As I’ve mentioned, I’ve been reading a lot of works lately that deal with the histories of anthropology and ethnomusicology. I’ve also recently begun the second book in bell hooks‘ trilogy on education, Teaching Community.
The history of ethnography, in short, is a story of its use as an instrument of domination and oppression, the realization of this and a desire to turn away from it, and subsequently attempts at creating new ways of writing and thinking to avoid the re-inscription of domination. While the original means of producing and using ethnography were pretty horrible, the last several decades of challenging the ways in which we represent other people have been productive, courageous and incredibly necessary. A lot of good things have come out of this challenge, these re-thinkings; I’m convinced that there is now a good-sized body of work that does very little or nothing to reify the oppression inherent, and even desired, in earlier eras of ethnography.
However, as I read hooks, and try to digest her notions of “education as the practice of freedom,” I’m not convinced that leaving the smallest footprint of oppression possible is the right way of thinking about doing ethnography and ethnomusicology–and I’m not convinced that new ways of writing about the ethnographic experience can go all the way in flattening power relationships. Two major changes need to be made (and I want to stipulate that I know of some people, and I’m sure there are many more out there, who are making these changes as individuals–but this needs to be done on a disciplinary level):
- Ethnomusicologists, and ethnographers more generally, need to think about how the research experience itself, and not just our models of writing, can be inherently liberating; and
- We need to go beyond trying not to act in oppressive ways in our research, to actively undoing systems of oppression (whether within ethnography or in the world more generally) in our research and in our writing.
In my experience, limited as it is, most ethnomusicologists I know are truly committed to feminist, anti-racist, anti-classist, etc. points of view and have every intention of making their work reflect these commitments; it’s taboo in the discipline as a whole not to espouse these beliefs at some level. But what I would like to see is not just a verbal commitment to these ideals.
Instead of asking how we can make ethnomusicology as it stands more feminist, anti-racist, etc., we need to start from the bottom up and ask, what would a liberating and liberated practice of the study of music as embedded in sociocultural processes look like? Continue reading
25
Jun
The sounds of baseball
On Wednesday night, Matt and I went up to Milwaukee to take in the Brewers-Twins game with my family. I hadn’t been to a game in a while and was really intrigued by the diversity of sounds and music there. One of the Brewers’ aural hallmarks is, of course, the singing of “Roll Out the Barrel” (aka the “Beer Barrel Polka”) at the seventh inning stretch, which is accompanied by dancing polka (!!):
And as per usual at baseball games, each player chooses a song that will play when he comes up to bat. These tended to be hit songs with a prominent, fast beat–rock, hip-hop (the most aurally prominent song being Lil Wayne’s “A Milli,” I believe) and reggaeton (chosen by Alcides Escobar, originally from Venezuela).
This was nothing, however, compared with the sound effects used to try to get the crowd excited. Like many teams, the Brewers have had an organist forever to play the sequenced “Charge!” melody and arrangements of popular songs here and there. This time, I was surprised to find a much larger array of synthesized sounds, coordinated with bright, flashing graphics on the screens that circle the stadium. The speakers played the rhythm that people generally clap (long-long-short-short-short) to get people making noise; a swooshing sound played along with the quintessentially Midwestern message “How about that one, folks!” when a Brewer had an especially good hit; and various plays were emphasized with sound effects, lightning-bolt graphics and other messages.
I personally found this a bit disorienting. The Miller Park (and before that, County Stadium) I had been used to typically only had the organist, a few recorded songs, the national anthem and whatever noise the crowd wanted to make. This game–despite the fact that the roof was open–was a much louder baseball experience than I’ve had in a while, and one that seemed much more manipulated. Brewers crowds are not typically as loud, in my experience, as others I’ve seen (especially in Philly and Boston!). I was bothered by the constant aural demands coming from the stadium; it felt forced and annoying to me.
Nonetheless, no one seemed obviously disturbed by this. The rhythms coming over the speakers were generally successful in getting people to cheer, which energized the atmosphere. And “How about that one, folks!” provided endless amusement for Matt, who isn’t used to Midwestern customs yet. I’d be interested to hear more about how and why the Brewers chose these sounds.
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baseball organ/Beer Barrel Polka/County Stadium/Miller Park/Milwaukee Brewers/music at Miller Park/Roll Out the Barrel