Samurai Spirit: Orientalist Images of Japan in Contemporary Film

In her piece "Black Bodies/Yellow Masks," Deborah Elizabeth Whaley identifies four different Orientalist images that are commonly found in popular culture:

"(1) the sexualized, yet virginal Japanese geisha; (2) the South Asian Indo-chic; (3) the Chinese kung fu warrior; and (4) the use of Asian languages as an iconographic fashion statement detached from specificity of meaning and etymological usage."

While these images are important to recognize in popular culture, I also think that Whaley's list comes dangerously close to equating Japan with femininity and China with masculinity. That's why I want to concentrate on #3 in this post, specifically because "the Chinese kung fu warrior" definitely has a Japanese counterpart: the Samurai.

Many people have noted the Orientalist aestheics in the music and imagery of the Wu-Tang Clan. When looking at Whaley's list, it's obvious that the primary image used by the Wu-Tang Clan is #3. This is one reason why I'm using the image of the samurai as a parallel to the "kung fu warrior." The RZA, a member of the Wu-Tang Clan, has composed the score for two movies that I must admit I'm fond of, but that I also must admit show very orientalist images of samurai: Afro Samurai and Ghost Dog. These movies are also good reference points for discussing the same relationships between African American culture and Asian culture that Whaley discussed in her piece.

For this post, I'm going to specifically focus on Ghost Dog, since I've seen it way more times. This movie features Forrest Whitaker (one of a few famous alums of my high school), as a hit man whose entire personal philosophy is based on Hagakure, an 18th century book by Yamamoto Tsunetomo that outlines the code of the samurai. The one thing I will say in the film's defense is that it's based on an actual book, and it would've been way easier for the writers to just make stuff up. Still, the fact that the movie derives almost all of its imagery from this book is problematic. While Whaley is very positive about the use of Asian imagery in African American art, and while the issue is undoubtedly a very complex one, images like these can still be used to produce an essentiallized image of Asia.

It's nothing new for images of samurai to be used in Orientalist ways. Much like the belly dancing discussed in Susaina Maira's piece entitled "Belly Dancing: Arab-Face, Orientalist Feminism, and U.S. Empire," representations of a "samurai code" can be a way to profess an interest in Japan while avoiding discussions of contemporary issues that Japanese people actually face. I spent last semester in Japan, and the only time I was ever involved in a discussion that had anything to do with samurai philosophy was in an art history course, and even then it was only as a small part of one class. But there are still American songs, films, and people that base all their knowledge of Japan on romanticized ideas of the samurai.

I'm reminded of a scene in a movie I just watched called "Kamome Shokudo," which is about three Japanese women who work in a Japanese restaurant in Finland. In the movie, there is a young male Finnish character named Tommi who starts coming to the restaurant because, like many young white males including myself, he has an interest in Japanese culture. In almost every scene that this character is in, he is wearing a shirt that has some representation of Japanese culture, most of which are from contemporary Japanese popular culture (this description might sound eerily familiar for people who know me). Most of the time, the women who work in the restaurant either make some friendly comment about his shirt or don't make a comment about it at all. The only scene in which any of the women have a noticeably different reaction to one of his shirts is when he is wearing one that has the kanji for "samurai spirit" on it. In the beginning of the movie, he wears a shirt with a Japanese cartoon character, and one of the women in the restaurant is able to relate to it. But the woman who comments on the "samurai spirit" shirt is portrayed as being unable to relate to it. I think these scenes are pretty good representations for a number of reasons. Tommi's character is not really portrayed as being Orientalist, and his shirts display a wide range of Japanese cultural artifacts. But the only shirt he wears that is portrayed as being Orientalist is the one that conveys a dated, romanticized notion that doesn't have as much relevance in contemporary Japanese society. This also ties in to #4 on Whaley's list: " the use of Asian languages as an iconographic fashion statement detached from specificity of meaning and etymological usage."

One more thing that I'll comment on is the fact that Chinese and Japanese cultures can be (sometimes inadvertently) portrayed as interchangeable in popular culture. I'm not going to get into this in too much detail, but I do find it interesting that the RZA, a producer who derives much of his aesthetics from Chinese popular culture, did the score for two movies that derive much of their imagery from Japanese culture. This is just one reason why I think that the image of the samurai can be viewed as a counterpart to "the Chinese kung fu warrior."

