Critical Review - Monson (2000)

I have been thinking a lot lately about the meaning of authenticity. After our recent class discussion about essentialism, antiessentialism, and anti-antiessentialism, I realized that the notion of authenticy (as people most often use it) is undeniably essentialist. For something to be culturally authentic, if I understand correctly, it would have to be unique to that culture, unaffected by outside influences that might "taint" the authentic object's cultural purity. In other words, it would have to spring directly from the people as a natural expression of their ultimate essences. Like essentialism, it seems that this perspective of authenticity could easily lead to certain racial or cultural stereotypes.

As Ingrid Monson confirms, "tradition versus modernity has been the pardigmatic opposition shaping discussion of African musics themselves.” (p.9) However, she rejects "the idea of a static African essence in favor of a more continuously redefined and negotiated sense of cultural authenticity that emerges from generation to generation in response to larger geopolitical forces" (p.3). Rather than quarrel about whether something is authentic or not, she argues that people's time would be better spent focusing on how "notions of cultural authenticity and legitimacy are necessarily reinvented in each generation through a process of intergenerational negotiation, contestation, and synthesis" (p.17). This seems as if Monson is regarding authenticity in an anti-antiessentialist perspective: though the concept of authenticity is a social construction, because people view and experience it as a real phenomenon, it becomes "the product of the social practices that supposedly derive from it" (Gilroy 102).

The antiessentialist, on the other hand, might argue that there is no such thing as authenticity at all and that any further pursual of the term is counterproductive. But Monson stresses the importance of “examining that which is taken for authentic and legitimate in particular locations and at particular times" as an important indicator of the interaction between tradition and modernity, which are ultimately inseparable (p.17).

She also suggests that the desire for authenticity, by both the "insiders" and "outsiders" of a culture, reflects a larger global trend of dichotomizing things like race or Western versus Non-Western cultures, while idealizing one side and demonizing the other. In the concept of authenticity often lies the image of an idealized society, contrasted with the "false" and disastrous reality in which we live. Monson talks about the ways "the traditional experience" has become a commodity because of this, but also a way for people oppressed by the Western system and white supremacy to define themselves (or even commodify themselves--strategic essentialism).

Inherent in authenticity is also a power struggle as to who/what is authentic and who/what's not, and who gets to define what "authenticity" is worth--it seems now that "authentic traditional cultures" are just another commodity meant to be admired, experienced (briefly), only to return back to "normal" civilization. I question how the word "authenticity" itself has transformed communities, and for better or for worse?

I also wonder: is the idealization of authenticity (perhaps in the form of "the homeland") inherent in any so-called "Diaspora"? And what role does authenticity play in the struggle for the definition of any ethnic/cultural identity?

Field Notes 1 - Dancing, Drumming, and Insulting

The last couple weeks of class (TSDA0330: Mande Dance, Music, and Culture) have taught me a lot about how music is intricately woven into Mande culture and daily life. For one, it is very different from Western music and culture in that a percussive concept of performance dominates. Unlike in many Western cultures where melody and harmony reign over percussiveness, in Mande culture even the dances are percussive in nature, with intricate stamping patterns and ways of striking oneself. (See here for a good example of Djembe drumming and dance). There are many different types of drums—the Djembe, dundun, and kenkeni to name a few—which are integral to most performances. But Mande music is not just about the aesthetics—it plays an important role in addressing key issues of Mande society.

In class, we not only learn the moves of a dance, we learn the role that that dance plays in peoples' lives. The Dansa, which we are currently learning, is a popular dance of rejoicing that is danced by the Khassonke people (an ethnic group in the Kaye region of Mali—see map)during happy events. It is also danced to establish and reconfirm societal values such as “the display of strength, roundness of the female anatomy, virtuosity, and the fluidity of the pelvic region” through expressive movements. At the most basic level, many of the dances are about displaying one's ability to mark the beat, maintain one's balance, and display one's coolness, concepts that are very important in Mande society. As Michelle (the teacher) pointed out as the class watched footage of Djembe drummers in Mali, the best drummers are the ones who make it look the most natural and easy, but can still play the loudest and most complex rhythms.

