tag:theconversation.com,2011:/global/topics/contemporary-music-12360/articlesContemporary music – The Conversation2023-03-03T12:51:03Ztag:theconversation.com,2011:article/2007652023-03-03T12:51:03Z2023-03-03T12:51:03ZDavid Bowie: five must-have items for the V&A’s new centre<p>The Victoria and Albert Museum in London has <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-64729309">announced</a> the opening of a new David Bowie Centre for the Performing Arts in 2025 at V&A East Storehouse in east London. This follows the news that the museum has acquired – <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/music/2023/feb/23/va-lands-huge-archive-of-david-bowie-memorabilia">through donation</a> – the artist’s fabled archive. </p>
<p>This collection of over 80,000 objects formed the basis of the museum’s 2013 exhibition <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/music/2013/mar/24/david-bowie-is-exhibition-review">David Bowie Is</a>. It includes personal correspondence, lyric sheets, photographs, costumes, set designs, music awards, films, album artwork, instruments and plans for unrealised projects. </p>
<p>The show’s curators, Victoria Broackes and Geoffrey Marsh, described it as “one of the most, if not the most, complete archive of any pop music artist” of all time, </p>
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<p>In 2020, I was <a href="https://ahc.leeds.ac.uk/english/news/article/1707/the-cambridge-companion-to-david-bowie">commissioned</a> to edit The Cambridge Companion to David Bowie, having long researched <a href="https://eprints.whiterose.ac.uk/123490/">the artist’s</a> (often ghostly) presence in both <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/10486801.2014.885902">contemporary theatre</a> and <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/10304312.2017.1334384">recent cinema</a>. </p>
<p>Here are my top five Bowie treasures, with a playlist that sounds out his <a href="https://theconversation.com/back-then-and-now-just-who-is-david-bowie-42052">playful curiosity</a> about how we occupy our bodies and <a href="https://theconversation.com/bowie-and-gender-transgression-what-a-drag-44569">genders</a>, his tender sense of our need for beauty and his passionate respect for <a href="https://theconversation.com/bowies-magical-wardrobe-led-his-fans-into-strange-new-musical-landscapes-53120">style</a>. </p>
<h2>1. Jockstrap</h2>
<p>During the 1973 Ziggy Stardust tour, <a href="https://www.snapgalleries.com/portfolio-items/david-bowie-by-masayoshi-sukita/">Masayoshi Sukita</a> photographed a <a href="https://www.snapgalleries.com/product/masayoshi-sukita-david-bowie-gimmie-your-hands/">near-naked Bowie</a> performing before a joyously crazed Japanese crowd, wearing only a <a href="https://slate.com/culture/2005/07/where-have-all-the-jockstraps-gone.html">jockstrap</a>. </p>
<p>This piece of athletic kit, so evocative of <a href="https://core.ac.uk/download/pdf/304335047.pdf">sport’s homosocial energies</a> and of <a href="https://eprints.mdx.ac.uk/6517/1/Humberstone-older_people_sexualities.phd.pdf">working-class culture</a>, creates an irreverent tension with the androgyny and strangeness of the costumes fashion designer Kansai Yamamoto created for that same tour. </p>
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<img alt="David Bowie on stage wearing red boxing gloves." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/512902/original/file-20230301-16-3ttafv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/512902/original/file-20230301-16-3ttafv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=429&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/512902/original/file-20230301-16-3ttafv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=429&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/512902/original/file-20230301-16-3ttafv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=429&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/512902/original/file-20230301-16-3ttafv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=539&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/512902/original/file-20230301-16-3ttafv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=539&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/512902/original/file-20230301-16-3ttafv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=539&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<span class="caption">The Diamond Dogs tour in 1974.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/hdport/3329403108/in/photostream/">Hunter Desportes/Flickr</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/">CC BY</a></span>
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<p>Bowie was at his most gloriously <a href="https://core.ac.uk/works/9206049">queer</a> when trafficking in images of iconic, traditional (and intensely vulnerable) masculinity. Other notable accessories include the red boxing gloves he wore during live performances of his 1973 track Panic in Detroit and the darker gloves he sports on the cover of 1983’s Let’s Dance.</p>
<h2>2. The 1973 Hammersmith Odeon dressing table</h2>
<p>In <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/music/reviews/c9mq/">Ziggy Stardust: The Motion Picture</a>, the 1973 Donn Alan Pennebaker documentary about Bowie’s final Ziggy gig, we see the artist preparing for the stage. As he sits in front of a mirrored dressing table, his makeup artist applies rouge, eyeshadow and eyeliner, transforming him from a pallid young man into a feminine icon. </p>
<p>I’d like the new centre to recreate the dressing table: the two bottles of wine (one opened), the white plastic cups, the boxes of tissues, the large tin of hairspray, the container of Johnson & Johnson baby powder, the well-used green ashtray.</p>
<p>This gentle display of the mundane paraphernalia of 1970s femininity speaks to Bowie’s lifelong preoccupation with what English literature expert Shelton Walderp terms an <a href="https://www.upress.umn.edu/book-division/books/the-aesthetics-of-self-invention">“aesthetics of self-invention”</a>, stretching from Bowie back to Oscar Wilde, and beyond to Shakespeare and Japanese Kabuki theatre. </p>
<h2>3. Bowie’s copy of George Orwell’s 1984 – and other books</h2>
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<p>One installation in the 2013 V&A show featured a faceless mannequin with outstretched arms, high, high up in the space. It was draped in a cloak designed by Yamamoto in 1973, a white floor-length garment, made in the <a href="https://www2.ntj.jac.go.jp/unesco/kabuki/en/production/performance1.html">Japanese hikinuki tradition</a> and designed to be ripped off in a speedy onstage costume change. It is covered in red and black <a href="https://www.japan-guide.com/e/e2046.html">kanji</a> which translate as “one who spits out words in a fiery manner”. </p>
<p>Suspended around it in the V&A, like so many birds in flight, were 20-odd books from Bowie’s personal library by authors including RD Laing, Vladimir Nabokov and Hubert Selby Jr. </p>
<p>I’d love to see Bowie’s copy of George Orwell’s 1984 feature – a novel I read, aged 12, after I had heard Bowie was writing a musical based on it. Also, anything he owned by French writer Jean Genet, whose name inspired the title of the 1972 single, The Jean Genie, and whose final book, Prisoner of Love (1986) inspired the eponymous song Bowie recorded with Tin Machine in 1989. </p>
<h2>4. The Hedi Slimane three piece suit – and other blue suits</h2>
<p>On 1977’s Sound and Vision, Bowie <a href="https://pure.hud.ac.uk/en/publications/sound-and-vision">famously sang</a>: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>Blue, blue, electric blue<br>
That’s the colour of my room </p>
</blockquote>
<p>This sentiment chimes with the filmmaker, <a href="https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/films/features/why-derek-jarman-s-life-was-even-more-influential-than-his-films-9137025.html">Derek Jarman</a>’s own take on the colour (in Chroma: A Book of Colour):</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Blue, an open door to the soul<br>
An infinite possibility<br>
Becoming tangible</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Bowie greatly admired Jarman, an extract of whose film, <a href="https://mubi.com/films/blue">Blue</a>, was played during the pre-show music for the 1995 Outside tour. Like Jarman, Bowie loved the colour blue, maybe, in part, because he knew how good he looked in it. </p>
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<p>Like he did in the turquoise suit Freddi Burretti designed for his 1973 Life on Mars? video, whose vivid hue echoed Bowie’s eye make-up; or the powder-blue suit designed by Peter Hall that featured regularly on the 1983 Serious Moonlight tour; and the gorgeous petrol-blue three-piece, designed by Hedi Slimane, that he wore on his 2002 Heathen tour. </p>
<h2>5. The white Supro guitar – and other instruments</h2>
<p>One of the most compelling photographs in the David Bowie Is catalogue is of the <a href="https://dshowmusic.com/supro-david-bowie-1961-dual-tone-guitar/">white Supro 1961 Dual Tone</a> electric guitar that Bowie played on his final tour, in support of the 2003 Reality album. The image remains emblematic of Bowie’s dogged commitment to the possibilities, and actual making of music.</p>
<p>Other instruments of note would include the <a href="https://www.kingston.ac.uk/news/article/2028/14-mar-2018-esteemed-music-producer-tony-visconti-shares-tips-on-working-with-artists-including-david-bowie-and/">12-string acoustic guitar</a> he turned to throughout his career; the <a href="https://faroutmagazine.co.uk/the-david-bowie-song-inspired-by-kyoto-japan/">Japanese koto</a> he plays on the 1977 track Moss Garden; the <a href="https://research.tees.ac.uk/ws/portalfiles/portal/6359081/344409.pdf">saxophone</a> he had played since he was a teenager; and the harmonicas that followed him from 1969’s song Unwashed and Somewhat Slightly Dazed to 2016’s I Can’t Give Everything Away, the final track on <a href="https://theconversation.com/david-bowies-late-revival-belongs-to-a-grand-tradition-dating-back-to-beethoven-71031">Blackstar</a>, his final album.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/200765/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Denis Flannery does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>The artist’s fabled archive spans his entire career, showcasing his playful curiosity, his need for beauty and his respect for style.Denis Flannery, Associate Professor in American Literature, University of LeedsLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1622542021-08-04T20:07:41Z2021-08-04T20:07:41Z50 years since Mike Oldfield began writing Tubular Bells: the pioneering album that changed the sound of music<p>English composer and multi-instrumentalist Mike Oldfield began writing Tubular Bells <a href="https://www.classicpopmag.com/2021/01/mike-oldfield-to-revive-tubular-bells-live-this-summer/">50 years ago, at the age of 17</a>. The record, released two years later, was the first on Richard Branson’s newly established Virgin label and remains Oldfield’s highest selling and best known album to date.</p>
<p>An instrumental work, Tubular Bells is 49 minutes and 16 seconds long presented in two parts, each taking up one side of the original vinyl release. </p>
<p>The album was pioneering in many ways, from its use of bells to electric guitars recorded at half speed, and has been credited as an early example of new age music. </p>
<p>At the time of its release — although a unique sounding album in many ways — Tubular Bells was closely associated with the progressive rock scene. Indeed, Oldfield had roots in this scene: he was previously bassist with Kevin Ayers and the Whole World, a band who, along with Soft Machine, Gong and Caravan were part of the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canterbury_scene">Canterbury Scene</a>.</p>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">Tubular Bells gained further exposure when the introduction to Part One was used in William Friedkin’s 1973 film The Exorcist.</span></figcaption>
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<p>Still in his teens, Oldfield was disillusioned with the rigours of touring and the limitations of live performance. His vision was to produce an album taking full advantage of the sound production opportunities offered by the recording studio. </p>
<p>Brian Wilson and the Beatles had <a href="https://www.loudersound.com/features/how-brian-wilson-recorded-pet-sounds-and-reinvented-music">begun this trend</a> in the mid-1960s, but by the early 1970s studio technology had developed to the extent stereo recording on tape machines featuring 16 tracks was possible. </p>
<p>This significantly extended the possibilities for layering sound.</p>
<p>Several sections of music on Tubular Bells were written by Oldfield and recorded as demos on cassette before he entered the Manor — a 16th century building bought by Branson and converted into a recording studio — to begin work on the album.</p>
<h2>A repeated motif</h2>
<p>Tubular Bells is best known for Part One, particularly the first three and a half minutes of music, which feature a repeated motif in the key of A minor with a 15/8 time signature. </p>
<p>This time signature was highly unusual in rock music at the time and, combined with the stark minimalist sound of the grand piano, Oldfield created a mesmerising and slightly surreal effect.</p>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">An unusual time signature and a stark sound gives Tubular Bells a surreal effect.</span></figcaption>
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<p>Through a series of modulations, this motif is repeated at various stages throughout side one of Tubular Bells, ending with the motif played on a Spanish guitar in the transposed key of E major. </p>
<p>Primarily a guitarist, prior to working on Tubular Bells Oldfield had familiarised himself with a range of other stringed, keyboard and percussion instruments. A popular perception of the album’s creation is of Oldfield playing a large number of musical instruments and endlessly overdubbing his performances to produce a one-person orchestra.</p>
<p>In truth, Oldfield did play most of the instruments on the album (with the exception of the drums heard on side two) but this amounted to around ten instruments, including electric and acoustic guitars, grand piano and pipe organ, glockenspiel, timpani, tin whistle and, of course, the famed tubular bells.</p>
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<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/40-years-of-mtv-the-channel-that-shaped-popular-culture-as-we-know-it-165365">40 Years of MTV: the channel that shaped popular culture as we know it</a>
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<p>Chosen as the album’s title and the subject of a great fanfare at the end of side one, tubular bells constituted something of a novelty item and source of fascination for listeners. </p>
<p>A series of metal tubes of varying length, when tubular bells are struck they resemble the sound of church bells. Commonly used in classical music, in the world of rock tubular bells were a relatively unknown quantity. </p>
<p>(Partly due to the exposure afforded by Oldfield’s work several rock and progressive rock drummers also added tubular bells to their percussive arsenal during the arena rock years of the 1970s.)</p>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">Tubular Bells used a wide variety of instruments.</span></figcaption>
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<p>Another novel aspect of Tubular Bells was the use of “speed guitars”: electric guitars recorded at half speed, then brought back to normal speed in playback. This meant the notes produced were higher than the normal range of notes possible on guitar. This technique was used to create the mandolin-like effects heard in several parts of the album. </p>
<p>A custom-made distortion was used to create the “bagpipe guitars” (so called because their sound is similar to bagpipes) heard on side two. And at the end of side two a familiar tune is heard: Oldfield’s arrangement of the Sailor’s Hornpipe brings the album to a close.</p>
<h2>A template for innovation</h2>
<p>Tubular Bells has spawned an orchestral version of the work and two sequels, Tubular Bells II and III. Aspects of the work have been incorporated into songs by metal bands Possessed and Death Angel as well as other artists including the California Guitar trio. </p>
<p>This month, 50 years after Oldfield started writing Tubular Bells, the album will again be performed live in London, directed by Oldfield’s longtime collaborator Robin A. Smith and featuring Australian circus company <a href="https://circa.org.au/show/tubular-bells-live-in-concert/">Circa</a>. A short tour is planned in 2023 to celebrate the 50th anniversary of Tubular Bells’ release.</p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/414443/original/file-20210803-12-lhl4d5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A giant bell hangs above a blue stage." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/414443/original/file-20210803-12-lhl4d5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/414443/original/file-20210803-12-lhl4d5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=398&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/414443/original/file-20210803-12-lhl4d5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=398&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/414443/original/file-20210803-12-lhl4d5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=398&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/414443/original/file-20210803-12-lhl4d5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=501&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/414443/original/file-20210803-12-lhl4d5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=501&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/414443/original/file-20210803-12-lhl4d5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=501&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">Oldfield performing Tubular Bells as part of the opening ceremony of the London 2012 Olympics.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/nickwebb/7662481762/in/photostream/">Nick Webb/flickr</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/">CC BY-SA</a></span>
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<p>Upon its release, Oldfield was reluctant to tour Tubular Bells. He finally agreed to a one-off concert at London’s Queen Elizabeth Hall on June 25 1973. An all-star cast of musicians was recruited for the event, including Kevin Ayers, Fred Frith, Steve Hillage and Mick Taylor (then with the Rolling Stones). </p>
<p>Preceding Queen’s <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fJ9rUzIMcZQ">Bohemian Rhapsody</a> and 10cc’s <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cgJckGsR-T0">I’m Not in Love</a> (songs now regarded as the great multi-track masterpieces) by two years, Tubular Bells was undoubtedly a critical template for innovation in studio-based music during an era when album-orientated-rock commanded a hefty market share.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/162254/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Andy Bennett has received funding from the ARC. </span></em></p>Rising to prominence in The Exorcist soundtrack and the first album from Richard Branson’s Virgin Records, the layered sounds of Tubular Bells became a template for further innovation.Andy Bennett, Professor, Griffith UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1520802021-01-22T01:13:30Z2021-01-22T01:13:30ZFour Indigenous composers and a piano from colonial times — making passionate, layered, honest music together<p>Despite having different cultural backgrounds and experiences — Indigenous composers with an Indigenous mentor, and a pianist descended from Anglo-colonial history — it is nevertheless possible to create a project that can serve as a focus for unification and strength. </p>
<p>In our instance, the trigger was a relic of the past. Specifically, an historical object made at a time of great significance for Australia: <a href="https://music.cass.anu.edu.au/instruments/henrion">a square piano built around 1770</a>, housed in the keyboard archives of the School of Music at ANU. </p>
<p>Its place of manufacture was Alsace in western Europe, a small body of land that has at times been claimed by Germany, at other times by France. The <a href="https://www.britishcouncil.org/voices-magazine/alsace-culturally-not-quite-french-not-quite-german">disputed nature of the territory</a> serves as an ironic parallel to our project.</p>
<p>Given the historical importance of the time of manufacture — when James Cook was charting the eastern coast of Australia — we asked four Indigenous composers, all of whom have been through the <a href="https://www.australianmusiccentre.com.au/about/NgarraBurria">Moogahlin Performing Arts and Ngarra-burria First Nations composers program</a>, to write new music for the piano. The brief was simple: write something for the instrument, with the option of one other instrument or voice, to a length of around five minutes. </p>
<p>All four composers interpreted the project in thoroughly different ways, reflecting their unique artistic approaches and perhaps highlighting issues relating to previous attempts at addressing and improving the situation created by the past. Today, recordings of their works on <a href="https://abcmusic.lnk.to/Piyanna">Ngarra-burria Piyanna</a> are being released for streaming and download. </p>
<h2>The instrument</h2>
<p>The piano was built by Henri Henrion in a small village near to Sareguemines. Little is known about the builder, except that he eventually became involved in politics and got swept up in the events of the French Revolution. </p>
<p>Similar to other <a href="https://www.squarepianos.com/square.html">square pianos</a>, including <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2019/mar/31/first-australian-piano-comes-home-to-uk-after-231-years">the instrument that came out on the First Fleet</a>, it creates a sound that is far lighter than that of a modern piano.</p>
<p>From the outset, it was clear there could be challenges. It is undeniably confronting to ask people whose culture was so thoroughly subjugated to “get creative” with an object that could be seen as crucially symbolic of white history. It was joked that the creativity might take the form of matches and a chorus for a bonfire!</p>
<p>The compositions were recorded in Canberra last year, and were <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/classic/read-and-watch/music-reads/fresh-start-diaries-an-old-piano-plays-new-indigenous-music/12952746">featured</a> in a podcast broadcast on ABC radio, whose generous funding under the auspices of a Fresh Start Fund grant made it all possible. </p>
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<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/its-time-to-properly-acknowledge-and-celebrate-indigenous-composers-115839">It's time to properly acknowledge - and celebrate - Indigenous composers</a>
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<h2>From rap to gothic vampires and protest songs</h2>
<p><a href="https://www.arts.unsw.edu.au/school-arts-media/events/forces-music-rhyan-clapham-aka-dobby-open-masterclass">Rhyan Clapham</a>, who works as a rapper with the pseudonym <a href="https://www.triplejunearthed.com/artist/dobby">DOBBY</a>, is the only composer who also performs their track, both on the square piano and vocals. </p>
<p>He set his goal as delivering a 250-year history of Australia, from the time the piano was made to the present. He enjoyed the process. </p>
<blockquote>
<p>The team produced this unique project effectively and respectfully. There was a certain feeling shared by all of us that something quite special was happening.</p>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">Rapper Rhyan Clapham, aka DOBBY, last year drew on the last words of American man George Floyd who was killed by police.</span></figcaption>
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<p>The work by music student <a href="https://elizabethsheppardmusic.com/">Elizabeth Sheppard</a>, called Kalgoorli Silky Pear, draws on the history of her ancestors who resided in Western Australia generations before. It also incorporates an element of her Scottish lineage, through a hint of a lullaby towards the end. As a composer familiar with older musical styles, she has incorporated elements of Indigenous polyphony in a thoughtful way. </p>
<p>In Lupe’s Waltz, <a href="https://sydneylivingmuseums.com.au/stories/contemporary-first-peoples-composers">Tim Gray</a> has imagined the pianist as a vampire. He has written a vocal line for a witch, all dreamed up in a gothic throwback to a Romanian grand ball. While we often look to Indigenous composers for cultural insights, there are less apparent metaphors in Tim’s music that may pass us by. This subtlety is part of the magic of the piece. </p>
<p>In writing about her work, The Binary, songwriter and storyteller <a href="https://www.nardisimpson.com/">Nardi Simpson</a> (also a student at the School of Music) has been powerfully honest in recounting her initial reaction to the commission. </p>
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<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/together-we-rise-east-arnhem-land-artists-respond-to-covid-19-with-the-gift-of-music-137247">Together we rise: East Arnhem Land artists respond to COVID-19 with the gift of music</a>
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<p>This piano — such a reminder of the horrors of colonisation for Indigenous peoples — was perhaps a foe and not a friend. So, ingeniously, Nardi took eight popular protest chants and coded them into complex rhythmic patterns. These then mingle and overlay. They create a transcendent and deeply meaningful musical landscape. </p>
<p>Rather than mask the sounds of the mechanical inner working of the instrument, the pieces were recorded with complete authenticity. In a sense, this decision stands as a symbol for the project: with honesty, authenticity, and a shared passion, music can show a way forward to a brighter future. </p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/terra-nullius-interruptus-captain-james-cook-and-absent-presence-in-first-nations-art-129688">Terra nullius interruptus: Captain James Cook and absent presence in First Nations art</a>
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<img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/152080/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Four Indigenous composers were asked to create works for a square piano from a painful period in our nation’s history. They did so in creative, honest and powerful ways.Christopher Sainsbury, Senior Lecturer Composition, Australian National UniversityScott Davie, Lecturer in Piano, School of Music, Australian National UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1462062020-10-12T18:45:15Z2020-10-12T18:45:15ZHow toy pianos went from child’s play into classical concert halls<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/359751/original/file-20200924-22-11tzoet.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=7%2C29%2C4881%2C3224&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Shutterstock</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>A child’s toy may seem like an unlikely candidate for the classical concert hall. Around the world, however, thousands of musicians gather every year for festivals, conferences and concerts dedicated to the toy piano. </p>
<p>Exploring its sound, range, and playing technique, these composers and performers congregate to talk about latest developments in toy piano music and perform new pieces.</p>
<p>Along with many festivals in the <a href="https://library.ucsd.edu/news-events/events/toy-piano-festival-2020/">US</a> and <a href="https://toypiano-weekend.de/en/out-of-this-world/">Germany</a>, <a href="https://music-as-play.wixsite.com/toypiano">Italy</a> and <a href="https://toymusic.modoo.at">Korea</a> have both held their first toy piano festival in recent years.</p>
<p>Pop artists such as <a href="https://www.facebook.com/schoenhut/photos/a.439767672722639/679368202095917/?type=1&theater">Bruno Mars</a> and groups such as <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E_exesnCA5Y&ab_channel=Coldplay">Coldplay</a> have brought a larger audience to what was once considered a niche and experimental use of the instrument. Search “toy piano” or “tiny piano” on Twitter or Facebook and you’ll find countless posts featuring performers and composers using or discussing the instrument. </p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/jamming-with-your-toddler-how-music-trumps-reading-for-childhood-development-49660">Jamming with your toddler: how music trumps reading for childhood development</a>
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<h2>Serious music with a playful spin</h2>
<p>Toy pianos, despite being designed and marketed to children and families, have been used for decades to write everything from concertos to pop songs.</p>
<p>French composer <a href="https://www.yanntiersen.com/">Yann Tiersen</a> used one prominently in his score to the 2001 film Amélie to represent the title character’s inner child.</p>
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<p>Neil Diamond’s song, Shilo, is one of the earliest pop songs to feature toy piano (you can hear it in the bridge at about the 2:28 mark <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cm85iAo05TQ&ab_channel=NeilDiamond-Topic&t=2m25s">here</a>).</p>
<p>And John Cage’s 1940s suite for toy piano, where he took all the seriousness of writing for the piano and put a playful spin on it, came at a crucial moment in the mid-20th century; hard borders of the musical arts, which reached a limit of seriousness in the 1920s and 1930s, had started to break down. </p>
<p>This mixing of traditional “high music” with artefacts that might be considered juvenile, populist, naff, or domestic, was becoming more common — and more exciting. </p>
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<h2>Play and experimentation</h2>
<p>Toy pianos typically have a range of 12-36 keys, roughly one quarter the range of a full piano (though there are smaller and larger examples, too). </p>
<p>These acoustic instruments are made from a wood or plastic frame. They produce a bell-like sound when a small hammer hits a tube or flat piece of metal inside. </p>
<p>Unlike a typical piano, toy pianos are rarely tuned to perfection and can sound a bit off to the ear but many can’t help but be charmed by their tiny size, variety of colours and quirky inconsistent plonking.</p>
<p>With its history and connection to ideas of childhood, this instrument is commonly used to musically convey a sense of innocence and nostalgia.</p>
<p>Traditionally, art music composition can be very prescriptive and confined. The traditional conservatorium or university composition class teaches the rules of writing — what you can and cannot do with an instrument — but something about the toy piano invites play and experimentation. </p>
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<h2>Every toy piano is different</h2>
<p>Unlike many instruments used for composing, the toy piano is not standardised around the world.</p>
<p>There are dozens of makers who use different techniques and different materials giving every toy piano a unique sound, range, and register. This makes writing music for the piano a bit random — but for many of us, therein lies the fun. </p>
<p>If you write a piece of music for the toy piano and if a performer in another part of the world has enough keys on their instrument, they can play your piece in their own special way. It’s like a singer using their own unique voice to cover a song. </p>
<p><audio preload="metadata" controls="controls" data-duration="11" data-image="" data-title="A melody played on three different toy pianos. Composed and performed by Paul Smith." data-size="452527" data-source="Paul Smith" data-source-url="" data-license="CC BY-NC" data-license-url="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/">
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A melody played on three different toy pianos. Composed and performed by Paul Smith.
