Music, and Critique to Critiques to "Occupy Wall Street"

Let's start with some music: this is what a social movement could sound like.

There are a few quick points that I'd like to make.
1. One may say this piece of music is so happy. Try to think in the following ways: a) look at the freedom and equality of the musical elements, and how everything work together. Isn't this a reflection of an ideal society? And that's why people are enjoying this music. b) matching this positive, major key music, with a bitter 1% versus 99% world, isn't it ironic? Doesn't the movement also symbolize a postmodern, late capitalist irony?

2. Some critics said the movement lacks a clear goal, and therefore could not succeed after a quick boom in the press. I think, If the movement fails, it is not because of a lack of clear goal. If the movement succeeds, the fact that it doesn't have a clear goal plays a big role. Take these into account:
a) there are some people who are just suffering and have no idea how to get out of the vicious loop of suffering. They have their own problems. (Like the PhD who has no jobs, I think that guy doesn't represent the general PhD population!) They lack a clear goal, but would you say they shall stay home, surf the internet in the library to find jobs, instead of coming out to protest? The answer depends on whether you are a conservative or a neo-Marxist democrat who thinks that change has to be enacted in a new way.
b) There a lot of people in the movement who have ideas and plans. (To people questioning this: Zizek don't have an idea? I don't think so.) But they do not enforce it on others in order to formulate an "Occupy Wall Street Manifesto" or something akin. They were the people who have been subsumed under undesired categories, and they would not want to subsume others. In fact this is the core question of post-coloniality, and there are interesting resemblances here. It is the job of the government to negotiate between different power systems, and they are endorsed to do so by various elections. (which does not happen in Hong Kong, very unfortunately).

One thing I found out (actually stole from my professor's talking) is that looking at UK media does give a different picture of the event.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2011/oct/25/egyptian-protesters-occupy-wall-street
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/cifamerica/2011/oct/27/occupy-oakland-not-beaten
Another thing that I really appreciate is the political ethics that I found.
http://communities.washingtontimes.com/neighborhood/tygrrrr-express/2011/oct/26/how-occupy-wall-street-protesters-destroy-working-/
In this final article, the author explicitly states that he is a "politically conservative columnist". He states his standpoint so clearly, and implicitly tells you there are alternatives to look at this issue. In the columns in Hong Kong and China, some authors are ambivalent about this. Or, maybe they just want to tell the readers that this is the right way to look at the issue, and, if you still have a free and open mind,  that is politically unethical.

Eagleton's Strategies; Why does the world need music scholars

This time, I analyze the strategies that Terry Eagleton uses in his “What is Ideology?” Ch. 1 in Ideology: an introduction. (London: Verso, 1991), and try to make an argument on a musical belief of mine.

Eagleton’s essay includes daily-life examples, deploys both “firm” and “flexible” propositions, and has a strategic organization in its argument. Daily-life examples ground the abstract term “ideology” in physical manifestations, and also prove the relevance of “ideology” to the reader. For instance,

“What, then, would be meant if somebody remarked in the course of a pub conversation: ‘Oh, that’s just ideological!’” (p. 3)

“Soviet Union is in the grip of ideology while the United States sees things as they really are.” (p. 4)

“Firm” propositions establish an authoritative image of the author, while “flexible” ones create space for the reader to further analyze the subject matter and make his/her own stand. By flexibly opening up a variety of possibilities in defining “ideology”, Eagleton also avoids counter-examples that may attack a narrower definition of the term. For instance,

            Firm: “There is no reason to believe in a post-Freudian era that our lived  experience need be any less ambiguous than our ideas.” (p. 20)

            Flexible: “What side you take up in this debate depends on whether or notyou are a moral realist.” (p. 17)

The essay, dealing with the complicated concept of “ideology,” is made coherent by a tactical narrative structure. Eagleton starts with random definitions of ideology, then goes on to analyze their individual connotations, as well as their mutual compatibility, contradictions, and implications. This leads to the central discussion on the politics of “ideology.” Before the conclusion section, the author prompts the nearing of argument’s closure by mentioning “the cynics,” a term closely related to the postmodernists that he rejects at an earlier part of the essay (precisely, in the “individual connotation” part I mentioned above). The end echoes the beginning by proposing different possibilities of “ideology,” this time in a much more organized manner.

Now, it’s my turn. Warning: this is no a scholarly essay.

The title is “Why does the world need music scholars?”

The global financial crisis worsens. Educational budgets are cut, and the Arts appear vulnerable because of their lack of financial productivity. It seems that the chemical-pharmaceutical PhDs who invent drugs, or the international relations MAs who work in the United Nations, or the BBAs who did internships at i-banks are more socially and financially relevant than aspiring music scholars.  Many of my friends, non-musicians, politely expressed their astonishment when I told them “I’m doing a PhD in music.” For sure, people like me have strong feelings toward our undertakings, but it is also fair to say that musical scholarship is hermetic in the public eye. How shall we present ourselves to others? Let me name some more or less random ideas:

(a) we write music history;

(b) we write music histories;

(c)  we narrate music verbally, supported by formal analyses on top of personal feelings;

(d) we judge and criticize music;

(e) we discover things that will change the current history textbook;

(f)  we produce critical scores for performers to play with, hence play an important part in delivering the composers’ intent to the audience;

(g) we observe and analyze sounds, silences and noises that may otherwise go unnoticed;

(h) we change people’s (musicians or non-musicians) perspectives on music;

(i)   we tell untold stories about music and musicians;

(j)   we tell existing stories from new perspectives;

(k) we speak for the dead and the repressed.

