my thoughts on music and race/culture
(WARNING: This is as serious of a tone as I will ever take on this blog. If you’re expecting the usual neuroses/attempted humor, proceed at your own risk.)
Last night we had the last class of what has been a fantastic workshop, taught by Caeli – a close friend and Julia’s protégé. A chapter of my Berklee memoir was being workshopped and, despite receiving a favorable workshop (which pleased me immensely), a few things in it didn’t sit well with a woman in the class. Basically, she took issue with the way I did and (more particularly) didn’t discuss race in regards to music. As far as my story was concerned, her gripes were legitimate – despite her intense, personal reaction, I was giving way too much room for interpretation in certain sections and not showing enough of my reactions. There’s no better learning experience as a writer than having someone misinterpret your work – it really reminds you of how important it is to guide the reader.
Anyways, what I want to discuss is a (larger) point she made in class and wrote specifically on my critique:
“I believe that when white people play music from other traditions that it always has to be acknowledged.”
Now, this is something I feel strongly about. I thought about emailing her to explain my thoughts on the topic, but without getting into specifics, the issue is quite personal for her and it might have been tough to engage in a level-headed discussion. Plus, as already discussed here, I avoid conflict in all shape and forms. Even email.
But I couldn’t just let this go – it was the last thing I thought about before I fell asleep and the first thing I thought about when I woke up. So I’ll just hash it out here:
I don’t believe in the racial or cultural ownership of music (or any art, for that matter). I believe that music transcends race and culture – that is part of its inherent beauty. Furthermore, I find such thinking to be counter-productive and in direct opposition to the growth and evolution of musical styles.
When I was in music school I was a white kid learning how to play Afro-Cuban percussion. Despite the fact that I was studying at an accredited institution of higher learning, my experience was peppered with prejudice. I had a Columbian percussion teacher laugh at me in front of a class, and say (in Spanish) that I played “like I had a stick up my ass.” A fellow student and Venezuelan percussionist friend recommended me for a gig that she couldn’t make, and the guy whose gig it was wouldn’t play with me because I was a gringo – he had never even heard me play.
In New York I have twice been denied gigs because of the color of my skin. Once I was even told flat out, “You’re obviously very talented, but we’re trying to market ourselves as a young, Latino band.”
One of the foremost experts in the world on traditional Afro-Cuban percussion is Michael Spiro, a jewish guy from California. He is a virtual encyclopedia of percussion knowledge, a fantastic teacher and a phenomenal musician. When I asked him why he didn’t have a full-time teaching gig at Berklee or UCLA he said, “I’ve got the wrong last name, man.”
The best percussion teacher I had at Berklee was a pale-white, long blond-haired Swedish guy named Miké. He taught Bata drumming – the sacred Afro-Cuban ceremonial drumming associated with Santeria. Despite receiving his due respect with the percussionists and fellow teachers, Miké had countless stories about people not taking him seriously due to his appearance.
I don’t think of any of this as tragic or anything. Getting ridiculed and yelled at is part of the Cuban percussion tradition. The same guy that humiliated me in front of a class taught me a ton of stuff and was very encouraging of me when I was just starting out. And I’m not stupid or naïve enough to think that my failure to support myself playing music has anything to do with the color of my skin. Also, Michael Spiro might not have a full-time teaching gig, but he is constantly traveling the world performing and teaching clinics. Miké does fine for himself, too.
What I’m trying to point out here is that, for cultural outsiders, there are plenty of hurdles already in place in any musical scene/style. Does anyone performing in such a situation really need to “acknowledge” anything before performing? And how? By saying, “Despite the fact that I’ve already faced presumptions and stereotypes in studying and performing this music, I would just like to acknowledge that this is the music of another culture, just in case anyone here thinks I might be trying to pass this off as MY music?”
Can you imagine expecting the same thing from a non-white classical or country musician? It’s disgusting.
