens among the French indie pop scene, where masculinity is less invasive
than in rap and metal.
The way languages are distributed and categorized in music reveals many symbolic power
relations. For a more general young audience, for whom English sung music loses a part of its
semantic meaning, this foreign language represents a way to get new definitions of the world
and themselves that they could not get with the “too meaningful” French language. English
and its lack of comprehension create more space open to interpretation.
English has been therefore used as a stylisation tool, like clothes, haircuts, names, etc. It
used to be a “negotiated response” to the mass media mythology, in the sense that it
responded to each person’s life and ability to use the language. The young artists “were
learning to live within or without that amorphous body of images and typifications made
available in the mass media in which class is alternately overlooked and overstated, denied and
reduced to caricature” (Hebdige, 1979, p. 87). They were within when using English from the
movies or the bands they liked, and without when creating their own music, where
“adjustments and textual hybridity” permitted them to build their own “identity” (Guibert,
2003).
References
Guibert, G. (2006). La production de la culture: Le cas des musiques amplifiées en France. Genèses,
structurations, industries, alternatives. Paris: Irma/Séteun.
Hall, S. (1993). Deviance, politics, and the media. In Abelove, H. (ed.). The lesbian and gay studies reader.
New York: Routledge.
Hebdige, D. (1979). Subculture: The meaning of style. London: Methuen.
Jourdain, S. (2005). French touch. Bordeaux: Castor Astral.
Lebrun, B. (2009). Protest music in France : Production, identity and audiences. Farnham: Ashgate.
Manet, J.-L. (2013). Ici et indépendant. Rosières-en-Haye: Camion Blanc.
Morin, E. (1965). On ne connaît pas la chanson. Communications, 6, 1-9.
Perault, S. (2007). Danseuse(s) noire(s) au music-hall la permanence d'un stéréotype. Corps, 2:3, 65-72.
Retrieved from http://www.cairn.info.bibliotheque-nomade2.univ-lyon2.fr/revue-corps-dilecta2007-2-page-65.htm
Perrin, J.-E. (2013). Frenchy but chic: Chroniques, 1979-1982. Rosières-en-Haye: Camion Blanc.
6.9. Sing it yourself! Uses and representations of the English language in French popular and
underground music
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Rudeboy, A. (2007). Nyark nyark ! Fragments des scènes punk et rock alternatif en France: 1976-1989.
Paris: La Découverte.
Seca, J.-M. (2001). Les musiciens underground. Paris: PUF.
Szego, C. K. (2003). Singing Hawaiian and the Aesthetics of (In)Comprehensibility. In H. M. Berger, & M.
T. Caroll (Eds.), Global pop local language. Jackson: University Press of Mississipi.
Vassal, J. (1971). Folksong. Paris: Albin Michel.
Photo given by Víctor Torpedo
PART 7 | Local scenes, communities,
identities and urban cultures
7.1. Creative social innovation - Human Being - Hip
Hop for a Cause
João Paulo Ferreira 1
Abstract
Nowadays social intervention throughout culture is a topic that is being increasingly explored by
social entrepreneurs and the academics. “Human being – Hip Hop for a cause”2 put back together
a community that was scattered during the last decade. Now it is active and gained a new and
relevant significance to the society as a whole.
Keywords: Creativity, Culture, Society, DIY, Human Being – Hip Hop for a cause
Introduction
This study provides a critical analysis of the most relevant literature on social innovation, social
entrepreneurship and their cultural impact, providing a deeper understanding on how these
topics have been approached in the last decades. Applying, afterwards, the previous
investigations in a case study about a Portuguese project in the fields of the social innovation.
This research was focused in a qualitative approach during the development of the case study.
The project was “Human Being - Hip Hop for a Cause”, that involves the whole Portuguese
Underground Hip Hop community - from the general public, throughout the artist to the
venues. It enabled us to analyse the detailed impact of this project inside and outside this
community, and also its social return on investment (SROI).
Social innovation and its impact on the “Human Being –
Hip Hop for a Cause” project
In “Entrepreneurship: Why we don’t need a new theory and how we move forward from
here” Dacin, Dacin e Matear (2010) define the characteristic of the conventional, the
institutional, the cultural and the social entrepreneurs (Table 1):
1
2
Catholic University of Porto, CITAR - Centre for Research in Science and Technology in Arts, Portugal.
The original name of the project is in Portuguese: “Ser Humano – Hip Hop por uma causa”
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Table 1 – Distinctions Among Type of Entrepreneur Along Mission and Process/Resources Dimensions –
“Entrepreneurship: Why we don’t need a new theory and how we move forward from here” Dacin, Dacin &
Matear (2010)
The social entrepreneurship characteristics can be identified at the “Human Being – Hip
Hop for a cause” project. It was born throughout the necessity that the parents of a young
kid called Gaspar had in order to pay for their son’s health necessities. Gaspar is four years old
and has a lot of health problems, such as autism and macrocephaly.
Culture is the driving force and the community unifier behind “Human Being – Hip Hop
for a cause”. It is through it that the human needs that the market cannot regulate all by itself
are fixed. Since Hip Hop is usually connected to crime and social instability, this project gave
the opportunity for this community to improve its social image thanks to the commitment of
its members.
André e Abreu (2006) in their study “Dimensions and spaces to social innovation” analyse
3
five different characteristics of social innovation: nature, stimulus, resources, agents and
means of innovation and creativity (Table 2). We can identify in “Human Being – Hip Hop for
a cause” the characteristics defined by the authors to define projects with a strong social
innovation side.
3
The original name of the study is in Portuguese: “Dimensões e espaços da inovação social”
7.1. Creative social innovation - Human Being - Hip Hop for a Cause
529
Table 2 – Analytic Dimensions of Social Innovations4 – “Dimensions and Spaces to Social Innovation” André
& Abreu (2006)
“Human Being – Hip Hop for a cause” is a non-profit event with an all-day long duration
and takes place at Hard Club. The participation of all the community members (organization,
artists and spectators) is indispensable. This kind of participation is essential not only for the
general good of the community but also for each member in particular. The cultural link
between them all is this cultural form.
Considering the social entrepreneur characteristics defined by Austin, Stevenson and
Weiskillern (2006) the involvement of Paulo Pinto (“Human Being – Hip Hop for a cause”
creator) for two decades in the Portuguese Hip Hop community is crucial. The relationships he
built during all these years with the persons of the community turned him into a much-
4
This is an adaptation to English of the original table called: “Dimensões Analíticas da Inovação Social”
530
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
respected person inside the Portuguese Hip Hop movement. Which made it possible for him
to create such a risky event.
We can recognize the importance of the bridging capital (Putnam, 2000) in this project. In
the last years, this cultural scene was detached and “Human Being – Hip Hop for a cause”
was essential in order to put it back together. The bridges between the community members
–who were separated- were rebuilt.
In “An architecture of value” (2006) Alan Brown analyses the “Arts experience” impact
through time and the type of involvement that this impact causes in the community and its
members (Figures 1, 2 and 3). The analysis of the time goes from the very first happening of
the artistic experience happens throughout the accumulating of experiences (vertical axis). The
type of impact is analysed first in the individual, secondly in his interpersonal relations and at
last in the community (horizontal axis).
Figure 1 - Benefits emanating from the arts experience
Figure 2 - Five Clusters of benefits
Source: “An architecture of value” Alan Brown (2006)
Source: “An architecture of value” Alan Brown (2006)
Figure 3 - A map of arts benefits
Source: “An architecture of value” Alan Brown (2006)
7.1. Creative social innovation - Human Being - Hip Hop for a Cause
531
In order to evaluate the “Human Being – Hip Hop for a cause” impact in the community
three online interviews were conducted: one to the organization, another to the artist and a
final one to the spectators – the three key elements of the community. The goal was to
determine the impact of the project. By creating a survey with five questions and the results
were scaled by a five points Likert scale. Each question had a specific goal to answer: the
“Human Being: Hip Hop for a cause” importance on the individuals at the time of their first
contact with the project; the evolution the individuals felt as they were having the long term
contact with the project; the “Human Being: Hip Hop for a cause” importance in creating ties
between the community elements; the influence of the project in the dedication of the
individuals to the community; the evolution of the community after the “Human Being – Hip
Hop for a cause”.
The participation of the organisation in this inquiry was of 100%. From the organiser point
of view this event had a gigantic impact not only for him but also for the community. (see
Figures 4, 5, 6, 7 and 8)
Figure 4
Figure 5
Figure 6
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Figure 7
Figure 8
Seventy-three artists participated in the two edition of “Human Being – Hip Hop for a
cause”, only thirteen of them answered the survey which is translated into 17,8% of the
events participants. For them this project is really important in all its aspects since the average
of answers is of four values. (see Figures 9, 10, 11, 12 and 13)
Figure 9
Figure 10
7.1. Creative social innovation - Human Being - Hip Hop for a Cause
533
Figure 11
Figure 12
Figure 13
Of the 2450 spectators (1300 on the first one and 1150 on the second) only 214 answered
the questions, which translates in 8,7% of the total.
The audience also considers the “Human Being – Hip Hop for a cause” project very
important to the community. (see Figures 14, 15, 16, 17 and 18).
Figure 14
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Figure 15
Figure 16
Figure 17
Figure 18
In order to help the social agents improving their projects and measuring their impact,
Jessica Boyd (2004) in “Measuring Social Impact: The Foundation of social return on
investment” developed a methodology to measure their outputs, the outcomes, the impact
and the social return on investment (SROI). In order to do this kind of measurements the agents
need to identify some key elements of their projects: Who are the persons to whom the
7.1. Creative social innovation - Human Being - Hip Hop for a Cause
535
business might interest and what are their objectives?; How should stakeholders be
prioritised?; What output indicators illustrate how well the objectives were accomplished?;
Can the social return deriving from the impact be measured?
Figure 19
“Measuring social impact: The foundation of social return on investment (SROI) Jessica
Boyd (2004). Jessica Boyd defines the calculation method of the “Social Return on Investment”
with Jeremy Nicholls and Stephanie Robertson. After calculating the impact of the project the
results are divided by the initial input and the result is the “Social Return on Investment”. The
“Social Returns on Investment” is the return for each euro initially invested in the projects.
This was the methodology used to analyse the “Human Being – Hip Hop for a cause”. In order
to do it is necessary to answer the previously referred questions to identify the key elements
of the project:
Who are the persons to whom the business might interest and what are their objectives?
- Here we can assume that the ones interested in this project are Gaspar and his family and
their objectives are to accomplish Gaspar’s treatments.
How should stakeholders be prioritised? – Due to the nature of this project it can be
assumed that the ultimate stakeholder of this project is Gaspar and his own health.
What output indicators illustrate how well were the objectives accomplished? – The
accomplishment indicator of this project is Gaspar’s capacity to do all the treatments.
Can the social return deriving from the impact be measured? – This result is the difference
from what Gaspar’s parents could pay before and after the event.
In order to define the Social Return on Investment the next step is to identify the “Human
Being – Hip Hop for a cause” inputs, outputs, outcomes and impact. The input is all the
investment put in the project and the output is the direct return of the investment. The
outcome is directly related to the outputs: the outcome is the fact that thanks to “Human
Being – Hip Hop for a cause”, and all its outputs, Gaspar was able to undertake 100% of the
treatments. If it hadn’t happened, his parents would only have been able to pay 30% of them.
So, we can recognize that in this case the outcomes are 70% of the outputs. Subtracting the
outcome to what would happen anyway we have the result of the impact. After having all
these results the Social Return on Investment from “Human Being – Hip Hop for a cause” can
now be calculated.
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In the first event the investment was of 200€ in catering and the printing of the tickets. In
the second one the investment was of 400€ also in catering, tickets printing and, this time,
the organization paid the dislocations of some artists. All the other types of costs that could
have existed like artists cachets and venue rentals were for free because everyone was
interested in being a part of this project.
There were 1300 persons in the first event with each ticket costing 10€ and the final
revenue was of 13000€. In the second event, with 1150 persons and the cost of 13€ per ticket
the revenue was of 14950€. Thanks to this numbers Gaspar’s parents were able to fully pay
for their son’s treatments. The fact of existing an increasing on revenue in the second year
was really helpful because, unfortunately, during that year Gaspar was diagnosed with autism
and needed extra treatments.
In the first event we have: an input of 200€ and the output of 13000€. The outcome
corresponds to 70% of the outputs, then we have an outcome of 9100€. Gaspar’s parents
could only support 30% of those costs, which corresponds to 3900€ of the output.
Subtracting what Gaspar’s parent could pay (3900€) to the outcome (9100€), the impact of
the event has the result of 5200€, which means that for each 1€ invested in the project the
return is of 26€.
In the second event the input was of 400€ and the output of 14950€. The outcome is
10465€ since the cost that Gaspar’s parents could afford were of 4485€. The result of the
impact is 5980€, which means that for each 1€ invested in the project the return is of 14,95€.
“Human Being – Hip Hop for a cause” accomplished all of its goals in both editions. All of
Gaspar’s treatments were paid with the funds raised by the selling of tickets for this event. All
of this was only possible thanks to the commitment of the whole community. Hard Club, the
venue where the event took place, was used without being charged any rental fees; the
organizer wasn’t looking for any kind of monetary return for him; the artists didn’t charged
cachet; and the public sold out the venue twice.
After analyzing the online inquires we can recognize: All the effort put in the project by
the organization reestablished the cooperation that was lost between the community
members and it originated an evolution inside the community; in the case of the artists they
also felt personal and communitarian evolution. Only two of the artists said that this event
didn’t influence their attention to this kind of projects; for the spectators the “Human Being
– Hip Hop for a cause” was also very important for their own personal evolution as well as the
community’s. Only three of them felt that this evolution was moderated, one didn’t feel closer
to the community after the event and two didn’t altered their relation with these kinds of
projects because of the “Human Being – Hip Hop for a cause”.
After the low affluence by the artists and the public to answer the questions from the
surveys we can conclude that, after all this evolution inside the community, it can still be a
little closed to the exterior.
Conclusions & further investigation
Throughout this study we analysed the concepts of social entrepreneurship and innovation
through culture and also the methods of evaluation of the impact of these activities. While
analysing the themes of social entrepreneurship and innovation we can understand the
importance of the sense of community and the humanitarian side of the projects. We need to
understand various factors of the projects as their nature, their potential, their key elements,
7.1. Creative social innovation - Human Being - Hip Hop for a Cause
537
the innovation possibilities, the creative approach and their possibilities to adapt to the
necessities that can appear along the project.
The investigation about the “Human Being – Hip Hop for a cause” project showed that it
accomplished all of its goals and the results were all very satisfying. The three key elements of
the project confirmed its importance not only in the moment of the experience but also in a
long-term scenario. They felt a personal development and also a development of the
community, making it more cohesive than ever in the last few years. We can also perceive that
this project in terms of social return on investment had more impact in the first year than in
the second one.
For further investigation about this theme it would be necessary to use new approaches to
reach a larger number of audience members. In addition to the online interviews it would also
be important to direct surveys at the place during the events, something that it was impossible
to do this time, because during this study there was no “Human Being – Hip hop for a cause”
event in progress.
References
André, I. & Abeu, A. (2006) Dimensões e espaços da inovação social. Finisterra – Revista Portuguesa de
Geografia, pp. 121-141
Bakhshi, H. & Throsby, D. (2010) Culture of Innovation An economic analysis of innovation in arts and
cultural organisation. London, NESTA
Boyd, J. Measuring social impact: the Foundation of social return on investment . 2004.
