Interview with Dan and Cam

Here's an excerpt from my interview with Dan and Cam, two roommates at Brown University. More to come...

11:20

Will: Something that you guys have been talking about a lot is the idea of Tyler’s personas. How do you think those multiple personas are related to reality? Do you see these personas as charicatures, or as exaggerated perceptions of reality? My basic question is – how do you guys listen to Tyler’s personas?

C: Dude, I see Tron Cat as like - this is obviously the very violent like murderous disturbing persona. I see it kind of like a horror film, um like visually, but I also kind of see it as his sick thoughts and imaginations that he just doesn’t really express out loud, but he just sits and thinks to himself but this is an embodiment of all of those thoughts culminating into one being and one persona in the song. Do you know what I’m saying?

D: Yeah, I think that one of the most indicative personas, or one that cuts to the heart of the question is his role as the psychologist. And I think that one of the things he’s doing, or one of the things I think he’s doing, is kind of exploring these aspects of the mind that are usually repressed and not talked about socially. And he got interested – you know, I’ve read interviews where Tyler says, “I got interested in the minds of killers and criminals and what’s going on in their heads, and like, what is their mental process?" And I think that he explores that through some personas like Tron Cat. And so, maybe that’s me really trying to put a positive spin on some pretty negative lyrics.

C: I feel like along with the psychologist persona is the really vulnerable Tyler sitting in a chair talking back to this doctor, and he always just spills his emotions, and sometimes will feel more, not dark, but sad. You know?

Will: And how do you guys feel like you connect to these songs that represent very dark sides of Tyler’s personality?

C: I feel like it’s kind of like, to some extent, I mean I obviously don’t think like that on a regular basis, but it’s just like, the fact that he can construct such well lyrically put together song with really creative metaphors about really disturbing and crazy shit just makes me want to root for his dark persona. Like, if it were a horror movie and I were watching all the lyrics happen, I would probably cheer for that guy.

D: Yeah, I think you just touched on the two things that I really identify with. Obviously, I don’t have the same kind of thoughts as Tyler in his Tron Cat persona. But there are times where I think things that are not quite socially acceptable. You know, there are dark sides to my personality too that I think I can not necessarily identify with, but that I can see some kind of sympathetic, um. And I respect Tyler for not only not repressing that side but letting it flourish. And I think the lyricism and the metaphors, the song construction, I can appreciate as separate from the lyrical content. I find that really compelling.

16:00

Will: So turning to songs like “Radicals,” where the chorus is “Kill People, Burn Shit, Fuck School,” do you see that as an ironic statement or as an exaggeration of the everyman’s dark desires?

C: I thought about this a lot over the summer when I was listening to “Goblin” in the car, because I listened to it a lot over the summer. I think it’s very much an exaggeration for his rebellion against typically accepted societal norms. Do you know what I’m saying? Like, obviously he doesn’t want you to kill people and drop out of school and burn shit, it’s more about going against the grain and not doing necessarily what society wants you to do. I feel like he’s just saying, “do whatever the fuck you want. Be whoever you want to be.” Like, I’m a table, I’m a unicorn, if I say I want to be a table or a unicorn you can’t tell me I’m not a unicorn.

D: Yeah, I’d agree. I think it’s exaggeration for effect. But you know, there are other songs where the ironic component might be a better explanation.

Critical Review 6 – Weinstein’s “Digging the Music: Proud Pariahs”

            In her article “Digging the Music: Proud Pariahs,” Weinstein discusses the subculture of metal, particularly its white, working class, male ethos. I challenge many of the assertions she makes in regards to gender disparity and identity within the scene, as I find her to reduce the gender dynamics to overly simplified binaries. On page 104, she says that males are, “at a minimum, ambivalent regarding women, seeking to escape from maternal and other forms of female authority and fearful of being viewed as ‘mama’s boys,’ and yet attracted to women sexually.” This description of male-female relationships essentializes them into two categories – mother and partner, a categorization that does not take into account the myriad of complexities that go into interactions between sexes. Though she later discusses some female metalheads who achieve some level of subcultural capital (by performing masculinity), there is a resounding binary in her argument about gendered relationships – men either hate women or want them. This binary takes credibility from her research, as it feels like it reduces metalheads into restricting archetypes of masculinity, which may often be true but nonetheless lack necessary nuance.

