It feels odd to throw the word “applied” in front of ethnomusicology. That is, it seems natural enough for the implication to exist regardless of the prefix. Why is it that the applied sector needs to be separate from all-things-academic or “intellectual”…? They seem to go hand in hand – one flows out of the other, or so I’ve thought. If I were giving my own elevator speech, you know, the one-minute answer to the question, “What do you do?” I would never insert the word “applied,” even though I would definitely categorize my work that way in my head. There are too many implications to it – or maybe that’s in my head, too. Our work has an impact on the communities we study regardless of the final product. Not sure why this is on my mind today – the whole thing seems as silly as the supposed distinction between musicology and ethnomusicology.
I just blinked my eyes a couple of times and realized it’s been over a month since I’ve posted here. I know, I know – you’ve been utterly distraught about it and just couldn’t imagine your virtual life without me in it, right? 😉 Well – you’re in luck. Here I go:
It’s odd how ethnomusicological projects seem to grow organically – they very quickly consume everything in their way. It can be exhilarating! It’s been a while since I’ve stepped back and taken inventory of my projects in progress, so I’m going to save us all some time and give you a list of bullets rather than a narrative. In order of current importance and time consumption:
- Street Musicians in New Orleans. My thesis topic. Through the lens of R. Murray Schafer‘s 1977 concept of the soundmark, I’m mapping street musicians in two New Orleans neighborhoods and simultaneously telling the story of their experiences. If I were to tag this project with key words it would be: street musicians, migrant street kids, NOLA, urban studies, tourist mapping, ethnography, oral history, and French Quarter fixtures. Where am I now? Fieldwork is done. Prospectus is done. Writing in progress.
- Black, Queer, and Bouncing in New Orleans. I’m researching the phenomenon of Sissy Bounce, which refers to a group of queer-identified hip-hop artists in New Orleans (notably most of them hate the term so I will not use it to define the genre which should just be under the umbrella of ‘Bounce’, simply the artists themselves and their identities). I’ve been officially doing fieldwork for this project for about fifteen months, however it will be ongoing for quite a while. Issues of access and identity continue to arise. A couple of months ago, I presented a paper called, ““Is that thug wearing heels?” The Negotation of Identity in Sissy Bounce” at the 2011 Southern Graduate Music Research Symposium as part of a panel on liminality (what the hell does it mean to “negotiate identity” anyway?! I’ve since slapped myself for using this title per my advisor who made me [and others] realize it was an idiotic and empty phrase). I recently submitted an abstract to the Society of Ethnomusicology‘s Southeast and Caribbean regional chapter (SEMSEC) called “Big Freedia “the Queer Diva”: Black, Queer, and Bouncing out of New Orleans”. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that it gets accepted so I can present the paper at SEMSEC’s annual meeting, which is being held this year in the Dominican Republic (kudos to whomever had that brilliant idea!). The first presentation was my attempt to introduce the Sissy Bounce phenomenon to the musicological community, and also my first attempt at a conference presentation! I was happy with both my paper and my presentation of it, though of course looking back there are a few things I would have added/modified. In this second presentation, I’ll be narrowing my topic to a case study of one particular artist, Big Freedia “the Queen Diva.” There are obstacles here as well. Once a local artist performing in dive clubs around town, Freedia’s popularity has shot through the roof and she’s now on an international touring circuit with looming rumors of a reality TV show. Access, access, access. As a whole, I’m not sure what the trajectory of this project will be. If there were tags for this one, they would be: gender, bounce, new orleans, black and queer, sexuality studies, Judith Butler, queer hip-hop, and reflexivity.
- THE MUHS PROJECT. And now for something completely different, sort of – I’ve been working on a biographical archiving project since early this past summer. My subject is Marietta Muhs, an opera diva that grew up and out of New Orleans who landed in the NYC opera scene in the early-20th century. Obviously, this project leans towards the historical realm. I’m expecting this to take up quite a bit of time over the next several years. It’s a side project, but one that is allowing me to utilize the skills and resources I’m learning in my historical coursework. Tags here would include: New Orleans, New Orleans opera scene, Loyola U., NYC opera scene, and women in the 1950’s.
- Global hip-hop. Also a side project, it seems like for every regional topic class I take which requires a massive term paper/presentation at the end, I’m drawn not just to popular music, but to hip-hop. I’m currently researching hip-hop in South Africa and will be presenting on it sometime in the next few weeks in class. I’ve also delved into Indonesian and Indian hip-hop, and guest lectured a few times on Indonesian hip-hop over the past year. I’m also interested in hip-hop artist refugees coming out of various African war zones (e.g. Emmanual Jal). These things are constantly evolving, so I’m finding that social networking allows me to stay up-to-date with artists and genres without having to actively search them out after I’ve done the initial research. Anyway, I just added this bullet because it seems to be a recurring theme in my life at the moment, and I have a feeling that something will come out of it eventually. Of course it also links to the research I’m doing on hip-hop in NOLA.