Awesome Song of Last Week! "Just A Thought" by Gnarls Barkley

You know the drill. It's time for:

AWESOME SONG OF THE WEEK!!!

This week's awesome song is "Just A Thought" by Gnarls Barkley

 

(It was so hard for me to choose which image of Gnarls Barkley to post, since there are so many good ones.)

You're definitely familiar with Gnarls Barkley already. If you were alive during the summer of 2006, you constantly heard their hit single "Crazy." Now, that song is awesome. But you've heard it before. My goal is to show you stuff you might not have heard before.

As with previous songs I've done, this one is really depressing. But it still has a great melody and beat. There's not really a whole lot more for me to say.

In case you've never listened to the radio or watched TV, I'll just tell you that Gnarls Barkley is the collaboration of rapper Cee-Lo and producer Danger Mouse. They had that one hit "Crazy" and a few other popular songs, but my guess is that, while both of their albums are good, the colossal success of that one song will probably make them destined to be "1 hit wonders." Not that that's a bad thing. Gnarls Barkley is really just a side project for both artists, so having even just one hit is an accomplishment.

Lego Blur, Lego Bowie, and Legofication

It's time for me to reference Coilhouse again. Specifically, a blog post they did a while back in which they coined a term I fell in love with: "Legofication." According to Coilhouse, legofication refers to the way in which pop songs have started being stacked up against each other in mash-ups, just like legos. It refers to the fact that right now it is common for pop songs to not be viewed as complete wholes, but as pieces that can be put together to make something cooler. I love this idea so much that I'd like to apply it to not just pop music, but pop culture in general.


Originally, I was planning to write a lengthy post about the postmodern aspects of music games like Guitar Hero, DJ Hero, and Rock Band, but then I realized that I didn't have enough time/will-power/intellect to do that, and that it would be way too boring/pretentious. So instead I'm doing a much simpler version of that original idea by specifically focusing on one of the newest music games, Lego Rock Band. I think it's entirely appropriate that a game so heavily constructed around legofication uses legos themselves as part of these pop culture building blocks.

In the Coilhouse piece about legofication, they mention how songs are basically starting to be used as building blocks for mash-ups. I'd like to extend this idea, arguing that in the case of Lego Rock Band pop culture icons are being used as building blocks. While Legos themselves are literally building blocks, the entire lego franchise can definitely be viewed as a pop culture icon as well. This pop culture icon is one building block in the construction of Lego Rock Band; so are the images of Blur, David Bowie, Iggy Pop and Queen. (I have to say I'm impressed with the Lego rendering of Bowie, since they actually gave him two different eye colors.) Bands and singers that are obviously viewed as entire wholes are again being used as building blocks in a larger pop-culture artifact, in a slightly different way from how Coilhouse discusses this idea. These pop-culture entities are rendered using the style of another pop culture entity, and then put inside a third pop culture entity, namely the Rock Band series. It's one thing to make Lego renderings of famous musicians. It's another thing to put images of famous musicians in a video game. And it's another thing to put Legos inside a video game. These have all been done before. But Lego Rock Band is simply taking Legofication to entirely new levels (although this does remind me of the Lego Star Wars and Lego Indiana Jones series).

One question I've been wondering is whether or not anyone actually expects Lego Rock Band to be good. While people might be excited about their favorite musicians appearing together in a video game, too much legofication might not be a good thing. I'm reminded of The Good, The Bad, and The Queen, a supergroup featuring Damon Albarn of Blur, Paul Simonon of the Clash, the guitarist from The Verve (I don't remember his name), and Tony Allen, Fela Kuti's drummer. To top off this list of talent, their album was produced by Dangermouse. And it was really disappointing. Sure the album is fairly good, but considering all the names that went into it, it could've been way better. Now, I don't have high hopes for Lego Rock Band, and I'm sure a lot of people feel the same way as me. The only point that I'm trying to make is that in a lot of cases, Legofication could possibly lead to huge disappointment.