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Paul Smith</span>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/">CC BY-NC</a><span class="download"><span>442 KB</span> <a target="_blank" href="https://cdn.theconversation.com/audio/2050/toy-piano-melodies-x-3.mp3">(download)</a></span></span>
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<p>The composer gives up some control, which contrasts sharply with romantic and and modernist-era ideas that positioned the composer as a genius whose works should never be altered.</p>
<p>Many composers end up collecting toy pianos, which gives them a variety of sounds to play with. Australian composer Elena Kats-Chernin became known as the <a href="https://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/music/from-a-low-key-start-plinking-marvellous-music-20090706-gdtmem.html">toy piano lady</a> at a Sydney toy store after buying eight in a row. I’m up to a modest five and am resisting buying my sixth. </p>
<p>Toy piano specialists are becoming more common as performers and <a href="https://open.spotify.com/album/6RbOvSLDvcZdSKES4XS8DF">composers</a> in demand. </p>
<p>Italian specialist <a href="http://antoniettaloffredo.com/">Antonietta Loffredo</a> has performed several times in Australia and released many recordings with the Australian art music label <a href="https://www.australiancomposers.com.au/">Wirripang</a>. You can hear her recordings of works by Australian composers on Spotify <a href="https://open.spotify.com/album/6RbOvSLDvcZdSKES4XS8DF">here</a>.</p>
<p>Margaret Leng Tan, a toy instrument virtuoso with many commissions and dedications to her name, was due to perform with toy piano at the Sydney Opera House this year but the concert was postponed due to COVID-19.</p>
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<p>As Margaret Leng Tan herself <a href="https://philipglass.com/recordings/toy_piano/">puts it</a>:</p>
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<p>I remain wholeheartedly intrigued by the toy piano’s magical overtones, hypnotic charm, and not least, its off-key poignancy. In the words of author John David Morley, “Sound combed from the keys of a stairway ascending faintly into sleep”. My composer-friends were similarly beguiled and driven to frenzied heights of creativity by this modest little instrument. </p>
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<h2>Escaping a rigid world</h2>
<p>Artists are always looking for new ways to challenge and surprise audiences. What is and isn’t accepted on the concert stage is constantly shifting and the rise of the toy piano suggests that we are ready to welcome new sounds and new instruments into the relatively closed world of classical music.</p>
<p>To many composers, the toy piano offers more than a symbolic representation of childhood — it provides an exciting escape from the strict and rigid world of formal contemporary art music. </p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/from-the-first-fleet-to-changi-australias-pianos-have-a-long-history-100320">From the First Fleet to Changi, Australia's pianos have a long history</a>
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<img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/146206/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Paul Smith is the co-artistic director of the group Blush Opera, which sometimes produces concerts and events featuring toy pianos.
</span></em></p>Toy pianos typically have a range of 12-36 keys, roughly one quarter the range of a full piano. But they are used by composers and music makers to write everything from concertos to pop songs.Paul Smith, Senior Lecturer in Music, University of New EnglandLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1344932020-03-26T14:58:32Z2020-03-26T14:58:32ZFunky Drummer: How a James Brown jam session gave us the ‘greatest drum break of them all’<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/322611/original/file-20200324-155640-1ei5oj4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=5%2C10%2C1710%2C1609&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Paul VanDerWerf via Flickr</span>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/">CC BY-SA</a></span></figcaption></figure><p><a href="https://www.britannica.com/biography/James-Brown-American-singer">James Brown</a> released a seven-inch single called Funky Drummer in March, 1970 – a loosely arranged jam session showcasing the talent for improvisation of drummer <a href="https://www.moderndrummer.com/article/august-2017-clyde-stubblefield-remembered/">Clyde Stubblefield</a>, who was employed in Brown’s band at the time. </p>
<p>Although it failed to crack the top 50 pop charts on release, Funky Drummer was rediscovered in the 1980s by a generation of pioneering hip-hop artists. These have included Kool Moe Dee, Grandmaster Flash, Eric B. & Rakim, Run DMC, LL Cool J, Public Enemy, and the Beastie Boys – who all sampled Stubblefield’s infectious drum break. The Funky Drummer breakbeat soon spread far beyond hip-hop, appearing on well over 1,000 recordings by pop artists ranging from George Michael and Sinead O’Connor in the 1990s right up to Emeli Sandé and Ed Sheeran in the past decade.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/the-story-of-the-funky-drummer-the-most-exploited-man-in-modern-music-73473">The story of the funky drummer: the most exploited man in modern music</a>
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<p>Funky Drummer is one of the most sampled drum breaks of all time – and also one of the most discussed (including in my new book, <a href="https://global.oup.com/academic/product/kick-it-9780190683870">Kick It: A Social History of the Drum Kit</a>). It’s also a prime example of how copyright law has historically failed to compensate drummers. Stubblefield <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2011/03/30/arts/music/clyde-stubblefield-a-drummer-aims-for-royalties.html">famously never received any royalties</a> from all the hits his drum break was used on. </p>
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<p>James Brown typically <a href="https://repository.law.miami.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1008&context=umeslr">paid his musicians on a “work-for-hire” basis</a> for recording sessions, and generally credited himself as the sole author of the resulting songs. This was the case even if the music was largely improvised, as in the case of Funky Drummer. It was also in keeping with copyright law conventions at the time, which usually recognised the legal author of a musical composition as the person who wrote <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/publication/42790899_Copyright_the_Work_and_Phonographic_Orality_in_Music">the topline melody and lyrics</a>.</p>
<h2>Anchor for a new sound</h2>
<p>Funky Drummer has various musical elements: simple repeating horn and guitar riffs, a syncopated wandering bass line, occasional instrumental solos on organ and saxophone, as well as vocal improvisations by Brown. We also hear Stubblefield’s performance underpinning the jam session, including the glorious moment when Brown orders the band to drop out while Stubblefield keeps drumming his highly inventive groove unaccompanied – the isolated drum “break” that hip-hop artists love to sample. </p>
<p>But Brown would have deemed all the above musical elements as insignificant compared to his own role as the artistic leader and frontman – this wasn’t necessarily fair, but neither was it uncommon. Ringo Starr did not receive co-writing credits for his drumming contributions on Beatles songs, for example, even though his drum parts have often been <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20150707132204/http://www.pas.org/About/the-society/halloffame/StarrRingo.aspx">retrospectively deemed by musical peers</a> to constitute a distinct compositional element of the band’s work.</p>
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<p>Five decades on, in a pop soundscape utterly transformed by hip-hop culture, we now tend to recognise just how important a compelling drum beat is in making a chart hit. Most commercially successful music in the 21st century is anchored by the sounds of the kick drum, snare and cymbals (or electronic percussion serving similar functions). You can now point to plenty of contemporary chart hits that don’t feature an electric guitar, but there are almost none that don’t prominently feature a beat between kick and snare – whether acoustic, sampled or synthesised.</p>
<p>In the hit factories of the present day, the most successful pop artists <a href="https://www.bbc.com/worklife/article/20191126-the-hidden-beat-makers-behind-musics-big-hits">often bring in producers</a> who have gained reputations by creating alluring beats. They often receive a formal share in songwriting credits as “co-writers” and “producers”. </p>
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<p>We also live in an era when it is increasingly expensive to gain legal permission to sample drum breaks from rights holders (usually songwriters and/or record companies, as opposed to drummers). This has led to a relatively hidden ancillary industry of “sample replay” companies that are hired to painstakingly rerecord well-known drum breaks (and other parts from guitar riffs to vocal samples). These are designed to resemble the original recordings as much as possible.</p>
<p>The rights to these copycat recordings are then bought wholesale and sampled instead of the originals (at least by the handful of pop stars with deep enough pockets to afford such tactics).</p>
<h2>Musical value</h2>
<p>One drummer making a living from sample replay is <a href="http://dylanwissing.com/">Dylan Wissing</a>, an American session musician who has re-recorded impeccable covers of famous drum breaks for the likes of Jay-Z, Kanye West, Drake, Eminem, Rick Ross, John Legend and Alicia Keys. Wissing also runs a website, <a href="https://www.gettingthesound.com">Getting The Sound</a>, which offers tutorials on how to “digitally recreate famous breakbeats” resulting in “a new recording of an existing audio recording that is sonically indistinguishable from the original”.</p>
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<p>Unsurprisingly, one such tutorial demonstrates how to reproduce Funky Drummer – “from choosing the instruments, tuning, muffling, and performance to miking the kit, treating the room and recording the drums for this iconic breakbeat masterpiece.”</p>
<p>The sample replay industry relies on the premise that a particular performance of a work cannot in itself be subject to copyright. Yet part of the legacy of Funky Drummer is the discourse and debate it has generated on exactly this point: everyone seems to agree that Stubblefield was not fairly remunerated for his creativity. But what would be the implications for musical culture if music copyright legislation was changed in his favour?</p>
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<p>Drumming performances are generally considered not to be musical compositions – and this is both a good thing and a bad thing. If every element of musical creation was locked down as a form of intellectual property – from a standard blues chord progression (upon which most blues songs are constructed) to a swinging ride cymbal pattern (the underlying rhythmic pulse upon which countless jazz compositions were built from the 1940s onwards) – we might conceivably be left with no freely available musical building blocks to make new compositions.</p>
<p>It’s a good thing that musicians can borrow, repurpose and build upon previous musical ideas without the fear of getting sued – that’s how new music gets made. But Funky Drummer raises a crucial question: where do we draw the line between a generic part and an original musical composition? This is the tension that Funky Drummer brings sharply into focus, and it is at the heart of understanding how we make sense of musical creativity.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/134493/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Matt Brennan does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Clyde Stubblefield’s drumming has been sampled or imitated more than 1,000 times since it was recorded in 1970.Matt Brennan, Reader in Popular Music, University of GlasgowLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1317622020-02-14T19:38:43Z2020-02-14T19:38:43ZNZ’s classical music station is not safe yet. It now needs innovation and leadership<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/315406/original/file-20200214-11040-19zqrwk.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=66%2C253%2C7282%2C4429&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Shutterstock</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>After a week-long controversy, New Zealand’s public broadcaster Radio New Zealand (<a href="https://www.rnz.co.nz/">RNZ</a>) has withdrawn a <a href="https://www.rnz.co.nz/national/programmes/mediawatch/audio/2018732872/rnz-set-to-cut-back-concert-and-launch-new-youth-service">proposal to axe</a> its classical music station <a href="https://www.rnz.co.nz/concert">RNZ Concert</a>.</p>
<p>But despite the sudden backtrack, RNZ Concert isn’t safe yet. Whatever the final outcome of RNZ’s <a href="https://www.stuff.co.nz/business/119521953/rnz-concert-future-brightens-as-staff-told-to-prepare-for-focus-on-growth">rethink</a>, it is clear the board and management placed little value on the significant role the station plays in New Zealand musical culture.</p>
<p>RNZ Concert now needs a compelling new strategic direction to create a redefined – rather than eviscerated – station that is central to a more diverse 21st-century artistic vision in New Zealand.</p>
<h2>Decades of decline</h2>
<p>The announcement that RNZ planned to fire RNZ Concert presenters and producers, and replace them with an automated jukebox on an inferior AM frequency, prompted <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/feb/10/calls-to-save-radio-new-zealand-classical-music-station-reach-crescendo">a public outcry</a> spearheaded by former <a href="https://www.rnz.co.nz/news/national/409336/rnz-concert-proposal-disastrously-handled-helen-clark">prime minister Helen Clark</a>, and a <a href="https://www.stuff.co.nz/entertainment/arts/119395756/prominent-lawyers-prepare-legal-battle-against-rnz-in-attempt-to-save-concert">legal challenge from a coalition of orchestras</a>.</p>
<p>But this was merely the bleak endgame to a managed decline of RNZ Concert over the past 20 years. During this period, it lost its flagship studio (to make way for government buildings that never eventuated), and had to <a href="http://www.stuff.co.nz/national/politics/4968745/Hard-up-Radio-New-Zealand-selling-off-pianos">sell its grand pianos to stay afloat</a>. </p>
<p>On a budget of only 7% of RNZ’s total annual expenditure, it nevertheless <a href="https://www.rnz.co.nz/about/audience-research">attracts almost 22% of its total audience</a> — despite there being virtually no advertising of the station.</p>
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<p>The announcement was also poorly timed, landing just a few days before the government launched a business case to <a href="https://www.beehive.govt.nz/release/work-begin-possible-new-public-media-entity">merge RNZ with the television network TVNZ</a>.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/newsrooms-not-keeping-up-with-changing-demographics-study-suggests-125368">Newsrooms not keeping up with changing demographics, study suggests</a>
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<h2>RNZ’s role in preserving culture</h2>
<p>No broadcaster has done as much to both record and promote New Zealand music as RNZ Concert. Many regard the station as a “<a href="http://wellington.scoop.co.nz/?p=125649">cultural taonga</a>” (treasure). </p>
<p>With a new mandate, and a revised strategic direction, it could be central to supporting a “<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2019/jul/26/classical-music-white-male-orchestra-proms-female-bme-chineke">broadening of horizons</a>” currently underway in classical music. Orchestras and ensembles worldwide are finally beginning to understand the need to address systematic imbalances of generational, gender and cultural representation in their programmes to ensure their continued relevance. </p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/beethoven-or-brexit-battle-for-chart-domination-shows-uks-divided-soul-131158">Beethoven or Brexit? Battle for chart domination shows UK's divided soul</a>
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<p>In New Zealand, this is evidenced by the number of ambitious cross-cultural, cross-genre and cross-generational projects in recent years. In 2019, soul singer <a href="https://www.teeks.nz">Teeks</a> headlined a <a href="https://www.apo.co.nz">collaboration with the Auckland Philharmonia Orchestra</a> in a series of songs arranged by <a href="http://www.mahuia.com">Mahuia Bridgman-Cooper</a>. This concert was recorded and broadcast by RNZ Concert.</p>
<p>Several <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/El_Sistema">Sistema-style</a> groups are now training a new generation of Māori and Pasifika in orchestral playing skills, some of which have resulted in packed-out public performances alongside <a href="http://orchestrawellington.co.nz">Orchestra Wellington</a>. These are also recorded and broadcast by RNZ Concert.</p>
<p>My own composition <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tmzq1zNvlvE"><em>Mātauranga (Rerenga)</em></a>, premiered by the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra in 2019, features traditional Māori musical instruments (taonga puoro). Once again, RNZ Concert recorded this, just one of a number of new works featuring these once-suppressed instruments that are being nurtured back to life by artists such as <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Nunns">Richard Nunns</a>, <a href="https://www.horomonahoro.com">Horomona Horo</a>, <a href="http://arianatikao.com">Ariana Tikao</a> and <a href="https://alfraser.net">Alistair Fraser</a>.</p>
<h2>At the heart of the arts</h2>
<p>RNZ Concert is uniquely positioned to lead a more representative arts experience in a way no other radio station in New Zealand is equipped to do. It is an active partner in a number of collaborative projects such as <a href="https://sounz.org.nz/films-audio/resound">Resound</a>, which is responsible for amassing a treasure trove of live concert videos of New Zealand music, hosted on YouTube and Vimeo. </p>
<p>It produces documentaries and interviews, presents educational programmes, and has recently expanded its coverage to include musical practices that defy the dominance of mainstream commercial pop – such as jazz, Māori music, experimentalism, sonic art and non-Western music. While these are currently only a small part of Concert’s programming, they could expand and flourish.</p>
<p>Having had a stay of execution, RNZ Concert now deserves a new kind of strategic leadership that can develop an innovative, exciting brand of musical diversity.