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Chell, E. & Nicolopoulou, K. & Karatas-Ozkan, M. (2010) Social entrepreneurship and enterprise:
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Dacin, Peter A. & Dacin, M. Tina & Matear M. (2010) Social Entrepreneurship: Why we Don’t Need a
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McCarthy, K. & Ondaatje, E. & Zakaras, L. & Brooks, A. (2004) Gifts of the Muse Reframing the Debate
About the Benefits of the Arts. Santa Monica, RAND Corporation
7.2. The multiple legitimacies of Tentacle Tribe, a
dance company
Mary Fogarty 1
Jonathan Osborn 1
Deanne Kearney 1
Abstract
According to Hugues Bazin (2002), hip hop dancers working in theatrical settings have a "double
legitimacy" as they gain acceptance in two contexts with different expectations, criteria and values.
In this case study, we researched how an emerging dance company negotiates artistic identities in
the entertainment, street dance and theatrical art worlds, finding acceptance across competing
discourses. Tentacle Tribe, a dance company comprised of Emmanuelle Lê Phan and Elon Höglund,
operates simultaneously in hip hop, contemporary dance and the entertainment world of
companies such as Cirque du Soleil, receiving commercial, street and critical attention. In 2013, we
interviewed them, observed their performances, rehearsals, and pedagogy to analyze their success
at traversing these different contexts.
We introduce the conceptual framework of "multiple legitimacies." Multiple legitimacies are the
result of a changing cultural climate where high/low art divides have been slowly blurring, and a
new model has emerged, motivated by sustainability and professional survival. Artists and
practitioners have often traversed different contexts in their performing careers. However, we
suggest that these activities are now providing a model of sustainability that is structured around
new ways of organizing experiences and legitimacies. Importantly, multiple legitimacies may be
observed and experienced at the level of bodily techniques and aesthetic choices. This conceptual
framework allows for the reading of representations and reifications of the artist across various
contexts that might otherwise seem contradictory.
Keywords: hip-hop, urban dance, multiple legitimacies, habitus, identities.
Tentacle Tribe, the Montreal-based dance company comprised of Emmanuelle Lê Phan and
Elon Höglund, operates within the hip hop, theatrical and entertainment dance worlds,
receiving both popular and critical attention. Both members of the company have performed
with various companies including the well-known Cirque du Soleil. The starting point for our
research was to ask what this particular group does that makes them successful with audiences
and communities across a range of contexts.
The focus of this question was not the reaction of the audiences but rather the movement
strategies of the dancers themselves. In paying attention to the detail of the physical
movements the dancers chose, we hope this research has currency not only for a theoretical
understanding of the dance company that we studied, but also within the broader implications
of aesthetic choices. The results have provided the basis for further sociological thinking about
the professionalization of artists who traverse popular art worlds alongside the established art
1
York University, Toronto, Canada.
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worlds. We became especially interested in how the company modified their movements
slightly so as to fit into various dance contexts whose values and aesthetics are not only distinct
but also sometimes conflicting. Our contribution involves a detailed movement analysis that
contributes to the theoretical underpinnings of such arguments about aesthetics. We do not
consider a movement analysis to ‘reveal’ some essential truth about the movements and their
‘proper’ contexts, but rather use this form of analysis to think through aspects of performance.
Movement analysis also raises questions about how the ‘rules of the game,’ found in divergent
practices, are navigated, played with and at times even mocked.
In 2013-2014, we conducted interviews, and observed performances, rehearsals, and
classes with Tentacle Tribe. We also researched the history and critical reception of Tentacle
Tribe. We discuss our methods, positions and roles in the study a bit later on in this paper.
However, one of the remarks of Elon during an interview captures how identity might be
tangled up with our questions about changing professional contexts and aesthetics:
...hip hop dancers, I feel like maybe they think it [our style] is quite contemporary and
contemporary dancers think it’s very hip hop so we are some place between and for me since
I started performing that is always what I have been, this weird between animal so it’s like you
don’t really belong anywhere but you belong everywhere. It's good because you can get jobs,
I've been in circus shows, I’ve been in contemporary dance shows, I’ve been in hip hop
performances, battles... you can be everywhere but at the same time everyone thinks you are
kind of weird or different.
In the quotation above, Elon speaks about his experience navigating between the street
dance (hip hop) and contemporary dance worlds. Although he claims to be perceived as
“weird or different” the simultaneous presence and success of Tentacle Tribe within these
worlds attests to a very different reality - one marked by acceptance within communities with
drastically divergent values, disparate aesthetics and radically different histories and agendas.
This enviable cultural position shows that the artistic entity known as Tentacle Tribe navigates
successfully in very different cultural environments by fulfilling the expectations of different
social/cultural groups. Thus, a case study of a small dance company touches on contemporary
notions of belonging, legitimacy and identity. Through our analysis of the research, we
introduce the conceptual framework of "multiple legitimacies.”
Before we can adequately define and describe our thinking about shifting legitimations in
contemporary art and how they are addressed at the level of the body, we will first set the
stage by introducing some key ideas that we are responding to through our findings. The
question of legitimation has always been tied to aesthetics although this position is difficult to
address sociologically. One area that has been more commonly accessed is artistic elitism (Frith
1996). Elitism is typically evidenced in discursive practices, and is also found in street or popular
cultural practices alongside practices legitimated through formal institutions (Thornton 1995).
Howard Becker (1963) sets the agenda for discussing both the sociological understanding
of “art worlds,” and the processes by which deviance and/or outsiders get labeled. Early in his
professional career he investigated phenomena such as drug use and deviance - studies which
would produce a mode of thought called “labelling theory.” Becker also contributed to the
study of art and artists, and used his ideas regarding labelling to constitute a theory of arts
production. In Art Worlds (1982) Becker researched the systems of arts production rather than
art objects themselves (prior to this time art objects were often considered sites of cultural
meaning and works of individual genius). The art object was understood to be a part of a
system of collective production, and, as in Becker’s work Outsiders (1963), he attempted to
label artists and the art production systems of which they were, or were not, a part. In our
7.2. The multiple legitimacies of Tentacle Tribe, a dance company
541
case study, we are interested in how one set of artists can negotiate, mutate and embody
various traits to fit in to divergent art worlds. Howard Becker’s various models contribute to
our set of questions in this regard.
Most sociological studies of artistic practices and (post) subcultural identities are also
indebted to Pierre Bourdieu. Bourdieu (1984) invests in the habits of the body that take place
on a physical level, and in how these habits are formed over time, through repetition and
education, telling us something about not only where a person has been but also what has
shaped their bodily experience. In fact, the history of dance is similar to many other art
traditions, where the tastes of audiences do, indeed, "classify the classifier." In an attempt to
move beyond the silos of the ‘social’ and ‘aesthetic’ theoretical considerations, Bourdieu
developed the concepts of ‘habitus’ and the ‘field.’ His theory of fields explores the ideals of
different types of positions that artists take in tension with each other. This is a major
distinction between Becker and Bourdieu. Where Becker focuses on the collaborations of many
people to create art (from the person collecting tickets, to the producer and artist), Bourdieu
focuses on the tensions between artists that, he argues, create their positions in the field in
relation to each other. Artists then take their positionality as their own creation, and yet, he
would argue, these are in some ways determined by class. For Bourdieu the field of cultural
production, like a sports field, was always a contested space, where participants (i.e. artists)
are engaged in constituting and contesting their position, in an attempt to displace and
consolidate their cultural power - vying for the elusive prize of legitimacy. This power, called
“capital” in a nod to Marxist thought, was substantially affected by the quality called charisma.
Both Simon Frith (1996) and Sarah Thornton (1995), approach the study of popular culture
from positions informed by Bourdieu. For Frith, a sociological perspective makes aesthetic
theory possible because it grounds the research in the pragmatic realities that inform meaningmaking. For Thornton, club goers often demonstrate elitist mindsets and codes of conduct.
She argues, building on Pierre Bourdieu’s notion of “cultural capital,” that this behaviour of
performing distinctions through bodily practices and verbal articulations of taste is
“subcultural capital.” What Frith and Thornton both articulate is that distinctions are not only
made between high and low art, but also within popular cultural forms and expressions.
These perspectives are valuable to our study because they recognize that those
participating in street dance cultures are, at times, as elitist as ‘ballet’ fans about their tastes,
and distinctions, and similarly, “street” about their affinities and preferences, while often still
benefiting from a top-down model of arts funding and desire for recognition. Studying the
discourses of the intersections of each world reveals the value of sociological underpinnings
to any understanding of aesthetic possibilities, trajectories and meanings.
We suggest that this elitism within popular culture is an emergence, which has allowed for
a pairing of sensibilities across the popular and theatrical divide. This sharing of notions about
superior art-making allows for the current climate where high/low art lines are blurred a
particular resemblance. Those that earn the respectability of different crowds have a legitimacy
that speaks to their ability to navigate successfully the rules of more than one game.
In France, where hip hop dance was introduced to the proscenium stage quite early on in
the development of hip hop theatre, and was supported by artistic directors, social workers,
choreographers and the state, sociologists have begun to research legitimation in the arts
happens. Roberta Shapiro (2004), one of the first sociologists to study this phenomenon in
depth, became interested in the critical acclaim for ‘hip hop dance,’ especially how theatrical
representations of the dance were being discussed as “art” in the media. Similarly, Hugues
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Bazin (1995) has questioned how legitimation works for dancers that participate in street
dance culture, at the same times as in theatrical performances on proscenium stages
performed for a different audience. Building on Becker’s model of ‘art worlds,’ Bazin suggests
that those dancers that take part in the ‘battles’ of street dance, often in clubs, also take part
in theatrical productions, achieving a sort of ‘double legitimacy.’ Thus, they are able to reap
the benefits of two different ‘art worlds.’ Later, in the analysis portion of our paper, we will
further Bazin’s concept, ‘double legitimacy,’ to consider a theoretical framework for ‘multiple
legitimacies.’
Methods
Tentacle Tribe was chosen as the subject for this study during their artistic residency at York
University, Toronto in October through November of 2013. During this period, Tentacle Tribe
were occupied with creating a dance piece on the York University dance ensemble, facilitating
movement classes, acting as artistic mentors for student choreographers enrolled in a
interdisciplinary arts course and performing their new artistic creation at university events.
Their uncanny ability to navigate these heterogeneous situations was noticed early on in their
residency by both faculty and students. This ability was complemented by the appeal that their
work had for students and faculty of divergent artistic sensibilities and cultural backgrounds.
These rare social and artistic distinctions in tandem with two projects developed by a doctoral
and a senior undergraduate student prompted several discussions and eventually crystallized
into a concerted multi-researcher study of the work, methods, strategies and identities of this
unique collaborative team.
Members of the research team were: Professor Mary Fogarty, the organizer of the
residency, course director and research facilitator and practicing street dancer; Jonathan
Osborn, a first-year doctoral student and former professional dancer and choreographer, and
Deanne Kearney, a senior undergraduate dance student interested in journalism and archival
studies. Research consisted of observation of Tentacle Tribe in their many roles during classes,
rehearsals and performances, participant observation during movement classes, two
interviews, both approximately one hour in length - one conducted in November of 2013 and
another in April of 2014, and movement analyses of classes and archived videos from different
dance worlds (breaking battles, industrial productions and small scale contemporary dance
performances). Each researcher brought specific skills, histories and perspectives to the study
and their subject positions within hip hop, contemporary dance, movement analysis, theatre
and cultural studies were reflected in the process.
The three authors were able to access Tentacle Tribe and their artistic and pedagogical
work from different perspectives, depending on their manner of interaction with the company
and their personal histories. During classes taught/facilitated by Tentacle Tribe, all three
researchers participated in the classes as dancers at some point, one researcher observed
dance classes, and one researcher interviewed Tentacle Tribe about their pedagogical practices
at the beginning of the study. This was followed by an interview with Tentacle Tribe near the
end of the study with all three researchers, where ideas from the study were shared, clarified
and modified. The combination of these perspectives enabled the formulation of a complex,
symbiotic aesthetic and social situation of Tentacle Tribe. Theoretical ideas generated by the
group were reached through a consensus of opinion and reflect an agreement between
7.2. The multiple legitimacies of Tentacle Tribe, a dance company
543
persons with varying degrees of familiarity with various dance forms and dance communities
and different cultural and educational backgrounds.
The case study
That is why we chose the octopus, because
we are able to adapt in any situation.
Elon Höglund
The case study began by building on Bazin’s thinking about ‘double legitimacy’ for street
dance practitioners who are investing in paid, stage performances for contemporary
programming and audiences. We first asked how Tentacle Tribe were able to navigate so
smoothly between various art worlds, and navigate different positions in different fields, to
work successfully across multiple spheres of entertainment (Cirque du Soleil, Cirque Eloize),
street dance communities and contemporary dance worlds. In this section, we describe the
case study. In the next section we demonstrate what movement analysis brings to a study of
sociology of the arts, and then contribute some theoretical terms to explain our findings in the
analysis section.
Although Tentacle Tribe officially formed in 2012, Emmanuelle and Elon have worked
together since 2005 after being cast in Cirque du Soleil production The Beatles. Both dancers
trained in a variety of disciplines including contemporary dance, martial arts and several street
dance forms. They describe their choreographic creations as a combination of contemporary
dance fused with concepts from various street dance styles. Informed by intricate partnering,
a daring and flowing physicality accented by nuanced details and a strong and specific
relationship to music they have garnered critical responses. They have recently been referred
to as “rock stars” within Canadian dance. Their first collaboration was a duet in 2005 for
Cirque Du Soleil in Quebec City. This duet was then produced into a short film by Natalie
Galazka entitled “Elon and Emmanuelle.” In 2012 they created “When They Fall” for the
Festival Quartier Danse which was adapted the following year for a site specific performance
with a live trumpeter. In 2013, they created “Nobody likes a Pixelated Squid” which was
presented at Tangente as well as the Toronto Urban Dance Symposium. In 2013, they accepted
a residency at York University’s Dance Department where they were able to facilitate an
interdisciplinary class with Professor Mary Fogarty, create a new group work, perform and
serve as mentors. Their most recent dance film entitled “Vanishing Points” directed by Marites
Carino was completed in early 2014. More recently they have performed in London, England
at Sadler’s Wells for Breakin’ Convention, an international festival for contemporary hip hop
performance.
As may be evident from this history, Tentacle Tribe does not perform exclusively for one
type of community or audience. Their first production would fall under the category of
industrial or commercial work, having been made as part of a large production by the “circus"
company Cirque du Soleil. Their second work “When They Fall” premiered at a venue in
Montreal usually reserved for contemporary dance and for an audience typically comprised of
artists and professional dancers invested in non-commercial dance endeavors. Their third work
"Nobody Likes a Pixelated Squid" also premiered at a venue dedicated to experimental
contemporary dance and was subsequently shown at a festival for urban dance. Simultaneous
to these productions is regular participation in local, national and international hip hop events.
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This participation consists of various activities and responsibilities including competing,
judging, and organizing events, and practices.
Although both dancers have been committed full time to Tentacle Tribe since 2012 their
artistic histories are dissimilar enough to merit mention:
Elon Höglund, was born in Stockholm Sweden into an artistic family of Romani lineage. He
began his physical training through exposure to various styles of martial arts included Kung
Fu, Capoeira and Tae Kwon Do before studying various hip hop dance styles including
breaking and popping. Before creating Tentacle Tribe, Elon toured with Bboyizm Dance
Company, Rubberband Dance Company, Cirque Eloize, Cirque Du Soleil and Norwegian State
Theatre. He remains an an active member of the hip hop collectives Fresh Format Bboy Crew
and Concrete Kingz Sweden.