            This lack of nuance is also evidenced by her general oversight of the inherent femininity in many of the cultural signifiers in the metal scene. Weinstein traces the genealogy of metal to hippie, punk, and biker culture. In her discussion of metal music itself, she highlights its expressivity, specifically referencing the wailing, crying qualities of many guitar solos, as well as the expected emotionality of lead vocalists. These vulnerable qualities of the music seem at odds with the identity of the scene, which Weinstein asserts is overwhelmingly masculine. Furthermore, her extensive discussion of the long hair as central to metal style never once calls into question long hair as a traditionally female aesthetic. Though their long hair is arguably descended from hippie culture, not from feminine style, long hair has implicit societal connotations, namely feminine ones. She says that metalheads take pride in the “stigma of long hair” (133), likely referring to its stigma of disheveled rebellion. Again, she forgets to discuss the role of long hair in establishing the feminine identity, one that metalheads would probably be less proud of.

            Though I agree with many of Weinstein’s arguments and cannot deny the inherent masculinity in the metal scene, I think she overly simplifies its gender dynamics. Her reductions make her article feel very flat, and leave the reader with the sense that they haven’t actually learned about real, nuanced people. 

Critical Review 5 – Hayes’ “Fear of (and Fascination with) a Black Planet: the Relocation of Rap by White Non-Urban Youth”

In his article “Fear of (and Fascination with) a Black Planet: the Relocation of Rap by White Non-Urban Youth,” David Hayes examines the role of rap music in shaping white suburban identity. The emergent youth subculture, one that is based on subversion of their homogenized, “white” local values, conceives of black culture as it is portrayed in media representations of rap music. He ultimately argues that by reducing a racial group that is absent from their localities, white youth, who claim affinity for a black art form, ultimately reduce black identity to a few stereotypes.

            My main critique of Hayes’ article is his antagonism of the white youth he interviews as a result of what he sees as their contributions to the marginalizing institution of racism. Though I do not think that appropriation of black aesthetics in an otherwise white cultural landscape necessarily indicates a white sense of solidarity with blacks, I think the venturing of white youth into a typically black scene should be appreciated as a form of boundary crossing. He calls for a reevaluation by white youth of their perceptions of blackness, suggesting, “Steps toward achieving this goal could begin with a vigorous critique of their own assumptions about the interrelation between race and rap culture, although this would require access to anti-racism education programs, social justice groups and other school and community-based resources, as well as their willingness to embark on such a project.”

            My question is if the white youth described in the article truly are guilty of a lack of “willingness to embark on such a project,” or if their affinity for rap indicates a subliminal willingness. Is their participation in rap, however racialized and reductive though it may be, a signal of their attempt to understand blackness, more so than their local neighbors, who stay completely removed from any contact with black culture?

A Ticket to Dystopia

            Buying a ticket to an Odd Future Wolfgang Kill Them All show is like paying seventy dollars to join a gang of the most fun bullies in the city. If you are anything like me, the price of that ticket is closer to one-hundred and fifty dollars – ninety for the ticket I haggle online to the sold out show, and sixty for the Acela Express into Boston, which is the only train running after the commuter rail I miss. The price, though abnormally steep for a typical rap show, is not a deterrent from seeing the show. I know that hyperbolic appraisals of the show will inundate my Twitter feed the next day, and I want to witness the event the group’s de facto leader, Tyler, the Creator, is publicizing online[1]. It is precisely because of the rap group Odd Future’s online presence that their shows are shrouded in such infamy – the group successfully brands their shows as once-in-a-lifetime, joyfully dystopian events not worth missing. Attendees of their shows are filled with preconceptions, few of which go unfulfilled.

            When I entered the venue, a woman handing out cardboard masks of Tyler’s face greets me, shooting me a menacing glance when I do not immediately put it on. Upon entrance to the theater, the propagation of the cultish image of the group continues; not only does the mask deify its leader, it also makes attendees feel as if they are being ushered into the fold. However, there is a strange irony in seeing a group like Odd Future, who advertises itself as a group of LA street punks, at a venue like The Royale in Boston. The concert hall is adorned with velvet curtains, crystal chandeliers, and gold molding, which feel palpably incongruous with the projected identity of the performers, rife with images of skateboards, street stunts, and fast food.

            Another aspect of what I have identified as the abstract, makeshift “crew” (consisting of both Odd Future and the audience) is the racial contrast between the crowd and the performers. Odd Future, comprised of all Black members, stands in almost direct opposition with the racial makeup of the attendees, which I would estimate is between eighty and ninety percent Caucasian. The audience is also remarkably male (probably seventy percent), with a noticeable spatial gradient within the concert hall; the majority of concertgoers at the front of the venue are men, while there is a greater female representation at the back. Most people attending the concert are between the ages of sixteen and twenty-five, generally wearing some sort of variation of the same casual outfit – loose t-shirts and jeans for men, and fitted t-shirts and jeans or shorts for women. To reduce the audience to an archetype, it resembles a crowd of partygoers at a typical college fraternity house, a characterization that is admittedly simplistic, but bolstered by the aesthetics and ages of the attendees as well as the ubiquity of beer, marijuana, and sweat in the concert hall.