It needs a new vision to set it at the heart of 21st-century music-making in Aotearoa.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/131762/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Michael Norris has had over 20 compositions recorded by RNZ Concert.</span></em></p>Classical music station RNZ Concert may have been saved by an outcry from music lovers – but as a composer, it’s clear to me that its management still doesn’t realise what a national treasure it is.Michael Norris, Associate Professor, Programme Director (Composition), Te Herenga Waka — Victoria University of WellingtonLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/1016662018-08-19T19:52:00Z2018-08-19T19:52:00ZNicki Minaj flips the script on hip-hop hypermasculinity with her album Queen<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232432/original/file-20180817-165958-vutr66.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Nicki Minaj in the music video for Chun-Li, from her latest album, Queen. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Youtube</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Nicki Minaj’s Queen, an album four years in the making, is the latest in a recent surge of new music from a particular generation of rap titans. In rap’s fourth decade, as the entertainment industry at large reckons with an apparently longstanding culture of sexual abuse and harassment, what are we to expect from the pre-eminent female rapper? </p>
<p>Though its title might suggest a merging of the personal with the political, this album is primarily a contemplation of Minaj’s sustained success and her particular relationship with sexuality and power. Queen sets out to reassert Minaj’s status as the alpha woman of the rap game, a characteristically explicit message to her rap rivals and pretenders to the throne. </p>
<p>In a musical landscape currently saturated by the irrepressible personality of Bronx-based rapper Cardi B, and in the wake of 2016’s embarrassing beef with fellow rapper Remy Ma – who, in her scathing diss track “ShETHER” accused Minaj of sleeping with dozens of men in the rap game – Minaj’s fourth album needed to impress. </p>
<p>Queen’s mix of ultra-feminine pop tunes and bona fide gangsta snarl recalls Minaj’s previous albums. That she has consistently straddled the distinct personas of gangsta boss and sexy pop siren without truly committing to either has become her signature. Her chameleonic ability to match, even surpass, some of rap’s most verbose (Eminem), witty (Kanye), filthy (Lil Wayne) and pop-friendly (Drake) is also what makes her claim to the throne so precarious. Rap fans all want more from Minaj but seldom agree on which version.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/friday-essay-the-sounds-of-kanye-west-54169">Friday essay: the sounds of Kanye West</a>
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<p>One song that has attracted significant attention is Barbie Dreams, a reworking of Notorious B.I.G.’s Just Playin’ (Dreams) and Lil Kim’s Dreams. </p>
<p>Instead of revelling in gratuitous fantasies of sex with R&B singers like the song’s two predecessors, Minaj chooses instead to reject and belittle the gamut of her male rap contemporaries. Highlights include the already iconic lines “Drake worth a hundred milli’/Always buying me shit/But I don’t know if the pussy wet/Or if he’s crying and shit”, and “Had to cancel DJ Khaled boy/We ain’t speakin’/Ain’t no fat n—- telling me/What he ain’t eatin’.” </p>
<p>This song, which Minaj has already defended against misinterpretations of her insults as “disses” (true insults), demonstrates the trickster persona at the root of hip hop culture. “Eshu”, an Orisha (spirit) of the Yoruba religion, has been traced through African diasporic cultures all the way to hip hop and is thought to be a significant inspiration for the rapper or “emcee” tradition. He is characterised by his combative but ultimately tongue-in-cheek spirit of the mischievous wordsmith.</p>
<p>In the era of #MeToo, dozens of famous women have exposed the wrongdoings of their male peers, rendering themselves vulnerable in the process. While none of the men Minaj names in “Barbie Dreams” have been accused of misconduct (and she insists they are friends who are in on the joke), there is, nonetheless, a cathartic quality to the way she flips the script on rap misogyny. </p>
<p>The queen of rap’s response is perfectly on brand: Minaj wields rap’s hypermasculinity to emasculate and scorn the men who continue to benefit from hip hop’s everyday misogyny. </p>
<p>In doing so, she uses a contentious brand of “girl power” that is distinct to hip hop and frequently critiqued from both within and outside of rap circles. Hip hop, especially in its mainstream and gangsta iterations, is routinely characterised as misogynistic. </p>
<p>While a disturbing amount of rap lyrics are undeniably degrading and offensive to women, rap’s intrinsic hypermasculinity doesn’t have to be used like this. In other words, while rap is seldom politically correct, it is not inherently sexist. Minaj’s work taps into an undernourished but treasured tradition of female rappers taking up the mantle of hypermasculine braggadocio and skewering their male counterparts with the same apparent delight. </p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/five-women-to-watch-and-listen-to-in-australian-hip-hop-97092">Five women to watch (and listen to) in Australian hip hop</a>
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<p>Is Queen’s self-absorption, its obsession with establishing Minaj’s singular claim to rap supremacy, often at the expense of other female rappers, problematic? </p>
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<p>Rap, like many popular music genres, has been historically dominated by male artists, and there are too few female rappers whose voices break through to the mainstream. But expecting Minaj to extend overt support and encouragement to up-and-coming female rappers on the basis of feminism is to overlook one of the central tenets of rap as both an art form and a sport. At its heart, rap is about combat. </p>
<p>Crew-based nepotism aside, male rappers do not jump to support new artists on the scene and are quick to identify worthy adversaries in the perpetual contestation over who is kingpin. Accordingly, some of Queen’s standout tracks – including LLC, Majesty, and Ganja Burns – display Minaj at her most confrontational, eager to decimate her rivals both real and imagined. “You wear a Nicki wig and think you can be Nicki?/That’s like a fat n—– thinking he could be Biggie,” she raps on Ganja Burn. </p>
<p>Queen does not reconcile the multiple personalities that have long been at the heart of Minaj’s vexed relationship with hip hop “authenticity”. But it is her most coherent body of work to date. The album presents Minaj at her most confident yet, suggesting that in the age of overexposed social media celebrity, she is still most comfortable behind her personas. This is why the most celebrated bars from the album so far are among her cattiest – being fake is Nicki Minaj at her most real.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/101666/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Tara Colley does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Nicki Minaj is the preeminent female rapper. Her latest album Queen embraces a kind of girl power that has been criticised both within and outside the rap world.Tara Colley, Casual lecturer, United States Studies Centre, University of SydneyLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/964612018-05-15T20:20:39Z2018-05-15T20:20:39ZSpotify removing R. Kelly’s songs is a sign of a worrying trend towards censorship<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/218951/original/file-20180515-122919-i9tl5d.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">R. Kelly at the American Music Awards in 2013. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">PAUL BUCK</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Music streaming service Spotify recently removed the music of <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/music/2018/may/10/spotify-removes-all-r-kelly-songs-from-its-playlists">R. Kelly</a> and XXXTentacion from its playlists as part of its new policy on hateful content and conduct. Subsequently, Apple Music has also <a href="https://pitchfork.com/news/apple-music-and-pandora-no-longer-promoting-r-kelly/">ceased promotion of R. Kelly</a> in featured playlists. While the music of both black American musicians remains searchable on their sites, it is arguable that the decisions amount to censorship. </p>
<p>In the case of Kelly, a multiple award-winning R&B artist with a decades-long career, a campaign under the hash-tag <a href="https://broadly.vice.com/en_us/article/vbxwz8/mute-r-kelly-times-up-black-girls-matter">#MuteRKelly</a> has waged for months. On the basis of both long-standing and recent allegations of sexual misconduct, the <a href="http://www.bbc.com/news/entertainment-arts-43954056">Time’s Up movement</a> more recently also began calling for a boycott of his music. Kelly was acquitted of <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2008/jun/13/usa.musicnews">child pornography charges in 2008</a>, and has not faced any further charges. </p>
<p>The rapper XXXTentacion was charged with robbery and assault in 2015, and has <a href="https://pitchfork.com/news/72563-xxxtentacion-is-out-of-jail-for-now/">served time in jail</a>. More recently, he has faced charges of false imprisonment, witness tampering, and aggravated battery of a pregnant woman.</p>
<p>Both artists deny the recent allegations. R. Kelly’s management issued <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/music/2018/may/11/r-kelly-xxxtentacion-spotify-playlists">a statement</a> highlighting the musician’s history of writing lyrics that express “love and passion for women”, claiming the allegations are a “smear campaign”. XXXTentacion’s representative released a <a href="https://pitchfork.com/news/spotify-removes-r-kelly-from-its-playlists/">statement</a> listing numerous musicians accused of sexual misconduct, asking if similar action will be taken against them.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/how-do-you-remember-a-rock-god-the-complicated-legacy-of-chuck-berry-74835">How do you remember a rock god? The complicated legacy of Chuck Berry</a>
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<p>Some, such as ABC broadcaster Zan Rowe, have argued that <a href="http://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-05-15/r-kelly-accusations-can-you-separate-the-art-from-the-artist/9758782">you can’t separate the art from the artist</a>. </p>
<p>However, I am inclined to see Spotify’s move as a dangerous trend toward censorship. Countless events of history show that censorship - removing the right to a voice - represents a challenge to central precepts of democracy. As US rapper <a href="https://abcnews.go.com/Entertainment/jay-zs-decoded-hip-hop-barack/story?id=12156033">Jay Z has written</a>, “we change people through conversation, not through censorship”.</p>
<p>The removal of R. Kelly and XXXTentacion’s music comes as part of Spotify’s new <a href="https://newsroom.spotify.com/2018-05-10/spotify-announces-new-hate-content-and-hateful-conduct-public-policy/">Hate Content and Hateful Conduct</a> policy, released on May 10. The policy, working with rights advocacy groups, aims to identify hate content and remove it and also deals with “hateful conduct”. While Spotify says it doesn’t “believe in censoring content because of an artist’s or creator’s behavior”, the policy allows for the streaming service to remove support for an artist if they do something “especially harmful or hateful (for example, violence against children and sexual violence)”. </p>
<p>Spotify has stated that community advice will inform how it enforces its hate policy. At the same time, the policy notes that “cultural standards and sensitivities vary”, and that what is “acceptable in some circumstances […] is offensive in others”. It remains to be seen if the force of public opinion alters what we tolerate in music, and from musicians. </p>
<p>In the current situation, the decision to remove the music of R. Kelly and XXXTentation from playlists rests solely on allegations of their behaviour, without reference to either their music or lyrics. Arguably, it is an example of what some now term the “Weinstein effect”. </p>
<p>A bigger consequence of Spotify’s new policy may be its ramifications for other male hip-hop artists, whose lyrics have often been interpreted as sexually objectifying women. Researchers have identified a range of misogynistic themes in hip-hop, from legitimisation of rape and violence, to celebration of prostitution and pimping. <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/music/musicblog/2014/jan/28/beyonce-drunk-in-love-problem-lyrics">Jay Z</a> has, for example, referenced domestic violence in his lyrics, while Eminem has used <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FpabN2yt84Q">hateful language directed at the gay community</a>. How might Spotify deal with complaints about content from artists such as these? </p>
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<p>Censorship of music and musicians due to the artist’s behaviour and politics is nothing new. Due to his denigration of the Jewish race, 19th century German composer Richard Wagner’s music has drawn immense opprobrium; its performance in Israel remains a taboo. Even so, the anti-Semitism of other composers (such as Frédéric Chopin, or many of the Russian school) has not caused censure. </p>
<p>In Soviet Russia, the music of Dmitri Shostakovich and Sergei Prokofiev was banned from performance for a period. Under the policy of “socialist realism”, music that failed to reflect the supposed benefits of the new system was blacklisted. In fact, the power that certain music and musicians exert in society can disturb many.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/one-year-on-we-should-remember-david-bowie-as-both-genius-and-flawed-human-70996">One year on, we should remember David Bowie as both genius and flawed human</a>
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<p>Some have claimed recently that there is a <a href="https://noisey.vice.com/en_us/article/9kzex7/inside-music-industry-sexual-misconduct-harassment-problem-and-metoo">history of protection</a> for those in the music industry whose lives have been entangled in allegations of sexual misconduct. A question remains how we can reconcile the issue of these artists continuing to make money with allegations of sexual misconduct. </p>
<p>However censorship is not the answer. We can, and must, continue to critique the conduct of musicians, but should separate the art from the artist.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/96461/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Scott Davie does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Music streaming services have stopped promoting R. Kelly as part of a crackdown on musician’s alleged conduct. But we should separate the art from the artist.Scott Davie, Piano tutor and Lecturer, Sydney Conservatorium Music, University of SydneyLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/962682018-05-10T01:17:09Z2018-05-10T01:17:09Z‘Schlager’, Scandi-pop and sparkles: your guide to the musical styles of Eurovision<p>In his acceptance speech for the 2017 Eurovision Song Contest, Portuguese winner Salvador Sobral issued a <a href="http://www.news.com.au/entertainment/tv/fans-and-artists-turn-on-eurovision-winner-over-controversial-speech/news-story/76954a352f42a09efb4af2aa31e15601">controversial call to arms</a> to “bring music back” to a place of meaning and feeling:</p>
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<p>We live in a world of disposable music; fast-food music without any content. I think this could be a victory for music with people who make music that actually means something. Music is not fireworks; music is feeling.</p>
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<p>It was a bold statement to make at a contest known – and loved – for its trashy Europop as much as it is for its heartfelt ethno-folk ballads or its diva swan songs. Eurovision music is diverse, encompassing both fast food and feelings. Over the years, it has developed its own sound and even its own genres.</p>
<h2>The classics</h2>
<p>The late Lys Assia’s <a href="https://youtu.be/IyqIPvOkiRk">Refrain</a>, the winning song of the inaugural Eurovision in 1956, best encapsulates the <em>chanson</em> style that dominated the contest for its first decade. Literally French for “song”, the term is used to describe any lyric-driven French song, but a song being in French does not immediately make it a <em>chanson</em>. </p>
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<p>This year’s entrant from Madame Monsieur, <a href="https://youtu.be/dHb-gWC-WTc">Mercy</a>, is contemporary electro pop that shares more with the pop music that superseded chanson after the 1960s. Many today would describe the <em>chanson</em> as old-fashioned, although others suggest it is a timeless genre. Although sung in Portuguese, Sobral’s <a href="https://youtu.be/Qotooj7ODCM"><em>Amar Pelos Dois</em></a> from 2017 recalls this style.</p>
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<p>The <em>canzone</em> is the Italian iteration of the chanson, exemplified by the iconic <a href="https://youtu.be/bES7I8ib_7A"><em>Nel blu dipinto di blu</em></a> by Domenico Modugno in 1958. Many would better know this song as <a href="https://youtu.be/5JEQIQmQa-c"><em>Volare</em></a> as covered by Dean Martin.</p>
<h2>The hits</h2>
<p>If the <em>chanson</em> dominated the 1950s and 1960s, <em>schlager</em> was undoubtedly the driving force from the 1970s until the early 2000s, when it integrated with Eurodisco and Eurodance. Although the term may not be familiar unless slurring your beer order, the style itself is perhaps the most recognisable to even the most casual Eurovision viewer. </p>
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<p>The origins of <em>schlager</em> are German, but forms of it can be found around Europe and are even recognisable in some American pop music. Meaning a “musical hit”, <em>schlager</em> refers to light pop music featuring catchy instrumentals and sentimental, usually non-political lyrics. </p>
<p>Nicole won the prize for Germany in 1982 with <a href="https://youtu.be/eBQ9ZoNkjFc"><em>Ein bißchen Frieden</em></a>, while Germany’s last winner in 2010, Lena’s effervescent <a href="https://youtu.be/8QSgNM9yNjo">Satellite</a>, is a quirky take on the <em>schlager</em> tradition.</p>
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<p><em>Schlager</em> itself is arguably less prominent at the contest in recent years, but we can see elements of it, fused with dance and folk elements, in DoReDos’ 2018 entry <a href="https://youtu.be/pKLKeVC-9Y4">My Lucky Day</a> for Moldova.</p>
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<h2>The traditional</h2>
<p>The fusion of different musical styles, especially traditional elements with contemporary trends, is one of the most appealing aspects of Eurovision as it presents international viewers with something different to the pop standard. </p>
<p>Ethno-folk fusions rose in popularity in the 1990s, arguably when “world music” caught on as a global trend from the late 1980s. From <a href="https://youtu.be/JPSZxPGv7dI">Celtic-inspired ballads</a> to <a href="https://youtu.be/TzKgojZqO5Y">bellydancing beats</a>, every year is replete with examples of this. </p>
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<p>Sanja Ilić and Balkanika, representing Serbia in 2018 with <a href="https://youtu.be/WkOFnIjGrkw"><em>Nova Deca</em></a>, have made it their mission to both preserve and modernise Balkan musical traditions. The song combines the Torlakian dialect of southeastern Serbia with standard Serbian, fusing traditional vocals and flute with contemporary singing and a dance beat. </p>
<p>Everyone’s favourite folk entry of recent years is undoubtedly the <a href="https://youtu.be/BgUstrmJzyc">Russian grannies</a> of 2012.</p>
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<h2>The niche</h2>
<p>As an event aimed at a family gathered around the modern hearth of the television, music with a more general appeal has been the standard for much of the contest’s history. Until, of course, Finnish heavy metal demon rockers Lordi surprised us all with their victory in 2006, <a href="https://youtu.be/gAh9NRGNhUU">Hard Rock Hallelujah</a>. </p>
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<p>Traditionally, rock does not fare well at Eurovision, so best of luck to Hungary’s AWS with <a href="https://youtu.be/6unRU5ZHbqY"><em>Viszlát Nyár</em></a> this year, which might draw in a few different punters with its reminiscence of Linkin Park’s oeuvre.</p>
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<h2>The mega-pop</h2>
<p>On the other end of the spectrum is Scandi-pop. Just as most of your favourite hits over the past 20 years have been written by <a href="https://www.billboard.com/photos/7378263/max-martin-hot-100-no-1-hits-as-a-songwriter">one Swedish mastermind writer/producer</a> (Max Martin, who has written everything from Britney Spear’s One More Time to Taylor Swift’s Bad Blood), Swedish songwriters dominate Eurovision, spruiking their wares across the continent.</p>
<p>For example, this year’s Maltese entry, <a href="https://youtu.be/E_0ugf0eP1Q">Taboo</a>, sung by Christabelle, was written by none other than Thomas G:son, who penned everyone’s (well, OK, my) favourite winner from the past ten years, <a href="https://youtu.be/Pfo-8z86x80">Euphoria</a> by Loreen. </p>
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<p>The one to watch this year, however, is Finland’s more congenial answer to Lady Gaga, Saara Aalto. (Although she won’t be singing it in the contest, her 34-language version of her entry <a href="https://youtu.be/L9Y3AxgV1f4">Monsters</a> is worth a listen.)</p>
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<h2>Time for a toilet break?</h2>
<p>Our final category can cross all musical genres: the ballad. Broadly defined as a slow-tempo song (known by some as the toilet-break songs), the ballad can dampen the party mood pretty quickly, so it is the song type that everyone loves to hate (but also secretly love). </p>
<p>According to number-crunching fan site <a href="https://www.escdaily.com/israel-can-only-win-eurovision-if-8-ballads-qualify-from-the-semi-finals/#">ESC Daily</a>, ballads usually account for about 40% of entries each year. Time your toilet breaks well, for there are fewer this year than last year and those that remain each offer something a little different.</p>
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<p>Iceland’s <a href="https://youtu.be/Pm1YaJceg5c">Ari Ólafsson</a> and Germany’s <a href="https://youtu.be/o_xTETHwIQg">Michael Schulte</a> provide more traditional ballads, but Portugal’s <a href="https://youtu.be/kaVp4El9p3s">Cláudia Pascoal and Isaura</a> and Latvia’s <a href="https://youtu.be/uBlZsGxeXk4">Laura Rizzotto</a> provide unique contemporary styling on the slow-tempo song. Also, don’t miss Elina Nechayeva’s operatic <a href="https://youtu.be/76KOUIfDry8"><em>La Forza</em></a>.</p>
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<p>The diversity of musical styles this year is great – a veritable food court of choices from fast food to fine dining. Sadly, however, there is no <a href="https://youtu.be/ZSHc7iDuBCQ">rap yodelling</a> on the menu … </p>
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<p><em>The 2018 Eurovision Grand Final will be broadcast on SBS on Sunday May 13.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/96268/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Jess Carniel does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Since it began in the 1950s, Eurovision has embraced everything from metal to the global juggernaut of Scandi-pop, and of course the Eurodance and disco synonymous with Eurovision.Jess Carniel, Senior Lecturer in Humanities, University of Southern QueenslandLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/917422018-03-21T19:33:11Z2018-03-21T19:33:11ZA beginner’s guide to the foggy wilderness of ambient music<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/210193/original/file-20180313-131610-5q9r3s.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Clouds and sun glint over the Indian Ocean.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">NASA on The Commons/flickr</span></span></figcaption></figure><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vNwYtllyt3Q">Brian Eno’s Music For Airports</a> celebrates its 40th anniversary this month. This record is widely regarded as formalising ambient music as we know it today. </p>
<p>To those of us used to the repetitious rhythms and hooks of pop music, ambient music may sound a little sparse. Often devoid of lyrics, a hummable melody and pop song structures, it is about the creation of an environment around the listener. Ambient music floats in the air like a fog, creating a kind of acoustic tint that can be truly affective.</p>
<p>Music For Airports proposed a new way of approaching music, not as something to whistle or sing along to, but to be gently consumed by. Attached to the record was a <a href="http://music.hyperreal.org/artists/brian_eno/MFA-txt.html">short essay by Eno</a> that laid out the groundwork for this approach:</p>