Emmanuelle Le Phan’s training differs in that she was versed in ballet and contemporary
dance before becoming active within the street dance world. She attended the dance program
at De La Salle High School in Ottawa, Ontario, and obtained her BFA in contemporary dance
from Concordia University in Montreal. During university she began dancing as B-Girl
Cleopatra and has competed successfully at breaking competitions in Canada, the United
States and Sweden. Before Tentacle Tribe, she co-founded Solid State Breakdance Collective.
She also has been a part of Rubberbandance Company, Cirque Du Soleil, Cirque Eloize, and
Bboyizm Dance Company. Like Elon, she remains active in the breaking community through
the female hip hop collective Legendary Crew.
Movement analysis
The following movement analysis is concerned with four videos which serve as examples of
different contexts that Tentacle Tribe inhabit. The first two videos highlight the movement
proclivities of both Elon and Emmanuelle individually, the third illustrates their tendencies while
performing contemporary dance and the fourth is an example of a performance for
commercial theatre. In general this analysis reveals a focus by Tentacle Tribe on performing
movement in a direction appropriate to specific contextual conventions while retaining a
general vocabulary derived from a hip hop sensibility. In short, these aesthetic conventions are:
i) Breaking: social, combative or competitive spectacular movement, fast rhythmic work
punctuated by explosive gestures that erupt as often as possible; duration is short and
part of a series of competitive exchanges between participants; virtuosity is continually
demonstrated.
ii) Theatrical: conversational, organized into abstract, relational scenarios; organized
around one or more movement theme; space is perceived of as fluid. Spectacular
movement is a result of relations, duration is long; virtuosity is often concealed or
sublimated to structure.
iii) Industrial or Entertainment: declarative, conventional, affirmative and self-evident;
predictable according to an emotional agenda; utilizes relational strategies that are
symmetric or geometric. Space, although not restricted by actual barriers is limited and
contained but movements appear expansive or spectacular; virtuosic movement is
strategically displayed, accented, and mediated by theatrical conventions.
7.2. The multiple legitimacies of Tentacle Tribe, a dance company
545
There are obvious limitations to such a typology and there are also possible resistances to
such formulations even amongst the researchers. These resistances to categorization reveal
interesting aspects about the various art worlds and their tensions in relation to each other.
For example, b-boys and b-girls have traditionally distanced themselves from the “spectacular”
elements of their dance in various conversational discourses shared about the dance. The
feeling amongst hip hop dancers that specialize in breaking is that the media and commercial
interests in the dance (read as inauthentic) would focus only on the spectacular moves of the
dance such as the head spin or windmill, and edit out aspects of the dance that showcase
musicality, dancing, nuances in footwork, etc. Even with this resistance, b-boy and b-girls are
aware that their “power moves” and the spectacular qualities of their dance are the
movements most valued by a general audience and there is, for the purposes of commercial
work in the entertainment field, an interest to appease their employers and audiences.
The following movement observations, while certainly not exhaustive in terms of their
analytic scope, allow for a comparison of Tentacle Tribe’s performance strategies in different
work contexts as demonstrated in video examples available on the sites Youtube and Vimeo.
Although our study did not limit itself to these sources (as live observation of performances,
classes and rehearsals was a vital component of the research), many of the trends we observed
are present and evident within these videos. A short list of definitions for terms utilised are:
Vocabulary: The physical events or actions performed, related to existing canons of
movement and their histories and form.
Posture: The manner in which the body, particularly the spine is habitually held, presented
or displayed; a vertical spine is often associated with the concept of neutrality, a concave
one with a defensive positioning and an extended one with formal presentation.
Levels: The space, organised on a vertical axis, which the body inhabits during the course
of the performance. Low level - refers to ground level, Mid level - to normal standing
level and High level to jumps and gestures which are organised above the shoulders.
Duration: A time based term describing the overall period from beginning of a particular
dance event to the end. Short - under 5 minutes, mid-length - under ten minutes and
long - over ten minutes.
Speed: the rate at which vocabulary is executed.
Focus: the relationship between the performer and space outside the body, often
relatable to an audience or on stage events.
Quality: the manner in which a vocabulary is executed and performed expressed as
adjectives.
Use of space: the expansion and retraction of the body within the kinesphere of the body
and the relative stage space available -similar to levels but organised on a mainly
horizontal axis.
The video “bboy Wandering Spirit” is a collection of short sequences which feature Elon
2
Höglund dancing in a hip hop context. The dances are all improvisational and although
individually each may be related to themes iterated by nearby dancers at the time there are
key aspects to the dances which continually manifest themselves. These aspects go beyond
the level of individual moves, choreography or vocabulary, and also include posture. It should
be noted that many of these aspects are intrinsically related to the form, aesthetic and
2
"bboy Wandering Spirit" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Zdog5iztPQ [Accessed July 1st 2014]
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conventions of hip hop dance and to several martial arts forms Höglund trained in during his
youth. The video is comprised of short excerpts from various b-boy social events and
competitions - generally the sustained dance would be relatively short due to the physical
effort required and conventions of the breaking community.
Generally, the legs, arms, shoulder and back are all used as supports and the body moves
in a forward motion when upright and when transitioning to the ground. The limbs do not
often extend out from the body when upright although on occasion they reach for the ground
or stretch out during held poses. Turns occur on both a horizontal, diagonal axis and vertical
axes. The dancer does not physically come into contact with other dancers. The vocabulary is
comprised of many of the conventions of hip hop including footwork, drops to floor, use of
arms and legs for support, limited extension of arms and legs except during stalls and balances,
body rotation along a diagonal axis and small springs. There are several examples of the use
of diagonal methods of approaching the floor using the side space. The posture is concave
with the pelvis tucked and the upper spine, head and shoulder slightly curved forward. The
dance consists of upright movement around the space and movements on the ground
occurring near the centre of an imagined circle. As such, the low and middle levels are accessed
and use of the high level is absent. The speed of the movements is rapid and occasionally
frozen or held when in an extended position. There are brief moments when small qualitative
changes occur and the body decelerates or accelerates. The focus is habitually down towards
the ground or out towards either an individual or small group. The dance occurs in a limited
space and this is similar to a circle in shape. In general circular pathways are utilized. The
dominant movement qualities are “sharp” and “indirect”.
Like “bboy Wandering Spirit”, “B-Girl Cleopatra repping in 2011” is comprised of several
3
clips. The first set of clips is from an all-styles battle, the second is from music video inspired
by the video game “Street Fighter” and the last is from formal hip-hop battles. In this analysis
we were concerned mainly with the third section of clips, as the first and second section
demonstrate an approach to movement outside of the conventions of hip hop settings, one
which is concerned with hybridity and the other with similitude. Also like “bboy Wandering
Spirit” the third section of clips demonstrates an approach to movement characterised by
adherence to many of the conventions of hip hop dance. Again, the sustained dances would
be relatively short due to the physical effort required and conventions of the breaking
community.
During the dances the legs, arms, shoulder and back are all used as supports. The body
generally moves in a forward motion when upright and when transitioning to the ground but
there are exceptions to this during springs onto the back or hands. The limbs extend out from
the body when upright during gestures and kicks but do not reach upwards. Arms extend fully
to reach for the ground or when executing cartwheels and springs. Turns occur on horizontal,
vertical, sagittal and diagonal axes. Momentum is generated through torquing the body
against itself. The dancer does not physically come into contact with other dancers. The
vocabulary utilised consists of fast footwork with homolateral arm movements alternating with
drops, rolls and spins on the floor. Also executed are back handsprings, cartwheels, springs
and turns. The spine is held in a curved position with the pelvis tucked under and the upper
spine, head and shoulder slightly curved forward. The levels utilised are mainly low and middle.
3
B-Girl Cleopatra repping in 2011 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oGNtwU-yLUA [Accessed July 1st
2014]
7.2. The multiple legitimacies of Tentacle Tribe, a dance company
547
The focus is primarily out or projected towards a competitor. The dance occurs in an extremely
small area which in some cases even delineated by a light source. The main qualities of the
dance are “strong” and “direct.”
Comprised of excerpts from their full-length theatrical work of the same name, “Nobody
Likes a Pixellated Squid” (2013) displays several moments of a dance which utilises a hip hop
4
vocabulary but articulated in a manner informed by contemporary theatrical dance. The full
dance is comprised of three sections (or movements) demarcated by changes in music. The
overall duration of the full dance is over twenty minutes and would be considered long.
The dance is generally vertical with bodies suspended, balanced and counterbalanced and
movements are both sequential or simultaneous. Legs are used for weight bearing and arms
are used to gesture, extend and reach out into space, amplifying core movement and
articulating paths of flow. The body is used as a transmitter of force or energy and actions
may effect one or both bodies. The fluidity which characterises much of the dance is
occasionally contrasted with stillness or sharp punctuated gestures. Attention is given to the
articulation of feet, hands, eyes, neck and head. Large movements and partnering sections are
not accented but engineered to flow in and out of other movements. The vocabulary consists
of body waves which travel through the core and extremities, suspensions and balances,
pedestrian walking, gestures in which there is a dynamic relationship between one part of the
body and another, space holds, partnering developed through contact and weight transfer,
and small pulses. The posture is, in contrast to that adopted during breaking, upright with the
pelvis, rib cage, shoulders and head balanced on top of each other and the chest and neck
open and exposed. However, the bodies continually modulate through shapes and the spine
often extends backwards and flexes forward and laterally. The levels utilised are predominantly
low and mid with frequent, fluid changes between them throughout the dance. One body
may remain for a period at low level while the other inhabits the mid level or vice versa.
The speed varies throughout the dance. However, the general speed is moderate with
multiple episodes. This highlight acceleration, deceleration momentum and stillness. Small
pulses and arm, head and feet movements punctuate a general lugubrious quality. The
performer’s foci is outwards or inwards depending on the movement. When outwards the
focus appears to go past the audience or follows arm, leg or torso gestures. When inward the
focus appears contemplative or reflective rather than confrontational. The dancers favour an
asymmetrical relationship with regards to each other and the stage space. The dance travels
around a large area of space that is accessed in circular and direct fashions. The dance also
travels around the space sideways, forwards and backwards periodically pausing in certain
areas during solos. Space generally expands while both performers move and contracts when
one dancer is featured. In many respects there is no front to the movement and the body is
displayed as a three dimensional, articulate object. The dominant qualities are “fluid”,
“weighted” and “indirect.”
“Elon and Emmanuelle” is a short film produced in collaboration with the filmmaker
5
Natalie Galazka. and is an iteration of a choreography created in 2012 for Cirque du Soleil
production “Les Chemins Invisibles”. The audience for this work would be familiar with the
spectacular and large-scale works associated with Cirque du Soleil. Poor quality footage of the
4
Nobody Likes a Pixellated Squid https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7BT-U6-LHDA [Accessed July 1st
2014]
5
Elon and Emmanuelle: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QlmRlYZTEMQ [Accessed July 1st 2014]
548
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
original show can be viewed at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=afj4SZMUSKM. The
duration of the work is under five minutes and would be considered to be of medium length.
The body is generally upright and presented frontally or on a slight diagonal to allow the
head, and chest to be seen throughout the dance. Spectacular moves common in circus such
as rolls, jumps, turns, flips, cartwheels and partnering are utilised. The vocabulary consists of
body waves which travel through the core and extremities, suspensions and balances,
theatrical walking, running and standing, gestures in which there is a dynamic relationship
between one part of the body and another, space holds, partnering developed through
contact and weight transfer. Posture is upright and presentational and in line with theatrical
convention. Extension is frequently accessed during spectacular movements (such as jumps).
Flexion is used in a utilitarian (rather than presentational) fashion. The use of levels varies with
several notable accented moments in high space. The body is most often found in the middle
level. The body accesses the low and high spaces during moments of bodily dialogue between
the performers. The speed is moderate with occasional dramatic pauses for the purpose of
emphasising a gesture, or glace, or dramatic moment. Movement is executed so it can be
seen, digested, and related to the general action. The focus is out towards the “audience” or
towards one another at eye level. The dancers maintain a symmetrical relationship with each
other and the stage and do not inhabit the periphery of the stage or the backspace. Dominant
qualities are “light”, “quick” and “direct.”
Posture
Levels
Duration
Speed
Focus
Quality
Use of Space
Hoglund
in Battles
curved in
slight flexion
low and
mid
short
fast
down
sharp and
indirect and
circular
circular,
small
Le Phan
in Battles
curved in
slight flexion
low and
mid
short
fast
down and
towards
challenger
strong and
direct
circular and
small
theatrical
work
neutral spine
that
modulates
low and
mid
long
variable,
fluid
spectacular
poses
inwards or
towards
space
indirect
large, and
asymmetric
Industrial
work
slight
extension
low mid
and high
mid
length
moderate
sustained
spectacular
poses
outwards or
towards each
other
direct
large
symmetric
Conclusion
There is clear intention for the movement modifications that occur as Tentacle Tribe choose
to “fit” into different worlds. Their general success at achieving quite different statuses in
these different environments is without a doubt a result of their high level of competency
across these different domains. To use a biological analogy: the vocabulary of Tentacle Tribe
can be considered to be the body of an organism - its limbs and navigational system. This
“body” for the most part remains intact with the same movements present regardless of the
context. Our chart shows the specialised cells (focus, quality, speed, etc.) allowin the organism
to transform to context. Thus the chart could be looked at as depicting aspects of
7.2. The multiple legitimacies of Tentacle Tribe, a dance company
549
"ornamentation” or “camouflage”. Tentacle Tribe demonstrates an uncanny social perception
about molding movement to suit different social scenarios according to aesthetic expectations.
Tentacle Tribe make decisions and distinctions based on the the venues which each attract
radically different audiences. Tentacle Tribe are able to adapt to and negotiate temporary
membership within a variety of communities usually characterised as heterogeneous and
disparate through a process of applying alterations to a basic set of movement principles.
In hip hop contexts, Tentacle Tribe are seen as contemporary dancers, and in contemporary
dance contexts they are labeled hip hop. In both contexts, they are seen as successful for
contributing new approaches to movement invention and practices from another domain. As
dancers with well-developed bodily-kinesthetic intelligence, they also create minor movement
modifications to adapt to their changing environments resulting in their abilities to blend into
various scenes and performance contexts.
This appears in our research to be a strategy that is both intentional and instinctive. Its
instinctive element draws on an identifiable determination by outsiders to ‘fit in’, a
determination that is observable in the natural world through techniques of camouflage. This
camouflage is characterised not as a subterfuge for infiltration, but as a technique of
integration that absorbs and responds to the environment. The social critique here places the
various art worlds inhabited in an equal relationship, so there is no sense of a popular or
vernacular style attempting to legitimize itself. On the contrary, this strategy demonstrates the
potency of those elements of movement that are alien to each circumstance: their power to
transform the inhabited space. We conclude that this strategy is only possible for those who
can maintain the integrity of each style-space, while performing a transformative move into
that current particularity from elsewhere. This is the act of gaining multiple legitimacies.
Acknowledgements: We would like to thank Emmanuelle Lê Phan and Elon Höglund for their
collaboration as participants in this research project. This project was a result of funding from York
University's Academic Innovation Fund, 2013
References
Bazin, H. (2002). "Hip-Hop Dance: Emergence of a Popular Art Form in France." In Durand, A. (Ed.)
Black, Blanc, Beur: Rap Music and Hip-Hop Culture in the Francophone World (pp. 99-105).
Lanham: Scarecrow Press.
Becker, H. (1982). Art Worlds. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Becker, H. (1963). Outsiders: Studies in the Sociology of Deviance. London: Free Press of Glencoe.
Bourdieu, P., & Johnson, R. (1993). The Field of Cultural Production: Essays on Art and Literature . New
York: Columbia University Press.