            The performance is highly participatory, with a relatively homogenized dance style and emphatic recitation of lyrics. The majority of the audience dances usually with an arm in the air and hard, downward-bend motions on the one and three beats. This dance is performed throughout the entirety of the show, and it is successfully in that it intensely incorporates the body in the music and that it is heavy and somewhat sluggish, easily accomplished under alcohol- and marijuana-induced intoxication[2]. The more active form of participation in the concert is the rapping of songs along with Odd Future, as well as some moments of call and response. The performance has an intensely group-based dynamic, with the various members of the group often shouting into the microphones, a sound that invites members of the audience to easily sing along and generates a sense of closeness with Odd Future itself, the voices of the attendees converging with the distorted drone of ten people screaming into microphones. Again, it feels as if watching the show implies a welcoming into the constantly changing crew.

            The performance itself is also heavily collective, with Tyler, the Creator at the forefront. The poster child of the group has a late, dramatic entrance encouraged by audience chanting in which he crashes onstage, rowdily kicks over stage props, and makes an immediate stage dive. Additionally, many of the songs in the set list are taken from Tyler’s solo albums Goblin and Bastard, though the solo albums of the other Odd Future members do not receive such representation. The most notable element of the performance is that of bullying that pervades the show, at times brotherly, other times irate. Odd Future members act in the same manner that Tyler does in his entrance, punching each other, throwing objects into the audience, maniacally jumping around the stage, and frequently diving into the arms of the audience. The crowd responds and imitates this behavior, moshing throughout the concert. However, their behavior, though seemingly aggressive, does not always feel malicious; instead, it appears to be somewhat demonic child’s play characterized by rambunctiousness.

            The only member of Odd Future who is conspicuously stoic is the lone female, DJ Syd tha Kyd. She remains unanimated throughout the show, limited mainly to her DJ stand at the back of the stage. Interestingly, Syd is an open homosexual, and with her short hair and traditionally masculine aesthetic, she is almost indistinguishable from the group of boys. She is truly brought into focus only when Tyler starts an audience chant of “The b***h is a stripper” directed at her, to which she responds with a faint smile. The separation of Syd from the rest of the group is indicative of the dynamic within the larger venue, where, as described, the men aggressively populate the front of the room and the women generally congregate toward the back, as well as the lyrical content of the songs, which has blatant misogynist overtones. All of these elements combine to create a space within The Royale that feels like a club for boys and men – a place where males can recklessly express their masculine abandon.

            Leaving the theater marks the end of an immersive experience of collective recklessness and gleeful rage. As I board the train home, it is impossible not to question the implications of my participation in the Odd Future show, particularly regarding my whiteness and upper-middle class background, as opposed to that of the group. The concert feels like a dystopian celebration whose underlying motives remain notably vague. For most of the attendees, exiting The Royale likely means leaving behind the world that was established in those two hours. However, the creation of that world highlights the true power of Odd Future – their ability to incite rebellion in social groups that do not usually express it.

Word Count: 1144

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[1] October 21, 2001, Twitter – @f**ktyler: LAST BOSTON SHOW, A COP WAS INJURED AND SOME 13 YEAR OLD GIRL WAS ARRESTED...AFTER THE RIOT AT THAT COMIC STORE. F**KING BOSTON N****R!!!!

[2] I deduce these forms of intoxication based on the visible presence of beer and in observations of my peers (I notice many bleary eyes, and at point I hear someone behind me yell to his friend, “I’m blazing bro!”)

Critical Review 4 - Andes' “Growing Up Punk: Meaning and Commitment Careers in a Contemporary Youth Subculture"

In her article “Growing Up Punk: Meaning and Commitment Careers in a Conemporary Youth Subculture,” Linda Andes begins her discussion by attacking the constrictive nature of the pre-disposed notion of commitment to a subculture. She argues that commitment implies the pursuit of a single ideal specific to the particular subculture, with commitment measured by the individual proximity to this ideal. She goes on to suggest that commitment allows for much greater diversity, as members of subcultures often express themselves uniquely.

            My contention with her article is that Andes seems to contradict her postulation of diversity within subcultures. She outlines a three-step process by which people become punks, and while she admits the subjectivity of what it is to be a punk vs. a poseur, the fact that she has a graph of the punk timeline seems to go against her argument that subcultural members should not be confined to the likes of a graph. How much generalization and reduction is implicit in the study of subcultures that more often than not are heterogeneous?