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<p>Ambient music must be able to accommodate many levels of listening attention without enforcing one in particular; it must be as ignorable as it is interesting.</p>
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<p>While ignorable music might seem a touch redundant in the age of effortless distraction, Eno’s initial notes on ambient music still hold weight. Specifically, his ideas on accommodating the varied listening states we each bring to our musical encounters have flourished and allowed ambient to become a music of lived moments.</p>
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<p>Each time you encounter a piece of ambient music, it shifts and alters ever so subtly as the sounds around you merge with it. Similarly, our capacities to listen and focus (or not focus) greatly affect our encounters with it.</p>
<p>To mark this anniversary, here’s a chronological selection of ambient recordings that have helped map out its sonic geography. It is by no means exhaustive: plenty of other records have been equally influential, genre-expanding and commercially successful. Consider this a way to wade into the foggy wilderness that is ambient music.</p>
<h2>1980</h2>
<p>Harold Budd’s <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j0Sz0lgYhKw">Ambient 2: The Plateaux of Mirror</a> is second in Brian Eno’s Ambient series. This record, along with <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=om-iZHrE1S8">The Pearl</a>, came to epitomise the open musical structures that form the basic building blocks of ambient. Budd’s fingers navigate perpetual cycles across the piano keys, the tones reflecting some imagined walk in a place you might never have been.</p>
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<h2>1982</h2>
<p>Pauline Oliveros remains one of the most important composers of the 20th century. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uT20aS-NvOo">Accordion and Voice</a> captures her creating vast spaces from the simplest of inputs: voice and a single instrument.</p>
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<p>While not as celebrated as his ambient music debut, Brian Eno’s <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Rt6L9OCBcc">Ambient 4: On Land</a> is the first record to significantly explore the influences of land and place in ambient composition. It’s also a record that captured a distinct sense of the “eerie”, as cultural theorist <a href="https://lareviewofbooks.org/article/making-sense-of-the-weird-and-the-eerie/">Mark Fisher</a> recently observed. </p>
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<h2>1990</h2>
<p>Best remembered for their publicity stunt involving the <a href="https://www.rollingstone.com/music/lists/10-music-publicity-stunts-gone-wrong-20160511/the-klf-burn-a-million-pounds-1994-20160511">burning of a million pounds</a>, The KLF’s <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5S_lktstwrs">Chillout</a> typified ambient’s rising popularity and shift into the mainstream early in the 1990s. Indeed at that time, the term was overused to the point where its meaning became opaque at best. Chillout spaces dotted most raves and other underground dance parties, providing music that expressly shunned hard rhythms and fast beats per minutes.</p>
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<h2>1993</h2>
<p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6a7BU_kI7xQ">Thomas Köner’s Permafrost</a> spearheaded a new, so-called isolationist thread of ambient music, one concerned with icy sound fields and harrowing, low-frequency explosions, which felt like the listener was tapping into the songs of tectonic plates.</p>
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<h2>1994</h2>
<p>If there’s one record that solidified ambient’s continued relevance into the 1990s, it was <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V5Ow7zOLQ14">Aphex Twin’s Selected Ambient Works Volume II</a>. It remains a touchstone for the more accessible end of the genre, a gently sweeping collection of warm harmonic phrases washing over pulsing bass lines and filtered downtempo grooves. </p>
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<h2>1999</h2>
<p>With the simple introduction of a pulsing kick drum, Wolfgang Voight (under the moniker Gas, perhaps a reference to ambient’s nebulous musical form) marked out a new territory for the music with a series of recordings including <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ehNGoyMf9kU">Königsforst</a>. In this fresh terrain, a low-frequency heartbeat could pump energy through uneasy clouds of sound and melody.</p>
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<h2>2002</h2>
<p>William Basinski’s extended work <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mjnAE5go9dI">Disintegration Loops</a> stands as one of the most quietly powerful executions of ambient music this century. With the literal sound of magnetic materials falling off decaying tape loops, the singular simplicity of this work never fails to astound. </p>
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<h2>2005</h2>
<p>Whilst her work exists in excess of what some might consider ambient music, Éliane Radigue’s <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1RrsiGmLp_E&t=1176s">L'île re-sonante</a> crystallises so much about the capacity of the genre to be deeply affecting without becoming didactic in any way. Radigue’s pieces, which often drew from her interest in Buddhist philosophy, were largely made with the legendary Arp 2500 synthesizer, which was adept at creating wavering electronic tones.</p>
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<h2>2008</h2>
<p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sCOgvAIL3_U">Grouper’s</a> Dragging A Dead Dear Up A Hill is another record that recontoured the boundaries of ambient. Its use of blurry, cavernous spaces, within which Grouper buries her songs, creates a unique realm of indistinct beauty. </p>
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<h2>2017</h2>
<p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a31JaPK2leA">Félicia Atkinson’s</a> Hand In Hand is one of many recent examples that further extend the possibilities of this music, by recognising the subjectivity of listening. Atkinson is part of a generation of artists whose work is set to push ambient forward into its next 40 years. </p>
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<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Lawrence English is the director of Room40.</span></em></p>Brian Eno’s Music for Airports, released 40 years ago, marked the formal beginnings of ambient music. It is still provoking composers and audiences to contemplate new ways of listening.Lawrence English, Adjunct Lecturer, The University of QueenslandLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/884812018-01-25T03:21:20Z2018-01-25T03:21:20ZPointing to the scoreboard: how Indigenous hip hop keeps talking to white Australia<p>Indigenous rap has been in the spotlight recently with the success of acts such as A. B. Original. The duo has had a year of awards success with their album Reclaim Australia and hit single January 26: </p>
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<p>White Aus still got the black history (that’s true)<br>
And that shirt will get you banned from the Parliament<br>
If you ain’t having a conversation, well then we starting it</p>
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<p>Like A. B. Original’s members Briggs (Yorta Yorta man Adam Briggs) and Trials (Ngarrindjeri man Dan Rankine), other Indigenous rappers have been starting public conversations about white Australia’s black history and producing various forms of hip hop since the 1980s. Rap is one of the most accessible musical genres for people with things to say, but few opportunities to say them to an audience.</p>
<p>One reason for A.B. Original’s success is the nature of the conversations they start – on such topics as police harassment and violence, deaths in and out of custody, Australia’s history of structural racism and the economies created by white nationalist structures, the long-term effects of those structures on individual and communal lives, and the desire and will to overcome those effects.</p>
<p>These topics are commonplace among many Indigenous Australians, but non-indigenous audiences rarely hear them addressed with such clarity, as well as both feeling and humour. <a href="http://dansultan.com/">Dan Sultan</a>, who features on the song January 26, <a href="http://junkee.com/dan-sultan-rising-bullshit-songwriting-protest-music-industry/116255">has said that he</a> does not see the song “as a protest”, but “as pointing to the scoreboard”.</p>
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<h2>From the 80s to today</h2>
<p>From its beginnings in the 1980s, Indigenous hip hop has risen in popularity in the 2010s, partly because of the dominance of social media as a means of distribution and listeners’ engagement with non-mainstream politics in Australia. </p>
<p>Early hip hop groups include <a href="http://www.deadlyvibe.com.au/2007/11/south-west-syndicate/">South West Syndicate</a> (including prolific members <a href="http://www.greenleft.org.au/content/connecting-culture-history-and-community">Munkimuk</a> (Mark Ross) and <a href="http://www.facebook.com/brothablack/">Brothablack</a> (Shannon Williams)) and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/OfficialNativeRyme">Native Ryme Syndicate</a>, with members still performing and mentoring new generations of artists. </p>
<p>In the early 2000s, Newcastle brothers Predator (Abie Wright) and Wok (Warrick Wright) formed <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KGlFnFsmBWM">Local Knowledge</a> with Kabbi Kabbi man Weno (Joel Wenitong) and later <a href="http://www.jayteehazard.com/">Jayteehazard</a> (Jacob Turier). The group split in 2006, with members forming <a href="http://streetwarriors.com.au/about">Street Warriors</a> and <a href="http://www.facebook.com/thelastkinection/">The Last Kinection</a>. In the same period, the Wilcannia Mob hit <a href="http://downriver.com.au/music-and-video">Down River</a> grew out of a <a href="http://www.morganics.info/">Morganics</a> workshop. Gumbayngirri man <a href="http://www.wordsfromthecity.com/artists_wir.html">Wire MC</a> (Will Jarrett) created new hip hop and is succeeded today by his son, the rising artist <a href="http://www.facebook.com/TasmanKeith/">Tasman Keith</a>. </p>
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<p>During this time, Yorta Yorta woman and Greek Australian <a href="http://www.deadlyvibe.com.au/2007/11/little-g/">Little G</a> (Georgina Chrisanthopoulos) was writing and performing about identity, communication and justice, while Kunai and Gunditjmara woman <a href="http://www.triplejunearthed.com/artist/miss-hood">Miss Hood</a> (Meriki Hood) was building her career as a performer, writer, composer, producer, broadcaster, mentor and activist. </p>
<p>Today Indigenous hip hop is as diverse as ever. In Bourke, a group of school students became <a href="http://noisey.vice.com/en_au/article/gqyg3w/watch-bourkes-b-town-warriors-rep-their-hometown-in-people-of-the-red-sunset">B-Town Warriors</a>. </p>
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<p>Recent acts (among many others) include Meerooni rapper <a href="http://www.kaylahtruth.com/">Kaylah Truth</a> in Brisbane, <a href="http://www.triplejunearthed.com/artist/philly-0">Philly</a> from Mildura, <a href="https://izzyntheprofit.bandcamp.com/">Izzy N The Profit</a> from Sydney, Butchulla artist <a href="http://www.facebook.com/MisterBirdZ">Birdz</a> (Nathan Bird) from Katherine, Yuin man <a href="http://www.facebook.com/NookyMusic">Nooky</a> (Corey Webster) from Nowra, <a href="http://www.facebook.com/jimblah2500/">Jimblah</a> from Adelaide and Katherine, Noongar artist <a href="http://www.benibjah.com/">Beni Bjah</a> from Perth and <a href="http://www.facebook.com/dabakerboy">Baker Boy</a> (Yolngu man Danzel Baker), who raps in English and Yolŋu Matha. </p>
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<p>Acts vary greatly in style, approach and musical and lyrical content. In Victoria, Ceduna-raised <a href="http://www.mcladylash.com/">Lady Lash</a> (aka Crystal Mastrosavas/Crystal Clyne/Crystal Mercy) celebrates her Greek and Kokatha ancestry and combines hip hop, jazz, soul and opera to produce “spiritual” music. </p>
<p>Her piece <a href="http://mcladylash.bandcamp.com/track/her-she-bars">Her She Bars</a> begins: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>I skated off with my lyrical crown <br>
Head held high with a message so proud <br>
Walk in this world like a rose petal, <br>
Visions of righteous girl spitting heavy mental <br>
Hold my hands as I follow you into hiding <br>
With the sands swallowed by the silver lining <br>
My mouth dry but I’m hungry for that Microphone <br>
A live wire got us jumping on these nights I flow…</p>
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<p>Meanwhile, in the Torres Strait, <a href="http://www.maupower.com/home">Mau Power</a>, from the Dhoebaw clan of the Guda Maluilgal nations, raps in Meriam and English, with his latest <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mDGGpk6aFlQ">single</a> celebrating the late Eddie Koiki Mabo:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>His story <br>
Was one about Birthright <br>
History will remember<br>
This great fight </p>
<p>That moment <br>
Terra Nullius abolished <br>
Planted a seed for our people <br>
To be Acknowledged…</p>
</blockquote>
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<p>In their different ways, Lady Lash and Mau Power may seem more explicitly celebratory of personal and collective histories than A.B. Original. But, even as Briggs, Trials and Caiti Baker lyrically contemplate death together in the track Dead in a Minute, they maintain A.B. Original’s humour and celebrate the power of “talkin’ on the mic” and walking “into the light”:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>They want me out the way, in the grave or the prison<br>
A slave to the system so I’m talkin’ on the mic<br>
To bring black back in fashion as I walk into the light</p>
</blockquote>
<p>It might be tempting to see A.B. Original’s popular success in 2017 as a sign that non-Indigenous Australians are more open than they were in the past or that things have improved for Indigenous people across Australia. But, as with <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jf-jHCdafZY">Yothu Yindi</a> and other Indigenous groups that gained similar levels of acclaim in the late-1980s and early-1990s, popularity does not mean things have improved. </p>
<p>The fact that the songs on Reclaim Australia needed to be written, that the “scoreboard” had to be “pointed to”, counters this notion, perhaps as effectively as statistics on Indigenous health and education or the government’s response to the <a href="http://www.referendumcouncil.org.au/sites/default/files/2017-05/Uluru_Statement_From_The_Heart_0.PDF">Uluru Statement from the Heart</a>.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/88481/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>GJ Breyley has received funding from the ARC. </span></em></p>A.B. Original made waves in 2017, but Indigenous hip hop has flourished since the 1980s.GJ Breyley, Adjunct Senior Research Fellow in the Sir Zelman Cowen School of Music, Monash UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/905382018-01-25T01:28:49Z2018-01-25T01:28:49ZMofo at MONA: operatic bodies, experimental encounters and expanded horizons<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/203165/original/file-20180124-72618-2n98d1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Mezzo soprano Eve Klein performed two compositions while a medical laryngoscope, inserted into her throat, revealed the movement of her vocal chords.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Jesse Hunniford</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Summer signals the start of festival season in Hobart including MONA FOMA – or Mofo for short - MONA’s contemporary music festival curated by Hobart local and alternative rocker, Brian Ritchie. </p>
<p>Since the establishment of Mofo in 2009, the event has steadily gained a reputation for delivering a confronting journey into the strange territories of contemporary music and art from across the globe. </p>
<p>This year was no different with a line-up that featured a diverse array of musical encounters from the deep, ethereal vocals of Tunisian songstress Emel Mathlouthi to the intense and jarring industrial death metal smash by Melbourne-based artist Harriet Kate Morgan, aka Military Position.</p>
<p>The art was similarly diverse featuring small, almost ad-hoc interventions such as the semi-roaming Duckpond and Jeffrey Blake show along with more refined and meditative installations scattered throughout the MONA site. </p>
<p>Given the nature of the festival, many of the chosen artworks had a musical connection and moved between, and across, art, design, performance and music. While diversity and the blurring of genres is a common thread, further reflection reveals a deeper connection between the works on display – they all embodied various forms of resistance, challenging or questioning mainstream systems and artistic traditions. </p>
<h2>Icky interiors for considered thought</h2>
<p>One of the must-see music/art works of the 2018 festival was Eve Klein’s Vocal Womb. As part of the work, the mezzo soprano opera singer performed two compositions while a medical laryngoscope, inserted into her throat, revealed the movement of her vocal chords in moist, pink, fleshy glory via a large-scale live video projection. </p>
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<span class="caption">Eve Klein and her vocal chords.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Jesse Hunniford</span></span>
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<p>Given this short description, it is not surprising that surface engagements with MOFO works often result in reviews that feature terms such as “wild”, “weird” and “wacky”. However, these descriptors undersell the experience and also undermine the deeper ideas and significance of the works showcased.</p>
<p>In Vocal Womb, revealing the icky interior workings of the human body is not a gimmick to shock or attract viewers. Rather, it forms part of a deeply considered engagement with the history and traditions of opera.</p>
<p>Klein asserts that traditional operatic training strives to erase the body and sensation from the performance, in an effort to create a flawless and unwavering vocal tone. Showcasing the singer’s bodily interior and including microphones that capture and incorporate the sounds of the artist’s heart, lung and intestines (which viewers can mix live into the performance composition) is an attempt to visibly and audibly integrate the body back into opera.</p>
<p>The use of medical devices and live body sounds also aims to explore how new technologies and experimental processes can transform and extend the potentials of classical music composition and operatic performance.</p>
<p>Other elements of the work including costume and gesture were developed to simultaneously reference and subvert the archetype of the diva and “damsel” associated with 18th and 19th century opera. Klein also wanted to draw attention to the lack of female opera composers and heroic women protagonists. </p>
<p>Clad in white undergarments reminiscent of 18th century dress, Klein was exposed, yet as composer and central character, she was also in control of the performance. By including texts by trans and feminist writers Quinn Eades and Virginia Barratt respectively, as the lyrics for her compositions, the work also drew attention to the experiences of marginalised bodies that need to be given a voice.</p>
<h2>Experimental music encounters</h2>
<p>While works like Klein’s advocate for the inclusion of diverse perspectives and an expansion of artistic traditions and tropes, other music/art works included in the festival created opportunities for viewers to connect with Australian experimental musical practices - historical and contemporary. </p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/203163/original/file-20180124-72631-tcccr0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/203163/original/file-20180124-72631-tcccr0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/203163/original/file-20180124-72631-tcccr0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=902&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/203163/original/file-20180124-72631-tcccr0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=902&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/203163/original/file-20180124-72631-tcccr0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=902&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/203163/original/file-20180124-72631-tcccr0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1133&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/203163/original/file-20180124-72631-tcccr0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1133&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/203163/original/file-20180124-72631-tcccr0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1133&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">Rosalind Hall.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">MONA</span></span>
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<p>Experiments in Freedom by Rosalind Hall and Michael Candy for example, introduced the viewer to the musical innovations of early 20th century Australian musician and composer Percy Grainger. Comprised of two sound machines, the works developed by the duo showcased Grainger’s “free music” concept, in which he sought to generate music free from human performer and traditional rules including set pitch, scale and structure.</p>
<p>Visitors were able to play the machines and create music by pulling and pushing a curved lever or winding a clear parchment with a score of abstract shapes. While the experience was fun, the work also opened the viewer to consider alternative ways of making music and how melodic and tonal elements could be generated from light, shape and form without the use of traditional music notation.</p>
<p>The Green Brain Cycle performance/installation developed by Michael Kieran Harvey, Arjun Von Caemmerer and Brigita Ozolins similarly created a space for the wider public to connect with Australian avant-garde musical composition.</p>
<p>The work takes inspiration from Frank Herbert’s 1966 futuristic ecological novel <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/53727.The_Green_Brain">The Green Brain</a> in which insect intelligence evolves leading to a resistance against the devastating impact of humans on the biosphere.</p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/203161/original/file-20180124-72609-krdy8w.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/203161/original/file-20180124-72609-krdy8w.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/203161/original/file-20180124-72609-krdy8w.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/203161/original/file-20180124-72609-krdy8w.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/203161/original/file-20180124-72609-krdy8w.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/203161/original/file-20180124-72609-krdy8w.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/203161/original/file-20180124-72609-krdy8w.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/203161/original/file-20180124-72609-krdy8w.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">The Green Brain Cycle was inspired by a Frank Herbert novel.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Jesse Hunniford</span></span>
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<p>By including this narrative anchor and integrating key passages from the book, (spoken in a strange techno-insect voice), the work provided an entry point for listeners to engage with the intense and seemingly discordant music of Harvey. Indeed, the quick movements, sharp clangs and odd mix of electronic sounds prompted imaginative visions of insect movement and debate. </p>
<p>The robe costumes and minimal set design comprised of poems in gold lettering, faux lawn, hundreds of small plastic insects, trees, shiny gold beanbags and a giant green glowing orb provided a good balance between the familiar, futuristic and otherworldly. More importantly, the installation created a comfortable listening atmosphere, which helped the audience relax into the performance. </p>