Another question that people have raised about Lego Rock Band is whether or not you'll be able to have Blur play songs by Queen, or whether David Bowie will be able to sing Iggy Pop songs. People have raised this question because there was a lot of controversy over the appearances of Johnny Cash and Kurt Cobain in Guitar Hero 5. In that game, both musicians were able to play songs by other artists, and lots of people had intense reactions to that, since they felt it was disrespectful to the musicians. Now, personally, I think having Kurt Cobain play songs by other artists sounds awesome. But I'm not here to argue about whether or not the inclusion of that feature was a good thing. The point that I do want to make, that comes from the post I was originally planning on writing, is that this feature is one of the most postmodern aspects of these games. One defining element of postmodernism as a movement is pastiche, which throws different cultural artifacts together and either strips them of their meaning or gives them new meaning. (If you think about it, legofication is really just another way of describing pastiche.) Having Johnny Cash playing "Smells Like Teen Spirit" is without a doubt a form of pastiche that dramatically changes the meanings of the cultural artifacts involved. Which is why people got so upset over this.

We can see postmodernism, pastiche, and legofication in DJ Hero as well, a music game that revolves around mash-ups. Again, in this example we essentially have two pastiches put together: the game involves musicians being represented in a video game, and these musicians play songs made up of other songs. In this case, pop songs that have already been legofied are put into another pop culture artifact for further legofication.

Now, I'm not arguing whether or not these games are good. I personally enjoyed Guitar Hero II, and I've also enjoyed playing Rock Band at parties, but I was really disappointed by Guitar Hero III, and I haven't had much interest in these types of games otherwise, although I've read a lot about them on video game and music blogs. But from my experience with these types of games, they are perfect examples of the legofication of popular culture.

Musical De-Politicization, Nostalgia, and Moral Outrage

I'd like to continue and elaborate on some of the points I made in my piece about canonization.

In Kevin Phinney's piece "Souled American" there was a quote that really caught my attention:

"African Americans are more interested in discovering the Next Big Thing than in riding a fad past its relevance to daily life. Certainly there's no reason for black Americans to romanticize their experience here. This country hasn't provided any good old days for people of color."

Phinney then went on to discuss how white people "perceive black derived culture as threatening their status quo," and compared "white music" to "an old lamp," referring to its sentimentality and nostalgia. While I do think this is a bit of an over-generalization, I also think there is some truth to it. To understand why, it is important to discuss the ways in which black musical forms have political origins.

Many, many historically black musical forms have been political in some way. Rap is an obvious example, and it's also very easy to hear political sentiment expressed in reggae, soul, and even largely instrumental musical forms like jazz. And in all of the musical forms listed above, race plays a hugely important role in the musical politics. From Louis Armstong's "Black and Blue" to Curtis Mayfield's "Don't Worry (If There's a Hell Below)" to The Abbyssinians' "Black Man's Strain" to Public Enemy's "Fight The Power," countless black musicians have used music as a way to challenge racism and oppression. And these musicians have often received incredibly harsh criticism for doing so.

Many articles about pop music discuss the initial reaction of many white people to black musical forms. Nick Bromell, in his piece "The Blues and the Veil," discussed the negative reaction to early rock music, and Phinney does as well, in addition to discussing the reactions many whites have had to rap music. Many white cultural critics have dismissed rock as well as rap in the name of "morals," condemning these musical forms as being too sexual and immoral. It is completely possible to read these criticisms as being reflective of stereotypes that equate blackness with sexuality, and while I definitely think that argument is true, I also don't think it's the only factor involved. I would like to argue that these negative, racist responses are also a reaction to the political aspects of these musical forms, whether they are explicit or implicit.

I'd like to go back to the Phinney quote about how white people can "perceive black derived culture as threatening their status quo." Both rock and rap have threatened the status quo of white political power. With rap it's easy to see why; many of the most popular and influential rap songs have lyrics that are directly, explicitly critical of white hegemony. While the lyrics of early rock songs were in no way as explicitly political, there was still a political aspect to the popularity of rock music. Like jazz before it, rock was an originally black musical form that became popular among white people, which in itself threatened the white status quo (even though white people combated this by elevating Elvis to his popularity). It makes sense that the conservative (and sometimes liberal) white people who criticize(d) these musical forms would do so as a reaction to their threatened status quo, even if they used other reasons to justify their criticism. To phrase it differently, many of the white cultural critics who condemn black musical forms are afraid of the popularity of these forms and want to hold on to their power.