Next year’s SEM/AMS/SMT mega conference is in New Orleans and I have a few pertinent topics, above, that I could attempt a paper submission for (though acceptance of the younger grad student papers is rare). I think that even though my thesis research is on street musicians, I’m eyeing NOLA Bounce as the topic I’d like to present on at SEM (though my abstract would likely be trashed at first sight). Anyway – my thesis includes sonic mapping of street musicians, and I could come up with a great “field trip” handout for people to go and see these soundmarks live since the presentation would be in New Orleans… much to think about. Not a lot of time to do it in.
Lastly, if you’ve followed this blog at all in the past few years, you probably know that my eventual dissertation topic will be music in the Tibetan community of Dharamsala, India. Most folks who study Tibetan music tend to lean towards music for Buddhist ritual and traditional genres. My goal (big shock here) will be popular music – perhaps working with Lobsang Wangyal who organizes the Tibetan music awards from McLeod Ganj. With that said, I’ve also been peeking at the music of Bhutan and Nepal. Obstacles = language, money, accessibility, government regulations. Working on that.
Anyway – that’s my list of current projects and their potential trajectories. As for the day-to-day, it currently involves a giant stack of grading, 2-3 books to read per week, and as usual, hanging with the most fabulous musicologist-friends on the planet. By Saturday, I hope to make another post that illustrates how absolutely awesome the SEM conference was in Philadelphia last week.
Til then, Cheers!
- Pole Dancing for Jesus (katrichterwrites.wordpress.com)
- What is social mobilization (wiki.answers.com)
- Robert Garfias: Ethnomusicology (bibliolore.org)
- Big Freedia Responds to Success-Haters With ‘Nah Who Mad’ — Video Premiere (spinner.com)
I’m just returning from a productive weekend of fieldwork in New Orleans. I have several of these short weekends planned in the next few months – an unfortunate necessity that would be much better served if I could just spend a week straight on the streets. Shocker here – I can’t. The ten years I did spend walking them is certainly an advantage, and I’m now realizing how much access and information I have that’s allowing me to complete this project – I’m grateful.
Saturday was highly productive. My partner and I systematically roamed throughout the quarter for several hours so I could make recordings, take photos, and note locations on my map. I won’t write too much here (you’ll have to read the thesis to find out more), but suffice it to say that I’m surprised at how stationary these musicians are. The busking locations never deviate. It’s as if there are fifteen designated spots for these musicians to plant their feet and they come back to these spots, day after day (often switching between them) – of course, a lot of it is based on foot traffic.
Sunday was less productive, but I learned a lesson. It’s an odd thing to return to the city you call home and think of it as a research project. I never noticed before that during a Saints [football] game, the streets are empty – probably because I was always on a bar stool during the games. A game started at noon yesterday, so by eleven the streets were clearing out. For street musicians this means less foot traffic, less money, and less overall exposure. There’s no reason for them to be out there. As I was seeking them out, they were packing up to find a bar stool in front of a TV. The musicians that were out and about (such as Doreen’s band) were plastered in Saints regalia. My lesson? For future fieldwork trips, I need to consider game times (or at least talk about the game time phenomenon in my work).
In place of hanging with the musicians, I went down to the Louisiana Music Factory and Beckham’s bookshop on Decatur and spent a stupid amount of money on books and albums related to my work. I was slightly disappointed at the response from LA Music Factory when I asked “Do y’all carry any Bounce titles?” (The answer was no)…
Below are some photos from the weekend. I spent the majority of my time with two specific groups of musicians, as is evident in the photos:
I’ll say it once again… why on earth is the Society for Ethnomusicology (SEM) annual meeting during the same weekend as the American Anthropological Association (AAA) annual meeting? Does this make sense – to anyone? Bueller?
A recent article posted by NPR has disquieted ethnomusicologists across the country on social networking sites, message boards, and mailing lists. The following was stated in an article that discusses college student debt:
“So what are the most worthless degrees or, at least, the hardest to monetize later on in life? Kantrowitz says he often hears from religious studies and theater majors who have a hard time paying back their loans… Ethnomusicology is another example. Kantrowitz describes one student who was thinking of borrowing more than $100,000 to pay for that degree. “There are only two main occupations for a degree in ethnomusicology,” he says. “One is being a music librarian, which doesn’t pay very well. The other is being [on the] university faculty, teaching other students about ethnomusicology.” -NPR Staff
There are several things wrong with this statement, and perhaps Kantrowitz should check his sources before publishing such nonsense. Ethnomusicology doesn’t get nearly enough media as it is, and we certainly don’t need anything negative, nevermind when it’s blatantly incorrect. There certainly are far more than the two above occupations for those with a degree in ethnomusicology. Additionally the last time I checked, a degree in library science is necessary to be a librarian. Many ethnomusicologists do choose to pursue a career in academia as faculty. However, do they only “teach ethnomusicology?” Of course not – they are researchers and performers. They teach music classes that many other faculty are simply not qualified to do – including several genres of popular and roots music. In addition to world music survey courses, these courses tend to fill up with hundreds of students each semester, adding thousands of tuition dollars to the university pocketbook.