As far as jazz is concerned, it’s a little different. I’ve read interviews with Wynton Marsalis where he talks of different world music traditions “watering down” jazz and that he worries about the future of the music, which is astoundingly ignorant. As far as I’m concerned, some of the most interesting and progressive jazz being played today is by young Cubans in New York. This theory also conveniently ignores Bossa Nova – a genre popularized in the sixties by American Jazz musicians recording and performing with Brazilian musicians – which was somehow unmentioned in Ken Burns’ selective documentary.
My point here is that music is bigger than (and beyond the attempted control of) any of us, and I don’t care how cheesy that sounds, it’s true. Anyone who believes that a particular culture owns a musical form is doing it a disservice. There’s nothing wrong with being protective of music or demanding that people respect and learn its traditions, but shouldn’t how good the music or the performer sounds be the end-all, say-all?
One summer at Berklee, the master Cuban drummer, Changuito, was teaching at the annual World Percussion Festival. He is legendary for reducing grown men, particularly Americans, to tears during lessons. I was terrified of him, but my friends talked me into taking a conga lesson. Barking instructions through an interpreter, he taught me groove after groove, nodding appreciatively while I figured them out. Other than a brief flare up when it took me a little longer than he wanted to learn a pattern, things went smoothly. When it was over, he offered me a drink of rum and complemented my playing. He didn’t care that I was a non-macho white kid, what he cared about was that I could play. Isn’t that all that should ever matter?
Last night we had the last class of what has been a fantastic workshop, taught by Caeli – a close friend and Julia’s protégé. A chapter of my Berklee memoir was being workshopped and, despite receiving a favorable workshop (which pleased me immensely), a few things in it didn’t sit well with a woman in the class. Basically, she took issue with the way I did and (more particularly) didn’t discuss race in regards to music. As far as my story was concerned, her gripes were legitimate – despite her intense, personal reaction, I was giving way too much room for interpretation in certain sections and not showing enough of my reactions. There’s no better learning experience as a writer than having someone misinterpret your work – it really reminds you of how important it is to guide the reader.
Anyways, what I want to discuss is a (larger) point she made in class and wrote specifically on my critique:
“I believe that when white people play music from other traditions that it always has to be acknowledged.”
Now, this is something I feel strongly about. I thought about emailing her to explain my thoughts on the topic, but without getting into specifics, the issue is quite personal for her and it might have been tough to engage in a level-headed discussion. Plus, as already discussed here, I avoid conflict in all shape and forms. Even email.
But I couldn’t just let this go – it was the last thing I thought about before I fell asleep and the first thing I thought about when I woke up. So I’ll just hash it out here:
I don’t believe in the racial or cultural ownership of music (or any art, for that matter). I believe that music transcends race and culture – that is part of its inherent beauty. Furthermore, I find such thinking to be counter-productive and in direct opposition to the growth and evolution of musical styles.
When I was in music school I was a white kid learning how to play Afro-Cuban percussion. Despite the fact that I was studying at an accredited institution of higher learning, my experience was peppered with prejudice. I had a Columbian percussion teacher laugh at me in front of a class, and say (in Spanish) that I played “like I had a stick up my ass.” A fellow student and Venezuelan percussionist friend recommended me for a gig that she couldn’t make, and the guy whose gig it was wouldn’t play with me because I was a gringo – he had never even heard me play.
In New York I have twice been denied gigs because of the color of my skin. Once I was even told flat out, “You’re obviously very talented, but we’re trying to market ourselves as a young, Latino band.”
One of the foremost experts in the world on traditional Afro-Cuban percussion is Michael Spiro, a jewish guy from California. He is a virtual encyclopedia of percussion knowledge, a fantastic teacher and a phenomenal musician. When I asked him why he didn’t have a full-time teaching gig at Berklee or UCLA he said, “I’ve got the wrong last name, man.”
