“I Hate World Music”

[Guest guest]

In honor of Saraswati Devi, goddess of all music, I thought I would

share this great Op-Ed from the New York Times, authored by David

Byrne, former leader of the pop group Talking Heads, who currently

heads Luaka Bop (a "world music" label) and continues to produce

interesting work in the graphic design field. PLEASE READ IT if you

have time; it's really good.

 

I HATE WORLD MUSIC by David Byrne

 

I hate world music.

 

That's probably one of the perverse reasons I have been asked to

write about it. The term is a catchall that commonly refers to non-

Western music of any and all sorts, popular music, traditional music

and even classical music. It's a marketing as well as a

pseudomusical term — and a name for a bin in the record store

signifying stuff that doesn't belong anywhere else in the store.

 

What's in that bin ranges from the most blatantly commercial music

produced by a country, like Hindi film music, to the ultra-

sophisticated, super-cosmopolitan art-pop of Brazil (Caetano Veloso,

Tom Zé, Carlinhos Brown); from the somewhat bizarre and surreal

concept of a former Bulgarian state-run folkloric choir being

arranged by classically trained, Soviet-era composers (Le Mystére

des Voix Bulgares) to Norteño songs from Texas and northern Mexico

glorifying the exploits of drug dealers (Los Tigres del Norte).

 

Albums by Selena, Ricky Martin and Los Del Rio (the Macarena kings),

artists who sell millions of records in the United States alone, are

racked next to field recordings of Thai hill tribes. Equating apples

and oranges indeed. So, from a purely democratic standpoint, one in

which all music is equal, regardless of sales and slickness of

production, this is a musical utopia.

 

SO WHY AM I COMPLAINING?

 

In my experience, the use of the term world music is a way of

dismissing artists or their music as irrelevant to one's own life.

It's a way of relegating this "thing" into the realm of something

exotic and therefore cute, weird but safe, because exotica is

beautiful but irrelevant; they are, by definition, not like us.

 

Maybe that's why I hate the term. It groups everything and anything

that isn't "us" into "them." This grouping is a convenient way of

not seeing a band or artist as a creative individual, albeit from a

culture somewhat different from that seen on American television.

It's a label for anything at all that is not sung in English or

anything that doesn't fit into the Anglo-Western pop universe this

year. It's a none too subtle way of reasserting the hegemony of

Western pop culture. It ghettoizes most of the world's music. A bold

and audacious move, White Man!

 

There is some terrific music being made all over the world. In fact,

there is more music, in sheer quantity, currently defined as world

music, than any other kind. Not just kinds of music, but volume of

recordings as well. When we talk about world music we find ourselves

talking about 99 percent of the music on this planet. It would be

strange to imagine, as many multinational corporations seem to, that

Western pop holds the copyright on musical creativity.

 

No, the fact is, Western pop is the fast food of music, and there is

more exciting creative music making going on outside the Western pop

tradition than inside it. There is so much incredible noise

happening that we'll never exhaust it. For example, there are guitar

bands in Africa that can be, if you let them, as inspiring and

transporting as any kind of rock, pop, soul, funk or disco you grew

up with. And what is exciting for me is that they have taken

elements of global (Western?) music apart, examined the pieces to

see what might be of use and then re-invented and reassembled the

parts to their own ends. Thus creating something entirely new. (Femi

Kuti gave a great show the other night that was part Coltrane, part

James Brown and all African, just like his daddy, Fela Kuti, the

great Nigerian musical mastermind.)

 

To restrict your listening to English-language pop is like deciding

to eat the same meal for the rest of your life. The "no-surprise

surprise," as the Holiday Inn advertisement claims, is reassuring, I

guess, but lacks kick. As ridiculous as they often sound, the

conservative critics of rock-and-roll, and more recently of techno

and rave, are not far off the mark. For at it's best, music truly is

subversive and dangerous. Thank the gods.

 

Hearing the right piece of music at the right time of your life can

inspire a radical change, destructive personal behavior or even

fascist politics. Sometimes all at the same time.

 

On the other hand, music can inspire love, religious ecstasy,

cathartic release, social bonding and a glimpse of another

dimension. A sense that there is another time, another space and

another, better, universe. It can heal a broken heart, offer a

shoulder to cry on and a friend when no one else understands. There

are times when you want to be transported, to get your mind around

some stuff it never encountered before. And what if the thing

transporting you doesn't come from your neighborhood?

 

WHY BOTHER?

 

This interest in music not like that made in our own little villages

(Dumbarton, Scotland, and Arbutus, Md., in my own case) is not, as

it's often claimed, cultural tourism, because once you've let

something in, let it grab hold of you, you're forever changed.

 

Of course, you can also listen and remain completely unaffected and

unmoved — like a tourist. Your loss. The fact is, after listening to

some of this music for a while, it probably won't seem exotic any

more, even if you still don't understand all the words. Thinking of

things as exotic is only cool when it's your sister, your co-worker

or wife; it's sometimes beneficial to exoticize that which has

become overly familiar. But in other circumstances, viewing people

and cultures as exotic is a distancing mechanism that too often

allows for exploitation and racism.