<p>No, Mofo is not your average music festival. It is an invitation for viewers to expand their understanding of art and music and consider alternative avenues and strategies for a more open and inclusive creative future. Bring on 2019, but let us steer clear of reducing the experience to the merely “weird”.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/90538/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Svenja J. Kratz does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Listeners often describe the music presented at Tasmania’s Mofo festival as ‘weird’. But to do so sells the experience short.Svenja J. Kratz, Lecturer in Interdisciplinary Creative Practice, University of TasmaniaLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/879992017-12-14T03:55:51Z2017-12-14T03:55:51ZExplainer: the politics of heavy metal<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/197241/original/file-20171201-30943-vqxhg3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">A Black Sabbath fan on stage at a rock concert in Finland.</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/ansik/2722667819/in/photolist-59AohB-J6VKcw-RPQ24y-CYyu95-8XWPgU-hczq4h-71t8up-o6XPRE-pZRVr9-hczVr5-CYtDVE-8ge6Dm-hp6MDc-8PH8co-ayPuvJ-8vUoxC-CYqf7y-dzv5my-212KQUQ-cKiWx3-5T2WXp-qWJrYK-aNm4jt-pfCeFt-ia5FdY-hcA9ZA-ZZPx1G-hcB5YM-mPn4ic-hczfYG-abvGxg-GCEHuc-nVazMo-95pbQ9-orkrA-aNm3Zr-7FX6EG-5SK16F-qWMpCh-N5vEZ6-9MUfzK-o6YZjy-9MUgKD-ZZFXKs-YZTbWw-buUnrq-ac7vLB-fDxTdw-9zWE4E-6oGYsT">Anssi Koskinen/flickr</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/">CC BY-SA</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>The popular mythology of heavy metal begins with an amputation. In the mid-1960s, teenage guitarist Frank Anthony Iommi lost the tips of several fingers in an industrial accident. To compensate for this loss, he tuned his guitar lower, slackening the strings to make them easier to bend. Heavy metal was ostensibly born from this unholy union of dismembered fingertips and a sheet metal factory.</p>
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<p><em><strong>Click <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ARPFKMmNGI&list=PL_mJBLBznANx1C5-eDOMuAzmYjwzchhsR">here</a> for a playlist of further listening selected by the author, including Girlschool, Sepultura and Gojira.</strong></em></p>
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<p>The much-exalted missing fingertips of Tony Iommi, who went on to become lead guitarist in Black Sabbath, highlight how heavy metal’s foundational mythology is rooted in working class masculinity. </p>
<p>In 1991, <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/91308.Heavy_Metal">Deena Weinstein</a> argued that the heavy metal genre was by definition white, young, working class, and male. Such characterisations have persisted, but heavy metal has actually diversified over time, even embracing left-wing and environmental politics with causes ranging from whale protection to labour conditions.</p>
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<span class="caption">Black Sabbath in 1970.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Black_Sabbath_(1970).jpg">Wikimedia Commons</a></span>
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<h2>Metal’s evolution</h2>
<p>The term “heavy metal” began to circulate in the late 1960s, denoting a musical style broadly characterised by highly amplified, distorted guitars, and emphatic drums and bass. Metal’s aggressive vocal styles can range from the high-pitched vibrato of Judas Priest’s Rob Halford, to the deep, guttural death growls of Travis Ryan of Cattle Decapitation.</p>
<p>With the emergence of Black Sabbath, the “first” heavy metal band, the mythos of metal started to solidify. Black Sabbath’s origins in the British industrial city of Birmingham were taken to be a core factor in their sound – heavy, chugging riffs and thunderous drums echoed the bleak repetition of factory floors and deafening manufacturing conditions. </p>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">‘Sabbath Bloody Sabbath’ - Black Sabbath (1973).</span></figcaption>
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<p>Metal as the music of the white working class was a narrative that followed a swathe of English bands that formed the New Wave of British Heavy Metal in the late 1970s – including Judas Priest, Iron Maiden and Motörhead – and affirmed metal’s sense of self, even as the genre continued to expand. </p>
<h2>Metal and the market</h2>
<p>While metal was at the centre of<a href="https://theconversation.com/gwar-is-over-the-subcultural-politics-of-thrash-metal-24789"> several moral panics</a> in the 1980s, and was chastised by claims of Satanism, sex and violence, tensions within the metal scene itself saw the development of various subgenres. The pop commerciality of glam and hair metal was countered by the “fundamentalism” of speed and thrash metal scenes spearheaded by bands such as Metallica and Slayer, who sought to make metal harder and faster. </p>
<p>The desire in the late 1980s for even heavier, faster metal saw a push towards death metal, grindcore, and later black metal. The enormous success of Metallica’s 1991 self-titled release cemented these subgenres, collectively referred to as “extreme metal”, as the last hold-outs for metal’s anti-commercial aspirations. Extreme metal can appear bizarre or terrifying to the unfamiliar – the series of murders and church arsons which implicated members of the Norwegian black metal scene in the early 1990s have overshadowed the music itself. </p>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">Metallica’s 1991 self-titled album.</span></figcaption>
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<p>There are now over 100,000 metal bands worldwide, playing more than 50 subgenres of metal. Metal fans are the <a href="https://insights.spotify.com/us/2015/04/02/loyalest-music-fans-by-genre/">most loyal listeners of any style of music</a>.</p>
<p>Nonetheless, extreme metal has become the dominant movement, with black and death metal accounting for over 72,000 of the roughly 119,000 band entries on <a href="https://www.metal-archives.com/">metal-archives.com</a>. The splinter genres of metalcore and deathcore, which fuse metal elements with hardcore punk, also account for a substantial market share. </p>
<h2>Political activism</h2>
<p>Even as thrash metal, and later death metal, encountered moral panics, these scenes were crucial sites for political discourse. US acts Sacred Reich and Evildead protested environmental destruction in the late 1980s, while South Africa’s Retribution Denied spoke out against the lingering corruption of Apartheid in the early 1990s. Although these scenes remained largely white and male, they also offered visibility to people of colour within metal.</p>
<p>With bands such as Mexico’s Brujeria, Brazil’s Sepultura, and Slovakia’s Gladiator, thrash and death metal scenes also became an outlet to express identity narratives which moved beyond the mythologised factory floors of the British midlands. </p>
<p>Metal acts continue to engage with international politics. Environmentalism is a key theme: French progressive death metal band Gojira, alongside British metalcore act Architects, have partnered with the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society. Labour conditions are another concern, in a more explicitly political sense than metal’s foundational acts. Grindcore pioneers Napalm Death and blackened folk metal act Dawn Ray’d are staunchly anti-capitalist and anti-fascist. </p>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">Gojira lead singer Joseph Duplantier voices his support for Sea Shepherd.</span></figcaption>
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<p>Metal can also offer nuanced responses to localised politics. <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/12166029-metal-rules-the-globe">Jeremy Wallach</a> writes that young people in Malaysia, Indonesia and Singapore have used metal to express anger at uneven economic development. Israel’s Orphaned Land and Palestine’s Khalas toured together in 2013 to send a message of coexistence. In Australia, blackened death metal duo Hazeen have used metal to respond to Islamophobia. </p>
<p>Metal nonetheless battles ongoing issues of racism, misogyny and homophobia. Limited representation for women in mainstream metal press beyond “Hottest Chicks” annuals remains a core concern, as does the proliferation of extreme-right sentiment within metal scenes. Representation for trans folk in metal scenes is also minimal, though <a href="http://www.metalsucks.net/2017/11/07/transgender-metal-vocalist-danica-roem-wins-election-to-virginia-house-of-delegates/">metal vocalist Danica Roem’s</a> recent election to Virginia’s House of Delegates may go some way to renegotiate this. </p>
<p>Metal still has much work to do to adequately represent and engage its diverse populations. Yet the increased willingness of metal acts and media outlets to have important discussions around representation and identity points to a vital new era for metal’s public image, beyond its original mythology of working class masculinity.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/87999/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Catherine Hoad received funding through an Australian Postgraduate Award for her Phd. </span></em></p>Heavy metal music was traditionally associated with white, working class masculinity. But the genre has diversified - with many subgenres -
and now embraces causes ranging from whale protection to labour conditions.Catherine Hoad, Sessional academic in Communications, University of Technology SydneyLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/863982017-10-26T05:14:03Z2017-10-26T05:14:03ZGeorge Michael: Freedom documents a star at war with fame<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/191980/original/file-20171026-28079-1h98urd.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">George Michael in the music video for Father Figure</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Screenshot from Youtube</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>The new documentary, George Michael: Freedom, has been billed as the star’s last work. Mostly completed before his death in December 2016, it covers his career and influence, mixing both his personal life and professional output. Combining interviews, existing clips (mostly video) with some new voice-over from Michael, the documentary puts together a chronological narrative of the singer’s life. </p>
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<p>Although there isn’t a great deal of original material from Michael himself, most interesting is the way his narrative has been reconsidered by some unlikely musical contemporaries such as Oasis’s Liam Gallagher. The documentary features new interviews with the record industry, showing that at times the machine seemed simply unable to understand how someone so young and talented could be so willing to deny their guidance. </p>
<p>Case in point was the major legal battle Michael launched with record company Sony in the early 1990s. At this stage Michael had been seemingly globally successful with Wham!; then apparently astronomically successful with his first solo album, Faith.</p>
<p>Looking at the “difficult second album” to follow up, he released the glorious Listen Without Prejudice – but wanted to do so without the press circus that had accompanied him up to that point. When he refused to have his image on the album’s cover or film clips – and also refused the interview/press circuit to promote the work – the record company simply didn’t understand why. Michael initiated legal proceedings against Sony for failing to promote the album. The case was dismissed. </p>
<p>As the documentary shows, it seems that ideologically, even now, Sony couldn’t quite comprehend Michael’s stance. At one point one of the reps compares Michael’s refusal to do promo to a film actor who refuses to attend a premiere. How could someone who enjoyed being the centre of attention when performing live, or when writing music for people to listen to in their most intimate moments, not be completely eager to talk about themselves endlessly on chat shows and pimp themselves out for record-store signings?</p>
<p>Michael had been talking about the stresses of fame at a young age in the lead-up to the legal battle. Most famously, in response to an interview about the pressure, a <a href="http://www.vulture.com/2016/12/read-sinatras-open-letter-to-george-michael.html">note addressed to Michael from Frank Sinatra</a> appeared in the press telling the then young pop star to “Loosen up. Swing, man,” and to stop his talk about “the tragedy of fame”. In his documentary Michael questions the letter’s authenticity, suggesting it was a publicist rather than Ol’ Blue Eyes himself. </p>
<p>Michael had articulated his disillusionment with fame when he was 27 years old. This was the age when many before him, thrust into similar situations, had also run from fame. Unfortunately, artists like Kurt Cobain, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix and Amy Winehouse had run in a much more permanent way. That Michael had the strength to be able to stand up for himself and his sanity at such a vulnerable time, even at the risk of being called a whinger by an icon, remains remarkable.</p>
<p>Much has already been written in the US and UK press about the documentary’s unlikely cameos and Michael’s champions. People like Liam Gallagher or Ricky Gervais perhaps at first appear too cool to have contributed without irony – however, soon it becomes clear they are genuine admirers. </p>
<p>Referencing the infamous “<a href="http://www.independent.co.uk/news/george-michael-arrested-over-lewd-act-1155246.html">lewd act</a>” for which Michael was arrested for sex with a man, Gervais praised the singer’s directness and candour. Refusing to be shamed personally, in the same way he had refused to be shamed before, he emerged instead making fun of those who sought to isolate or alienate him. The best revenge came with more great music – and a cheeky recreation with mirror balls and dancing camp cops.</p>
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<p>Michael’s private life does makes its way into the documentary. Hearing him talk about his time with his first real love – Anselmo Feleppa, who died of AIDS not long after they met – is heartbreaking. It leads to a greater discussion about Michael’s ability to connect with audiences on his own terms, talking about Feleppa with his post-lawsuit album, Older. It shows how far the artist flourished when he was allowed to just get on with making music rather than making mainstream small talk. Older was a statement about Michael’s development, but also a grieving tribute to Feleppa’s life, love and passing. </p>
<p>The documentary is topped and tailed with the tributes to Michael performed by Adele and Coldplay in the months after his death. These, along with Kate Moss’s intro, are the only reminders in the program that Michael is actually gone. </p>
<p>The doco was made as a celebration (and somewhat strangely) as a Sony-sponsored promotion for <a href="http://www.thedrum.com/news/2017/10/17/ad-the-day-sony-marks-george-michaels-listen-without-prejudice-re-issue-with">re-releases of Michael’s work</a>. Despite this, it remains beautiful and anything but sad. How lucky we were to have had him for as long as we did.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/86398/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Liz Giuffre does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>George Michael’s posthumous documentary Freedom reveals the star’s tension between pop-stardom and privacy.Liz Giuffre, Senior Lecturer in Communication, University of Technology SydneyLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/837862017-09-15T04:26:48Z2017-09-15T04:26:48ZMy favourite album: readers’ choice<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/186146/original/file-20170915-16273-1tj7il0.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Beyoncé in the music video for Sorry, from Lemonade. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Screenshot from Youtube</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>This week we’ve been asking our authors to name their favourite albums. We’ve heard about <a href="https://theconversation.com/my-favourite-album-kate-bushs-hounds-of-love-79899">Kate Bush</a>, <a href="https://theconversation.com/my-favourite-album-the-cures-kiss-me-kiss-me-kiss-me-82913">The Cure</a>, <a href="https://theconversation.com/my-favourite-album-the-beastie-boys-ill-communication-81104">The Beastie Boys</a>, <a href="https://theconversation.com/my-favourite-album-yothu-yindis-tribal-voice-83643">Yothu Yindi</a>, and <a href="http://theconversation.com/my-favourite-album-pulps-different-class-81395">Pulp</a>. I listened to these. Despite all being from a time before my sixth birthday I was pleasantly surprised. They’re not Beyoncé, but decent all the same. </p>
<p>Now it’s over to you. Many of you couldn’t choose one and protested that choosing a favourite album is an impossible task. </p>
<p>By numbers Pink Floyd is undoubtedly your favourite artist, with Dark Side of the Moon coming out on top. Readers called it “technically perfect” and “ageless”. You also liked four other Pink Floyd albums. </p>
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<p>Other albums to make multiple appearances were Radiohead’s Ok Computer, The Beatle’s Sgt Pepper’s (which celebrated <a href="https://theconversation.com/sgt-peppers-at-50-the-greatest-thing-you-ever-heard-or-just-another-album-77458">50 years in June</a>), Joni Mitchell’s Blue, and Patti Smith’s Horses. Leonard Cohen, Led Zeppelin, Bob Dylan, and the Rolling Stones were all strongly represented. A lot of you love soundtracks, from A Single Man to Morning of the Earth to Jonathan Livingston Seagull. </p>
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<p>Many of you wrote in with lovely stories of your encounters with cherished albums. </p>
<p>Emily Piggott told us about her life-changing discovery of the The Smiths’ Meat is Murder: </p>
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<p>I first heard it at about age 16 and became vegetarian (at age 17). I am 42 and still vegetarian. Thanks Morrissey. Some of the sounds on that album still make me really teary (the rain in Well I Wonder). The absolute simplicity and honesty of sadness and loss in this album is really profound for me. I know that others see this album as over done, over blown, full of terrible Morrissey angst, but I still see it as an incredible example of the beauty of sadness. </p>
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<p>Helen Garner named Van Morrison’s Astral Weeks:</p>
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<p>I always expect it to have been worn out by my memory of it; but every time I listen to it, its freshness and daring astonish me.</p>
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<p>Ian King nominated Rush’s Moving Pictures: </p>
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<p>Holding this vinyl LP in a dreary Thatcherite England was the same as holding hope, joy, fun and aspiration. Even the cover artwork was a mix of wit, rooted ideas and magic.</p>
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<p>Vivienne Forde continued the love for Kate Bush in general, and A Woman’s Work in particular:</p>
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<p>A hundred words, two thousand would not do, three million hmmmm, she is eternal, her sound is pure love. Could I choose an album, hardly, it would be some kind of sacrilege. I fell in love with sounds I heard over the airwaves on Cork radios in Ireland in March 1978, I had just turned 13. I saw her on The Late Late Show, I was mesmerized. She had touched me, I was hers forever.</p>
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<p>Chris Panagiataros wrote of the power of Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp a Butterfly: </p>
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<p>… an ode to hip hop, the perfect blend of controversy, advocacy, poetry and self-reflection. I and I’m sure many millennials across the world have fought the battle for hip hop, defending lyrics and the genre when we heard the remark, “hip hop isn’t music”. From the Bronx to the Australia hip hop scene, it has become our outlet for expression.</p>
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<p>And Tammy Unkovich wrote of a life lived with Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds’ No More Shall We Part: </p>
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<p>This album soothes and exhilarates. It’s always in my car. It’s my desert island disc. St Nick’s lyric mastery drips like honey through the speakers. These unassuming ballads are unleashed like wild animals in the live domain. “God is in the House” and “Oh My Lord” revel in Warren’s moaning violin; “Hallelujah” is riveting and “My Sorrowful Wife” lends itself to yesteryear yet rips your heart open in the outro. This is the year I met my husband to be; the year we bonded over this masterpiece; the year we saw the band live at Metro Perth in an earth-shattering experience. When an adjective is needed or precise phrasing is preferred, St Nick melts my heart and English language sensibilities. This album is flawless!!</p>
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<p>There were so many others: The Triffids, Black Swan; The Weeping Willows, Before Darkness Comes A-Callin’; Green Day, American Idiot; Yani, Live at the Acropolis; Jeff Buckley, Grace; The Talking Heads, Remain in Light; Lou Reed, Transformer; The Clash, Sandanista!; PJ Harvey, Let England Shake; Bob Evans, Car Boot Sale; Deborah Conway, String of Pearls; and Missy Higgins, The Sound of White. </p>
<p>I asked around our office too. Guns and Roses’ Appetite for Destruction. The Thermals’ The Body, The Blood, The Machine. Carly Rae Jepsen’s E.mo.tion (I endorse this heartily). Taylor Swift’s 1989. Kanye West’s My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy (that’s our CEO). Radiohead’s Ok Computer. Smashing Pumpkin’s Melon Collie and the Infinite Sadness. Ott’s Skylon. Calexico and Iron & Wine’s In the Rein. Yves Klein Blue’s Ragged and Ecstatic. The Best of Richard Clayderman. </p>
<p>Some of you rejected the whole notion of contemporary music:</p>
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<p>Just about ALL of it should be trashed. Ghastly noise largely performed by people who cannot SING A NOTE!</p>
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<p>For you I highly recommend our fabulous series on classical music, <a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/decoding-the-music-masterpieces-37147">Decoding the Music Masterpieces</a>. </p>
<p>Finally my own favourite album. It is of course the greatest album from the greatest singer, Beyoncé’s Lemonade. </p>
<p><img width="100%" src="https://media.giphy.com/media/l3V0doGbp2EDaLHJC/giphy.gif"></p>
<p>Thank you for your wonderful submissions and passionate opinions. </p>
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<p><em>Are you a music or culture academic who would like contribute to this series? Please contact <a href="mailto:james.whitmore@theconversation.edu.au">James Whitmore</a> or Suzy Freeman-Greene</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/83786/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
From The Smiths to Kendrick Lamar, Conversation readers tell us their favourite albums.James Whitmore, Deputy Editor: Arts + Culture, The ConversationLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/813952017-09-15T02:03:59Z2017-09-15T02:03:59ZMy favourite album: Pulp’s Different Class<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/184324/original/file-20170901-26017-m21e3d.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Jarvis Cocker in the film clip for Common People. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Screenshot from Youtube</span></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>The album is an artistic statement, a swag of songs greater than the sum of its parts. In this series, our authors nominate their favourites.</em></p>
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<p>For many, the explosion of Britpop on the global music scene in the 1990s was a bright counterargument to the grunge sound emerging from the US at the time. It was the musical contribution to the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cool_Britannia">Cool Britannia</a> revitalisation of British creativity, later co-opted for jingoistic purposes by New Labour. </p>
<p>The 2003 documentary <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0358569/">Live Forever: The Rise and Fall of Britpop</a> is rather preoccupied with the famous feud between Britpop powerhouses Blur and Oasis. The film characterises this as something of a class war between middle-class Blur and working-class Oasis. But no band better captured the real tensions between class and youth in the time of Cool Britannia than Pulp and its 1995 album Different Class.</p>
<p>My first taste of the album was what is now recognised as Pulp’s greatest single, Common People. It has a catchy pop hook, no doubt, but I was drawn in by Jarvis Cocker’s sardonic storytelling. I wanted more and as soon as I had enough pocket money saved, Different Class became the second album I ever bought. It remains my most listened to. </p>
<p>Regularly listed among the <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20140201180055/http://www.1001beforeyoudie.com/1001_albums_uk.html">greatest albums</a> <a href="http://www.nme.com/photos/the-500-greatest-albums-of-all-time-100-1-1426116">of all time</a> it combines clever pop musical styling with honest lyrics about fumblings, infidelities, and music festivals (such as their controversial single, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O6lXpk0vkEU">Sorted for E’s and Whizz</a>). Above all, it’s an album full of stories from everyday people living their everyday lives. </p>
<p>Pulp was first conceived by a teenage Cocker and his friend, Peter Dalton, in 1978, with other members joining over the years.