Indeed, the rhythms of Mande music and dance are anything but simple—often, playing is multi-metric and it is not unusual for ¾, 4/4, and 6/8 time signatures to all be played at once (although sometimes on different drums). The dancer often responds to this multi-metric playing by using different parts of his/her body to express the different meters. For example, the dundun often corresponds to the feet, as it is the lowest of the drums, while the different sounds of the Djembe (base, tone, and slap) correspond to pelvis action, upper-middle body movement, and the gestures of the arms and the head, respectively. It takes a lot of coordination to do all this at once, I have discovered. The dances are very difficult to learn because of this, which makes me wonder—how old are Malian kids when they learn to do these types of dances? Are they as complex as they seem, or am I merely put at a disadvantage by my Western upbringing of no more than one time signature at a time?

As I said before, the class is not just about the dances or the music though, for they cannot be separated from Mande culture. Family heritage is a very important part of Mande society, and often at important social functions a caller will announce the deeds and accomplishments of each of the guests' families. Families are very proud of their histories, and respectful of them, too—one family (I forget which) remains indebted to another family because long ago, a man (from family 2) who gave another man (from family 1) his leg to eat while they were starving in the desert, saving that man's life. Though it may seem like a legend to most, it is a defining factor of inter-family relations to the Mande people.

One day in class, we did an exercise where we had to come up with insults about other families. “Make them as ridiculous as possible!” the teacher encouraged. A bit surprised by this unusual task, my family (Konate!) was stumped as to how we should insult the other families. Insulting people outright in public was such a foreign concept to us, we had no clue what to say or do. Michelle had told us an example of how people make fun of her family, the Coulibaly's. Known as bean farmers, people would make fun of her for “blowing a lot of hot air into the atmosphere”, accompanied by a chorus of farting noises. Rather than get angry, people are supposed to respond to these insults that refer back to ancient family acts by throwing back insults of their own. Dad jokes are popular as well—but the one taboo is insulting the mother, who is considered sacred.

As we relayed our insults back and forth at one another in class, Michelle continually encouraged us to be more vulgar, more outlandish, to even make fun of people non-verbally. It turns out that it is also a Mande tradition to do “dances of derision”, where a person is made fun of by the imitation and exaggeration of their movements by another. Problems between neighbors are often disputed and resolved through this sort of dance. Music and dance, then, are often used in Mali as social commentary.

I was also interested in seeing why other people decided to take this class which has turned out to be more of a 'Mali-outside-of-Mali' cultural immersion than a mere music and dance class. One student told me that she decided to take the class because another student told her that the class had changed her life. “It's a new way of expressing yourself”, she agreed, explaining that she had done a lot of visual art in the past and was frustrated with the medium, and dance was a nice change from this. I'm guessing that many people take the class for the same reasons, but I'm still curious as to what really makes the class so good as everyone says it is. Perhaps it is the fact that the culture is different from our own in so many ways that makes learning about it so appealing. Certainly that is what for me makes it such an intriguing class.

Authenticity is another issue that I would like to further pursue throughout this project—not necessarily in the sense of verifying whether the dances we do are “pure”, but in asking the teacher who frequently uses the term what she means by it. When telling the class about a guest dancer we were going to have, she described him as being able to show us an authentic version of the Wolosodon. We had heard earlier from a guest lecturer about the different versions of Wolosodon that she learned in Colorado and then New York, so it would be interesting to hear what my teacher means when she uses the word “authentic”. If I remember correctly she describes the dances we are learning as authentic Mande dances. This could also relate to Mande culture in America, and whether after a certain point it becomes “inauthentic”.

Anyway, this post is already way to long, but I have field notes as well from a Djembe drumming class that I am taking outside of class, but with the one of the drummers from the class:

Sunday morning Djembe drumming class – around 10 students, almost all white, middle-aged men and women – nearly all have their own Djembe drums, and seem to have taken classes before – one man appears to have some knowledge of Bambara (a language spoken in Mali – see here for more information), greeting a few men who were dropping off the Dundun (a different type of drum) in the language.