Field Note 1 - Digital Ethnography, Odd Future Study through Tumblr and Twitter

·      These fieldnotes will be exclusively web-based. The goal of this digital research is to study the digital self-branding the group, primarily through the group’s blog and individual members’ Twtitter accounts. Initial research about general group information has given me the following:

o   Odd Future consists of over 14 members, some of whom are rappers, producers, or general “hype men”

o   Within the group, there are multiple sub-groups (MellowHype, The Jet Age of Tomorrow, EarlWolf, and the Internet) made up of different members of Odd Future

o   Because of the many different members in the group, each of whom plays a very different role within it, it is hard to always point out a universal tone in their Twitters

o   Tyler, the Creator will usually be referenced as the lead member of the group, as he produces many of the beats, is featured heavily in the rapping, and is generally regarded as the poster child of Odd Future

·      Group Tumblr (http://oddfuture.tumblr.com)

o   “Bitch Suck Dick” motif

o   Promotion of individual members’ albums/singles/videos

o   Upside-down cross à demonic imagery

o   Skater videos

o   Los Angeles iconography – skaters, Amoeba, Venice, etc.

o   Videos of the boys fooling around and being rambunctious on tour

o   MTV Video Music Awards – comparison and connectedness with other celebrities raises one’s notoriety and legitimacy

o   Appeal to marijuana consumers

o   Still very much feels like the group Tumblr of a group of young teenage boys, using Tumblr as a social platform mainly used for propogating their jokes and musings

·      Individual member Twitter accounts

o   @fucktyler (Tyler, the Creator)

§   Hypersexualized (Irony? Humor?)

§  MY FEMALE GIVES ORAL LIKE SHE GIVES ORAL MY FEMALE GIVES ORAL LIKE SHE GIVES ORAL MY FEMALE GIVES ORAL LIKE SHE GIVES ORAL. TOMRROW AT 8

§  FUCK I DONT WANNA GET OLD. BEING 30 IS LIKE, YOU CANT REALLY DO FUN SHIT LIKE YOU DID WHEN YOU WERE 20. FUCK.

§  [Feels like he is lost in a celebrity world] Whole Foods Is The Gayest Store

§  Dark Skinned Dykes. Top 10 Porn Titles

o   @DamierGenesis (Domo Genisis)

§  depicted as the stoner of the group

§  blazed.

o   @oddfuckingtaco (Taco)

§  Relatively misogynistic, but still in a very bully, teenage way

§  I'm a fat bitch, i'm crying cause this hamburger is so good

§  Awwwww Jennas mom is a bitch! #Awkward. What the fuck? That skank!

·      I will get more information, particularly in the individual member Twitters, as there are many more members in the group that I have not yet studied. My general perception thus far is that Odd Future as a cohesive group, represents/brands itself (primarily through their group Tumblr) using various repeating motifs (antichrist, skater, LA crew, hypersexualization). The individuals of the group, who differ in projected personalities and very much satisfy different niches in the group, while pulling on these same group-ascribed themes, each emphasize different aspects. Frankie Ocean, usually seen as the songcrafter of the group, puts on a romantic persona. Tyler projects himself in a blatantly, questionably ironic, misogynistic and nihilistic voice. 

Critical Review 3 - Cohen's "Men Making a Scene"

            In her article “Men Making a Scene,” Sara Cohen analyzes the performance of masculinity in the Liverpool rock scene. The scene is often characterized by an antagonism towards women as threats to an established culture, lust towards women as objects of sexual desire, and disrespect towards women as token musical commodities. Cohen gives a few examples of women in music, most notably the female lead singer of Space, as well as the women who are employed as music journalists. The latter example seemed indicative of the greater plight of the woman who years to be involved in the music industry – only welcome in ways that celebrate the boys in the game but stay completely out of the game itself. Unsurprisingly, however, the scene has generated a social landscape that not only discourages women from participating, but also completely eliminates their desire to.

            After reading the article, I began to question whether the machismo of the rock scene described in Liverpool at the time is genre-specific, time-specific, or a combination. Cohen writes that even within the explored scene, there are varying classes of masculinity, describing “a masculinity that is rather soft, vulnerable and less macho, aggressive and assertive . . . suggesting a fragile masculinity” (Cohen 29). If a strong assertion of masculinity is integral to the Liverpool rock scene discussed in “Men Making a Scene,” then does a subdued masculinity (displayed by bands like Cast, Space, and the Lightning Seeds) represent a departure from the genre, or simply exemplify another performative aspect of the genre?

            Another comparison we can draw is to the archetypical lead singer of a current indie-rock band. (Usually) He is a thin, shabby-looking male who almost looks almost boyish. The emphasis is not placed on a display of chauvinism, but almost an emasculated showing of emotion and vulnerability. I would also argue that in musical subcultures that celebrate such characters are more welcoming for female participants in all senses. Is the comparison between this type of singer and the typical “macho” singer in Liverpool one that already existed within the scene described in the article, is the typical Liverpool singer one indicative of the greater rock world, is it genre specific (indie-rock as opposed to rock), or has the role of gender in rock really evolved over the last fifteen years?