In his introduction to <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/12764721-mother-brother-lover">Mother, Brother, Lover</a>, a published collection of his lyrics, Cocker describes his blueprint for songwriting as “an attempt to marry ‘inappropriate’ subject matter to fairly conventional ‘pop’ song structures.” </p>
<p>This blueprint is undoubtedly the formula for success in Different Class. Punters could see themselves in lyrics that evoked the hazy smoke lingering around the pool table at the pub (<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yuTMWgOduFM">Common People</a>), or the exhausted collapse at a café table after a night out (Bar Italia). These weren’t things you were supposed to sing about, but Pulp did. </p>
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<p>Pulp still trod some of the well-worn territory of pop music - love and sex - but the romantic soft focus was removed from the lens. Owen Hatherley, author of <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/11281898-uncommon">Uncommon: An Essay on Pulp</a>, observes with a shudder that Pulp write songs about sex that focus on “embarrassment, mess, and clothes”. </p>
<p>There is still room on Different Class for the astonishment of unexpectedly falling in love in a song like <a href="https://youtu.be/EFSdf_VeYG0">Something Changed</a>. In <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Qxn7DLcNwQ">F.E.E.L.I.N.G.C.A.L.L.E.D.L.O.V.E</a>. they remind us that every day love “isn’t chocolate boxes and roses – it’s dirtier than that, like some small animal that only comes out at night.” The band explores the awkwardness of first sexual encounters in <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lfte0NVxUQE">Underwear</a> and the torture of unrequited love in <a href="https://youtu.be/qJS3xnD7Mus">Disco 2000</a>.</p>
<p>The most prominent theme of Different Class is, of course, class itself. It’s the kind of gritty subject matter usually left to earnest rockers like Billy Bragg and Bruce Springsteen rather than bands breaking on to <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0139803/">Top of the Pops</a>. But Pulp got fans singing and dancing to searing commentaries on class and privilege. The album opens explosively with <a href="https://youtu.be/S0DRch3YLh0">Mis-shapes</a>, a call to arms for working class youth to reclaim a society after the years of Thatcherism. </p>
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<p>Raised on a diet of broken biscuits, oh we don’t look the same as you, we don’t do the things you do, but we live round here too … Brothers, sisters, can’t you see? The future’s owned by you and me.</p>
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<p>The class warfare finds a more intimate outlet in <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9VMkg8AlFZo">Pencil Skirt</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QMQi0pZY_J8">I Spy</a> as the lyrics explore the transgressive potential of sexual relationships between the classes. Both songs are tales of “a bit of rough” undermining the middle classes with adventures in tawdry sex and infidelity with posh birds. The lover who laments with bittersweet regret that class difference is exactly what gives an embrace such frisson in Pencil Skirt transforms into a sinister class terrorist crowing with delight over a cuckolded toff in the Leonard Cohen-esque I Spy. The sweet revenge promised in Mis-shapes comes to fruition.</p>
<p>It was <a href="https://youtu.be/yuTMWgOduFM">Common People</a> that presented the most honest and accurate discussion of class as an inescapable phenomenon for those without the means and privilege to pretend otherwise. Based upon an actual encounter Cocker had with a young woman while studying at Central St Martins in London in the late 1980s, the song mocks her misguided class tourism. She could slum it with common lovers and a cheap apartment but class – real socio-economic disadvantage – is something inescapable:</p>
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<p>You’ll never fail like common people, you’ll never watch your life slide out of view, and dance, and drink, and screw because there’s nothing else to do.</p>
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<p>The irony, of course, is that the song launched Pulp into celebrity and with that comes a form of privilege. It did not, however, sit well with the band. Seven years and another two albums later, Pulp undertook a nine-year hiatus, returning only for a reunion tour, not to produce new material. </p>
<p>While Cocker’s cocaine addiction is easily presented as more attention-grabbing evidence of decline (as was the famous bottom-waggling incident at Michael Jackson’s performance at the 1996 BRIT Awards), guitarist Mark Webber’s habit of playing with his back to the audience was most revealing as to how uncomfortable the band were with their level of celebrity. </p>
<p>Their discomfort with the tawdriness of fame and fortune found its outlet in their next album <a href="https://youtu.be/JXbLyi5wgeg">This Is Hardcore</a>. If we see Different Class as the working class ingénue moving to a flat in the city with some mates to try make it as a model or actress, This Is Hardcore finds her a few years later making pornos just to pay the rent.</p>
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<p><em>Are you a music or culture academic who would like contribute to this series? Please contact <a href="mailto:james.whitmore@theconversation.edu.au">James Whitmore</a> or Suzy Freeman-Greene</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/81395/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Jess Carniel does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>In Different Class, Pulp got fans singing and dancing to searing commentaries on class and privilege.Jess Carniel, Lecturer in Humanities, University of Southern QueenslandLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/839632017-09-14T23:58:05Z2017-09-14T23:58:05ZCountdown - just nostalgia, or still breaking new ground?<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/185951/original/file-20170914-6564-1y6q0on.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Shirley from Skyhooks in Countdown</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">ABC</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Audiences of a certain age still gush about Countdown, the ABC’s music show that ran between 1974 and 1987. The ritual of sitting down to watch the ABC at 6pm on a Sunday (and maybe again for the Saturday repeat) is one that many remember fondly. The lucky might catch old Countdown episodes during music video program Rage’s popular summer series, also an event worth setting the recorder for. Either way, the idea of setting aside time to commune with a TV show based on a particular time slot is an experience that the YouTube generation can scarcely get their heads around.</p>
<p>The ABC will be recreating this experience in 13 “<a href="http://www.abc.net.au/tv/programs/classic-countdown/">Classic Countdown</a>” episodes - one per year - from September 17 at 6pm (with repeats the following Saturday). </p>
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<p>When Countdown debuted on the ABC November 8 1974, television had only been in Australia for about 20 years. The medium was still relatively new and audiences across the nation were still divided by distance as well as access. The ABC lead the way in creating strong networks across regions in a way that commercial outlets couldn’t (or weren’t interested) in duplicating.</p>
<p>Countdown’s emergence in the 1970s was part of a perfect storm. Young people were being included in the national conversation in a way they hadn’t quite been before (including the lowering of the voting age from 21 to 18), while a renewed interest in local production and creative output was emerging. Other music television programs like Kommotion, Young Talent Time, Six O’Clock Rock and the long-enduring Bandstand did feature Australians, but often in supporting roles. Instead, Countdown, lead by talent co-ordinator Ian “Molly” Meldrum, was intent on fostering the local industry beyond cover versions and imitation acts.</p>
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<p>Ian Meldrum began in the Australian music industry as a print journalist for the Melbourne based (then nationally circulated) pop culture magazine Go-Set. Launched in 1966 by university students, the magazine soon gained significant attention, not just for its pioneering approach but because of its clever cross-industry promotion.</p>
<p>Wrapped up in this was Meldrum – first as a young journalist and commentator, and then for a while as a performer on music television shows like Kommotion and Uptight. Convinced to be part of the medium because “it would be good for Go-Set”, it was during this time a mini-Molly cult first began to develop. There was no hiding his sheer love of pop music and shameless fandom for all that was good in the genre.</p>
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<p>Meldrum’s influence developed sharply once Countdown found its audience. Still working as a DJ as well as writer, his ear for the next big thing was what the show and its viewers relied on. It was also what a nervous local industry waited on, with his endorsement (“Do yourself a favour”) seemingly making or breaking a release. Shamelessly trying to avoid any form of musical snobbery, he did his best to champion what he genuinely considered to be the best of the form.</p>
<p>Molly’s charm on Countdown, as it had been earlier, was his enthusiasm. It’s an approach that made him something of a laughing stock with television professionals – but made those at home love him more. He wasn’t slick like his US and UK counterparts, and instead often became visibly nervous and excited. Even watching again now you can’t help but empathise with him. It was (and still is) bloody charming.</p>
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<p>Is there anything new left to say about Countdown?</p>
<p>It’s easy to assume that Countdown is just a nostalgia piece. But there’s still a lot to be learned from the show and its success. Australian music has been given little moments in the (television) sun since the 1970s and 80s, but nothing quite with the same impact. These days artists and audiences are much less naïve to the machinations of the industry - something that can leave us all a little stale in terms of innovation and experimentation.</p>
<p>Countdown’s legacy, and continued lesson, lies not just in the high profile success pieces like AC/DC, Skyhooks, Olivia Newton-John and Marcia Hines. Watching back again, the real lessons lie in the diversity of people and sounds that were featured. The lesson is the kids dancing down the front busy just losing themselves in the pleasure of music. These same kids then went to school or uni or work (or better, the record store) the next day to continue to support the local industry. At least a few who are in the industry now got their first inspiration by watching people, just like them, having a go.</p>
<p>There are also lessons to be gained from the apparent “bumbling” of Molly. He may have “ummed” and “ahhed” during interviews, but you could never deny his belief in the artists he was speaking to. He championed the “big hits” but also the underdogs and “not quite there yet” artists. Especially local artists who didn’t quite look or sound like they belonged anywhere else - and that difference was what made them so fantastic.</p>
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<p>So - when you’re digging into the archive and enjoying the Countdown of old, also do a little searching and take a chance on the next local mould breaker. Go on, do yourself a favour.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/83963/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
Audiences of a certain age still gush about Countdown, the ABC’s music show that ran between 1974 and 1987. The ritual of sitting down to watch the ABC at 6pm on a Sunday (and maybe again for the Saturday…Liz Giuffre, Senior Lecturer in Communication, University of Technology SydneyLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/756902017-04-04T05:28:41Z2017-04-04T05:28:41ZA Rock & Roll Writers Festival brings a much-needed spark to Australia’s literary scene<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/163767/original/image-20170404-25858-1swyghj.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">The fusion of music and writing created unexpected sparks. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Rock image from www.shutterstock.com</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>You could be forgiven for thinking that the last thing Australia’s cultural arena needs is another bloody writers festival. Today’s big city festivals and their regional counterparts use the same formats, are expensive, predictable, safe and reek of easy privilege. It’s a space that has required reinvigoration for some time.</p>
<p>Enter <a href="https://www.rockandrollwritersfestival.com/">A Rock & Roll Writers Festival</a>, at The Old Museum in Brisbane on April 1 and 2. It’s the kind of festival that fills your goodie bag with candy and mini-bar-sized bottles of Jack Daniels to kick in the tone. A festival that set out to celebrate the synergy between music and words and creativity and has managed to do that very well. </p>
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<p>The most impressive aspect of this heady two-day submersion of words and rock was the considered and dynamic curation of panels. Every writer has a horror story about being flung onto a writers festival panel where the connection between what they actually write about and the topic is arbitrary or non-existent. As guest author Liam Piper said to me over a champagne on day two, you spend half your time on these things trying to “<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Six_Degrees_of_Kevin_Bacon">Kevin Bacon</a>” your book back into the conversation. </p>
<p>Rock & Roll Writers Festival founding director Leanne de Souza and producer Joe Woolley approach curation differently. It’s all about the work, what the artist brings to the table and the kind of sparks that can fly when you rub the right people up against each other in just the right way. The weekend was full of these moments of frisson. </p>
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<p>On a panel brilliantly titled The Male Monster from the Id, Aussie rock royalty Adalita of Magic Dirt fame, Tim Rogers and US writer and biographer Holly George Warren wrestled their way through the big rockstar stereotypes. When Adalita rather modestly declared she’d never had groupies, none of us believed her. Holly wanted to know if Tim had ever been cast in plaster and they unpacked what it was like getting older in rock and roll, when the words demand more from you and every crack in your skin is a sin worth living in. </p>
<p>Everyone in the building fell in love with Cash Savage’s deadpan delivery. On an academic panel designed to unravel the intersection of music, writing and social commentary, jazz singer Leah Cottrell deconstructed the raw emotive power of Kurt Cobain and Amy Winehouse’s lyrics – how audiences rolled around in that soup vicariously while the artists themselves drowned.</p>
<p>Indigenous author Melissa Lucashenko described listening to the soundtrack from Rolf de Heer’s 2002 film <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0212132/">The Tracker</a> on her headphones while writing her novel <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17319691-mullumbimby">Mullumbimby</a> and how the hypnotising tones of Archie Roach singing in Bunjalung playing on loop fed directly into the writing – a conjuring of country. </p>
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<p>On a free panel specifically designed for 14-to-17-year-olds, entitled Everybody Hurts, Amity Affliction songwriter Joel Birch laid his demons right down to a room full of teenagers. Kind of horrified but tuned in, they were hanging on his every word – an unflinching account of his history of mental illness and suicidal tendencies. </p>
<p>At the festival there was less of a division between punter and player – usually writers speak and then get whisked off by publicists tapping on Blackberrys to private shindigs. The scene in The Old Museum in Brisbane was more fluid, the writers and musos wandering the spaces between the bars and high ceiling rooms, listening to each other’s sessions supping on beers and bloody marys made on tequila, smoking in spontaneous posses in the garden under the fig trees.</p>
<p>It was real and unpretentious and very rock and roll. A much-needed mega shot in the country’s literary arm. We didn’t get burned, we got healed.</p>
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<p><em><a href="https://www.rockandrollwritersfestival.com/melbourne/">A Rock & Roll Writers Festival – Tour Edition</a> will be in Melbourne on April 9.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/75690/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Sally Breen does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Brisbane’s Rock and Roll Writers Festival rubbed musicians and writers up against each other in just the right way.Sally Breen, Senior Lecturer in Writing and Publishing, Griffith UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/398472015-05-14T10:23:40Z2015-05-14T10:23:40ZU2’s continuing quest for authenticity<p>“We wanted to make a very personal album,” U2’s Bono <a href="http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/u2-surprise-album-songs-of-innocence-apple-itunes-free-20140909">told Rolling Stone</a> upon the release of the band’s most recent album, Songs of Innocence. “The whole album is first journeys…geographically, spiritually, sexually. And that’s hard. But we went there.” </p>
<p>Those first journeys also include some of the band’s formative musical influences, including The Ramones and The Clash, who are examples of stripped-back rock and roll par excellence. </p>
<p>Now, the band is slated to embark on its iNNOCENCE + eXPERIENCE tour in support of the album.</p>
<p>For this tour, the band is certainly scaling back: they’ll be performing in the relative intimacy of arenas. It’s a stark contrast to the record-shattering production of the band’s last tour – called U2 360 – which was seen by about seven million people in huge, open air stadiums and <a href="http://www.billboard.com/biz/articles/news/touring/1176894/u2s-360-tour-gross-736137344">grossed over US$700 million</a>.</p>
<p>On the surface, it may seem as though U2 is suddenly seeking a return to the simpler times of its early years, both in their sound and their performances.</p>
<p>But for those who have followed the band’s career closely, talk of returning to “roots” of some kind when a new record is released is nothing new for U2. If anything, it reveals the well-worn strategy of a band that seeks to remain relevant even as it ages – a pattern of alternating between radical experimentation and mining the myth of authenticity.</p>
<h2>Two poles – sometimes blurred</h2>
<p>The first time this trope was invoked was with 1987’s The Joshua Tree and the follow-up album and documentary film Rattle and Hum. For those albums the band, weaned on 1970s punk, turned back to the American triumvirate – blues, folk and gospel – the deeply “authentic” music they felt they’d missed out on growing up. </p>
<p>In interviews from this time, they began their tendency to, off and on, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_ss_c_0_8?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=u2+by+u2&sprefix=u2+by+u2%2Caps%2C223">romanticize “stripped-down” rock and roll</a>.</p>
<p>This backward turn came in the wake of the band’s first project with producers Brian Eno and Daniel Lanois, 1984’s The Unforgettable Fire. </p>
<p>Interestingly, that album’s atmospheric, experimental sound was enthusiastically embraced by the band as an attempt to switch gears from the hard-driving, guitar-oriented, stripped-down rock that characterized 1983’s War.</p>
<p>The live shows that have supported the band’s more experimental albums have been suitably mammoth endeavors, often taking place in outdoor venues, with every technological bell and whistle imaginable in tow.</p>
<p>But the sound of the group’s music doesn’t swing quite as easily between these poles as their discourse around it would suggest. </p>
<p>For example, the atmospheric, experimental influence is present on Songs of Innocence (The Troubles). Meanwhile, the stripped-back sound can be found on the most “out there” album in U2’s oeuvre – 1997’s Pop – in tracks like Wake Up Dead Man and The Playboy Mansion. </p>
<h2>The tension of fame</h2>
<p>So why frame the process of making an album as a kind of recurring existential crisis? One that seems to require a radical rethinking of musical and thematic direction?</p>
<p>One answer to this question comes from what counts as “authentic” in rock culture: the quest narrative – the constant search for “realness,” for what is perceived to be “genuine.” </p>
<p>Led Zeppelin, for example, “reinvented” themselves on their third album, turning to acoustic folk music. The infamous battle between Mick Jagger and Keith Richards over whether to stay true to the band’s blues roots or move in a more contemporary direction began with their 1983 album Undercover. </p>
<p>But U2 is particularly committed to this narrative. Their need for reinvention, the casting off of what came before, the re-examination of directions, the <em>restlessness</em>, can be viewed as part of a discourse that helps construct U2’s rock authenticity.</p>
<p>I’m not suggesting that their quest is disingenuous. But one only has to look at musics other than white rock to see that the terms of authenticity vary with genre, among other things. </p>
<p>In fact, it could be argued that there’s <em>no such thing</em> as authenticity, except in the minds of those who construct the idea. </p>
<p>For the band, however, there is more to this discursive struggle. Rock authenticity is premised on a revolutionary sensibility – a rejection of authority. And rock musicians who become commercially successful often struggle with how to remain true to these ideals.</p>
<p>The strategy of forever searching for a new sound becomes especially important in these circumstances: there’s nothing that shatters respectability like a commercially successful rock band that rests on its laurels.</p>
<p>Returning to one’s “roots,” though, or being on the cutting edge of contemporary music becomes part of the strategy to maintain credibility and relevance in the wake of unprecedented commercial success – to demonstrate that the ideals on which the band was formed are still driving them. </p>
<p>Could this explain why U2 recently made an (intially) covert busking appearance in a New York City subway station?</p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/aluYo-FSqiw?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">U2 recently performed – initially, in disguise – in a New York City subway station.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>After all, busking is perhaps the quintessential authentic performance genre – live, unmediated, accessible, risky and non-commercial (if you don’t count the pennies collected in the guitar case).</p>
<h2>Glitzy can be compatible with authentic</h2>
<p>Interestingly, three out of U2’s last four records have been premised on the idea of “going back to roots” or “stripping down the sound.” </p>
<p>And ironically, these albums have been more commercially successful than the last two attempts at sonic experimentation (Pop and No Line on the Horizon). So one wonders – perhaps a bit cynically – if the “returning to roots” discourse is not only a means of reaffirming rock authenticity, but also a way to sell more records. This is as much an observation about critics and fans (for whom the discourse of rock authenticity is religion), than it is about the band.</p>
<p>For my part, I’ve always found U2’s experimental records and some of the gargantuan tours more interesting and more true to the spirit of rock and roll than their trips back to the past. Pop is a sonic masterpiece, as are Zooropa and Achtung, Baby. The last of these, incidentally, was also a very personal album, chronicling, among other things, the shattering effects of divorce (Edge’s) and the complications of being in love. </p>
<p>In fact, the mammoth Zoo TV Tour that supported Achtung, Baby and Zooropa was one of the band’s most politically astute and successfully mounted social commentaries. In a (self-referential) commentary on celebrity, Bono took on the character of the bloated, leather-clad, shade-wearing rock star. And the main premise of the show was a harsh critique of the desensitizing effects of contemporary media.</p>
<p>Thus, contrary to the well-worn dualism in rock between “small and simple equals good” and “big and glitzy equals bad,” some of U2’s most incisive music and social commentary have come out of the latter.</p>
<p>It seems that “small and simple” (if arena shows can actually fall into this category) is where they’ll land on this tour, but there’s already a hint of where the band is going for the next album. In a <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2015/05/03/arts/music/u2s-flight-to-now-turbulence-included.html">New York Times essay</a> written on the eve of this tour, Bono had this to say about Songs of Experience, the album that will follow Songs of Innocence: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>We’re keeping the discipline on songs and pushing out the parameters of the sound….One of the things that experience has taught us is to be fully in the moment. What’s the moment? Pop music. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>And so the quest continues.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/39847/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Susan Fast has received funding from The Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada</span></em></p>When bands “return to their roots,” is it a genuine search, or a way to court critics and sell records?Susan Fast, Professor of Cultural Studies, Director, Graduate Program in Gender Studies and Feminist Research, McMaster UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/390412015-03-26T10:29:37Z2015-03-26T10:29:37ZThe messy history of music copyright suits<p>Earlier this month, a jury found Robin Thicke and Pharrell Williams guilty of copyright infringement for their hit song “Blurred Lines,” and ordered the duo to pay $7.4 million to the estate of Marvin Gaye.</p>
<p>The verdict has resulted in a whirlwind of reaction and analysis – most of it incredulous. </p>
<p>“I’m a little bit shocked by it, quite frankly,” country musician Keith Urban <a href="http://tasteofcountry.com/keith-urban-blurred-lines-verdict/">said</a>, while songwriter Bonnie McKee <a href="http://www.people.com/article/blurred-lines-verdict-keith-urban-nick-lachey-react">told People Magazine</a>, “It strikes fear into the hearts of songwriters.” <a href="http://htl.li/2WhIa5">According to John Legend</a>, the “verdict could set a scary precedent.” </p>