But where does nostalgia fit in to this discussion? Phinney also discussed how there has been a historical pattern of black people innovating a musical form and white people profiting off of it. While many black musical forms have had political origins, these forms have often lost their explicitly political meaning in the eyes of white America when they have been appropriated and turned mainstream. When music challenges whiteness it is obviously hard for white people to listen to it, and many white people have intense reactions to it. But when it is appropriated, transformed, and marketed to a new audience, it loses much of its political potency. Jazz and rock were originally condemned by the mainstream media, but are now part of it. And this is where I feel nostalgia plays a role.

Many people who have condemned rap music have also referenced the "good old days" of jazz or rock, completely unaware of their hypocrisy. I'd like to argue that the reason many white people are fixated on the "good old days" has everything to do with power. When rap started to come under fire from the mainstream media, rock and jazz had already been de-politicized. The "good old days" were referenced because there was a desire to hold on to music that had less political power than it used to, and less political power than more contemporary musical forms that had not been de-politicized. Again, we can see history repeat itself. When looking at music from a historical perspective, we can see a pattern that goes something like this:

Innovative and sometimes explicitly political black music becomes popular

A lot of white people condemn this new music (although white people are not always the only ones who do so)

This music is appropriated, commercialized, and de-politicized by other white people (as in the case of Elvis or Clapton)

Said music becomes mainstream

A new form of music appears, and the process repeats itself, with people lamenting the waning popularity of the music that used to be political and hated

To quote Stuart Hall, "This year's radical symbol or slogan will be neutralised into next year's fashion; the year after, it will be the object of a profound cultural nostalgia." You could also add "then it will be referenced in opposition to a new radical form."

Album Review: Journal For Plague Lovers by the Manic Street Preachers

When I was in my senior year of high school, one of my favorite things to do after school was to take the bus to Tower Records and go shopping for new music. As I've said before, I loved Tower because, although it was a chain, it was one of those places where music fans congregated to judge each other. There was always a sense of hostility in the air, and a constant feeling that you had to be ready to defend your purchases, but that was what I loved about it. It was a place where you could debate and hear different perspectives, even if they were expressed rudely.


One of my most memorable experiences there happened when I bought The Holy Bible by the Manic Street Preachers. First of all, its album art is very... interesting, so I was a little nervous about showing it to the guy at the counter. When he picked it up to scan it he took a good long look at it, and all he said was "I liked the book better."

Ever since then, I have loved that album. It's one of my favorites of all time, not only because the songs are incredible, but also because it has one of the most interesting back-stories of any album ever. MSP consisted of four musicians, one of whom, a guitarist, was named Richey Edwards. Richey always displayed signs of mental instability, such as when he mutilated his arm during an interview. His grand philosophy involved making a spectacularly good album and following it with a spectacularly good tour, and then disappearing from the public eye forever.

The band released two albums and an EP before working on The Holy Bible. At that time, Richey suffered from severe anorexia and depression and was confined to a mental hospital, where he wrote most of the lyrics for the album. Because of this, The Holy Bible is what I like to call an unintentional concept album; it was a window into the mind of Richey. The album received enourmous praise from critics who were also terrified of it, and Richey came with the band on tour. Towards the end of the tour, Richey checked out of his hotel and was never seen again.

The Holy Bible is, to put it lightly, a deeply disturbing album. But you can't tell that if you just listen to it passively. The band's lead singer, James Dean Bradfield, wrote all of the music, which is much more pop-friendly than the lyrics. (I also think that the songwriting process of this album was really cool, since it was the opposite of what most bands do - the guitarist wrote the lyrics and the singer wrote the music.) The Holy Bible is one of those albums that sneaks up on you. The first time you listen to it, you'll probably think "this is a nice album." The second time, certain lyrics such as "I don't know what I'm scared of, or what I even enjoy," "I wanna be so skinny that I rot from view," and "I am an architect, they call me a butcher" will jump out at you, and by the third time you listen to the album you will be petrified with fear and depression. The Holy Bible is like a good Hitchcock movie; it scares you, but you still appreciate it and enjoy it.