 

Maybe it's naive, but I would love to believe that once you grow to

love some aspect of a culture — its music, for instance — you can

never again think of the people of that culture as less than

yourself. I would like to believe that if I am deeply moved by a

song originating from some place other than my own hometown, then I

have in some way shared an experience with the people of that

culture. I have been pleasantly contaminated. I can identify in some

small way with it and its people. Not that I will ever experience

music exactly the same way as those who make it. I am not Hank

Williams, or even Hank Jr., but I can still love his music and be

moved by it. Doesn't mean I have to live like him. Or take as many

drugs as he did, or, for that matter, as much as the great flamenco

singer Cameron de la Isla did.

 

That's what art does; it communicates the vibe, the feeling, the

attitude toward our lives, in a way that is personal and universal

at the same time. And we don't have to go through all the personal

torment that the artist went through to get it. I would like to

think that if you love a piece of music, how can you help but love,

or at least respect, the producers of it? On the other hand, I know

plenty of racists who love "soul" music, rap and rhythm-and-blues,

so dream on, Dave.

 

THE MYTH OF THE AUTHENTIC

 

The issue of "authenticity" is such a weird can of worms. Westerners

get obsessed with it. They agonize over which is the "true" music,

the real deal. I question the authenticity of some of the new-age

ethnofusion music that's out there, but I also know that to rule out

everything I personally abhor would be to rule out the possibility

of a future miracle. Everybody knows the world has two types of

music — my kind and everyone else's. And even my kind ain't always

so great.

 

What is considered authentic today was probably some kind of bastard

fusion a few years ago. An all-Japanese salsa orchestra's record

(Orquestra de la Luz) was No. 1 on the salsa charts in the United

States not long ago. Did the New York salseros care? No, most loved

the songs and were frankly amazed. African guitar bands were doing

their level best to copy Cuban rumbas, and in their twisted failure

thay came up with something new. So let's not make any rules about

who can make a specific style of music.

 

Mr. Juju himself, King Sunny Adé, name-checks the country and

western crooner Jim Reeves as an influence. True. Rumor has it that

the famous Balinese monkey chant was coordinated and choreographed

by a German! The first South African pop record I bought was all

tunes with American car race themes — the Indy 500 and the like.

With sound effects, too! So let's forget about this authenticity

bugaboo. If you are transported by the music, then knowing that the

creators had open ears can only add to the enjoyment.

 

White folks needed to see Leadbelly in prison garb to feel they were

getting the real thing. They need to be assured that rappers

are "keeping it real," they need their Cuban musicians old and

sweet, their Eastern and Asian artists "spiritual." The myths and

cliches of national and cultural traits flourish in the marketing of

music. There is the myth of the untutored, innocent savant whose

rhymes contain funky Zen-like pearls of wisdom — the myth that

exotic "traditional" music is more honest, more soulful and more in

touch with a people's real and true feelings than the kid wearing

jeans and the latest sports gear on Mexican television.

 

There is a perverse need to see foreign performers in their native

dress rather than in the T-shirts and baggies that they usually wear

off stage. We don't want them looking too much like us, because then

we assume that their music is calculated, marketed, impure. Heaven

forbid they should be at least as aware of the larger world as we

are. All of which might be true, but more important, their larger

awareness might also be relevant to their music, which in turn might

connect it to our own lives and situations. Heaven forbid.

 

LA NUEVA GENERACION

 

In the last couple of years, there have been any number of articles

in newspapers and magazines about how Latin music in particular was

finally going to become hugely popular in the U.S. of A. Half — yes,

half — of the current top 10 singles in Britain, that hot and sweaty

country, are sort of Latin, if you count Geri Halliwell's "Mi Chico

Latino," and why not? The others are watered-down remakes of Perez

Prado's hits from the 50's and 60's. The Buena Vista Social Club

record is the No. 1 selling record, in any category, in funky

Germany. Les Nubians, a French-African group, is getting played on

urban (translate as "black") radio in America. So is this a trend or

what? Are these more than summer novelty tunes for anglos? Are we

really going to learn to dance, or is this some kind of aberration?

 

But what about the alterna-Latino bands that are touring the United

States and Europe in increasing numbers. The Columbian band Bloque

(which, I confess, is on my label) was named best band of the year

by a Chicago critic; Los Fabulosos Cadillacs won a Grammy last year.

Both bands, and many, many others, mix the grooves of their

neighborhoods with the sounds and attitudes of the North American

tunes they also grew up with. They are a generation with a double

heritage, and their music expresses it.

 

It's tough for this bunch to crack the American market: they're not

always cute, safe or exotic. Their music is often more innovative

than that of their northern counterparts, which is intimidating. And

as cool as they are, they insist on singing in their own language,

to an audience that identifies completely with them, thereby making

it more difficult to gain a foothold in the States.

 

These bands are the musical equivalent of a generation of Latin

American writers, including Gabriel García Marquez, Isabel Allende,

José Amado and Mario Vargas Llosa, that was referred to as the Boom.

These musicians are defining their generation, finding a unique

voice, and will influence countless others outside their home

countries. Here, I believe, is where change will happen. Although

they don't sell very many records yet, these and others (for things

analogous to this are happening everywhere, in Africa, in Morocco,

in Turkey) will plant the seeds, and while I enjoy hearing Ricky

Martin's merengue on the radio, these others will change my life.

 

URL: http://www.luakabop.com/david_byrne/cmp/worldmusic.html