<p>But “Blurred Lines” is only the latest copyright case in an industry rife with suits and counter-suits. The Gaye estate is no stranger to the game: in the early 1980s, they settled a $15 million lawsuit by David Ritz, who claimed co-writing credit for Gaye’s mega-hit “Sexual Healing.” And a 2012 article about a lawsuit Marvin Gaye III had leveled against Lenny Kravitz <a href="http://gossiponthis.com/2012/12/03/marvin-gaye-son-wants-shameful-biopic-about-his-dad-stopped-lenny-kravitz/">noted</a>, “Gaye III has also gone as far as to sue restaurants and radio stations for copyright infringement on songs.”</p>
<p>Even for Pharrell Williams, lawsuits are standard fare; he’s frequently served as both plaintiff and defendant, going up against <a href="http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/thr-esq/pharrell-williams-william-what-know-578580">Trajik</a>, <a href="http://mcir.usc.edu/cases/2010-2019/Pages/currin.html">Peter Currin</a>, <a href="http://www.judiciaryreport.com/pharrell_williams_steals_more_copyrights.htm">Geggy Tah</a>, <a href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/257051994/Holla-Back-Entertainment-v-Pharrell-Williams-Gwen-Stefani-etc-pdf#scribd">Carla Boone</a>, <a href="http://www.billboard.com/articles/business/6415063/pharrell-youtube-lawsuit-irving-azoff">YouTube</a> and <a href="http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/thr-esq/pharrell-williams-william-what-know-578580">Will.I.AM</a>. </p>
<p>Music lawyer Kenneth Abdo perhaps put it best when he <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2015/03/02/business/media/industry-issuesintrude-in-blurred-lines-case.html">said</a>, “There is an old saying in the music industry…if you get a hit, you will get a writ.”</p>
<h2>Lawyers lick their chops</h2>
<p>On the surface, it would seem like copyright infringement is straightforward: either you lifted someone else’s work and called it your own, or you didn’t. </p>
<p>Technically, in order to be found guilty of infringement, two things must be proven. First, there needs to be direct or indirect evidence of access to the original composition. If that’s been established, “substantial similarity” between the original and supposedly infringed-upon work needs to be determined.</p>
<p>It’s the second factor that’s ripe for conflicting interpretation – and exploitation. After all, what makes something substantially similar?</p>
<p>But music copyright is muddled because ultimately it is decided by judges and juries who are “educated” by music experts from <em>both</em> sides, each of which insists that its interpretations – based on vague terms like “substantial,” “feeling” and “similar” – are correct.</p>
<p>So while most music fans remain blissfully ignorant of copyright law, behind the gold-record-lined walls there are throngs of lawyers working around the clock to defend their clients from “thieves” plundering their work, or from accusations by gold diggers looking for a quick buck.</p>
<p>Outside the walls the public only sees the “noble” attorneys who claim that they’re keeping us from slipping into creative anarchy. But it’s no coincidence that the greater the success of a hit song, the more shrill their “righteous” defense of artistic liberty becomes. In truth, these gimlet-eyed lawyers have been trained to detect the smallest possible copyright infractions – and are primed to strategically pounce. </p>
<h2>Artists learn the hard way</h2>
<p>In 1992, the hip-hop group Arrested Development released their hit song “Tennessee.” It soon caught the attention of Prince’s lawyers because the group never got permission to use a sample of the word “Tennessee” from Prince’s song “Alphabet St.” </p>
<p>This was a time when hip-hop and rap artists began to use sampling keyboards to build songs using segments of copyrighted sound recordings. Today, major artists know better than lift anything recognizable from other recordings without the proper license. But even now, newer artists often won’t attempt to get clearance. They reason that if they’re sued – well, their song must be a hit, so they’ll be wealthy enough to settle out of court.</p>
<p>As composer Carl Wiser <a href="http://www.songfacts.com/detail.php?id=10720">recalled</a>, “It was our first record, we definitely weren’t vets in the industry, we didn’t understand all the game play and the rules. So we didn’t ask for permission. I learned as a producer pretty quickly the laws of sampling: it’s the wild, wild West out there.” </p>
<p>This lesson in copyright law cost Arrested Development $100,000.</p>
<p>But Prince’s attorneys were strategic in their pursuit. As Wiser <a href="http://www.songfacts.com/detail.php?id=10720">explained</a>, the lawyers only raised a fuss once “the song moved up the chart the album got to #3 on the pop charts. And once it went down, the very week it went to #4, we got a call from Prince’s representation. They waited for that song to sell as many possible copies as they could wait for.” </p>
<p>Settling out of court like this is the usual outcome of such disputes. In 1986, the road manager for the group America heard Janet Jackson’s new song “Let’s Wait Awhile” while driving. He pulled over to a phone booth and called the band asking if they’d heard the song and how it sounded like “Daisy Jane.” Months later he received a 10% “finder’s fee” after America and Jackson settled.</p>
<p>In 1997, while writing his mega-hit “Bitter Sweet Symphony,” Richard Ashcroft of the Verve negotiated the cost to use a sample from the Rolling Stones’ “The Last Time.” </p>
<p>Ashcroft’s reward for trying to follow the letter of the law? The Stones sued anyway, claiming that the use of the sample was more integral to the song than had been originally negotiated. In the end, The Verve was ordered to hand over royalties and songwriting credits to Mick Jagger and Keith Richards. </p>
<p>When asked if the Verve got a fair shake, Richards <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/news/entertainment/music/lawyers-sue-men-plunder/2009/11/01/1257010103921.html?page=fullpage">responded</a>, “I’m out of whack here, this is serious lawyer shit.”</p>
<p>This reaction is typical of musicians who prefer to leave the law to their retained lawyers and record labels. In many cases, entertainment lawyers are like ambulance chasers: they’re the ones that convince composers that they’re owed money for infringements they’d otherwise never notice. </p>
<p>Out of consideration for reputation – and because it’s cheaper – most musicians hope to settle nuisance cases to make them disappear. </p>
<p>After all, what’s $100,000 when you’re raking in millions?</p>
<h2>George Harrison gently weeps</h2>
<p>But it’s George Harrison’s 1976 case that draws the most parallels to “Blurred Lines” – for the “you’ve got to be kidding!” reaction in the press, the immense popularity of both parties involved and the huge amount of money at stake.</p>
<p>In 1962 the girl-group quartet The Chiffons recorded Ronald Mackand’s song “He’s So Fine.”</p>
<figure>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">The Chiffons’ 1962 hit ‘He’s So Fine.’</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Eight years later, George Harrison released the song “My Sweet Lord.” Mackand had passed away, but the publishing company that represented his widow, Bright Tunes Music, brought Harrison to court, claiming that he had unlawfully copied “He’s So Fine.”</p>
<p>In Bright Tunes Music v. Harrison Music, the judge determined that although the accused, George Harrison, didn’t consciously copy parts of “He’s So Fine,” he had nonetheless <em>heard</em> the song – which proved access to the original version.</p>
<p>Next the judge determined that “substantial similarity” existed. With both criteria accounted for, he slapped Harrison with a guilty verdict and ordered Harrison to fork over $1.6 million (more than $6 million today) of the $2.1 million he’d earned from “My Sweet Lord.” </p>
<p><a href="http://www.law.berkeley.edu/files/Bright_Tunes_Music_v_Harrisongs.pdf">According to the judge</a>: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>Harrison’s subconscious knew it already had worked in a song his conscious mind did not remember…I do not believe he did so deliberately. Nevertheless, it is clear that “My Sweet Lord” is the very same song as “He’s So Fine” with different words.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The music world was shaken to its compositional core (<em>You mean you can be sued for what’s in your subconscious?</em>). </p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/0kNGnIKUdMI?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">Can you subconsciously copy something?</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>“It made me so paranoid about writing,” Harrison recalled, “that I didn’t even want to touch the guitar or piano in case I touched somebody’s note.”</p>
<p>In the wake of “Blurred Lines” the music world has again likened the verdict to the death of composing. </p>
<p>“We owe it to songwriters around the world to make sure this verdict doesn’t stand,” <a href="http://www.digitalmusicnews.com/permalink/2015/03/12/blurred-lines-lawyer-says-will-make-sure-verdict-doesnt-stand">said</a> Pharrell’s attorney Howard King, one of Forbes’ <a href="http://pview.findlaw.com/view/4860976_1">Power 100 Lawyers in Entertainment</a>.</p>
<p>But in the end, it’s all just the shuffling of money. Business as usual. Composers will compose and lawyers will sue. </p>
<p>Welcome to the music industry.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/39041/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Jeffrey Snyder does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Like ambulance chasers, gimlet-eyed entertainment lawyers have been trained to detect the most trivial copyright infringements.Jeffrey Snyder, Professor of Music / Director of the Music Industry Program / Director VALE Music Group, Lebanon Valley CollegeLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/358952015-01-14T19:31:32Z2015-01-14T19:31:32ZHey, Sir Paul! Studying popular music doesn’t actually kill it<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/68778/original/image-20150113-23789-1d5z5w.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Sir Paul McCartney thinks it's ridiculous (but flattering) that people formally study The Beatles.
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">EPA/Robert Voss</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Sir Paul McCartney has been making some waves. On New Year’s Eve, Kanye West released a new single, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iUMOQct042g">Only One</a>, a collaboration with The Beatles great on keys. On Twitter, Kanye’s fans reacted, wanting to know “<a href="http://www.buzzfeed.com/brianmcmanus/paul-mccartney-mystery#.qmzL0r60W">who is Paul McCartney</a>?” The broad reaction to this was particularly telling.</p>
<p>Mild panic ensued when the event was <a href="http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/music/news/people-tweet-kanye-west-has-discovered-paul-mccartney-have-to-fight-the-entire-internet-to-explain-the-joke-9957574.html">expertly exploited by a clever Twitter jokester</a> (below), highlighting the esteem in which Sir Paul is still held by many – and the very real fear some have that he might actually be forgotten one day.</p>
<p><div data-react-class="Tweet" data-react-props="{"tweetId":"551042428523020289"}"></div></p>
<p>Just as telling were Sir Paul’s views on teaching popular music in universities that gently wafted from <a href="http://www.paulmccartney.com/news-blogs/news/paul-and-lily-cole-discuss-hope-for-the-future-full-transcript">a Q&A conducted on Lily Cole’s Impossible website</a> across the digital transom and onto the news feeds of the usual platforms. </p>
<h2>Why study pop music?</h2>
<p>Sir Paul’s main claim was that the whole idea of the formal study of popular music at the tertiary level was <a href="http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/paul-mccartney-flattered-beatles-in-history-books-20141229">“ridiculous” but flattering</a>.</p>
<p>It wasn’t so much the mere fact of his objections to tertiary study of popular music that brought me up short. These are common enough as to constitute a whole sub-genre of empty rhetoric. It was his justifications for them that caught my attention. These should be of interest to anyone interested in studying popular music. </p>
<p>First and foremost, Sir Paul’s views are rooted in <a href="http://www.bbc.com/news/entertainment-arts-30641029">a rich nostalgia</a> for his youth: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>We would record four tracks in a day - which is unheard of now - and those four tracks still sell more than most contemporary records. So obviously the system was pretty good. It was very simple, you had to just be very disciplined … we knew we had to play great.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Of course this was probably about 1963, a time when making music was a very different thing from what it is now. Like all musicians, The Beatles faced their own trials. But, with all due respect, these pale in comparison to the challenges facing musicians today. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/68787/original/image-20150113-23792-t021s6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/68787/original/image-20150113-23792-t021s6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/68787/original/image-20150113-23792-t021s6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=370&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/68787/original/image-20150113-23792-t021s6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=370&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/68787/original/image-20150113-23792-t021s6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=370&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/68787/original/image-20150113-23792-t021s6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=465&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/68787/original/image-20150113-23792-t021s6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=465&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/68787/original/image-20150113-23792-t021s6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=465&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Kanye West and his entourage.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Ethan Bloch</span>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/">CC BY</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The Beatles didn’t have to worry about the finer points of their licensing deal with a video-game company or raising the money to record their album from a fickle public rather than Parlophone or EMI. They didn’t have to continually massage their relationship with cranky music blogs or constantly reshape their social media profile to make sure they were trending at the right time. </p>
<p>More importantly, in terms of <a href="http://theconversation.com/stairway-to-hell-life-and-death-in-the-pop-music-industry-32735">health, longevity</a> and <a href="http://2014.australiacouncil.gov.au/__data/assets/pdf_file/0007/79108/Do_you_really_expect_to_get_paid.pdf">financial compensation</a>, being a professional musician is simply a lot harder than it was 50 years ago. </p>
<p>The music industry has been a demanding, often corrupt, even exploitative place to work for far longer than YouTube, Sony and Spotify have been bilking musicians out of fair compensation for their music. Even if a university degree does nothing more than convince young musicians to lawyer up from day one, it will have done some good in the world.</p>
<p>Given the obstacles the vast majority of musicians face, a few years of intense study in such diverse fields as history, aesthetics, law, economics, psychology or media, all with a heavy dose critical thinking, would seem be to a prerequisite, not a luxury. </p>
<h2>Myth of The Great Artist</h2>
<p>Sir Paul also worries that some bright-eyed youth might turn up to university thinking they will somehow emerge in a few years as a songwriting legend.</p>
<p>Sir Paul objects, however, <a href="http://www.bbc.com/news/entertainment-arts-30641029">saying</a> “you can’t tell them how to become a Bob Dylan or a John Lennon because, you know, nobody knows how that happens”.</p>
<p>Perhaps Bob Dylan was merely a rhetorical choice, but it was a particularly unfortunate one. Thanks to the extensive <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/list/show/21599.Books_about_Bob_Dylan">annals of Dylanology</a>, there are few artists about whom we know more. We know an especially large amount on “why it happened” with him. It wasn’t rocket science. Dylan <a href="http://articles.latimes.com/2004/apr/04/entertainment/ca-dylan04">studied</a>, <a href="http://www.newyorker.com/news/news-desk/bob-dylan-the-beat-generation-and-allen-ginsbergs-america">read</a>, <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/04/15/bob-dylan-exclusive-inter_n_187216.html">listened</a> and <a href="http://www.citylab.com/design/2013/06/808-cities-2503-shows-and-1007416-miles-staggering-geography-bob-dylans-never-ending-tour/5810/">worked and worked and worked</a>.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/68786/original/image-20150113-23798-1lwtkj8.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/68786/original/image-20150113-23798-1lwtkj8.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/68786/original/image-20150113-23798-1lwtkj8.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=422&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/68786/original/image-20150113-23798-1lwtkj8.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=422&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/68786/original/image-20150113-23798-1lwtkj8.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=422&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/68786/original/image-20150113-23798-1lwtkj8.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=530&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/68786/original/image-20150113-23798-1lwtkj8.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=530&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/68786/original/image-20150113-23798-1lwtkj8.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=530&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Bob Dylan and his manager Albert Grossman, London 1966.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Paul Townsend</span>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/">CC BY-NC</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>In counselling us so, Sir Paul reanimates the many myths of The Great Artist. </p>
<p>Great artists are supposed to spring from the ground through some mysterious process of organic transmogrification. Careful study and critical reflection aren’t a necessary part of an aesthetic education. The hoary old stereotype is that too much study ruins “the magic”, <a href="http://www.bbc.com/news/entertainment-arts-30641029">says Sir Paul</a>:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>[W]e never studied anything, we just loved our popular music: Elvis, Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Fats Domino etc. And it wasn’t a case of “studying” it. I think for us, we’d have felt it would have ruined it to study it. We wanted to make our own minds up just by listening to it. So our study was listening.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>It is surprising that Sir Paul, the co-founder of the <a href="http://www.lipa.ac.uk/">Liverpool Institute for the Performing Arts</a>, could appear to be so unclear about what people who study music in university actually do. </p>
<p>Careful, close, critical and engaged listening is right at the heart of it. Contrary to the numerous prognostications of doom about an entire generation supposedly unable to listen anymore, there are plenty of places where close listening is both demanded and rewarded. Many of these places are in universities. </p>
<p>The simple fact is that a tough, challenging university degree can do the same thing for a musician that it can for a barrister or a surgeon. Do you want your surgeon to worry that too much study might ruin the magic of your angioplasty? </p>
<p>So why are musicians still routinely spun such fantasies by their elders? Any education worthy of the name, whatever the source, makes you think. It challenges your preconceptions. It forces you to confront the world as it is and helps you to imagine how you’d like it to be. </p>
<p>Sir Paul’s status as soothsayer and pop icon is clearly getting a little worn. So are some of his attitudes. Instead of fear, magic or nostalgia, maybe we can try to let knowledge guide our understanding of the place popular music has in the world.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/35895/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Charles Fairchild does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>Sir Paul McCartney has been making some waves. On New Year’s Eve, Kanye West released a new single, Only One, a collaboration with The Beatles great on keys. On Twitter, Kanye’s fans reacted, wanting to…Charles Fairchild, Associate Professor of Popular Music, University of SydneyLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/348792014-12-01T08:57:54Z2014-12-01T08:57:54ZWhy do we like sad music?<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/vztj_TnUQyY?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">Harry Patch by Radiohead.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>A magnificently scornful piece in <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/music/2014/nov/28/odesza-oceaan-sylas-sad-bangers">The Guardian</a> this weekend flagged the trend for “sad bangers”, music in which, “Sensitive lads across the land have abandoned their cardies and acoustic guitars for varsity jackets and libraries of soft synths”. </p>
<p>Not to be confused with neo-classical cross-overs, such as the magnificent A Winged Victory for the Sullen, sad bangers are much closer to TV Scandic noir theme music by artists such as Ólafur Arnalds which, “Carry the faint imprint of dubstep, house or R&B without ever threatening to rattle your speakers.” </p>
<p>The accompanying visual images are of Icelandic tundra, craggy lakes, and big, cloudy skies: you get the idea. The Guardian journalist isn’t a fan: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>It’s a feeble attempt to persuade you that the music’s lack of commitment or thrust is somehow enigmatic, rather than a cop-out. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>I am not an emotional man. To paraphrase Jerome K. Jerome, if my eyes fill with tears, you can bet it is because I have been eating raw onions, or have put too much Worcester over my chop. Nonetheless, like everyone else, I love sad music - Radiohead’s Harry Patch has understandably been everywhere over the past few months, for instance - raising the question of why is it so popular?</p>
<p>There are two types of explanation, namely those from social psychology and those from cognitive neuroscience. </p>
<p>The most mainstream social psychological explanation is provided by the well-known process of downward social comparison. Put simply this says that we can feel better about ourselves by focusing on someone who is doing worse: we gain an improved sense of self-regard by telling ourselves that we are experiencing nothing like the emotional turmoil experienced by the musician playing a sad song.</p>
<p>This is not terribly convincing to my mind though. I would be absurdly narcissistic to find Harry Patch beautiful simply because, as a British passport holder, it reminds me how fortunate I was to have avoided conscription into the British army in the first world war: it is moving because there is something poignant about the passing of the last Tommy. </p>
<p>Similarly, if we like sad music because it allows us to tell ourselves we are nothing like the musicians playing it then we would be very unwilling to identify with the musician in question. And of course, the makers of sad music, most notably The Smiths, have tended to attract the most die-hard fans who actually identify themselves very closely indeed with the musicians.</p>
<p>Another social psychological explanation for the popularity of sad music at the moment comes from broader consideration of culture. We know that people like to listen to music that mirrors the more general emotional tone of their current life circumstances, and so it is not surprising that sad music should be popular in late 2014 when almost every country in the western world is experiencing some degree of social, political, or economic turmoil. </p>
<p>By this argument, sad bangers are popular because they provide an opportunity for positive, thoughtful reflection on one’s life, acting as an acoustic sherpa that guides you through the valley of sorrow and back onto the sunny side of the street. </p>
<p>Again this social psychological explanation seems weak. It is not as though music in a minor key only reaches the charts when there is a recession. Although many fans of The Smiths won’t have cared for Margaret Thatcher’s economic policies of the mid- to late-1980s, some would have benefited from the stronger economy of the time, making economic turmoil unconvincing as a necessary and sufficient pre-cursor to Morrissey’s popularity.</p>
<p>Instead it makes more sense to ignore sociocultural factors and instead focus on what is happening inside the mind and brain of the listener when hearing sad music. One theory argues that listening to sad music leads to the release of opiates, as the body prepares itself to adapt to a traumatic event: of course, since all that is really happening is that the person is listening to music, and so no traumatic event ever actually materialises, the listener is left with a body full of opiates and nothing nasty for them to mitigate: pleasure ensues. </p>
<p>Other cognitive neuroscience approaches have focused on what we really mean when we say that we perceive a piece of music is “sad”. Meta-mood explanations are similar to the downward social comparison approach, and describe how we might feel sad in response to a piece of music, but also feel happy at a more abstract level about feeling this sadness. </p>
<p>It is important to distinguish the sadness we perceive in a piece of music (i.e., the emotional valence of the music) from the emotion actually experienced as a consequence (i.e., happiness). </p>
<p>Some go even further and argue that one can explain liking for sad music by distinguishing two types of pleasure, namely immediate sensory pleasure (which results from listening to happy music) and analytical, detached pleasure (which can be, for instance, the sense of satisfaction arising from sad music). </p>
<p>There may even be a special separate set of aesthetic emotions which are only employed in the context of the arts, and which are entirely separate from our normal, everyday emotions. </p>