Anyway, after that album the band acquired a poppier sound and a more positive outlook and released Everything Must Go, a solid but fairly straightforward album. Since then most of their material has been pretty boring, but they just released a new album called Journal for Plague Lovers that was hyped up to be the next Holy Bible, complete with lost Richey lyrics.

One look at the album cover and it's obvious that this album was at least an attempt to re-create The Holy Bible. The album cover's font is even the same. But did this album succeed at re-creating The Holy Bible? That's what I aim to answer in this album review.

Let's look at the first song on the album, "Peeled Apples." The first thing you'll notice (if you're familiar with The Holy Bible) is that the opening bassline is insanely reminiscent of the opening bassline to "Archives of Pain." We're only 5 seconds into the album and it already sounds similar to The Holy Bible. To answer whether or not this is a "classic" MSP song, let's look at the following checklist:

Does the song have a jagged-yet-hooky guitar riff?      Check

Is the production minimal?     Check

Reference to Noam Chomsky?    Check

So far, this looks like a solid MSP album.

On to the next song. This one is immediately noticeably different from "Peeled Apples." Namely, it's obviously supposed to be the really poppy single. But what's that lyric? Something about a married man fucking a Catholic? Yeah, this is definitely still Holy Bible-style Manics.

As for the rest of the album, the one thing I will say in it's favor is that it has WAY more variety than The Holy Bible. Probably the biggest complaint I've heard about that album is that it gets really, really samey and kinda boring towards the end. I don't think that can be said as much about Journal. "This Joke Sport Severed," with it's strummed acoustic guitar and string arrangements, sounds like stuff from Everything Must Go, while "Marlon JD," with it's electronic drums, doesn't even sound like any Manics song I've ever heard before. Basically, you won't get bored while listening to this album.

I do have one minor complaint, though, and I'll phrase it as a question: where are all the quotes? On The Holy Bible almost every song either started or ended with a quote that had something to do with the song's lyrical content. For example, "Yes," a song about prostitution, opened with a quote from a documentary about prostitiution; likewise, "4st7lb," which was about anorexia, had a quote from an anorexic person, "If White America Told The Truth..." had a quote about Ronald Reagen, and "Faster," which was probably the climax and the most nihilistic song of the album, had an insanely memorable quote from 1984. But there are no quotes to be found on Journal! What happened? Sure, the quotes on The Holy Bible were a little pretentious and gimmicky, but they really tied together all the songs on the album and made it more cohesive. Still, that's just a minor complaint.

I think what you can gather from the last two paragraphs is that while The Holy Bible was meant to be a grand statement taken as a whole, Journal For Plague Lovers is more like a simple collection of songs. Which isn't a bad thing. If anything, it makes the album a little more unpredictable and exciting. And believe me, all that nihilism and despair from The Holy Bible is still there. Journal For Plague Lovers was meant to be the spiritual successor to The Holy Bible, and that's definitely what it is. While it isn't The Holy Bible, it sounds more like that album than any other Manics album. It is easily my second favorite Manics album. So if you prefer the scary depressing Manics to the happy pop-friendly Manics, you'll definitely like their new album.

Awesome Song of The Week! "Reggae From The Ghetto" by John Holt

Alright, I'm finally back on schedule. So you know what that means: it's time for

AWESOME SONG OF THE WEEK!!! 

This week's awesome song is the wonderfully titled "Reggae From The Ghetto" by John Holt:



Now I know some of you out there might not like reggae because you think it all sounds the same (which it doesn't), but if you listen to this song and don't like it... I'll leave it up to you to fill in this part.

John Holt is without a doubt one of the most underrated reggae singers out there. His voice is superb, and he has some other incredible reggae songs ("Ali Baba" is another personal favorite of mine, and it really deserves its own week). Most of his songs are as hooky as this one, and he has experimented with a lot of different styles of reggae as well (because there are different styles of reggae), working with lots of different producers as well as collaborating with other artists, such as U-Roy. Basically, John Holt is awesome. You can find a lot of his stuff on Trojan Records box sets, and there are a few best-ofs as well, which would be good purchases, since a lot of his songs were released as singles.