The class begins, and the teacher makes the drumming look easy, but even some of the seemingly experienced drummers have trouble putting together the rhythms with the correct hands (left vs. right) and the correct sound/type of drum hit (base/tone/slap) – one woman says to the teacher that he is “forging new neural pathways in our brains”. Even when I understood the rhythm and what to do, it was still hard to play it correctly every single time. It took lots of concentration, but as we practiced and worked the patterns into our muscle memory, they became easier and started to feel more natural. I wonder what our teacher's learning experience was like, and when he started drumming, and whether he considers himself an “expert” yet (he certainly seems that way to me, but I don't have much to compare him with). In the future I would like to ask the other drumming students what first interested them in drumming and what other drumming activities they participate in. Also, it would be interesting to hear where they got their Djembes from, as I know the teacher sells them but it is possible they bought them from somewhere else, or even went to Mali themselves to obtain them.

Critical Review - Svigals (2002)

What struck me most about Svigals' essay on Klezmer music was the way she rejected the traditional view of authenticity. Rather than put Klezmer music on a historical pedestal, viewing it solely as a relic of the past, she emphasizes the need to recognize Klezmer as a dynamic musical genre of the present. For her, at least, Klezmer is a way to interpret the past in terms of the present--not to merely "revive" the past by following outdated traditions and rules, but to reinterpret these rules and traditions in the context of modern life. Too often, it seems, we fall into the trap of following tradition for tradition's sake, and do not think enough about the "why" of a tradition (or at least, the question of why we are still doing it) or about how it relates to us (besides being a tradition). Similar to Svigals point regarding false notions of the "authentic" in Klezmer music, too often we consider "authentic" only those traditions that we believe were created hundreds, even thousands of years ago. Yet traditions are rarely static entities, preserved in their pure or "authentic" form--they are constantly being modified and molded to fit modern needs, although we are loath to admit it. The same is true with Klezmer music--why should we relegate it to the status of a historical artifact when in reality, it is as much a modern creation as the "traditions" we choose to follow and in our own ways reinvent. Although there are elements of klezmer music that have remained constant over time, including elements of style like ornamentation and melodic modes, it remains true that "every musical idiom constantly changes and interacts with other musics." If no one time period is any more "authentic" than another (rather, they are just different), then the only way to play "authentically" (Svigals argues) is by being true to oneself. She writes, "My hope is that now that we're becoming fluent in our language, we can go beyond simply reciting a received text to speak spontaneously in our own voices." (p. 219).

My question is: how likely (or feasible) is it that klezmer music will become "the identity music of Jewish American youth", as Svigals hopes? What might have to happen in the overlapping worlds of Jewish, American, youth, and music for this to occur?

Research Proposal - Mande Music in the U.S.

For my ethnography project, I plan to study the music and culture of West Africa, more specifically of the Mande people, as it has been taught and performed in the United States today and in the past.

Currently I am taking a class called Mande Dance, Music and Culture which should provide a strong foundation for my research. The professor, Michelle, studies the social and popular dances of the Bambara peoples of Mali, and (according to internet sources) is currently working on a documentary and textbook on the subject. I would be interested to know what first drew her to Mande culture (affinity, heritage, etc.), and what made her want to teach it. I also just started going to a West African drumming class taught by one of the drummers from my dance class. It would be interesting to talk to him about why he came to America and how Mande culture still fits into his life.

I am also interested in looking at what draws so many non-West-African people to Mande music and dance. The Mande Dance class that I am in here at Brown is extremely popular—it is offered every spring and currently boasts a class size of 140 people. Are there people in the class who do have Mande roots? What do students, both with Mande roots and without, hope to get out of the class? On the other hand, what does Michelle (the professor) hope to pass on to her students? Appreciation? Understanding? Traditional knowledge? And what do the drummers see as their role in continuing to play Mande music in America?

An interesting organization that I found, called Rootsy Records, is dedicated to the “preservation and promotion of traditional djembe [a type of West-African drum] culture”. Its website, www.rootsyrecords.com, will be a good source for articles and raw footage of traditional West-African dancing and drumming, which can be compared to what I am being taught here at Brown.

Seeger (2002) also poses some interesting questions that I would like to try to answer in the context of Mande culture: what is the role of the individual in tradition, and of tradition in forming the individual? What is the relation of music to other societal processes/groups?

