On That Note

This blog was founded to promote study of black music. In the last months anti-racism has become unprecedentedly mainstream with the 2020 Black Lives Matter protests in the US and their global echoes. I support that cause and I’m glad to see this widespread shift in opinion affecting many organisations.

Closer to home, Irish people are channeling that energy into the End Direct Provision movement. Direct provision is a disgraceful, inhumane and wasteful system that deprives individuals and families seeking asylum in Ireland the right to work or cook their own food, for years on end.

The other anti-racism challenge for Ireland, from what I can see, is integrating immigrants, especially second-generation youth, at the community level.

I don’t play music or do musicological research anymore, but the respect I gained for black culture through both of those activities will always stay with me. I love black music so much, I could go on for days! And don’t get me started on the black philosophy, metaphysics, style and other wonders I glimpsed in the course of my old studies.

This blog stands for fairness for black people. How beautiful that will be when we get there, probably only song can express.

Thanks for reading Drum Chant!

Rolling Your Own Weddings (and Spirituality)

I was at a humanist wedding recently, my second this year. The readings the couple chose were short excerpts from J.R.R. Tolkien. It was a little disconcerting, but actually made total sense. To choose as a “sacred text” something that you quote all day long (they were obsessive Lord of the Rings fans). Something that you return to in times of turmoil.

Now, extensively customised weddings are par for the course these days, as is the observation, which could be made about almost anything, that LotR fandom resembles a secular religion. What this (completely lovely) ceremony really made me think of, is how I could do similar things in my own life.

If you’ve read my posts about hip hop, you’ll surmise it means a lot to me. Particularly since last summer when I spent a few months mostly on self-reflection, I’ve accepted that my personal conception of hip hop will be a sustaining force for the rest of my life. Basically, I think of hip hop as a martial arts move, a judo flip executed on society and the music industry, that smuggles deep wisdom inside the given structures of capitalism, masculinity and race. The catchy “gems” that stick with you, although camouflaged as egotistical boasts, are fully intended as self-help and spiritual sustenance for anyone who’s ready to receive them. This is true.

And it goes beyond hip hop. Somehow, quitting music performance helped make it clearer to me, that jazz and gospel are spiritual resources in my life. Monk, Nina, the Staple Singers, Paul Desmond, Charles Brown, etc. are presences I can always come back to.

My point? By all means, should we roll our own spirituality! Now, I’m not thinking of organising any weddings anytime soon. However: I know it’s late for a Christmas post, but isn’t that a ritual that could totally be expanded to include something personally meaningful? My first thought was, put some jazz photos on that tree. That’d be cool. Then I remembered that, as usual when I think I have great ideas, others are doing it already.

A good friend of mine has been making a determined effort for a few years now, to create the perfect Christmas jazz playlist. And it works! (I’m not expecting you to bookmark this 11 months in advance, BTW.) Chrimbo and jazz music combine just fine.

Back to that wedding for a second, the music for the ceremony was provided by Dublin duo, Moon and Son, and they played strictly jazz standards throughout, and it worked too.

My takeaway? Popular music has changed irreparably from the restructuring of the industry after MP3s and streaming. It will never again sound like its 20th century peak of effort and sophistication (I believe). Part of the reason I quit playing was this eclipse in cultural relevance. But – it cannot be denied that jazz, blues, gospel, hip hop and more have always had spiritual force, and people still feel it and maybe will become more and more conscious of it. So I bet that among my social class, the globally mobile, mostly white middle class, we’ll see more ritual use of black music, subtly, somehow, every year.

Not My Theory

This Gang Starr classic, from 1998’s Moment Of Truth album, has a pun for a title.

If you heard the phrase before reading it, you might come away with one meaning: a reference to Robin Hood stealing from the rich to give to the poor, as laid out in the song’s chorus. “Squeeze the juice out of all the suckers with power/And pour some back out so as to water the flowers”. My blog post will look at the emergence of various further meanings from the title, to investigate if it demonstrates an African-American style of communication called Signifyin(g).