Hope you enjoyed this week's awesome song. Stay alert for some more posts about music coming up.

Awesome Song of Last Week! "Alice"

Sup everyone! I was really busy last week, and then I was gone for the weekend, so here's a belated

AWESOME SONG OF THE WEEK!!!

For this week's awesome song, I have to link to the youtube video, since the visuals complement the song so well:




There's one word that really comes to mind when listening to this song: trippy. I love this song because it's fucking trippy.

The really cool thing about it though is that it was made entirely using sound clips from Alice in Wonderland. The main melody is especially cool, since it's made of Alice's speech, but there aren't any complete words in it. It's just melodic gibberish, which is actually a really cool use of the human voice.

I have to thank my friend Dan for showing me this song. The person who made it has a lot of similar videos on youtube of electronic music made of clips from children's movies. Listen to them all. My other favorite is the Harry Potter one.

Road to Acceptance: Authenticity and Punk Rock

 

"You may think you’re the punkest sonofabitch in the state, but you’ve probably never even seen a real punk in the wild."

-Field Guide To North American Hipsters

When I was in 9th grade, like many other kids my age, I considered myself to be a punk rocker, even though, looking back, I knew next to nothing about punk at the time. I followed the path that a lot of my friends took, listening to blink-182 while I was in middle school until I heard the Ramones and immediately rejected "pop-punk" in favor of "real" punk rock (even though the Ramones' music is basically just 50s bubblegum pop with distorted guitars, and even though I never really gave up listening to Green Day). I remember one time I was on the bus and an older punk kid saw the Ramones shirt I was wearing and asked me "Do you even know who the Ramones are?" I said something along the lines of "Yeah, they're a punk rock band." Not satisfied with my response, still continuing to size me up, he asked me "What's your favorite song by them?" I immediately named some random Ramones song (I don't remember which one), and, seeing that I wasn't completely full of shit, he left me alone. Right afterwards, one of my friends whispered to me "Dude, he thought you were a poseur."

For its entire history, punk has always had a fixation on the "authentic," and I can't even count the number of discussions I've had where people have debated whether or not a band is "real" punk rock. Scholar Allan Moore noted this in his article "Authenticity as Authentication," saying, "In its direct opposition to the growth of disco, [punk] was read as an authentic expression." Moore barely begins to scratch the surface of this idea in his article, so I would like to examine it a bit further, using arguments about "authenticity" that Moore makes elsewhere in his piece.

First of all, Moore notes that "authentic" music is defined "by its ability to articulate for its listeners a place of belonging, in opposition to mere entertainment or those belonging to hegemonic groupings." While this quote comes from much later in the article than his quote about punk, I feel that the two quotes basically go hand in hand. We've all heard the punk rock narrative before: a teenager feels rejected by mainstream society, but discovers punk and soon finds an accepting community. I admit that as an angsty teenager I thought of myself as living out this narrative, even though I'm incredibly privileged, and even though I've never been anything more than a peripheral member of the punk community at my school or in my city. But the fact is that punk is viewed as a "place of belonging" by many people; that's why one of the main criticisms of punk is that the "non-conformist" punk movement is in many ways insanely conformist. In relation to Moore's comment about "mere entertainment" or "hegemonic groupings," I've also been in lots of discussions where I've condemned people who shop at Hot Topic or listen to Good Charlotte, because they're not part of the punk community and don't actually care about punk rock, they just listen to it for "mere entertainment" and belong to "hegemonic groupings." By condemning "inauthentic" punk rock, punks authenticate their lifestyle and separate "real" punks who belong to the community from poseurs who appropriate the style.

Moore also mentions how music is often viewed as "authentic" if it is "essential" to a specific subculture. This quote also directly applies to punk rock, which is a musical form that both grew out of and created an enormous subculture. This is one reason why people are attracted to punk in the first place: listening to punk allows people to become part of a subculture. This again relates to the idea of "authentic" music conveying a sense of belonging. And if we are to argue that "authentic" music is essential to a subculture, then punk may be one of the most "authentic" forms of music around. The word "punk" refers not only to a type of music, but also to a type of identity.