So on, and so forth. Some interesting observations come up. First, some situations can be described by more than one of these formulations. For instance, new research may tell untold stories of Beethoven (a dead person) and hence revise music history. Second, none of these formulations inhibit one another and this implies a liberty and variety in what music scholars can do. (a) and (b) exhibit ontological or presentational differences. One can use different kinds of formal analyses to repute or reconfirm existing beliefs. Third, some of these formulations have ambiguous boundaries with other disciplines, such as music critic and performing musicians. Fourth, all of the above are related to society, directly or indirectly. Hence, I suggest a few ways in presenting the music scholar’s social relevance.

Some of our work create new methods of appreciating music. They act as the mediator/ alienator between the public and the musician. They may also provide analytical tools to the sociologists and critical analysts. This category also includes people who strive for the most accurate representation of music and musicians.

            Some scholars look at how music functions in society from different angles. They reveal, for instance, representations of violence in classical masterpieces, and also speak for people/ musicians who are misrepresented by popular journalism and social thoughts. 

            And I must acknowledge music scholars who do basic research. As Jann Pasler phrases in the Critical Studies Seminar yesterday, "utility may not be circumscribed by people around the original finding". Some academic essays may seem  to lack utility or social implication at the moment they are presented and published. Nonetheless, we shall celebrate basic research just as the Nobel prize emphatically celebrates so, and not neglect its potential contributions.

            An action music scholar voices their social concerns loudly to the public. Leo Treitler wrote about the Gulf War on New York Times. Taruskin had his say on Boston Opera’s cancellation of Kinghoffer after 9-11. Similar efforts were made by, for example, Hon-Lun Yang in exploring the censored music in China, and Susan Cusick in writing on musical abuse by the American Army in Afghanistan. The lack of publicity, however, hindered the spread of their messages. (Cusick’s article only made it to the newspaper through Alex Ross’s column, and not many lines were devoted to it.) The most direct societal interaction is physical involvement, to have a music scholar deliver a speech or perform in public. Right now, I can think of non-music scholars such as Coco Fusco and Zizek (in his exciting speech in Occupy Wall Street).

After all, as a music scholar, we are not going to save the financial crisis (and, by the way, who can do that now?) We have different endeavors, meaningful ideals. Aspiring scholars, I contend, shall actively explain the value of musical scholarship to others in society. And don’t forget, the life of a scholar is far more than life as a scholar.

How do you tell stories to yourself about yourself?

For me, music is dreams that my family and friends and I create together. I have been walking from one dream to the next, without knowing where my next or final destination is.

My musical dreams give me life directions.  As a kid, I dreamed to be a musician and pianist, without knowing any difference between the two. As I continued to learn the piano, I aspired to be a pianist. It was perhaps the satisfaction of playing music, or the high marks I attained in music exams, that pushed me toward a musical career. During high school, I started teaching piano. I realized how fortunate I had been, nurtured in an encouraging environment and surrounded by a loving family, teachers and friends. I wanted to be a very good piano teacher, and I deemed it socially responsible to teach the right life and music matters to other people. A while later, when I was thinking about my future after college, a musicology professor told me I could pursue musicology. This seemed to go in line with my dream to be a leader in society, and to make this world a better place. I will be a knowledgeable and caring teacher, a music outreach leader, a cultural critic, and more. Dreams come one after another, and it seems that I will not eventually become a fixed object. Musical dreams always give me directions to somewhere. But what makes me dream? What makes my dreaming about music possible?

“I thank you [audience of the recital, mostly my family and friends] for making me who I am,” I wrote in the preface of my debut piano recital’s program booklet. It would be selfish not to acknowledge that the people and the environment around me influenced my identity greatly. But up to this moment, I cannot relinquish my ego, and I shall blatantly pronounce that I am the ultimate agent and an important partaker of my own life. My family and friends and I create all the musical dreams together. (Yes, it is in present tense.)

 Why did I write this essay? Why did I try to theorize my musical life in one page? A musical life is much more than that. Indeed, the messy brainstorming sheet is a far better reflection of my story! Without the artistic talent to reasonably reflect my musical life and its nuances by words, I hope the photo above will say something for me. 

Academic black humor

From Robert J. C. Young, White Mythologies 2nd ed.  p. 1

"The sunlight sinks over the golden buildings that tumble along the Malecon as it sweeps along the shoreline into La Habana Vieja. Sitting on the concrete wall, I stare out into the sea, towards Miami, thinking of the generations that have sailed into this harbor - the Spanish conquistadors, the shiploads of slaves from West Africa, British buccaneers arriving to capture the island in 1762, US troops arriving in 1898, US troops arriving in two thousand and... ? Cette implacable blancher: wave after wave of white conquerors have rolled in on the surf, wanting this island, coveted object of imperial desire."

1. The choice of examples, I think, are deliberate. Especially the double mentioning of US troops arriving.
2. "wave after wave of white conquerors" --> think about the color of big waves: they are white!!! That made me laugh when I was reading this on a bench in UCSD...
3. I wanna learn to write poetically!!!

This book questions the writing of history from a white perspective. I'm only in the intro, and the discussion on the limits of Classical Marxism fascinates me. It led me to explore Marxism not only as a stem to the contemporary Chinese communism, but as a historical (meta-)narrative and economic worldview. I look forward particularly to this book's critique of Fredric Jameson. Many musicologists depend on dearly on the term "postmodernism", and define it according to Jameson. Leo Ou-fan Lee has already pointed out his discomfort in Jameson's Westro-centric viewpoint that cannot fit modern Chinese literature. Yet, none of the literature I read, mostly musicological, have ever mentioned Young. Let me go for it!

This book opened up the whole field of post-colonialism, and yes, it is a monumental volume.