Frith, S. (1998). Performing Rites: Evaluating Popular Music. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Shapiro, R. (2010). "The Aesthetics of Institutionalization: Breakdancing in France." The Journal of Arts
Management, Law, and Society, 33(4), 316-335.
Thornton, S. (1996). Club cultures: Music, media, and subcultural capital. Hanover: University Press of
New England.
7.3. Local scenes, conditions of music making and
neoliberal city management - a case study of
Hamburg, Germany
Robin Kuchar 1
Abstract
In recent years, city governments became actively involved in reorganization of (existing) artistic
milieus, including spaces of local art and music scenes. However, effects of accelerated
gentrification, restructuring of ‘creative’ quarters and privatisation of urban space often miss the
intended effects. Interventions turn out to be rather hindrances than fostering instruments for
artistic practices and scene activity. In this context, the paper examines how local scenes and
conditions of music making are affected by ongoing changes, and how city policies influence the
development of local scenes. The case of Hamburg therefore represents strong top-down planning
by municipality on one hand and struggling bottom-up movements of scenes and social/cultural
initiatives on the other. Based on empirical data, research illustrates current conditions of music
making and the possible changes of the relationship between the local scenes and their
spatial/social environment. Findings raise questions for further investigation related to three major
problems.
Keywords: music making, local scenes, urban restructuring, city politics, conditions of cultural
production, urban planning
Introduction
Cities are major places of cultural production as well as the emergence and development of
(local) music scenes. Therefore, urbanity offers a unique set of resources. On social and cultural
level, it highlights a spatial concentration of different identities, lifestyles and genres; on
economic and institutional level, city space contains dense networks of cultural/creative
industries and music venues (Barber-Kersovan, 2007; Hartley, 2005; Krätke, 2002; Di Maggio,
1991; Cohen, 2007). On spatial level, there has been open space for artistic and subcultural
activity especially since the 1970s (a.o. Reckwitz, 2012). All in all cities provide a particular set
of cultural conditions – an environment where artistic creativity as part of cultural production
can unfold (Kirchberg, 2010).
But what happens, if these resources – especially the availability of open space - get scarce?
The ongoing discourse about creativity and urban restructuring as consequences of
globalization and socio-economic highlights the significance of cultural and creative practices
in terms of symbolic as well as economic value (Sassen, 1996; Zukin, 1995; Pratt, 2011). Since
the late 1990s, local artistic practice and scenes got more and more into the focus of urban
planning and city administration (Reckwitz, 2012; Barber-Kersovan, 2007). Situated in the
1
Leuphana University of Lueneburg, Germany.
552
Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
context of local music making and urban development, this paper focuses on consequences
of current city development and strategic urban planning of music making and local scenes in
the city of Hamburg. Since the city government and the urban planners orient themselves
predominantly on Florida´s concept of the Creative City and neoliberal city policy (Florida,
2002; Häußermann/Siebel, 2008), the situation there is of particular interest. The clue is that
on one hand the city government discovered ‘urban music’ as a way to ‘sell’ its ideas about
the Creative City through music related city marketing, structural creative industries support
and erecting of spectacular flagship-projects such as the building of a monumental concert
hall called Elbphilharmonie. But on the other hand this strategy led to considerable tensions:
In contrast to the image-design as used by the top-down city planners, local scenes and
bottom-up movements as breeding grounds of cultural production are being ignored.
In order to understand the city´s inherent processes, the following questions have to be
taken into account:
What is the situation of the producers of cultural and musical artefacts like? How are
their working conditions? In which way spaces of music making and local scenes are
affected by urban planning?
In which way contradictions of the Creative City like state authorized gentrification and
the instrumentalisation of arts and culture (a.o. Pratt, 2011) become evident?
And, as a consequence: Are there specific changes of the relationship between
musicians/local scenes and ‘their’ city? How do artists and scenes react to changes of
their social and spatial environment?
After a short summary of theoretical considerations, the paper presents first empirical
results about effects of urban planning on musicians and music networks in Hamburg. The
discussion of current findings then raises questions for ongoing further research.
Theoretical framework
The conceptual framework of the study follows three theoretical strands. The first one
examines the current state and the dynamics of music making and music production of
individual (musician) and collective (scene/network) cultural producers. The second one
illustrates different concepts and findings related to the postindustrial city. It discusses different
concepts of city space, current urban development and municipal government structures. The
third strand combines issues of locally based music making with the specifics of city space in
order to provide the background for empirical work.
Current states of music making
On structural level, the work of Howard Becker illustrates the collective organization of
cultural production by situating the musician in the centre of cooperative networks (Becker,
1982). These networks include also supportive players and institutions in and alongside the
musical field (from instrument manufacturing to music distribution). Thus, the conditions and
the development of music production are not only shaped by immanent dynamics in the field:
Following Peterson’s ‘Production of Culture’ approach the conditions of music production are
characterized by at least six interwoven facets: law and regulation, technology, industrial
structure, organizational structure, occupational careers and markets (Peterson, 1990).
7.3. Local scenes, conditions of music making and neoliberal city management - a case study
of Hamburg, Germany
553
During the last 20 years, effects of technological development and digitalization caused
fundamental changes in the logics of production (Smudits, 2008). They include major
transformation in the system of music distribution and the weakening of the gatekeepers, the
rise of creative and symbolic economies as well as changes regarding the artistic, technological,
economic and professional skills on the individual level of the musicians (Gensch/Bruhn, 2008;
Lange et al., 2014; David, 2010; Wikström, 2013). As a consequence, musicians are more and
more considered as creative workers (facing expectations for creative output) than as artists
(Raunig, 2007; Currid, 2007; Scott, 2012), though they are facing precarious living and
working conditions (Abbing, 2004; Lloyd, 2006).
But despite the general trend towards rational work and cultural entrepreneurship (Scott,
2012; Hracs et al. 2011), musicians (still) stress the symbolic meaning and cultural identity as
major motives of their artistic practice (Coulson, 2012; Negus, 1997; Connell/Gibson, 2003).
Hence, on one hand musicians are facing increasing degrees of fluidity – between artist and
entrepreneur, professional and amateur as well as between artistic practice, corporate
expectations and (socio-)economic pressure. On the other, social and cultural capital persist to
be the crucial factors of music making and production.
Collective forms of production like subcultures, scenes and networks represent an
important resource of social capital. In these social formations, members combine similar taste
patterns, values and symbolic meanings as common ground of music making and reproduction
of collective identity (Bennett-Peterson 2004; Currid, 2007; Grimm 2014).
Therefore, the majority of scenes and music communities share basic production logics and
social activities. Among others, this include the significance of face to face contact, spatial
proximity, informal peer evaluation of each other´s work, available spaces and venues for scene
events, meeting points etc. (Bennett/Peterson, 2004; Negus, 1997; Krims, 2014; Pratt, 2005;
Hracs et al. 2011). Hence, the partnership of certain number of people with similar thoughts
and preferences, the social exchange and the availability of space can be considered as
constitutional aspects of music making. As mentioned above, urbanity therefore offers best
possible preconditions.
Dynamics of the postindustrial city
The second theoretical strand concerns the conceptualisation of current dynamics and
developments of the city as a spatial and social entity. Since the 1970s the following factors
of urban restructuring and city politics became more and more prominent: culturalisation
(Reckwitz, 2012; Häußermann/Siebel, 2008), effects of global competition between cities
(Sassen, 1996) and the concept of the postindustrial city as a Creative City (Florida, 2002;
Landry, 2000; Pratt, 2011) or Neoliberal City (a.o. Mattissek, 2008).
Within this framework, the multipresent internal processes of urban development have to
be further illustrated. First, this include specific locational characteristics, city politics and urban
planning (Häußermann/Siebel, 2008). Second, different forms of urban governance as well as
alternative ways of negotiating the direction of urban development have to be discussed. In
general, Reckwitz identifies three modes of urban government: The hierarchic (top-down)
planning without any references to existing structures, the indirect steering, e.g. interventions
into existing structures, and the self-governance, which proceeds without any administrative
interventions in cultural processes (Reckwitz, 2012). Thus, in combination there are many
conceivable configurations of urban development processes, from strategic top-down
interventions, aiming for the ‘building’ of a Creative City with focus on economic development
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
to self-development, carried out by civil social actors. Since social activity and urban planning
are intertwined and connected to specific physical and social spaces, following Löw (2008) it
could be argued that cultural resources as well as the cultural players can be affected by urban
development processes.
Therefore, space is a decisive element in urban discourses. City space cannot be considered
just as a container but as a dynamic field, where social actors permanently bargain social and
cultural exchange and define spatial constellations of social groups and institutions (Löw,
2008). Space is an “organisational form of co-existence” (ibid.) – hence, the production and
handling of space is – like music making – a social process. Regarding space more profoundly,
we have to differentiate between physical space (firstspace), imaginative space (associations,
image of specific city space, secondspace), and the interpretation and evaluation of specific
urban developments and conflicts (thirdspace) first (Soja, 2000). According to this model,
space appears as a material and at the same time also immaterial resource of cities – as well
as field of conflict and negotiation. In a similar way Lefèbvre (Löw et al., 2007) differenciates
between the spatial practice as every day experience, the representation of space as a
conceptualized form of planning, and the representational space as symbolic value and
expression. Following Lefèbvre, city space appears in pragmatic, rational and expressional
ways. Concluding, city space contains complex social processes and offers multiple potentials
of identification as well as rational treatment. Space is an important factor of urban
development and at the same time strongly affected by urban planning and policy
interventions. As a material and immaterial resource, it is also important for urban music
making.
Cities and the local context of music making
The relationship of music making and the city is based on spatial aspects of cultural
production. As mentioned above, one can presume that cities are centers of music making
and music production (as well as consumption). But cities are not just a spatial frame, where
musical processes take place. There are multiple exchanges between the city as spatial and
social entity and music (Kirchberg et al., 2014). Musicians use spatial resources, e.g. potentials
for (collective) identity, local knowledge and particular stories about the ‘local’, and multiple
forms of cultural and social experience (Bennett, 2004). Specific constellations, e.g. a certain
number of people sharing similar values and tastes or availability of open space, represent
production contexts, where local scenes can emerge and develop (Bennett/Peterson, 2004;
Grimm, 2005; 2014). Within this process, scenes unite cultural symbols and space. They
produce locality by physical and symbolic markings (Löw, 2001). In this context, a spatial
concentration of scene members, venues and institutions represent physical markings. Mental
representations of music like Mersey Beat, Hamburg School and Detroit Techno form a rather
virtual connection of specific images and symbolic values between music and space.
Regarding current processes of city development, aspects like images and symbolic values
are becoming more and more important (Zukin, 1995; Reckwitz, 2012). Urban planning tends
to concentrate on cities` economic growth and the recruiting of tourists and high educated
labour force (Reckwitz, 2012). In this context, cities apply strategic top-down planning,
focusing on creative industries and exploiting musical images as factors of attractiveness
(Barber-Kersovan, 2007). In many cases, these trends are accompanied by processes of
privatisation, eventisation, and festivalisation (Häußermann/Siebel, 2008).
7.3. Local scenes, conditions of music making and neoliberal city management - a case study
of Hamburg, Germany
555
As a consequence, strategies of urban planning affect social and spatial formations of the
city and also local contexts of music production. The following analysis assumes, that processes
of urban music making are influenced on three levels – individual (musicians), collective
(scenes, networks, spaces) and institutional – and will try to clarify in which way the
relationship between scenes and musicians and the city is changing in the case of Hamburg.
The case of Hamburg: empirical results
The city of Hamburg
Hamburg is the second largest city in Germany (1.8 mio. inhabitants), situated in the North
of the country. Historically, it has a long tradition as a trading town and as an important
seaport. It is also renowned for the Reeperbahn, today an inner-city (mass) entertainment
quarter that used to be a rather degenerated red light district next to the harbour where
cultural scenes and subcultures flourished during the 1970s and 80s. Until the mid 1990s,
Hamburg represented the German centre of music production and music industry. Since then,
this role has been more and more taken over by Berlin and the city´s significance for the music
industry in general and the local music in particular shrank (Grimm, 2014; Krätke, 2002;
Wirtschaftsbehörde Hamburg, 2000).
Facing this deficiency, the fostering of creativity and the creative industries became
important issues for the local government and its cultural policy. During the 2000s, the town
administration induced strategic efforts to implement the significance and the image of
Hamburg as a ‘Creative (Music) City’ (Kuchar, 2014). Therefore, the majority of interventions
focuses on the structural creative industries support and landmark projects like the
Elbphilharmonie, a consulting agency (Kreativgesellschaft) devoted to entrepreneurs in the
creative sector and - as the last joint in value chain of musical production - a special building
2
called Karostar, accommodating start-up firms and small corporations. Next to these
interventions strongly geared to recent concepts of creativity and the ‘Creative City’ (Florida,
2002; Landry, 2000), impacts of postmodern city policy (Häußermann/Siebel, 2008; Reckwitz,
2012) are increasingly evident: The local government aims for economic growth and focuses
on the production and exploitation of symbolic values and images. Examples like the
eventisation of the Reeperbahn area (Schlagermove, Harley-Days, Cruise-Days) and other parts
of the city (International Building Exhibition, International Horticultural Show at Wilhelmsburg)
clearly depict culture orientated strategies of urban planning. In addition, intensive
privatisation of city space has led into strong economic revalorization and gentrification of
‘subcultural’ districts like St. Pauli, Eimsbüttel, Altona and beyond. The dominance of topdown planning processes with little regard to local scenes and networks is obvious.
Empirical analysis
In order to clarify the current conditions of music making and the affects of urban planning
on musicians and local scenes an empirical study was carried out. The following summary of
the results is based on a secondary analysis of an online-questionnaire interviewing musicians,
2
See www.karostar.de; www.kreativgesellschaft.org; http://marketing.hamburg.de/MusikmetropoleHamburg.155.0.html; www.elbphilharmonie.de/epaper/Imagebroschuere/epaper/pdf (18.06.2014).
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
3
and a number of guided interviews with different players of the local scene. Other resources
for research, especially about local cultural policy, are taken from official publication, existing
studies and expertise, newspaper articles and own observations of the perceived changes of
4
the town. The intention of this analysis is to identify major problems and important
interrelations between different local actors, their spatial and social environment and local
governance/ urban planning.
A number of empiric findings coincide with the results of other European, Anglo-American
and Australian studies (Coulson, 2012; Hracs et al. 2011; Lloyd, 2006; Scott, 2012; Currid,
2007). In Hamburg, musicians and members of different scenes highlight social and cultural
capital as important local resources of music making. These mostly derive from local
communities and networks. On individual as on collective level, spatial aspects of scene activity
are significant: Like in other cities, e.g. Greenwich Village in New York (Currid, 2007) or
Wickers Park in Chicago (Lloyd, 2006), there are specific areas, where the density of musicians
is high above average. In Hamburg, the western inner city – especially the districts Altona,
(Southern-)Eimsbüttel and St. Pauli show a high concentration of musicians living and working
there. These specific quarters used to offer a multicultural social environment and an
affordable space to live. Some places, such as the still existing alternative cultural center Rote
Flora were captured by squatting in the 1980s and 90s. In this environment, local music scenes
like the Hamburg HipHop and the so called ‘Hamburg School’, clubs and meeting points could
emerge and develop (Grimm, 2005, 2014; Birnkraut, 2006; Creative Quartiere, 2011).