The first West Africans were brought to the U.S. as slaves, inspiring such dances as the Jon Don (representing bondage) and the Wolosodon (celebrating the breaking of their chains of bondage). Accordingly, I would also like to know more about how the slave trade affected Mande music in America, and how the musical traditions of West Africans who have lived in the U.S. for centuries compare to the musical traditions of recent immigrants.

Critical Review - Seeger (1992)

Anthony Seeger, in his article on the Ethnography of Music, provides an interesting anecdote about three blind men and an elephant, which he likens to the way that many people view and think about music: although they can only view one part of it, they think they can understand the whole. Indeed, many musicologists focus solely on the few aspects of a culture's music that they believe to be the most vital, in the hopes of narrowing down the practically limitless range of issues that affect both culture and music. This is understandable, as one can imagine the limitless possible perspectives a person could take, but understandable doesn't necessarily imply "acceptable".

Seeger suggests that, "Instead of defending our own points of view, perhaps we should move around more, approach music from different sides, and listen to those who describe it differently." (p.107). Though he acknowledges that for one man to try to view music from every perspective is just as impossible (and not necessarily beneficial, either), he still insists that, at the very least, an acknowledgement of these other perspectives is crucial. After all, music is much more complex than just "humanly organized sound" or a conversation between musician and audience. It is a complex dialog between various factors of society, individuals, culture, history, etc. that are often hard to separate, that is, if seen at all. Yet he concludes, "If we work together, we can begin to see the unseen whole, and understand the phenomenon we can only partially perceive by ourselves." (p.107)

On page 90, he lists six questions that to me, seem at the core of any ethnomusicological exploration, and which I think will come in handy in the future:

1. What is going on when people make music? What are the principles that organize the combinations of sounds and their arrangements in time?

2. Why does a particular individual or social group perform or listen to the sounds in the place and time and context that he/she/does?

3. What is the relation of music to other processes in societies or groups?

4. What effects do musical performances have on the musicians, the audience and the other groups involved?

5. Where does musical creativity come from? What is the role of the individual in the tradition, and of the tradition in forming the individual?

6. What is the relation of music to other art forms?

My own question is, how does one find the proper balance between viewing music from a broad range of perspectives, while at the same time, narrowing it down enough to actually learn something?

Critical Review - Titon & Slobin (2002)

Music, like language, is a dynamic entity whose boundaries of expression and meaning may shift. New genres and styles may emerge over the years (while the old continue to shapeshift), just as new words are added to the dictionary and the old are redefined. Yet just as different cultures have their own separate dictionaries (written, oral, or perhaps no dictionary at all), different cultures also have different conceptions of music within which such changes occur. As Titon and Slobin (2002) suggest, a general definition of music is nearly impossible to devise. Yet they seem to concede that music, at the very least, is something either intended or perceived to have human meaning. Titon and Slobin defend this argument with an example of how different cultures may perceive bird songs to have human meaning or not. In Europe, on the one hand, bird song is generally not considered to be music, though it may possess some of the same technical structures (melody, rhythm, etc.) as other accepted music. But for the Kaluli people of Papua New Guinea, bird songs are the voices of human ancestors, and thus do possess that aspect of human expression that Europeans believe that bird songs lack. Music, though culturally defined, tends to be a conscious human act--either by creating or perceiving something to be musical.

Music, then, is more than just sound that has melody or rhythm--it is a learned, culturally-transmitted entity, like language. As Titon and Slobin point out, "Music is like a game or conversation: without rules we could not have a game, and without agreement about what words are, what they mean, and how they are used, we could not hold a meaningful conversation." (p. 17-18). This explains why it is so important to them that we try to understand a culture's music on its own terms. There are so many factors that shape and define a particular culture's musical decisions, that it is imperative that ethnomusicologists look past mere differences in musical structure to the why and how a music is the way it is.

Some interesting questions that came up in the reading:

• What are the different roles that music plays in different cultures and how are these roles defined?

• Why do many music-cultures assign such low social status to musicians, although they still acknowledge the importance and power of music?

• What does a true appreciation of a culture's music entail? As Titon and Slobin write, "If a listener does not understand the rules, he or she can understand neither the composer's or musician's intention nor the music's structure." (p.18) How important is knowledge of a musician's intentions or cultural background to the listener's understanding and appreciation of a piece?