What else do ethnomusicologists do? They work at publication firms such as National Geographic, at iTunes, at Pandora Radio and other major music ventures, at Billboard venues and other “top music lists”, at museums, at art institutes, at festivals as directors and coordinators, at the Smithsonian, at record companies including the Recording Academy, at archives, for governments as cultural consultants, as humanitarians, as arts consultants, as primary and secondary teachers, as arts administrators, in applied fields, as healers, as anthropologists and musical historians, as musical archaeologists, as performers, as publication editors, as authors, in studios,as independent researchers, in media studies, as a program director, grant writer, tour publisher/manager, festival publicist, a consultant to film score composers or video game developers, radio DJ, as travel journalists and photographers, or a military consultant… what about working for TV stations like PBS, NG, or Discovery? Eat that, NPR.
At the end of the day, a lot of ethnomusicologists choose a less-than lucrative (usually) career in academia as university faculty, however the possibilities are endless. I don’t know any ethnomusicologists who are “in it for the money”. Ethnomusicologists are a rare breed, and have skills that the rest of the world needs whether they know it or not – we have the skills to discuss increased globalization and acculturation, cultural/spiritual sensitivity, and human diversity. I’m disappointed in NPR, a supposedly conscious public media outlet “on the side of the arts”. Where’s the love?
This past week, I had to read this book for a Field & Lab class. The text proved to be advantageous as an approach that manipulates one’s ethnographic mindset into thinking visually rather than textually. While it’s not a how-to manual for visual ethnography, it does represent a particular enlightening approach that many novice researchers could benefit from reading. It is primarily for ethnographers who wish to incorporate visual facets into their work, and in that it achieves its goal.
Although it seems a rather simple concept, training the mind to consider various media as potential representations of knowledge (Pink) has rerouted my thinking much as though learning right-hand piano on the left hand would do. In my limited experience, I’ve generally used video and photography whenever possible, however not with the deliberation as a means to create and represent knowledge – instead, more as a supplement to fieldnotes, or simply a way to remember those intricate details of settings or outfits that my mind would let slip away (as a means to “inform ethnography”). Both certainly are beneficial.
Of particular relevance is that Pink spent a great deal of time discussing how important [and different] it can be to work closely and for extended periods of time with your subjects in order to access the personal happenings in their daily lives and to eventually record histories and narratives. While this is one of the chief standards of ethnographic research, Pink notes that doing so within the framework of visual ethnography would allow one to get more intensely personal photographs and video. Again, this seems blindingly obvious, however it creates a certain mindset for the ethnographers to center themselves within.
The first couple chapters situate themselves in this idea of mindset. How do we train ourselves to become visual ethnographers? The endless premeditated reflexivity of our own research is one possible answer that seems to recur regardless of what we’re attempting to progress towards, and certainly a recurring theme of our disciplines’ ideology. The text piqued my curiosity in consideration of an anthropological approach to consumption: of material possessions, and perhaps of visual media itself. What will the photographs I include in my work conjure thoughts of for those who read/view it? Pink briefly discusses how visual images and technology are woven into the culture of those we study as well as the academic culture in which we work. If there were a credo to visual ethnography, these points would unquestionably be bulleted.
A couple weeks ago in New Orleans, I found myself sitting on an elevated sidewalk in the French Quarter listening to a band of street musicians. The members were all homeless street kids, those I would consider “gutter punks”. Moments after sitting, I realized I had sat next to a couple who also fell into this category and after making small talk about how we both enjoyed the group, without being prompted the female began talking with me about their transient lifestyle, her own musical experiences as a street artist, and the relationship dynamics between those in their community. Although I wasn’t expecting it (nor was I prepared), I asked her if she would let me record our conversation. Two hours later, it ended up being the most productive unstructured interview I’ve concluded. This taught me several things about preparation, which Pink discusses throughout her text. I had two pieces of equipment with me at the time – an iPhone, and a 14 megapixel digital camera which does not record audio or video. Luckily, I had already downloaded several recording applications to my iPhone and was able to swiftly place it between us in an unobtrusive way. This allowed me to record the entirety of it. It also allowed me to take various video clips of the band as I was recording our conversation with the same piece of “equipment”. Towards the end of our time together, I was able to use my digital camera to take photos of them, and of the couples’ fantastic [and significant] tattoos. In this way, visual research unexpectedly became part of my project.
Pink discusses visual media in many cultures as being an understood and “un-taboo” practice. In this New Orleans instance, various ethical issues arose that also came up in this text. Towards the end of the week, I found myself seeking out this gutter punk community, especially after my interview with a particular woman (above) where she clued me in on where they typically hang out, and where they sleep (I found this to be privileged information). For the first couple days, I found myself paying them for photos (anywhere from $1 for a photo to $20 for an interview, which I always offered and they never specifically asked for). Towards the end, I felt as though I were “stalking” them, taking high-resolution photos from several yards away using zoom, and at one point sneaking next to one sitting on the steps of the river and pretending to take a photo of the river when in fact I was interested in him, in his particular location, in his particular moment. Is this part of fieldwork? As an aside, my purpose for this is that I’m documenting their locations in order to create a mapped delineation of their community – using visual representations to create knowledge. Ethical issues arose from the gutters themselves…
…as Pink states in this text, often ethical decisions cannot be made until you’re standing in the field. This is a continuous process.