Like in other cities, urban development in Hamburg – as a result of urban planning and city
policy – affects musicians and local scenes on several levels. At first, considerable spatial
restriction induced by structural revalorization and effects of gentrification represents
hindrances for scene activity (see also Currid, 2007; Hracs et al., 2011; Lloyd, 2006; Holm,
2010; Empire St. Pauli, 2009). For example, almost half of the individuals questioned
mentioned the absence of available rehearsal possibilities as a major deficit, especially in the
districts St. Pauli, Altona and parts of Eimsbüttel. Available rehearsal space gets more and
more scarce and expensive (about 7-8€ per m² per month) . The increase in prices for lodging
5
is even more striking: In 2010 rents for flats in St. Pauli were 50% more expensive than during
the mid 1990s (Andre, 2009) For musicians, housing – not to speak of settling – has become
hardly affordable. Additional, due to the ongoing changes in the field of music production
and distribution there are inherent problems like the shrinking of performances and hard
competition for recognition and distribution support. On an individual level, musicians are
under economic pressure.
On collective and institutional level, the commodification of space affects small clubs, arts
centres and other scene venues (Twickel, 2010; Creative Quartiere, 2010). Many venues,
among them Tanzhalle, Schilleroper, Molotow or Hasenschaukel are threatened or already
3
The online questionnaire was part of the study ‘Wer macht in Hamburg Musik?’ (Creative Quartiere
2009) which was conducted in 2009. Sample size of musicians surveyed by online questionnaire contents
362 cases across different musical styles and genres. Interviews with players of the local music scene
(2009-2013) feature information from 20 different experts: musicians, music associations, labels, music
schools, the university of music and theatre, and insiders of different music scenes.
4
Among others, these are expertises on Hamburg as location for music (Birnkraut 2006), creative milieus
(Overmeyer 2010), music clubs (Creative Quartiere 2010) and official papers of city government
(Hamburger Bürgerschaft 2008).
5
In comparison to a former study of musicians in Hamburg by Schneider (2001) this represents an
increase of 30% within 10 years.
7.3. Local scenes, conditions of music making and neoliberal city management - a case study
of Hamburg, Germany
557
had to close down. Moving and re-opening a club in another location often fails due to
unaffordable prices. Buildings are more and more owned by private investors. Spaces offered
by the city are subjected to economic regulations as well – properties have to be profitable
and rents have to be paid - experiments and ‘purposeless’ of artistic work and the social
interaction as basic preconditions of artistic creativity are getting more and more limited.
Hence, spatial practices of local scenes are getting restricted – and as consequence social
processes of cultural production as well. Due to ongoing changes, density and spatial proximity
of the local scenes in Hamburg is increasingly vanishing – the break up and displacement of
scene structures, as Elizabeth Currid (2007) identified in New York becomes more and more
likely.
But despite of these similarities, one of the key finding stands in harsh contrast to the
outcomes of other studies (like e.g. Hracs et al., 2011; Lloyd, 2006). In Hamburg, there seems
to be a strong (emotional) bond between musicians and the city in which they live and work.
Empiric results speak for a very high degree of local identification and emotional relation
between the artists as well as the local scenes and ‘their’ spatial environment. Many
statements of musicians and artists are related to Sharon Zukin´s (2010) statements about
“authentic places”. This is remarkable, because an overall evaluation of musical life in in
Hamburg appears as negative – by individual musicians as well as by other actors of local
scenes. Thus, the relationship between local cultural producers and ‘their’ city seems to be
stable despite of decreasing resources and disadvantageous preconditions for artistic activity
caused by strategic urban development. In Hamburg, musicians and local scenes even struggle
against
eventisation,
gentrification
and
instrumentalisation
of
arts
and
culture
(Kirchberg/Kagan, 2013). Due to this fact, results dismiss the assumption about rather rational,
cost-orientated relations between the musicians and space – as Hracs (et al., 2011) certifies in
the case of Toronto.
Hence, the relationships between scenes/musicians and the city space have to be regarded
more differentiated. Important aspects are resources of locality (Bennett, 2004; Conell/
Gibson, 2003), feelings of authenticity (Zukin, 2010), the availability of social capital and
network structures as well as social, economic and spatial dynamics of local urban
development. The different levels of relationships represent varying constellations between
scenes and other municipal actors who negotiate constitutional factors and resources of
cultural production, e.g. between the ‘growth machine’(Kirchberg, 1998), local politics and
scenes, between scenes and space as well as modes of governance and the possibilities of
participation. Thus as implications for my ongoing research, three major constellations and
fields of negotiation will be discussed below.
Discussion: negotiating relationships between scenes and
city space
The short summary of empirical analysis shows, that on one hand there are existing tensions
between the city´s urban planning and the sector of cultural production. On the other, there
is a strong bond between individual musicians, scenes and ‘their’ city. In order to open a more
detailed view on underlying reasons, social action of local actors and interrelations between
them, the discussion of three major fields of problems completes the paper.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Local scenes and the ‘urban growth machine’: differing poles of
‘creativity’
Tensions between local scenes and city policies widely base on different concepts of
cultural production and creativity. In this context, the discourse about cities and ‘creativity’
often lack suitable definitions of the term discussed - in many cases ‘creativity’ remains a blackbox concept (Kirchberg, 2010). From a theoretical point of view, there are at least two
different poles of creativity: on one side there is artistic creativity (purposeless, individual,
playing), on the other there is creativity as innovation – a rational, on output and economic
exploitation orientated understanding (Bröckling, 2007; Amabile, 1996; Kirchberg, 2010).
Within the continuum between these poles, where artistic and economic aspects intermingle,
the degree of economic rationality constitutes a crucial factor of definition. While artists
highlight social resources and constellations as preconditions of creativity (Frith, 2014), local
authorities focus on creative output as symbols for local amenity (Kirchberg, 2010).
Urban planners in Hamburg – and obviously also local authorities – define creativity as an
important economic resource (Hamburger Bürgerschaft, 2008; Freie und Hansestadt
Hamburg, 2006). Policy interventions aim for creating or exploiting images of the city, attract
potential, high educated new habitants as well as tourists in order to ensure the city´s
economic growth. Therefore, they also utilise physical and symbolic markings of scenes, but
neglect spatial and social environments fostering artistic inspiration and scene activity. „Art
and culture operate in a social milieu, and thus one of the most important policy directions
should be to cultivate and support the environment in which they thrive” (Currid 2007: 462).
In this sense, the case of Hamburg so far illustrates the contradictions of the creative city,
exploiting symbolic meaning and decreasing resources of cultural production at once (Pratt,
2011). So, further research aims for a more detailed analysis of conceptional misunderstanding
among different local actors. In which way there are gaps in local authorities` knowledge of
creativity as a result of social constellations and as a totality of specific local resources?
Local scenes and city space: spatial differentiation, mobility and
limitations of space
As mentioned above, each city represents a unique set of social and spatial constellations.
Regarding cities, movements of musicians and scenes within or between cities caused by
spatial restrictions or displacement are obvious (Heinen, 2013; Hracs et al., 2011; Currid,
2007). In this sense, scene activity often moves away from places of (mass)consumption
(Grazian, 2004). Thus, there is a kind of spatial segmentation of urban musical life. Regarding
Nashville, Lloyd (2014) differentiates spaces of music consumption (inner city entertainment),
music industry and production (scene) as functional areas according to categories legacy
(consumption), market (industry) and scene activity (production).
In Hamburg, there is no spatial differentiation of musical life at all. In contrast, especially
spaces of consumption (Reeperbahn as entertainment district) and scene strongly overlap.
Further, a central precondition of scene mobility within the city – the availability of open space
– is hardly given. Hence, scene activity seems to be captured in a more and more commodified
spatial environment. In some other case, the lack of affordable space is a main reason for
musicians to leave a city (Hracs et al. 2011). In Hamburg, most of musicians/ scene players stay
in town and a considerable number of them even struggle against effects of local urban
development. Thus, further investigation of the relationship between musicians/scenes and
the specific spatial context in Hamburg is required. What are the reasons for the strong bond
7.3. Local scenes, conditions of music making and neoliberal city management - a case study
of Hamburg, Germany
559
towards the city? What are the most important local resources? And, due to the ongoing
developments: In which way local actors describe the relation between first-, second and
thirdspace?
Local scenes and city politics: top-down planning versus participation
In Hamburg, self-governed establishment and self-determined production of space by local
scenes has changed into strategic top-down planning during the 2000s (Grimm, 2005; 2014).
Since then, municipal interventions thrive mistrust and resistance against city government and
urban planning among local scenes and inhabitants (Empire St. Pauli, 2009). Though, strong
local involvement of musicians/scene members offers potentials for assistance in urban
planning processes. Artists as well as multiple players of local scenes form considerable parts
of (bottom-up) network ‘Right to the City’, which consists of 60 artistic, political and social
urban initiatives (Kirchberg/Kagan, 2013). The network demands more open space and
political participation. Members protest against decreasing of cultural resources, privatisation
of space and accelerated gentrification (Empire St. Pauli, 2009; Kirchberg/Kagan, 2013). To a
certain extent, the network successfully creates an awareness of the important role of local
cultural production and scene activity. Examples like the Gängeviertel – a block of historic
buildings squatted by artists and then rebought by the city from a private investor and now is
a self-governed art collective – show, that even parts of city government seem to understand
6
the needs of local scenes and artists.
Though, it is questionable if such municipal commitment bases on true conviction. In this
case, city government was under pressure not only by local initiatives but also by prominent
national media. Specific problems of the cities´ art scene abruptly got into broad public
attention and the city had to react in a way to not damage its image as a tolerant and cultural
innovative city.
But in which way city policy handles smaller, rather invisible problems? In this sense,
visibility of scenes (in contrast to mainstream-events) seems a considerable factor of perception
and awareness among local politics (Straw, 2014). In this context, further research has to
explore the status of culture and local scenes among the local authorities. What does local
government actually know about scenes and scene activity? Is there a chance to integrate
cultural producers in urban planning processes?
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7.4. Space and place in urban culture
Hélder Maia 1
Catarina Braga Araújo 1
Abstract
When we think of art as an integral part of the construction and transformation of urban culture,
we find the public space as the main stage of this event. The public space, as José Pedro Regatão
defends, is "a territory of political character that reflects the structure of the society in which it
operates." (Regatão, 2007). This way, we may think the crisis of social structure as being the
responsible for the identity crisis of public spaces, which may lead them to what is called "nonplaces”. These correspond to a functional logic that creates a contractual level of social relations,
in contrast to the concept of place, which brings together space, culture and memory. Places are
reservoirs of memory. They cover a dual visible and invisible landscape. Anne Whiston Spirn is a
landscape architect that defends the place as private, "a tapestry of woven contexts: global,
disclosed and lasting and ephemeral, local and reveal, now and then, past and future..." (Spirn,
1998). Addressing concepts such as space, public space, place, home and urban art, we intend to
understand how art is responsible for social transformation in communities and what’s their place
within them. Placing art in city public spaces will enable a dialogue between the collective and the
individual, often prompting personal memories to enable the appropriation of space/place city.
Keywords: Public space; Public art; Place, Home
We start this article based on a few current events, that are, in essence, an attack on urban
art in the city of Porto. Between 2009 and 2013, Rui Rio, the Mayor of the city council
implemented a forced sterilization policy the city that white painted most of the city walls and
the outlawed of political murals by Decree.
Some initiatives have been taken afterwards legalization towards the Graffiti.
Recently the new mayor inaugurated the exhibition Street Art that happened in an area
donated by the municipality Axa Building and managed by company Porto Lazer, they invited
the great names of graffiti and Street Art national and international to paint the various floors
of this building.
Evidently there is a big social and political pressure for free and uncommitted forms of art
run to the market, domesticating those activities. We know that recently in Berlin was founded
a Festival of Street Art indoors-Stroke Art Fair.
Effectively this is nothing new since the presentation at 57th Avenue, 20 years ago where
the works of Jean-Michel Basquiat were shown for the first time, this is the legitimation of the
quality of the artist who was born painting on the street and who won a recognition in the
artistic mainstream.
However, what is at issue here is, that aspects that characterize these art forms, the true
size of its artistic intervention and civilization values of social and human relations that this
1
Polytechnic Institute of Porto, School of Music, Art and Performance, Portugal.
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represents, implying directly with principles of freedom and participation, ownership, intimacy
and exposure.
This article will treat conceptual aspects that relate to this theme, bringing to this context
the concepts of space and place, which mark two distinct approaches on the life and feel of
city in the setting of social and human relations. We approach this theme with a clear point
of view, that art means social transformation.
Space and place
Due to the interplay of concepts, there is a need to clarify the definitions of space and place,
which have been extensively discussed by geographers, phenomenologist’s and philosophers.
Of course, space and place are two terms that cannot be separated and to define its limits in
a rigid form is not what we intend. As wrote Cresswell (2004), "the concept of space is more
abstract than the place. When we think of space we tend to think of the outer space, or the
geometric spaces, areas and volumes. "
The development of space concept within the Western culture is descended primarily from
Greek philosophers (Yohn, 2000, p.53). As defends Van De Vem (Vem, 1977, p.31) the
Platonic world is ordained of three-dimensional mode where the notion of space is subject to
the concept of geometric space. His conception of space is configured as an empty receptacle,
with no matter where the geometry and objectivity are the links between the world of ideas
and the sensitive world (ibidem).
Aristotle, on the contrary, establishes connections between the notion of space and place,
linked directly with matter.
Leibniz, on the other hand defends the notion of space as a system of relations between
coexisting elements, which can seen and measured. This approach back to the field of
temporal coordinates is a discussion that would be developed by Einstein. (Yohn, 2000, p. 55)
Putting ourselves before the connection of the irreducible binomial space/time. But it was with
Heidegger that the concept of space gained character, recalling spatial analysis, not purely
circumstantial but related to the man and his body, featuring the space as a place, resuming
the general precepts of Aristotle's theories.
However, we cannot think the space as an existential fact. It is a social product that is
constantly under construction (Lefebvre, 1991; Harvey, 1999; Massey, 2005).
We can think of space in a broader definition and places as portions of space with meaning
within. When a space acquires meaning for an individual, it becomes place (Tuan, 2005) and
the places "are important sources of common identity and individual, centers of human
existence, with which people have strong emotional and psychological ties." (Relph, 1976,
p.141 our translation).
The authors Yi-Fu Tuan, Tim Cresswell, Edward Relph and Anne Buttimer understand the
place as being the space experienced by us humans.(p.8).
The spaces are guided by a series of rules of signs and codes drawn up by the society in
which we live and "involve the ability of the social order to regulate the behavior by imposing
us a framework for representations that explains and makes our daily practices." (Prieto, 2013,
p. 13)
The social space is revealed in its specificity to the extent that it ceases to be distinguishable
and the mental space (space of philosophers/artists) and the real space (physical and social
space in which we live) (Lefebvre, 1991, p.27).
7.4. Space and place in urban culture
565
Marc Augé (2005) developed the concept of "non-places". If the place is a space that is
socially inhabited and in which we deposit our memories so that it becomes ours, non-place
refers to the opposite of that.
We attend these spaces but never inhabit them. According to Augé (2005), "the places
they want if relational and with historical identity," (p. 47). The act of inhabiting a space until
it becomes relational and historical identity, requires time, however, Yi-Fu Tuan (2005)
describes the space as a movement and the place as the pauses in this movement. According
to the author, our eyes are constantly looking for points of interest where land and each break
from our eye on these points is enough time for the creation of an image.
City as home
Inhabit, according to Edward Casey, is both a performance and a culmination of the body in
space. Inhabit the house with our bodies and create the usual body memories from that
habitation and from the familiarity of this place. Alberto Saldarriaga Roa (2002), disagrees. For
him "inhabit is not only in relation to the body " because "the mental and cultural change the
meaning of experience" (p. 98), in fact, "the sense of inhabiting manifests itself in two distinct
dimensions of the body and/or attendance, and the mental and imaginative.". (p. 97).