I think I first bumped into this term in Vijay Iyer’s writings. Signifyin(g) is about indirect, allusive ways of conveying meaning. Although it is “so shared in [African-American] culture as to long ago have become second nature to its users”, for non-acculturated people like me it’s hard to get a grasp on. After doing some reading about it to contribute to a paper on Ahmad Jamal I presented at the SMI/ICTM postgraduate conference this January, I noticed that “Robbin’ Hood Theory” might form a neat teachable example of Signifyin(g). All the quotes in this piece are from Ingrid Monson’s Saying Something (which is about Siginifyin(g) and similar processes in jazz music) and Henry Louis Gates Jr.’s The Signifyin(g) Monkey.

“Black people frequently ‘enounce’ their sense of difference by repetition with a signal difference.” (Claudia Mitchell-Kernan, quoted by Gates)

The repetition Mitchell-Kernan mentions is the reuse of (often pop culture) material; in the Gang Starr song title, it’s the reference to the legend of Robin Hood. Pastiche, allusion, intertextuality are other terms used for this re-appropriative aspect of Signifyin(g).

cw-robin-hood-disney-1

As well as this repetition or appropriation, Signifyin(g) involves a “signal difference” which often marks out “two discursive universes” of black and white (Monson).

Robin Hood clearly belongs to a white “discursive universe” – English folk culture and mass culture, and the idea of the European middle ages. Is there a “signal difference” that marks a different, black discursive universe? Yes, of course: the use of black pronunciation and slang in “Robbin’ Hood”.

What does this do? Well, Gates also called Signifyin(g) “ironic reversal with signal difference.” Reversal means that the appropriated material – Robin Hood – is given an ironically reversed meaning. The reversal here is the switch from “Robin Hood – stealing from the rich” to “robbin’ hood[s] – stealing from the poor”, referring to economic exploitation and systematic deprivation in urban ghettos.

Now we have two disparate meanings, one marked as white by its cultural background and one as black by slang and pronunciation, and with opposed meanings. Now things get interesting…

Gates’ classic book on Signifyin(g) as a literary technique investigates the Signifyin(g) Monkey tales – a genre of black folk verse about a trickster monkey who gets into and out of trouble because of his Signifyin(g) talk. Gates discusses how Signifyin(g) involves “a measure of undecidability within the discourse, such that it must be interpreted or decoded by careful attention to its play of differences.”

The Gang Starr title is a neat example, I think, because we can see some of this play of differences. When lyricist Guru juxtaposes a bandit hero against the exploitation of ghettos, we can infer that he is making a case for “Robin Hood”-type action against rich exploiters. But because of the ambiguity and indirectness, we as listeners have to participate in constructing this meaning. (Very much comparable to how people participate in a groove by playing, vocalising, or dancing along.) We’re challenged from a number of angles by Guru’s title: it asks, do we feel similar to, sympathetic to or distanced from people who speak in slang and inhabit “hoods”? if sympathetic, how do we feel about them taking outlaw action? do we think Robin Hood and black ghetto-dwellers have a similar justification for breaking the law? if not, is it because of their different races, or because heroism is a fiction? do we enjoy the appropriation of a white culture hero to make this point?

Through challenge and an ambiguity that allows space for multiple meanings, “the hearer is thus constrained to attend to all potential meaning carrying symbolic systems in speech events–the total universe of discourse.” (Mitchell-Kernan)

That’s me done for today. You should definitely check out Ingrid Monson’s and Henry Louis Gates Jr.’s books if you find this interesting. They have many more examples and quotes.

I hope to be back soon enough with another post. If it’s not some bass playing thing, maybe it will be something about the very use of the phrase “black music” (which obviously has a lot of currency on this blog), because the Jazz Studies Reading Group that I help run is reading two chapters about how music relates to identity and race. Due to the fact that, so far, I write all these blog posts based off readings and recordings rather than face-to-face interactions or interviews with black people, I think it wouldn’t be too hard to find problems with my cavalier use of the term. Anyway, we’ll also likely be reading Monson’s book in the coming months. If you’d like to come to our meetings in Dublin, email us at the address in the image.

Thanks for reading. Feedback is always much appreciated!

Poster February 2018 Tweaked