In addition, Moore argues that music viewed as "authentic" conveys "private but common desires," feelings that are personal to people, but that are also common. Again, the sense of alienation that is expressed in punk is without a doubt a "private but common" feeling, which, along and in conjunction with the previous two factors, allows punk to be referred to as "authentic" music.

Is this why there is a difference between "real" punk and "pop punk?" If we are to use Moore's arguments, pop punk is not viewed as being "in opposition to mere entertainment" or especially "hegemonic groupings;" it is not as "essential" to a specific subculture if it is produced by major labels and marketed to people outside of a subculture; and although it does convey "private but common desires," this may not be enough to make up for the other two factors, if we are to talk about perceived authenticity in these terms. This factor could also be why most pop punk bands are still given a little credibility, and are still allowed to be called "punk," even though it's with a prefix.

When viewing punk rock through Moore's arguments about "authenticity," it can be made clearer why some punk bands are viewed as "authentic" and other bands are not. This is one factor that draws so many people to punk, and one reason why people get into arguments about what is "real" punk.

Immigrant Punk: Gogol Bordello and Sonic Diasporas

 

"I'll meet you 10:45 on the Broadway Canal/In a disco radical transglobal/comanja cooking up the original mixtura/s ulitzy do ulitzy the brilliant bassura/Mama---Diaspora!!!"

The above lyrics are taken from the song "Dogs Were Barking" by Gogol Bordello, and the multiplicity of languages in them, as well as the reference to "a disco radical transglobal," accurately reflects the incredibly diverse influences on that band. Perhaps because the chorus of this song prominently features the word "diaspora," I was completely unable to get my mind off of Gogol Bordello while reading about diaspora and immigrant communities this week. But there's definitely more to it than that: Gogol Bordello is a band that can easily be brought up in discussions about many topics, such as transnationalism, sonic communities, and masculinity, just to name a few.

To give some background information, Gogol Bordello is a band frequently labeled as "Gypsy punk," although that classification barely begins to describe their sound or identity; their music is a mixture of folk, punk, EDM, and reggae; their lyrics are sung in English, Spanish, and multiple Eastern European languages; and the band contains musicians from Ukraine, Russia, Israel, Ethiopia, the United States, Scotland, and Ecuador, three of whom have Roma, Chinese, and Japanese ancestry, respectively. If we are to talk about music that crosses and contests ideas of nationhood, then Gogol Bordello must be brought up. Not only does their sound and membership reflect international hybridity, but many of their songs deal directly with issues of immigration and diaspora, as their primary songwriter, Eugene Hutz, is a Ukranian descendent of the Roma people who emigrated to the United States after spending seven years in Eastern European refugee camps.

The arguments that scholar George Lipsitz applies to the Fugees in his article "Crossing Over: The Hidden Histor of Diaspora" can in some ways also be applied to Gogol Bordello, since both groups have songwriters whose immigrant identity influences and informs their music. Hutz has written songs that reference refugee camps ("Oh No"), differences and connections between generations ("My Strange Uncles From Abroad"), and immigrant communities ("Immigrant Punk," "Underdog World Strike," and lots of other songs). These songs are all drawn from Hutz's own experiences, as he came from an oppressed ethnic group in Europe and immigrated to the United States as a refugee. While many of these songs are specific to Hutz's experience, many of them also deal with larger immigrant communities, as many of the other musicians in Gogol Bordello are first or second generation immigrants. The ways in which Gogol Bordello incorporate their influences and constantly changing identities into their music and lyrics is similar to the way in which Lipsitz describes the music of the Fugees. While both groups create very different music and have very different identities, one similarity between them is the way in which their music is influenced by their respective cultures, both in their countries of origin and in the United States as immigrants. Gogol Bordello's Eastern European folk music influence represents the countries where many of its band members are from, and the lyrics of many Gogol Bordello songs are about the experiences of immigrants in the United States. In a similar way, the Fugees cover of "No Woman No Cry" from their album The Score is a tribute to the Caribbean music that influenced the group, while the lyrics of many of their songs reflect the problems that Caribbean immigrants face in the United States.