Inhabit transforms a space into a place and creates deposits around this act in our memory.
A new space can be experienced through the memory and imagination, without requiring the
physical bodies inhabit it to assign a familiar character. The body inhabits the space through
the memory of this act, "the place is there to be re-entered by the memory if not by bodily
movement". (Casey, 2000, p. 186).
It is essential to speak of the Home when it comes to place, because the house is our first
place in the world, from which we will develop our identity. This place will have an influence
on how we will apprehend spaces and turn them into places, during our lives. Based on Poetics
of Space Gaston Bachelard (1998) who stress the importance of concepts such as habitability,
familiarity and understanding memory and construction of a place.
In our view cities cannot exist without this human dimension and relation, the same as
assuming roles going against the concept of social actor of Goffman, every individual as a
particular form of relationship but, there is always a relationship.
Exposed intimacy
The intimate is a value that is associated with the idea of native home (Aitken & Zonn, 1994,
p. 7). The intimate is one of the values associated with the native home, for obvious reasons.
When we deal with concepts such as dwelling and familiarity the intimate dimension is
implied. In fact it is the values of intimacy that work in order to absorb and give space to the
memory and imagination to work in harmony. As Tuan (2005), the intimate experiences are
hard to make public, but they are not impossible. Home, hearth or shelter are places close to
any human being anywhere, even if every culture has their symbols of intimacy. Our Home is
the place from which our entire understanding of place in the universe is made. It is our corner
of the world, our first universe, is one of the greatest strengths of integration for thoughts,
memories and dreams.
The native home, the first house we inhabit, is where our memories are stored, secured in
the unconscious. Home is a dream Center, the shelter of daydreams, the house of
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remembrance-dreams. Is it that where we learn the function of inhabiting that we carry for all
subsequent spaces. This house will reject any description because it belongs to a intimate
dimension that can be ruined in an attempt to describe in details. To evoke "values of
intimacy" associated with the home it is necessary to induce the reader/viewer to read in a
suspended state, so that it be sure to read/see the room and start reviewing your listening,
your memories.
In this dynamic communion between the man and the house, in this dynamic rivalry
between the house and the universe, we are far from any reference to simple geometric
shapes. The house is not an inert box lived. The living space transcends the geometric space.
(Bachelard, 1998, p. 62)
In his work Poetics of space (1998), Bachelard starts by referring to what you call poetic
imagination. For him the poetic images that are created in the mind of the reader are "an
emergence of language" (p. 11), they provide "one of the simplest of language experiences
lived" (p. 12) and should be regarded as beings own, with meaning in themselves.
Place experience
But as Yi-Fu Tuan state "world, and space is articulated in accordance with his corporeal
schema". Edward Casey in Remembering, the phenomenological study (2000), says that the
places have an important function in the fixation of memory. The explanation is simple: there
is no memory without a body base, "whether it is the body that puts us in the place, he will
be instrumental in re-putting (re-placing) in places recalled." (p. 190). This experience of the
place by the body is what is called "inhabit" and that is what makes possible the
construction/existence of familiarity, which is an essential requirement for the implementation
of a memory-place (place memory). To clarify the concept of familiarity, the author explains
first that the body consists of two layers: the usual body and the momentary body, based on
the work of Merleau-Ponty, The Phenomenology of Perception (1945). The function of the
usual body is tame; "he forges a sense of space tuned that allows us to feel chez soi
somewhere not initially familiar." (p. 193). This becomes possible because the usual body
contains its own memories of place.
All of these concepts are cited, city, place, intimacy are same aspects that we have to
explored in this article. Jacque Rancière in his book “The Emancipated spectator” (2010),
reflects on a value of humanity, talking about theatre he develops an idea of emancipation
that is near to individual sense of liberty. To him emancipation starts when we understand
“the opposition between looking and Acting, when you understand the evidence that
structures of relations of saying, viewing and making belonging themselves to a domination
structure of subjection” (Rancière, 2010, p.22 our translation). The events that we have
reported underline and stress the rethinking of the role of art, freedom and participation, we
don't risk a statement, on the other hand we will seek to contribute to the discussion that we
consider urgent about the position of urban art in the city, its relationship with freedom
expression of which in our view is indexed to this emancipation of what Rancière speaks. To
put the discussion centred on the essential we have to leave the realm of legality and seek to
articulate social interests, the refuge of the "non-places" does not seem to serve an
understanding of an evolved society, and inaugurates non-life space, for annulment. The
power of each and every one to translate in their own way what they see, connecting to the
7.4. Space and place in urban culture
567
unique intellectual adventure that makes them similar to all the other insofar as such singular
adventure is not like any other. (Rancière, 2010, p. 27 our translation)
References
Anne Buttimer. (1980). Home, Reach, and the Sense of Place. In A. B. and D. Seamon (Ed.), The Human
Experience of Space and Place. London: Taylor & Francis.
Augé, M. (2005). Não-lugares: Introdução a uma antropologia da Sobremodernidade. Lisboa: 90 Graus
Editora.
Bachelard, G. (2003). A poética do espaço (3a ed.). São Paulo: Martins Fontes. (Obra original publicada
em 1958).
Benévolo, L., (2001). História da cidade. São Paulo: Perspectiva.
Casey, E. (2000). Place Memory:. Remembering, A phenomenological study. Bloomington: Indiana
University Press.
Cresswell, T.(2004). Place: A short introduction. Oxford: Blackwell.
Regatão, J. P. (2007). Arte Pública e os novos desafios das intervenções no espaço público , Lisboa: books
on Demand, Quimera Editores, Lda.
Spirn, Anne Whiston (1998). The language of Landscape, New Haven, Londres: Yale University Press.
Tuan, Yi-Fu (2001). Space and Place The Perspective of Experience, 8th printing, Minneapolis: University
of Minnesota Press
Yates, S. (Ed.) – Poéticas del espacio, Barcelona: Gustavo Gilli, 2002.
Yohn, A. A. (2000). La red de dibujar de Durero como modelo para una reflexión sobre escultura, Servicio
editorial de la Universidad del País Vasco.
Ven, C. V. (1981). El espacio en Arquitectura, Madrid: Ediciones Cátedra.
Harvey, D. (1999). Condição pós-moderna : uma pesquisa sobre as origens da mudança cultural (8a ed.).
São Paulo: Edições Loyola. (Obra original publicada em 1989).
Lefebvre, H. (1991). The production of space. Oxford: Blackwell. (Obra original publicada em 1974).
Massey, D. (2005). For Space. London: SAGE Publications.
Merleau-Ponty, M. (2006). Phenomenology of perception. London: Routledge. (Obra original publicada
em 1945).
Prieto, E. (2013). Henri Lefebvre: Radical Geography, and Spatial Ambivalence. Literature, Geography,
and the Postmodern Poetics of Place. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Retrieved in June, 2013,
on
http://books.google.pt/books?id=0YT2esrhhmsC&pg=PT67&dq=lefebvre+notion+of+place&hl
=pt-PT&sa=X&ei=PjPYUYOcI4fC7Abo6IGYBA&ved=0CEMQ6AEwAg
Rancière, J. (2010). O espectador emancipado. Lisboa: Orfeu negro.
Relph, E. (1976). Place and Placeness. London: Pion Limited.
Roa, A. S. (2002). II Habitar en el mundo. La Arquitectura como experiencia: espacio, cuerpo y
sensibilidad.
Stuart Aitken & Leo Zonn. (1994). Place, Power, Situation, and Spectacle: A Geography of Film. Boston
Way: Rowman & Littlefield.
Tuan, Y.-F. (2005). Space and Place. The perspective of experience. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota
Press. (Obra original publicada em 1977).
7.5. The “L” train in New York City: mediating the
Brooklyn music scene(s)
Jonathan Rouleau 1
Abstract
The neighbourhood of Williamsburg in Brooklyn has gone through major transformations in the
last decade and the “buzz” over its independent music scene is certainly an important vector of
change. Recently, many musicians have decided to settle in neighbourhoods east of Williamsburg,
in areas such as Bedford-Stuyvesant, Bushwick and East Williamsburg. What is particularly striking
is that the movement of musicians seems to lead them to establish themselves near the “L” train
stations. Keeping the history of New York Music scenes in mind, and faithful to the idea of the “L”
train as both a medial form and as a mediator of movement, my paper seeks to understand the
ways in which the music scene gravitates around the live music venues near the “L” train stations.
Keywords: Brooklyn, mediality, L train, music scene
In June 2010 I left Montreal for Brooklyn in New York City, the most populated of the five
boroughs, in order to pursue the first portion of a three-part fieldwork project on the Brooklyn
music scene. When I started conducting research on the “scene”, a concept recently defined
by Will Straw as “the circumscribed spheres of sociability, creativity and connection which take
shape around certain kinds of cultural objects in the course of these objects’ social lives”
(Straw, 2012, p. 8) I found quite rich coverage of the scene in social media, as well as in
2
3
4
British , French , and American newspapers and blogs. In these accounts, Brooklyn, especially
the neighbourhoods of Greenpoint and Williamsburg, was often depicted as a capital for indie
rock. While much of this media coverage often fetishized the bohemian cool, it was also
reflecting a thriving music scene and creating a craze for popular music “in” and “of”
Brooklyn.
In Williamsburg I certainly had the impression that I was in the coolest hood in America, as
5
the Washington Post once stated. Bedford Avenue, one of the main commercial streets in
Brooklyn, particularly around the L train station, looked like the paradigmatic example of what
the great urban theorist Jane Jacobs (1961) would have celebrated: a mixed-use area with
lively pedestrian traffic. If Williamsburg was already an incubator for new bands as well as a
hub for live music in the 90s, it was in 2001 that it gained serious attention when a central
1
McGill University, Canada.
http://www.theguardian.com/music/2009/feb/27/brooklyn-indie-pop-scene;
http://www.theguardian.com/music/2007/nov/30/popandrock.travelnews
3
http://www.lesinrocks.com/2009/10/16/musique/special-new-york-brooklyn-capitale-rock-1136645/
4
http://www.thelmagazine.com/newyork/the-brooklyn-diy-music-scene-a-usersguide/Content?oid=1624758; http://nymag.com/arts/popmusic/features/61874/
5
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/02/20/AR2007022001912.html
2
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
figure of the music scene today, Todd Patrick, started organizing independently produced and
all-ages concerts in the area. Nevertheless, it soon became obvious that Williamsburg was
more a hub for circulating music – both in record shops and in music venues – than for creating
it. The expensive rents and a certain marchandization of the Williamsburg scene by the media
and real estate actors made many of the music scene participants move east, particularly to
the neighbourhood of Bushwick.
What I found fascinating is that many of the manifestations of this emergent Bushwick
scene, which were smaller, more communal, and oriented towards a DIY ethic, were physically
located near some of the L train stations in Brooklyn. I thought it was quite peculiar because
in Brooklyn, the L train does not follow a specific street as is the case in Manhattan, where the
train follows 14th street. While my goal was not to identify a specific sound or musical genre
in Brooklyn, I decided that I would examine the ways in which the scene gravitates around the
L train stations in Brooklyn. In others words, I was conceptualizing the scene in relation to its
mediality, that is, by approaching the L train as a media that “records, transmits and processes
information” (Griffin and Kittler, 1996, p. 722). I then avoided, to a certain extent, an analysis
that would be exclusively based on the participants’ discourses about the independent music
scene, and their propensity to discuss the authenticity of ways of living and neighbourhoods,
as well as authenticity in music. What I discovered is that the L train, as well as the live music
venues that surround it, shape the Brooklyn music scene today. But the story of this scene,
and the story of the L Train, are deeply connected – both symbolically and geographically – to
previous music scenes in New York, specifically in Lower Manhattan.
Since 1931, the L train has existed in the shape we know today; that is, from Eight Avenue
in Manhattan to Rockaway Parkway in Brooklyn. Greenwich Village and the East Village, in
the lower part of Manhattan, are both bounded by 14th street on their northern boundaries
– where the L train is located. Greenwich Village and the East Village were major music scenes
in New York; the former is notably associated with the American Folk Revival while the latter
is deeply linked to punk and new-wave. Furthermore, these two scenes are intimately tied
together.
It was in the 1960s that the East Village began to separate from the Lower East Side as
artists, intellectuals, musicians, political radicals, and writers moved in the area. They were
attracted by cheap rents and by the beatniks that were already established there. The East
Village was one of the most important punk scenes in the history of popular music. While
punk became better known in 1975–1976 with The Ramones, it has roots in the
countercultural movements of the 1960s. Indeed, many artists had affinities with bands from
like MC5, The Velvet Underground and The Stooges. What I’d like to underline here is that
the famous New York music scenes shared a geographic proximity and a will to explore edgier
aesthetics, even if the predominant music genre was different. And it’s still the case. Today,
the farther east one goes the more alternative the music scenes become – I will return to this
point later. As Smith, Duncan and Reid highlight in the book edited by Abu-Lughod From
Urban Village to East Village, “the East Village was enthusiastically hailed in the 1980s as the
newest artistic ‘hangout’ in New York City and art galleries and studios have been the shock
troops of neighbourhood reinvestment” (1995, p. 156). The alternative and artistic golden
age of the East Village probably ended in the late 80s. After being the last hotspot for
alternative musicians in Manhattan, many artists decided to leave. The next alternative scene
in New York seems to have settled on the other side of the East River.
7.5. The “L” train in New York City: mediating the Brooklyn music scene(s)
571
In 1986, the “Brooklyn Loft Law” permitted the conversion of industrial buildings to lofts.
While the gentrification – or the “‘L’ification” – of Williamsburg had already started in the
1980s, it sped up quickly in the 90s. Many areas in the neighbourhood were affected as a
result. Between 2000 and 2010, notably because of the residential rezoning of Williamsburg,
the Bedford Avenue train station, the first stop on the L train in Brooklyn from Manhattan,
witnessed a drastic increase of passengers, going from almost four million in 2000 to nine
million in 2014: “One significant reason for this successful development is the easy and quick
commute to and from Manhattan, being only one stop on the L train” (Shratt, 2010, p. 38).
The Metropolitan Transportation Authority reported that ridership on the L train increased at
every station in 2013 (as cited in Flegenheimer, 2014).
Today, Williamsburg hosts a variety of institutions and businesses – cafés, live music venues,
art spaces, record stores, vintage clothing stores – that elevate the visibility of the scene to
insiders and outsiders. These “third spaces”, as Ray Oldenburg (1989) would put it, help
people to make new social contacts and extend the local community. In the same vein, Charles
Landry (2008) uses the term “soft infrastructures” to highlight the associative structures and
social networks, connections, and human interactions that encourage the flow of ideas
between individuals and institutions (p. 133). Nevertheless, Williamsburg is probably the area
in New York where the processes of gentrification are – or at least, were – clearest and fastest.
It seems that the most alternative factions of the music scene have always been moving
east in New York since the 50s. In the last few years, the L train stations that follow Bedford
Avenue station have witnessed and contributed to the emergence of a new scene. While a
Hispanic population still largely inhabits the neighborhood of Bushwick, recently, a number of
cafes, restaurants, and live music venues mainly directed toward (and constitutive of) the
emergent scene have opened. The surroundings of the Montrose train station are quite
evocative: the street is practically divided in two, where one can find little cafés, bookstores,
organic food groceries, and bike shops on one side of the street, and Hispanic grocers and
restaurants on the other. These new cultural offerings might lead to the creation of “exclusive
geographies,” as Paul Chatterton (1999) would put it, since these shops encourage cultural
homogenization by directing their products toward a young mobile class with similar interests.