The best percussion teacher I had at Berklee was a pale-white, long blond-haired Swedish guy named Miké. He taught Bata drumming – the sacred Afro-Cuban ceremonial drumming associated with Santeria. Despite receiving his due respect with the percussionists and fellow teachers, Miké had countless stories about people not taking him seriously due to his appearance.
I don’t think of any of this as tragic or anything. Getting ridiculed and yelled at is part of the Cuban percussion tradition. The same guy that humiliated me in front of a class taught me a ton of stuff and was very encouraging of me when I was just starting out. And I’m not stupid or naïve enough to think that my failure to support myself playing music has anything to do with the color of my skin. Also, Michael Spiro might not have a full-time teaching gig, but he is constantly traveling the world performing and teaching clinics. Miké does fine for himself, too.
What I’m trying to point out here is that, for cultural outsiders, there are plenty of hurdles already in place in any musical scene/style. Does anyone performing in such a situation really need to “acknowledge” anything before performing? And how? By saying, “Despite the fact that I’ve already faced presumptions and stereotypes in studying and performing this music, I would just like to acknowledge that this is the music of another culture, just in case anyone here thinks I might be trying to pass this off as MY music?”
Can you imagine expecting the same thing from a non-white classical or country musician? It’s disgusting.
As far as jazz is concerned, it’s a little different. I’ve read interviews with Wynton Marsalis where he talks of different world music traditions “watering down” jazz and that he worries about the future of the music, which is astoundingly ignorant. As far as I’m concerned, some of the most interesting and progressive jazz being played today is by young Cubans in New York. This theory also conveniently ignores Bossa Nova – a genre popularized in the sixties by American Jazz musicians recording and performing with Brazilian musicians – which was somehow unmentioned in Ken Burns’ selective documentary.
My point here is that music is bigger than (and beyond the attempted control of) any of us, and I don’t care how cheesy that sounds, it’s true. Anyone who believes that a particular culture owns a musical form is doing it a disservice. There’s nothing wrong with being protective of music or demanding that people respect and learn its traditions, but shouldn’t how good the music or the performer sounds be the end-all, say-all?
One summer at Berklee, the master Cuban drummer, Changuito, was teaching at the annual World Percussion Festival. He is legendary for reducing grown men, particularly Americans, to tears during lessons. I was terrified of him, but my friends talked me into taking a conga lesson. Barking instructions through an interpreter, he taught me groove after groove, nodding appreciatively while I figured them out. Other than a brief flare up when it took me a little longer than he wanted to learn a pattern, things went smoothly. When it was over, he offered me a drink of rum and complemented my playing. He didn’t care that I was a non-macho white kid, what he cared about was that I could play. Isn’t that all that should ever matter?
posted by Justin at 4:11 PM
5 Comments:
Damn fine piece of writing, honky. Seriously, excellent points. I don't really understand how culture relates to race in the context of this woman's "argument." "Black" is not a culture. "White" is not a culture. Sounds like an unfortunate by-product of that brand of political correctness and pseudo-diversity in which labels like "black," "white," "hispanic," "hispanic (not white)", "latino," "asian," "native american," and "pacific islander" diminish or stand-in for hundreds (thousands? more?) of unique and separate cultures. If America is the great melting pot, she's serving Velveeta for dinner and Squeeze-Cheez for dessert. (I have no idea what that last line means. I just like how it sounds.)
Thanks, man. I think "Velveeta for dinner and Squeeze-Cheez for dessert" would make a great album title.
Just make sure you credit Wisconsin "culture" if you release an album with that title.
Actually, they make a Mexican Velveeta with jalapenos which is really pretty tasty. I don't know if that adds anything to this discussion though.
An interesting question to some I guess. Certainly to that woman.
My wife is quarter Spanish-by-way-of-Chile, quarter Native Californian, quarter Irish and quarter Danish. As my own ethnic summary points out I am a mutt American and a mutt Canadian of serious order and very aged roots.
Our impending child will be some sort of mix. What will he have to proclaim and when?
Post a Comment
<< Home