As scholar Gayatri Gopinath notes, however, in reference to South Asian music in England, many songs that reflect an immigrant experience specifically reflect the experiences of immigrant men, and this argument could also be applied to Gogol Bordello. While there are women in the band, they do take a background role to some of the other musicians. I've seen Gogol Bordello live twice, and I remember distinctly that the first time I saw them the two women in the band didn't come onstage until about halfway through the show, and they played a very different role from the men. While the men in the band were wearing street clothes (except maybe for Hutz, who was wearing some pretty crazy fashion, although I think he wears really crazy fashion all the time), the women were wearing matching tight revealing clothing. And while the men in the band were, again, except for Hutz, largely just standing there and playing their instruments, the women were dancing around and making a huge spectacle. In addition, if you go on Gogol Bordello's wikipedia page, you'll see that the two women in the band are listed as "dancers," while none of the men are. Basically, you can interpret this however you want, I'm just pointing out that the women in Gogol Bordello play a very different, largely more physical role from most of the men in the band.

I say "most," because their role in the band's live shows is actually very similar to Hutz's. During the shows, Hutz plays the guitar and sings, but like the women (who also play percussion), Hutz also does crazy stuff onstage (my favorite part of the show was when he crowdsurfed on top of a bass drum). While the two women in Gogol Bordello are largely there to put on a show, so is Hutz. Quite frankly, all of the other musicians in the band are better than Hutz. So while the gender distinctions in Gogol Bordello's live shows aren't completely clear-cut, we still have the issue that Hutz is largely the face of Gogol Bordello. He writes and sings all of the songs and is the center of the band's shows. As a result, the lyrics of many Gogol Bordello songs do specifically reflect male immigrant experiences ("60 Revolutions" is the first song I can think of that is definitely from a male perspective). While the diversity of the musicians in Gogol Bordello does reflect the fact that many Gogol Bordello songs are about the experiences of people in diasporas, we still have the fact that Gogol Bordello's primary songwriter is a man, and all of the men in Gogol Bordello are considered to be just musicians, while the two women in the band are given the status of dancers.

This blog post is really long, and I'm kind of rambling at this point. I really don't have any huge central argument, but I just wanted to point out that that there are many parallels between Gogol Bordello's Eastern European diasporic music and the Caribbean and South Asian diasporic music that Lipsitz and Gopinath discussed, both in terms of musical and lyrical influence and representation, and in terms of gender issues.


Below are videos of some of the songs mentioned above:

Awesome Song of The Week! "Care of Cell 44" by The Zombies

Who can guess what it's time for?

No, not that. Or that. Fine, I'll just tell you.

AWESOME SONG OF THE WEEK!!!

For this week's awesome song I have prepared a wonderful psychedelic pop classic for you.




I absolutely love songs that sound really happy but actually have really depressing lyrics. This is one of them. While the bouncy pop melody will make anyone happy, once they listen to the lyrics they'll realize that this song is about someone who's lover is in jail. Sorry if I ruined your happiness.

But you should still be happy, because this song is still awesome. The melody is so catchy, the bassline is so mellow, the drums are so crisp, and the semi-chorus ("Feeeeeeels sooooooo goooooood you're coming hooooooooooome sooooooooooon") is about as epic as 5 seconds of music can possibly be.

You might be thinking it's a little hypocritical of me to be posting a 60s psychedelic song this week after shitting all over classic rock last week, but the Zombies were never part of the canon. They made a fucking great album called Odessey and Oracle (the misspelling isn't intentional, the album cover designer just spelled it wrong by accident and it stuck) which was ignored by pretty much everyone, but had one hit single called "Time of the Season" which you've heard in every movie about hippies. However, the band put so much effort into making this album and had so many disputes over it that when the album went nowhere, they called it quits. It's a shame that this album went nowhere and the band broke up, because Odessey and Oracle is even better than some Beatles albums. And come on, how fucking awesome is that album cover? Really fucking awesome.

So there's your awesome song of the week. Hope you're feeling awesome now.