While the rents are less expensive in Bushwick than in Williamsburg, they are not cheap.
Today, much of what’s considered residential to the Bushwick’s artist community are
warehouses renovated into loft spaces – one can see here a fetishization of grit and decay.
Christopher Mele describes a similar process on New York’s Lower East Side: “While the
images and symbols of urban decay remained the same, their representations and attached
meanings shifted from fear and repulsion to curiosity and desire” (2000, p. 233).
As I mentioned earlier, the music scene east of Williamsburg on the L train is aesthetically
more alternative as experimentation is encouraged more. Noise rock and garage punk also get
more attention. The live music venues in Bushwick, like Silent Barn, a key institution that is
open to performers and a public of all ages, are also closer to the DIY ethic. The venues are
also sometimes difficult to find because, to use Alan Blum’s (2010) concepts, the “pubic
theatricality” or “visibility” of the scene is less obvious than in Williamsburg.
While Bushwick and the Silent Barn are safe and comfortable places for the music scene
participants to perform in ways that diverge from mainstream norms, to paraphrase Sharon
Zukin (1995), they have a will to keep a fast and efficient connection to the city – Manhattan
– which still host lots of music venues. In others words, Bushwick is not cut off from the live
music venues and other music institutions in the East Village and Greenwich Village. The L
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
Train, as a medial form, shapes the music scene today and ties it together with other scenes
in Lower Manhattan. In one word: the L train is at the same time a vector of change and
stability.
I hope I demonstrated the underlying ways in which a mode of transport can mediate a
music scene and thus open new fields for inquiry in popular music studies. I do believe that
media theory could contribute to innovation in the music field, as we would be able to depart
from an analysis of a scene in relation to a somehow limited anthropology of values. In New
York, I am curious to see in the next few years if the scene that gets the most attention is
going to move farther east or “settle” in a different neighbourhood or borough.
Funding: This work was supported by the Faculty of Arts (G.R.E.A.T. Program) at McGill University
References
Abu-Lughod, J. L. (1994). From urban village to East Village: The battle for New York's Lower East Side .
Oxford: Blackwell.
Blum, A. (2010). Reflections on the platitute of the 'creative city'. In A. Boutros & W. Straw (Eds.),
Circulation and the city: essays on urban culture (pp. 64-95). Montreal: Mcgill-Queen's
University Press.
Chatterton, P. (1999). University students and city centres – the formation of exclusive geographies: The
case of Bristol, UK. GEOFORUM, 30(2), 117-133.
Flegenheimer, M. (2014, March 24). Upgrades for L Train, but Not More Praise. The New York Times, p.
A13.
Jacobs, J. (1961). The death and life of great American cities. New York: Vintage Books.
Kittler, F. A., & Griffin, M. (1996). The city is a medium. New Literary History, 27(4).
Landry, C. (2008). The creative city: A toolkit for urban innovators. London: Earthscan Publications.
Mele, C. (2000). Selling the Lower East Side: Culture, real estate, and resistance in New York City .
Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
Oldenburg, R. (1989). The great good place. New York: Paragon.
Smith, N., Duncan, B., & Reid, L. (1994). From disinvestment to reinvestment: Mapping the urban
'frontier' in the Lower East Side. In J. L. Abu-Lughod (Ed.), From urban village to East Village:
The battle for New York's Lower East Side (pp. 149-167). Oxford: Blackwell.
Straw, W., & Janotti Jr., J. (2012). Interview - Will Straw and the importance of music scenes in music
and communication studies. E-Compos, 15(2).
Zukin, S. (1995). The cultures of cities. Cambridge, MA: Blackwell.
7.6. “But who doesn't know The Beatles anyway?”
Young fans of New Beatlemania today
Nuné Nikoghosyan
Abstract
Under the broad concept of retromania, our contribution presents a case study of a specific group
of “oldies” music lovers: the younger fans of The Beatles today. We present our findings that
examine how their taste for this band comes to be formed and what it takes and means for them
to be a fan of a band that stopped performing long before they were born? In fact, may we still
speak of a “Beatlemania” regarding these younger fans today, as we did in the 1960s? Leaning on
a pragmatist approach in sociology, we conducted our research focusing not on the passivity of
fans in following their idols, but their activity in constructing a personal taste in music. Our results
are based on thirty-two interviews conducted online, using various online research methods for
recruiting interviewees and completing the interviews, on two social-networking websites with
special focus on music. We will thus discuss how these fans came to discover The Beatles, how
their fandom is in perpetual (re)construction, how they use their “fan capital” to seek out other
fans, how they see their retromania, how they find ways of getting closer to The Beatles – given
the impossibility to see them live – and how they appropriate their listening to this music, never left
to chance. In this, we present the ideal-typical path to becoming a young Beatles fan today.
Keywords: Retromania, The Beatles, fandom, popular music
Introduction
The rock band The Beatles no longer exists, since 1970, but continues to have its audience
and young fans today, being for the latter a band of “another generation”. Judging by
personal experience and empirical data on various musical websites, our starting point was
1
noting the firm presence of this young Beatles audience and their visibility and activity online .
Sociological literature is scarce around the question of knowing how young people come to
call themselves “Beatlemaniacs” today, whereas this band stopped their musical activity some
forty years ago and the term “Beatlemania” has been used in a specific context of the 1960s
to describe the sudden craze around The Beatles, reaching previously unknown scopes of
fandom over pop music. Driven by both a personal and sociological interest for the topic, we
carried out an empirical study to better understand what lies behind this “New Beatlemania”
(Freund 2001), by looking more closely at what these young fans themselves have to say about
their fandom.
Given that young fans today, of about 18-25 years, were born after the break-up of The
Beatles, our research question was: how does the taste for The Beatles develop among youth
1
At the time of the study (2012), data on www.last.fm (online radio with 40 million users) showed The
Beatles had more than 3 million listeners, many aged 16-25, and were constantly in the weekly top ten
list of artists.
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
today and what does it mean for and take from them to call themselves “fans” of this band?
Moreover, can we still speak of “Beatlemania” among youth today, as was done in the 196070s when The Beatles were still musically active?
If part of The Beatles’ success in the 1960s could be explained by a bandwagon effect, and
especially the sudden mass hysteria among young women, their continued success nowadays
requires a more nuanced explanation. A first glance at the matter suggests that contemporary
young fans, born after The Beatles disbanded, are more consciously aware of their choice of
a favourite band, more critical and reflexive, since not caught in the context of the 1960s craze
and, on the contrary, defying their own contemporary mainstream culture.
In this article, we briefly introduce the main elements in the theoretical approach we used
for studying fandom, having found a gap in the existing sociological literature around the topic
of young Beatles fans today. We then briefly discuss some of the methodological aspects of
our study, completed almost entirely through online research methods. Finally, we present our
findings following the ideal-typical path to becoming a young Beatles fan today, from the
discovery of The Beatles to the more advanced stages of fandom. This, we shall see, is just one
example of the wider youth “retromania” and quest for the “oldies”.
A pragmatist approach to studying fandom
The concept of fandom is not new in sociological study, with many different, even
contradictory, definitions and approaches existing in the scientific literature. Numerous are the
debates about the correctness of terms, definitions and implied meanings of “fandom”.
Authors have provided detailed definitions of the term “fan”, introducing typologies and
categories (Hersent 1988; Mignon 1988; Boyer 1988; Fiske 1992), studied the connection
between fandom and identity formation (Lewis 1992; Bennett 1999; Le Bart 2000; Hennion
2005), or focused more closely on the active participation of fans in the formation and
maintenance of their taste (Grossberg 1992; Jenkins 1992; Brower 1992; Baym and Burnett
2008; Hennion 2007; Coulangeon 2003; Brunstein 1997).
Studies more specifically focused on fans of The Beatles are, however, more rare. In fact,
most of the literature around The Beatles consists of biographies, essays, illustrated memoirs
etc. The most significant sociological contribution to studying Beatles fans is Christian Le Bart’s
Les fans des Beatles. Sociologie d’une passion (2000) [Beatles fans. Sociology of a passion].
Based on around thirty interviews with Beatles fans of all ages in France, Le Bart adopts a
psycho-sociological approach to study identity and taste formation among fans. Other studies
have analysed the success of The Beatles in terms of musical aesthetic properties, or gone
further to argue in terms the of socio-political context of the time, hence seeing Beatlemania
both as a musical trend and social movement, or, further still, highlighted the importance of
the band’s management and projected public image (Ehrenreich et al. 1992; Inglis 1996; Le
Bart 2004; Freund 2001; Cura 2009; Abbet & Stoecklin 2012).
In our comprehensive study of what it means to be a young Beatles fan today, we adopted
a pragmatist approach in sociology, based on the theory of taste formation elaborated by
Antoine Hennion (2005, 2007). This theory challenges the critical theories in sociology – such
as those elaborated by Theodor Adorno, Pierre Bourdieu and Edgar Morin – and embraces a
comprehensive approach, giving voice to those concerned, in this case the fans. In this
approach, the sociologist follows the explanations given by the fans themselves regarding their
fandom. These explanations, then, form the basis of the sociological interpretation and the
7.6. “But who doesn't know The Beatles anyway?” Young fans of New Beatlemania today
575
attention moves away from seeing fans in a state of dope in following their idols and lack of
a critical thinking, to seeing the active participation of fans in their taste formation. Taste is
not given or to be discovered, argues Hennion, but constructed and maintained by the
individual. For understanding fandom or the formation of cultural taste, Hennion suggests the
analysis of four elements, all inter-related: 1) the object of taste, 2) the communities of
amateurs, and other fans, that allow confrontation of tastes, 3) the setting in which the tasting
takes place, 4) the body that tastes and feels, trains itself in judging and even transforms itself
as a result of taste-making. We leaned on these four elements to design our empirical study.
From automatic criteria to the self-proclaimed fan
To find fans and recruit interviewees for our study, we used two social-networking sites
centred around music. The first was the online radio last.fm, which claimed more than 40
millions users in 2010 . Anyone can listen to this radio by choosing a “channel” (artist or
2
genre) and create an account and install the special programme called “scrobbler” that will
record statistics of all music that the user listens to on a computer, mobile device or online on
last.fm. Each user’s personal page will then show his or her top lists of artists and albums
(weekly, monthly and overall) or recently listened tracks. The website’s specificity lies in its
algorithms that analyse users’ tastes, suggest “similar artists” and other users with similar
taste. For our study, we used a handful of criteria that could be qualified as objective, since
automated via algorithms. We leaned mostly on the users’ top artists lists to find those who
had The Beatles on top of their lists. The interviewees we recruited on last.fm are hence not
self-proclaimed fans, but assigned as such by ourselves according to our evaluation of their
top artists lists. In other words, the status of “fan” is in this case more spontaneous and less
explicitly intended or declared by the user.
The second website we used was fanpop.com, a social-networking site that allows users
to personalize their profiles by becoming members of “fan clubs” of different artists and
cultural products. Users can browse other users’ profile pages, contact them privately or
publicly, become a fan of other users to follow their activity, etc. Once a member of a “fan
club”, hence publicly claimed as a fan of someone or something, users can then add content
(images, videos, text, etc.) to the club’s page, participate in forums, create or participate in
polls, receive news and see updates, etc. Contrary to last.fm, the criteria here are never
automated, so every member is a fan by personal will to show oneself as such. In other words,
there is no means of deciding or verifying a user’s level of fandom: we must take their word
for it and trust that those who call themselves fans, by becoming a member of a club, are in
fact fans. Hence, all our interviewees from this website are self-proclaimed Beatles fans – not
decided or evaluated as such by ourselves.
Collecting data online
Given the broad presence of young Beatles fans today throughout the world and our starting
point being online spaces such as last.fm and fanpop.com, we decided to use an entirely online
methodology for this study, including the recruitment and running of our interviews. This
2
“The artist feedback loop”, Last.fm, http://blog.last.fm/category/announcements/?pg=5 (15.05.2014)
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Keep it Simple, Make it Fast! An approach to underground music scenes
meant, first and foremost, having an easier access to a large number of fans to interview: we
completed 32 interviews with fans from 20 countries, a total of 15 men and 17 women. But,
challenges also arose. We would now like to briefly discuss the benefits and drawbacks of
online interviews, especially when conducted via email (Salmons 2012; Bishai 2012; Bampton
& Cowton 2002; Dowling 2012; Houston 2008; Deegan 2012).
Nowadays a common means of communication, the use of email or private messaging
remains limited and even mistrusted in the scientific domain as a means of data collection. Its
benefits, however, are numerous. First of all, online interviews ease contacting a large number
of individuals, reducing obstacles related to geographical distance and differences in time
zones, thanks to the asynchronous aspect of the communication when via email and not chat
or instant messaging. However, while asynchronous communication allows for more time to
reflect and better prepare both questions and answers, it also brings in the risk of losing a
certain spontaneity in the exchange. Second, online interviews have negligible financial costs
and eliminate the work of transcription. Moreover, the transcribed text in this case will be
exactly as the interviewee would have meant the text to be, since re-transcribing interviews is
already a first step in the researcher’s interpretation and analysis. Third, communication at a
distance can ease more subtle obstacles such as psychological distance when discussing
sensible issues with a stranger. In our case, asynchronous communication, via email and
private messaging, presented more advantages than drawbacks, but didn’t spare us from the
uncertainties or difficulties that came with.
In an asynchronous interview, the interviewee should, in principle, have fewer inclinations
to quit due to lack of time. Meanwhile, the interviewer faces other difficulties: losing “control”
of the disposition of the interview, not knowing if the interviewee is multi-tasking during the
interview or not, how much care is put into answering the questions, if some questions require
reformulations or more time to be answered, etc. One of the main difficulties for the
interviewer is delimiting and framing the interview: when to start and finish, how to send the
questions (in blocks or one by one), how to react to long pauses in the exchange, how and
when to send reminders, etc.?
But, online interviews also imply the loss of an entire palette of data, especially gestures
and the visual, which can only be regained by the use of videoconferencing methods. One
way of filling this void in email interviews is to take even more seriously the interviewee’s
writing: the style, punctuation, use of smileys, etc. And yet, this would mean, somewhat
paradoxically, relying more heavily on textual aspects where the problem is caused precisely
by the over-dependence on textual data. Added to this are the issues of online anonymity that,
surely, reduce social constraints of the face-to-face, thus facilitating expression, but also bring
in uncertainties of identities, opposing the “real” to the “virtual”. For a sociological study,
these uncertainties complicate the researcher’s task as soon as the issue regards sampling or,
simply, knowing who the interviewee is. Arising from the asynchronous aspect of the
communication, another major difficulty is the uncertainty regarding the duration of the
exchange, thus complicating the running of the empirical campaign. In our case, some
interviews were completed in a few hours or days, while others took several weeks, for around
the same
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577
Being a young Beatlemaniac today
We have organized our findings in what can be viewed as the ideal-typical path to fandom
regarding today’s younger fans of The Beatles. This path is far from being the same for all, but
presents typical stages to go through, in an almost linear way, that we traced in the narrative
answers of our interviewees. Some of these stages can, at times, be completed simultaneously,
others may take longer or more effort for different people. But, little by little, step by step,
these young fans go through the different phases of fandom, constantly (re)positioning
themselves on the continuum between “not really fan” and “big fan”, or even “obsessed”.
They use these categories, and all those in-between, to judge not only themselves, but also
others, endlessly creating hierarchies between each other based on who has reached which
stage on this path to fandom: who has “already” passed or “yet” has to reach this or that
point.