<p>We may experience feelings of transcendence and awe that come about only in the context of artistic experiences - when did you last experience transcendence and awe while doing the ironing - and some form of sadness might be another of these special aesthetic responses to music that is actually pleasurable because it is qualitatively different from normal, everyday sadness.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/34879/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
A magnificently scornful piece in The Guardian this weekend flagged the trend for “sad bangers”, music in which, “Sensitive lads across the land have abandoned their cardies and acoustic guitars for varsity…Adrian North, Head of School of Psychology and Speech Pathology, Curtin UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/343012014-11-27T19:26:09Z2014-11-27T19:26:09ZThe secrets of self-taught, high-performing musicians<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/65550/original/image-20141126-4234-10bki5p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Daddy Cool's Ross Wilson learnt to sing harmonies in a choir, aged 10.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">AAP/ Joe Castro</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>We rightly marvel at the skills of a talented musician, especially witnessing them perform live. But how does someone become so skilled? </p>
<p>Obviously hours and hours of <a href="http://books.google.com.au/books?hl=en&lr=&id=D2UAAwAAQBAJ&oi=fnd&pg=PP1&dq=the+road+to+excellence&ots=PHRVHgwnVr&sig=hgurNM1Yobe0UVustDMvDIpGxks#v=onepage&q=the%20road%20to%20excellence&f=false">dedicated practice is a necessity</a>, and many musicians received appropriate guidance from teachers at a young age. </p>
<p>But perhaps most interesting are the stories of those musicians that did not receive such formal teaching – those “self-taught” musicians that we often read about. </p>
<p>Jimi Hendrix, Eric Clapton and Prince – three of the all-time greats – all claim to be self-taught guitarists. Even John Lennon and Paul McCartney were largely self-taught musicians. More recently, Californian R&B sensation <a href="http://www.hernameisbanks.com/">Banks</a> confesses to have learnt to play the piano by writing songs with the toy keyboard that was a gift from her mum when she was 14. These are only a few of many examples.</p>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/65547/original/image-20141126-4217-1vxjzsl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/65547/original/image-20141126-4217-1vxjzsl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/65547/original/image-20141126-4217-1vxjzsl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=925&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/65547/original/image-20141126-4217-1vxjzsl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=925&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/65547/original/image-20141126-4217-1vxjzsl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=925&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/65547/original/image-20141126-4217-1vxjzsl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1162&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/65547/original/image-20141126-4217-1vxjzsl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1162&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/65547/original/image-20141126-4217-1vxjzsl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1162&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Jimi Hendrix performing at The Fillmore East, 1969.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">AAP</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Interestingly, <a href="http://pom.sagepub.com/content/early/2013/06/20/0305735613477180">a 2013 study </a> by Peter MacIntyre and Gillian Potter of guitarists and pianists linked informal practice (self-teaching) with heightened motivation to play music, ranging from formal recitals to informal jam sessions. </p>
<p>Furthermore, those that learnt their skills via informal practice were more inclined to write and create music. Indeed, more guitarists than pianists came from informal practice backgrounds. </p>
<p>The question must be asked then: how is it possible that someone can attain such a level of expertise without any teacher providing the necessary instructions and guidance? </p>
<p><a href="http://books.google.com.au/books?hl=en&lr=&id=vInfBe94KWcC&oi=fnd&pg=PA59&dq=implicit+motor+learning+masters&ots=Tfmd2UXdOw&sig=G_tjqNNJ05qZ7Jxv3UAwhjH1ALQ#v=onepage&q=implicit%20motor%20learning%20masters&f=false">Research over the past few decades</a> has demonstrated the advantages of learning a skill implicitly: that is, to learn a skill without conscious awareness of the underlying processes of what is being learnt.</p>
<p>John Frusciante – guitarist for the Red Hot Chilli Peppers – had taught himself how to play a number of songs by The Germs by the age of 10, but states that he didn’t really know what he was doing! Indeed, the inability to verbally describe the step-by-step processes is a characteristic of an implicitly acquired skill. </p>
<p>Ross Wilson, front man of legendary Aussie rock group Daddy Cool, who was <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/music/daddy-cool-inducted-into-hall-of-fame-at-the-age-music-victoria-awards-20141120-11q40o.html">inducted</a> into the The Age Music Victoria Hall of Fame last Wednesday <a href="http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/music/six-burning-questions-for--ross-wilson-20140207-326ii.html">described</a> his early musical days as: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>My mum asked me to join a choir when I was 10. I found myself learning how to sing harmonies without even knowing what was happening.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Wilson was evidently learning to sing harmonies in an implicit manner.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/65537/original/image-20141126-4234-fu85oh.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/65537/original/image-20141126-4234-fu85oh.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/65537/original/image-20141126-4234-fu85oh.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/65537/original/image-20141126-4234-fu85oh.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/65537/original/image-20141126-4234-fu85oh.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/65537/original/image-20141126-4234-fu85oh.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/65537/original/image-20141126-4234-fu85oh.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/65537/original/image-20141126-4234-fu85oh.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">US singer-songwriter Banks performs on the Auditorium Stravinski stage at the 48th Montreux Jazz Festival, July 2014.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">EPA/Jean-Christophe Bott</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Importantly, the advantages of acquiring a skill implicitly (as opposed to explicitly) are clear. Research shows that complex motor skills acquired implicitly are more <a href="http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/j.2044-8295.1992.tb02446.x/abstract">durable under pressure</a> (performing in front of an audience for example) as the likelihood of consciously controlling movements is reduced. </p>
<p>Pressure often causes people to think about the step-by-step processes of what they are doing and this often leads to slips in performance. But if the skill was learnt without any knowledge of the step-by-step processes, the performer’s automatic mechanisms take over. </p>
<p>Similar themes are also evident in other domains such as sport. American professional golfer Bubba Watson <a href="http://www.augusta.com/masters/bubba/">claims</a> to have never had a golf lesson in his life and yet he won the sport’s most prized possession, the US Masters, for the second time earlier this year. According to Bubba:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>As a kid, you don’t think of the mechanics and I have to get my grip this way or be stronger or weaker. You just think, ‘I did this and it went that way.’ So that’s how I did it, by practising feel. So now my shots are all feel.</p>
</blockquote>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/65546/original/image-20141126-4258-eaajzg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/65546/original/image-20141126-4258-eaajzg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/65546/original/image-20141126-4258-eaajzg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=421&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/65546/original/image-20141126-4258-eaajzg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=421&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/65546/original/image-20141126-4258-eaajzg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=421&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/65546/original/image-20141126-4258-eaajzg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=529&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/65546/original/image-20141126-4258-eaajzg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=529&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/65546/original/image-20141126-4258-eaajzg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=529&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">American golfer Bubba Watson plays out of the bunker on the 12th during the 2nd round of the Australian PGA Championships at Coolum on the Sunshine Coast, 2011.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">AAP/Dave Hunt</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Bubba’s comment draws parallels with self-taught musicians such as <a href="http://www.bbc.com/news/entertainment-arts-25576571">Banks</a>: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>Sometimes my chord progressions are a little bit different, or don’t really make sense. I mean, I even hold my fingers differently than you’re supposed to. But it makes the music 100% based on emotion and intuition and not at all about maths.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>So what does this mean for teachers and instructors? It would be crude of me to say that they’re unnecessary, as it is obvious that formal coaching can expedite the learning process. However, these examples of self-taught experts demonstrate the value of learning a skill (seemingly) implicitly. </p>
<p>As MacIntyre and Potter state in their study of guitarists and pianists: “Less restrictive environments that allow individuals to persue their interests and provide personal choice tend to enhance creativity”. </p>
<p>Accordingly, it seems that the role of the instructor should not be to overload the learner with unnecessary information (even if it is with good intentions), but rather to encourage the implicit acquisition of skills. </p>
<p>No doubt the great teachers and coaches are already doing this, even if they are not consciously aware of it.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/34301/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Tim Buszard does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>We rightly marvel at the skills of a talented musician, especially witnessing them perform live. But how does someone become so skilled? Obviously hours and hours of dedicated practice is a necessity…Tim Buszard, Post-Doctoral Fellow, Institute of Sport, Exercise & Active Living (ISEAL), Victoria UniversityLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/337072014-11-18T10:15:57Z2014-11-18T10:15:57ZIn Pink Floyd’s river, time is endless<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/64756/original/2kdcttnk-1416252535.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Drummer Nick Mason and guitarist David Gilmour dug into recording sessions from 1994's The Division Bell to mine material for their professed last album: The Endless River </span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:London,_The_O2,_The_Wall_Live,_2011-05-12_(19)_(6203136479).jpg">anyonlinyr/Flickr</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/">CC BY-SA</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>For a band that once sang “Every year is getting shorter / Never seem to find the time” – which followed an <a href="http://youtu.be/rL3AgkwbYgo?t=20s">explosion of alarm clocks</a> – Pink Floyd’s songs always seemed to take their time. </p>
<p>During the band’s early years, they incorporated interminable <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M6Z6qS88ilQ">psychedelic jams</a> into R&B covers, entertaining the chemically altered audiences of London’s underground scene by keeping their songs spacious and long. Over the years, lengthy intros, solos, and outros became an integral part of the Floydian flair. These were joined by slow tempos and a crawling harmonic pace. Some chord progressions in the Floyd corpus last <a href="http://youtu.be/9lgOo8yEIPs?t=9m7s">more than 50 seconds</a>. </p>
<p>As a result, Pink Floyd’s music often creates the sensation that time itself is slowing down. “Shine On You Crazy Diamond” (26 minutes), “Echoes” (23) and “A Saucerful of Secrets” (12) are all invitations for listeners to put life on hold and immerse themselves in the sound.</p>
<p>It is only appropriate, then, that Pink Floyd’s <a href="http://blogs.wsj.com/speakeasy/2014/11/07/new-pink-floyd-album-the-endless-river-likely-to-be-bands-last/">professed last release</a> is an album of expansive instrumental music (save for the last track) titled The Endless River. True to its name, there is something timeless about the album: it gleans material from the 1960s (when the track “Autumn ‘68” originates), the 1990s (most tracks come from recording sessions of 1994’s The Division Bell), and the 21st century (when it was revised and released). It also bridges the dead and the living by mixing recordings of keyboard player Richard Wright – who passed away in 2008 – with new layers played by his former bandmates, David Gilmour and Nick Mason. </p>
<p>In its musical vocabulary, it echoes sounds, chords, and riffs from Pink Floyd’s 1970s era. Fans and critics can even reminisce, <a href="http://www.ultimate-guitar.com/reviews/compact_discs/pink_floyd/the_endless_river/index.html">linking beats</a> from the album to songs from the band’s entire catalogue. </p>
<p>But above all, it is the musical syntax of the new album that takes the slow pace of Pink Floyd’s music one step further and brings time to a halt.</p>
<p>The Endless River offers little of the thematic organization that most rock albums have. Many of its songs have no lyrics to punctuate their flow, nor memorable instrumental themes such as the <a href="http://youtu.be/9lgOo8yEIPs?t=3m41s">two harmonizing guitars</a> in “Dogs,” the <a href="http://youtu.be/9zACEJdFOpA?t=3m51s">4-note motif</a> in “Shine On You Crazy Diamond,” or the <a href="http://youtu.be/6lTiVgcYA_4?t=55s">metal-pastiche riff</a> of “In The Flesh.”</p>
<p>The tracks lack the polish that songs from earlier albums received after being rearranged and revised in the studio over many months. Instead, this album captures a distinct moment in the Floydian creative process – just before a spontaneity of the jam session gets transformed into a cohesive piece of music. </p>
<p>The harmonic streams in Pink Floyd’s earlier songs such as “Us and Them,” “Shine On,” and “What Do You Want from Me” are all exceptionally slow, but they are not endless; the lengthy chord progressions in these pieces all share a strong sense of narrative direction. The underlying harmony throughout The Endless River’s “It’s What We Do,” “Sum,” “Unsung,” “On Noodle Street,” and “Eyes to Pearl,” on the other hand, alternates between a mere two chords. A popular Floydian device for jamming (e.g., “Echoes,” “Atom Heart Mother,” and the <a href="http://youtu.be/7zbq47vQHfo?t=8m27s">jams that inspired Dark Side of the Moon</a>), this harmonic pendulum offers a soothing and meditative experience that leaves listeners in one place, rather than taking them on a journey to another. The drums in the track Skins highlight this motionless pondering.</p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/9y8BGmLDLqE?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">The drums in “Skins,” the album’s fifth track, highlight the album’s motionless pondering.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>In terms of melody, the album is naturally abundant with electric guitar licks and keyboard riffs. But while David Gilmour’s iconic solos in “Money,” “Dogs,” and “Comfortably Numb” convey clear linearity and his riffs are largely responsible for <a href="http://youtu.be/d2AFgU5jHXQ?t=11m1s">the momentum of the epic “Shine On,”</a> the guitar work in The Endless River’s “It’s What We Do,” “Sum,” “Allons-y (1),” and “Talking Hawkin’” concentrates on short fragments instead of complete melodies. </p>
<p>Gilmour’s unmistakable sound in “Surfacing” and “Louder Than Words” is as expressive as always, but his solos there have much less of the tension contained in his earlier work: phrases tend to avoid dissonances and land on the most stable and expected places. In several tracks melodies float on top of each other, creating a textural tapestry in place of a single goal-oriented solo. All of this results in a static, shimmering impression that – for better or for worse, depending on the listener’s taste – lacks direction.</p>
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<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/64760/original/9fpn36nt-1416254830.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/64760/original/9fpn36nt-1416254830.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/64760/original/9fpn36nt-1416254830.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/64760/original/9fpn36nt-1416254830.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/64760/original/9fpn36nt-1416254830.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/64760/original/9fpn36nt-1416254830.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/64760/original/9fpn36nt-1416254830.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<span class="caption">Time is a recurrent theme in Pink Floyd’s body of work, and perhaps there is an undercurrent to The Endless River’s meditative stasis: a longing to live on forever, to never be forgotten.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Swatch_Irony_angle_below.jpg">Booksworm/Wikimedia Commons</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/">CC BY-NC</a></span>
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<p>For almost half a century, Pink Floyd has been challenging the way we experience time. Absorbing The Endless River from start to finish – the way the band intended – manipulates our perception of time, at moments making us forget that it exists. </p>
<p>At today’s frantic pace, when most music is consumed on the run, between the pressures of time and money, The Endless River is a subtle reminder to stop, relax and breathe in the air.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/33707/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Gilad Cohen does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>For a band that once sang “Every year is getting shorter / Never seem to find the time” – which followed an explosion of alarm clocks – Pink Floyd’s songs always seemed to take their time. During the band’s…Gilad Cohen, Assistant Professor of Music Performance and Theory, Ramapo College of New JerseyLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/341652014-11-13T06:16:57Z2014-11-13T06:16:57ZFrom Band Aid to Dapper Laughs, charity songs are all about hitting the right tone<p>The charity song is an odd thing. Generally composed with the simple intent of raising money for a cause, the musical quality of the thing somehow falls by the wayside. In the charts, it’s an anomaly, and they certainly prompt strong opinions. </p>
<p>November has been the month of the charity song. Bob Geldof and Midge Ure have announced Band Aid 30, the third recording of the ultimate charity song Do They Know It’s Christmas?, this time to raise money for those countries afflicted with Ebola. </p>
<p>And then there’s Danny O'Reilly’s version of the charity single. This is the man more commonly known as Dapper Laughs, who kicked up a media storm for making a series of deeply offensive comments about women and the homeless. ITV have just dropped his “laddish” comedy show <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/media/2014/nov/10/itv-drops-dapper-laughs-criticism-daniel-oreilly-misogyny">Dapper Laughs: On the Pull</a>. He had attempted to salvage some sense of propriety after his comments about the homeless by offering royalty donations to the charity Shelter for a song called A Walk To The Pub… With A Tramp. For some reason, <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/newsbeat/29949815">Shelter didn’t want his money</a>.</p>
<p>These are poles apart in terms of tone but both have proved contentious.</p>
<h2>Band Aid set the tone</h2>
<p>The original Do They Know It’s Christmas? was produced in 1984. The inspiration for the Boomtown Rats and Ultravox vocalists to write it was provided by stark televised images of starving people in drought-torn Africa. The idea was to raise money to provide food for the starving: to use music to save lives. </p>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/64402/original/92t7vsfw-1415812359.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/64402/original/92t7vsfw-1415812359.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/64402/original/92t7vsfw-1415812359.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=588&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/64402/original/92t7vsfw-1415812359.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=588&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/64402/original/92t7vsfw-1415812359.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=588&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/64402/original/92t7vsfw-1415812359.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=739&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/64402/original/92t7vsfw-1415812359.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=739&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/64402/original/92t7vsfw-1415812359.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=739&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">The original Band Aid.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/retrolandusa/6566803151">retrolandusa</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/">CC BY-NC</a></span>
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<p>Band Aid brought together stellar pop artists, such as Paul McCartney, David Bowie, Bono, George Michael, Boy George and Sting. The song reached #1 for Christmas 1984 and ultimately sold more than three million copies. Royalties all went towards famine relief. <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/nov/11/band-aid-30-patronising-bob-geldof-ebola-do-they-know-its-christmas?CMP=fb_gu">Whatever you think about the song itself</a>, it demonstrated the potential to which pop music could focus public attention and galvanise charitable giving on an enormous scale. It was a potent example of what celebrity power could achieve and was the defining moment in which rock stars definitively entered into the political arena. </p>
<p>And so they wheeled it out again in 2004 to raise money for food aid for Darfur, recruiting a new generation of stars such as Dido, Chris Martin, Robbie Williams, Busted, and Dizzee Rascal. And now we’re at the third new release. Bono’s still around, and the new pantheon of chart-friendly and critically-acclaimed stars with considerable fan bases consists of One Direction, Bastille, Elbow, Sam Smith, Ellie Goulding, Paloma Faith, and Adele.</p>
<h2>Pop politics</h2>
<p>Pop stars entering the realm of politics is not something that has been universally endorsed. There are the issues of self-publicity to the power relation of affluent millionaire Western celebrities helping the “powerless” Southern world, to the undeniably mawkish quality of the song’s lyrics.</p>
<p>Nevertheless, the fusion of pop talent with a cause that seeks to directly alleviate human suffering has, over the course of 30 years, chimed with the public and dramatically displayed the social benefits that can result from music recorded for charitable purposes (with the added impetus of the Christmas giving spirit being emotively invoked). </p>
<p>While the 2014 iteration of Do They Know It’s Christmas? will unquestionably be successful. It has top stars and a worthy cause. But the banner of charity is not a guarantor of success, nor is it a means by which controversy can be sidestepped, as Dapper Laughs discovered. Shelter rejected O'Reilly’s royalties due to the album’s trivialisation of homelessness. The song is offensive, and so inappropriate as a source of charitable income. </p>
<h2>Tone deaf</h2>
<p>O’Reilly is not alone in attempting to buffer censure through charitable giving. DJ Mike Read discovered this with his <a href="https://theconversation.com/ukip-calypso-cringe-shows-weve-glossed-over-black-musics-radical-history-33378">UKIP Calypso song</a>. The song contained anti-EU and immigration references and was sung in a Caribbean accent. It was supposed to share profits with the British Red Cross and its Ebola campaign. The charity stated that it could not accept money from the song due to its political allegiance to a particular party and its references to asylum seekers.</p>
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<p>Band Aid is not safe from similar complaints. Writing in the Guardian, <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/nov/11/band-aid-30-patronising-bob-geldof-ebola-do-they-know-its-christmas?CMP=fb_gu">Bim Adewunmi railed against it</a>, calling it “clumsy, patronising and wrong in so many ways”. And she has a point. Charitable giving cannot override negative perceptions, as Dapper Laughs has learned. </p>
<p>But Band Aid 30, whatever the complaints, offers the chance to re-kindle the spirit of 1984 for a new generation of pop fans with a new generation of pop star. It will connect with a humanitarian cause, tap into the fervent fandom that surrounds acts such as One Direction and Sam Smith and cancel out any residual cynicism. But perhaps it’s time for a new song? If it was pitch-perfect, who knows what new success we could see.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/34165/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Lee Barron does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>The charity song is an odd thing. Generally composed with the simple intent of raising money for a cause, the musical quality of the thing somehow falls by the wayside. In the charts, it’s an anomaly…Lee Barron, Principal Lecturer in Media and Communication Design, Northumbria University, NewcastleLicensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.