The path starts with the discovery of The Beatles, followed by the accumulation of “fan
capital” (Fiske 1992), consisting of knowledge about the band and objects to collect. This goes
hand-in-hand with being able to choose favourite songs and albums. Once enough fan capital
has been gathered, fans then start looking for other fans, using this capital to identify each
other in the crowd, while at the same time looking for ways of getting closer to The Beatles –
dressing like them, playing music like them, trying to “see” them through tribute band
concerts, and going to visit “authentic”, almost “sacred”, places collectively known as
“Beatles sites”. Finally, fans also come to develop personalized ways of listening to this music,
creating rituals, hence appropriating The Beatles and almost sacralising this activity, never
leaving it to chance.
Discovering the band
The first step in the path to any fandom is, of course, discovering the artist. Most of our
interviewees had discovered The Beatles, and 1960s music in general, through their parents,
family or friends, while others mentioned media such as radio and television, and only two
people recalled having used online sources. The most frequent answers were of the type “I
have always known them, I grew up with The Beatles”, especially given that discovering this
band can be traced to a very young age for some, even as far back as the age of five. In fact,
rather than naming one particular occasion, fans often recollected a whole series of events
that led to their fandom, of the sort “first there was this, then that, and finally I became a
fan.”
If Barbara Ehrenreich et al. (1992) argue that the sudden massive craze for The Beatles in
the 1960s can partly by explained in terms of a social movement of youth against adults, then
in the case of today’s younger fans, the argument fades. In our study, youth’s taste for 196070s music was most frequently influenced directly by adults, and mostly parents. Is
contemporary Beatlemania bringing these two generations closer together, as opposed to the
generational divide that the 1960s’ Beatlemania would have aimed? We will return to this
point.
Choosing favorites
The next stage comes directly from not wanting to let go of The Beatles once having
discovered them: the enthusiasts continue to search for other Beatles songs, digging anywhere
and everywhere. And this, until the point of knowing almost the entire discography of The
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Beatles, including lesser known pieces, unedited or re-mastered versions, alternative versions
of the same piece, etc.
Such a detailed knowledge of this music should, then, imply in having favourites, or more
and less favourites. In the case of our interviewees, however, naming a favourite song, album,
film or band member came to be a more complex task than it may first seem! Some refused
to answer or compared it to choosing a favourite child: impossible and unfair. Others
mentioned a constant change of favourites, as if the “real” taste for The Beatles resides
precisely in such an indecision: a most favourite can only be so temporarily, subject to change
based on circumstances. The unease was more accentuated when having to name a favourite
Beatles member: between those who refused to answer and those who had a solid favourite,
the others were either divided between more than one favourite, or named one but added
nuances to their choice, had changed favourites through the years, or chose a “5 Beatle”
th
such as their manager Brian Epstein or an earlier member like Stuart Sutcliffe.
This general unease in choosing favourites is part of the permanent construction of a taste
for The Beatles. It is as though having favourites defines fandom, but at the same time, the
“real” fan would be unable to pick a favourite once and for all and would constantly change
opinions. And this, because being able to choose favourites requires a strong “fan capital”,
objects and knowledge combined, hence constantly changing favourites implies possessing
this capital, thereby (re)affirming one’s fandom.
Accumulating fan capital
The third stage on this path, then, goes hand-in-hand with the second and is the
accumulation of fan capital: acquisition of knowledge and collection of objects. Most fans
mentioned having a collection, large or small, of objects related to The Beatles, whether band
merchandise (posters, t-shirts, mugs, etc.) or objects that convey knowledge and “cultural
capital” (books, CDs, DVDs, etc.). Some had more, or less, of one type than others, but the
common feature was that all spoke in terms of regret of not having more, except the rare
cases of fans who completely refused all such commercialisation of music. When merchandise
was unavailable, fans did not hesitate to improvise and create their own! Since the size of the
collection is a measure of fan capital, hence the level fandom, we can see how this may create
rivalries and jealousies between fans: the bigger and the more visible the fan capital, the
“better” or “bigger” the fan.
In fact, there is an entire hierarchy of collectibles. Some objects are clearly valued more
than others and are a source of pride among fans, especially original vinyl discs and other
“authentic” objects dating from the 1960s, most of the time passed down to them from older
family members. Such objects not only convey a certain aura of the 1960s and The Beatles,
but are usually sold at auctions at prices generally unaffordable for youth, adding to their
preciousness for those who own them.
Collecting objects is not only a way of publicly showing one’s taste for The Beatles and
comparing oneself to other fans, creating hierarchies based on the level of fan capital, but also
a way of bringing images home in compensation for not being able to see The Beatles live on
stage. Today, The Beatles exist only through recordings, films, videos, images, books and other
material objects. To collect as much of these objects as possible would then almost be a way
of saying “I know them, I have seen them”.
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The search for other fans
Once a certain level of fan capital attained, fans can go in search of other fans, now able
to identify each other in the crowd. For youth, knowing other Beatles fans not only becomes
a way of affirming their own fandom, but also acts as “proof of one’s own normality”, as
writes Le Bart (2000: 78). In fact, this is an almost constant preoccupation for these fans, a
perpetual searching around to find other like-minded fans, not to feel “strange”. It is especially
here that we clearly see the link that fans draw between fan capital, in all its forms, and
fandom: differentiating the “real fan” from the “not really fan”, creating a hierarchy of
categories. Knowing “only” a few famous Beatles songs or listening to them on rare occasions
does not qualify a person for being accepted as a fan by other fans. Similarly, listening to more
contemporary music together with The Beatles often marks the person as “not really fan”.
When struggling to find other fans, some manage to “convert”, as they say, their friends
and family into Beatles lovers, while others turn to online spaces and virtual friends. The
Internet allows many fans to come together and interact in virtual spaces such as the abovementioned “fan clubs” on fanpop.com, groups like “Beatlemaniacs” on Facebook or other
sites, blogs, forums, etc. One third of our interviewees had participated in such online
activities, sometimes with the intention to “educate” and influence their friends and others
into appreciating The Beatles. Others expressed regret in their non-participation due to lack of
time, lack of original ideas, the linguistic barrier for non-English speakers, or other barriers of
age, gender, etc. Then, there were those who preferred listening to the music instead of
debating it, or still those who did not yet participate, modestly waiting to accumulate more
fan capital before becoming publicly active.
Getting closer to The Beatles
Accumulating fan capital allows not only to publicly display one’s taste and find other fans,
but also to get closer to this band: being and doing like The Beatles. We present here this next
stage on the path to fandom: the four main ways of getting closer to The Beatles for today’s
younger fans.
To dress and to comb like them: Perhaps the easiest way for fans to feel closer to their
favourite band is visual style: dressing and having a hairstyle like The Beatles. But, far from
blindly imitating them, these young fans are very critical towards The Beatles’ and their own
styles, constantly judging how well the style will suit them, if at all, what elements to take or
reject, in what situations, etc. One third of our interviewees said having been influenced by
the 1960s style, the “Mod” or the “Swinging London” styles. Men, of course, can adopt a
Beatles style much easier than women, who then turn towards 1960s feminine styles or adopt
elements of the Beatles’ style to being more feminine. Others had either decided, after much
contemplation, that this style would simply not suit them, or were still contemplating.
To play an instrument, like them: Once dressed like them, the next step is trying to learn
to play Beatles songs on a musical instrument, especially one that the band members also
played. Most of our interviewees could play an instrument, at various degrees, ranging form
beginners to those who played on stage. The most mentioned instrument was the guitar,
followed by piano, bass guitar, drums and harmonica. Those who did not play any instrument
had, generally, either tried or hoped to start one day. While many fans often played Beatles
songs, mostly in an amateur way – for the pleasure of playing, for friends and family – others
had been inspired by this band to take up an instrument or had a repertoire that turned
exclusively around The Beatles.
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Going to see tribute bands: Generally, a third way of getting close to a favourite musician
is to see him or her live on stage. This is perhaps the ultimate way of affirming one’s fandom,
as being able to say “I have seen him/her in concert” brings in more fan capital. Given the
impossibility to see The Beatles in concert today, the younger fans look for alternatives, the
most “authentic” of which being the chance to see a concert by one of the remaining
members. The lesser “authentic” alternative is seeing tribute bands in concert, thereby
imagining what a “real” Beatles concert would sound, look and feel like. In the case of our
interviewees, opinion was largely divided regarding tribute bands: while some clearly despised
even the idea of “copies” of their favourite band, others welcomed them with open arms. The
dilemma usually resided in one criterion: the authenticity of the concert. If it is not “them”,
said some, then it is not worth the time or money. But, the rest argued that with some
imagination, it can become “them”, or very close, and that tribute bands help spread the
word among a younger audience – a mission, we saw, that some young fans assign
themselves.
Visiting places, going on pilgrimage: The ultimate way for young fans to get closer to The
Beatles, and that remains a dream for most of them, is by visiting places related to this band,
the “Beatles sites”: the childhood houses of the members, now museums, the iconic crossing
at Abbey Road in London, real places mentioned in Beatles songs (the orphanage Strawberry
Fields, Penny Lane street in Liverpool, etc.), or the John Lennon memorial in New York. Here,
too, the discriminating criterion is authenticity: these are real places through which The Beatles
have passed. Seeing places and touching objects as authentic as these is the supreme means
of being able to “feel” The Beatles, compensating for the void in the impossibility of seeing
them.
But, visiting such places remains financially unaffordable for most youth, and it is precisely
this rarity that makes up important fan capital: having saved enough money and put time and
effort in going to see these places means being a “real fan”, as if going on a pilgrimage. In
the meantime, fans visit all other places accessible to them: local clubs, museums, etc. But,
being less authentic, these remain less preferable options. Regarding our interviewees, some
had already seen Beatles sites, and were most proud, while others had begun planning,
researching or were looking for more opportunities of visits. In all cases, visiting Beatles sites
was never judged as unnecessary, contrary to questions about dressing style or tribute bands,
for example, when fans were very critical sometimes and far from accepting everything and at
all costs. Even if the market readily plays on the sensibility of fans towards such “sacred”
places, and if some Beatles sites have come to be very commercialised, unavoidable and even
fetish, the market and fans fuel each other mutually: the most marketed places are the most
authentic, hence most often ranking on top of fans’ list of places to visit.
Appropriating The Beatles
In accumulating fan capital and finding ways of getting closer to The Beatles, fans also
undergo phases of appropriating this music: creating individual ways, almost rituals, of
listening to The Beatles, with a personal touch. That is, distinguishing between the times and
situations for listening to The Beatles and other types of music. Even listening to The Beatles
at all times and in all situations is always a conscious activity: the time and place for it are
carefully chosen, according to the what, where and why of the situation. This is an activity
never left to chance: fans constantly judge, decide and choose carefully.
7.6. “But who doesn't know The Beatles anyway?” Young fans of New Beatlemania today
581
Most of our interviewees had a favourite time or place for listening to The Beatles.
Sometimes, this music was reserved for more solitary times – in the car or at home, in the
evenings – be it for being able to sing out loud, cry or laugh without disturbing others, or for
being able to contemplate the lyrics and feel the music without being disturbed. Then, there
were those who always listened to this music in the same situations, during the same
moments, passing by the same places, with a feeling of not being able to do without it. Others
still followed the order of release of albums in listening or, on the contrary, preferred matching
the music to a given situation. That is, being able to choose the right moment for the right
song, and the right song for the right moment, according to mood. There are songs more
fitted for dancing, for example, and others for when one’s mood is down. And for this, one
must know well the entire discography, of course, which implies a certain level of fan capital.
Youth “retromania”: nostalgia without nostalgia
We would like to conclude this article with a more general aspect of the Beatlemania of today’s
youth: their often acute taste not only for The Beatles, but for the 1960-70s music in general,
the “oldies”. This “New Beatlemania” is an example of the more general tendency of
preferring music from previous decades, “retromania” (Reynolds 2011). In fact, more than
half of our interviewees preferred mostly, if not “exclusively”, the 1960-70s rock/pop music,
sometimes with open irony towards more contemporary music, calling it “new disney music”
or stating “my mind just instantly shrugs it off.”
3
Taken from the group “Beatlemaniacs” on Facebook , Figure 1 shows a visual illustration
of this “retromania” among youth. Both ironic and sincere, the image is divided into two
parts: the top shows portraits of musicians from past decades, now deceased (including two
Beatles members), while the bottom shows portraits of contemporary young musicians, with
the caption “Heaven must sound beautiful… cause it’s hell down here”.
This “retromania” among youth has raised questions and puzzled authors, but few
answers have been suggested. The essayist Charles Paul Freund (2001) writes: “Since when
do teen consumers identify with music that is so closely associated with a previous generation?
Isn’t teen culture usually about distancing a rising generation from its predecessors?” The
sociologist Christian Le Bart notes, in his above-mentioned study, “this anonymous modern
teenager who, contrary to his friends fans of Oasis, takes the risk to show his taste for the
sixties” (2000: 11). The musicologist Simon Reynolds (2011) calls this tendency among youth
4
“nostalgia without nostalgia”, since they have no personal memories (“nostalgia”) of the
decades in question. Reynolds furthers his argument to speak of a “stagnation” and even
“retreat” of contemporary music, arguing pop music has not seen many new styles lately:
“Instead of being the threshold to the future, the first ten years of the twenty-first century
turned out to be the “Re” Decade. The 2000s were dominated by the “re-” prefix: revivals,
reissues, remakes, re-enactments. Endless retrospection: every year brought a fresh spate of
anniversaries, with their attendant glut of biographies, memoires, rockumentaries, biopics and
commemorative issues of magazines. Then there were the band reformations, whether it was
groups reuniting for nostalgia tours in order to replenish (or to bloat still further) the members’
3
4
“Beatlemaniacs”, Facebook, https://www.facebook.com/groups/139155622807231/ (15.05.2014)
Our translation from French.
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bank balances […] or as a prequel to returning to the studio to relaunch their careers as
recording artists.” (2011: 11)
Figure 1
If Reynolds is worried about the future of pop music more in terms of production, what
interests us here is the tendency of youth to prefer music of past decades: The Beatles, The
Kinks, Pink Floyd, Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Queen… Should we, as Reynolds, worry for
this young audience and say that the absence of “good” music, progressive and innovative,
leads young music lovers to look for favourites elsewhere, among the music of bygone
decades? Is the “stagnation” that Reynolds speaks of the reason for this return of youth
towards the “oldies”? Can we even speak of a more general tendency, stating that youth
today look for more ways of getting closer to their parents than did the youth of the 196070s? Why do some youngsters reject contemporary music that their close friends listen to?
Why chose such distinction? Is music from the past few decades really as superior in quality to
contemporary music that these young fans prefer not to share a musical taste with their friends
and even be judged having a “strange” taste, than listen to contemporary music? According
to Reynolds, yes: “The decade [1960s] set the bar impossibly high” (2011: 411).
As our study showed, young Beatles or “oldies” fans today are well conscious of their
choice and that their passion for this music may be seen as “strange” or “unusual” by their
immediate entourage or the elder generation. At times, they instantly engage in explanations
of their musical taste, other times they simply would rather not discuss it. This usually leads
them to prefer listening to The Beatles in more solitary contexts. But, they continue looking
for other Beatles fans, even trying to “convert” their friends, not to feel alone or “strange” in
their passion. Without always succeeding in this search for others, these young fans often
remain more or less alone in their love for The Beatles, or the “oldies”.
7.6. “But who doesn't know The Beatles anyway?” Young fans of New Beatlemania today
583
We would thus like to conclude by leaving the path open for future research centred
around youth “retromania” today. Why do some youngsters now claim, as one of our
interviewees, that “like many people, I feel I was born too late”? Many more questions remain
to be answered and more reflection to be driven around this wider phenomenon of which
“New Beatlemania” is only one example.
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