The Byrds most commonly appear as the poster boys of the 60’s peace rock revolution as it appears in the sweeping montage of love-ins and the mass hippy momentum that is all somehow signified in their 1965 song “Turn, Turn, Turn.” But this collapsing of image, historical moments and song is deeply unstable, just as are most representations of the complex decade of the 1960’s. Bob Dylan is of course the most idolized figure of this moment of “change,” one defined by a scale of mass cultural production and consumption very difficult to understand today. The Byrds made hits by making electrified pop versions of Bob Dylan songs like Mr. Tambourine Man and the Time Are A-Changin’, thus solidifying their “peace band” image. Of note however is that the majority of the songs from their ’65-’66 period albums are basically songs that demand anonymous sex with women that they encounter as world traveling peace-rockers. Intertwined with raw sexual pleas and peace anthems are also psychedelic romps like Wild Mountain Thyme, Fifth Dimension, Renaissance Fair, Mind Gardens that derive their content from the mainstream culture of “change” and contribute to it. I mention this loose outline of their role in that moment for the Byrds offer a stark contrast with the present situation of cultural production. At both the mainstream and the emergent sub-main field of cultural production, there has been no similar capitalization of “protest music” “peace music” or any other form that can engage the complexities of the present as naively as the Byrds once did. Any discussion of this particular group should also point out the popularity of the group at the sub-mainstream level which adores their pleasant sound and has spawned a handful of pastiche bands since Beachwood Sparks onwards.
But here I turn to the 1968 song “Change is Now” from the Byrds album “The Notorious Byrd Brothers”, released Janurary 3, 1968. Minimal pounding drums, a single note bass line, and a electric twelve string guitar line lay the foundation for this mind-blowing jam that demands not the fleeting pleasures of free love, but insists “Change is now.” This chanted prioritization of the present as the locus of “change” seems common sensical enough, and merely reasserts the urgency of the mass culture of “change” produced and consumed by a society conventionally represented as torn between “change” and the “status quo.” This opposition was on some level a political one for the same clearly meant war, racism and other bad stuff like the military-industrial complex. But not only is change now, the lyrcis continue to state that in this mass moment “things that seemed to be solid are not,” and thus possibilities abound. In fact, “All is now, all is now, The time that we have to live” which totalizes the present as the only moment in which reality exists. History and future utopia be damned, all is now is the infinite possibility of the present, now freed from that which was solid by the mass forces of “change.” But then the song’s driving chant is interrupted by its chorus, filled with harmonious country slide guitar and the simple lyrics, “Gather all that we can, Keep in harmony with love's sweet plan.” This chorus here presents a profound contradiction for the infinite possibilities of the present must be gathered to our ability as they accord with “love’s sweet plan.” There is order in the liberating possibilities of the present produced by “change ” and it demands we comply with an unknowable plan that is sweet and belongs to love. Luckily, while we are briefly thrown aback by this ambiguous demand to accumulate according to the invisible designs of agreeable pleasure evoked by the rush of slide guitars, we return to the driving foundation where fuzz guitars illuminate an expansive terrain with their aleatory harmonies. This middle passage offers a more concrete space representative of the possibilities stipulated by the phrase “Change is now.” For it is one that could go on forever, locked in a groove driving and pounding through the extensive immediacy of the present.
Coming aground in the second verse, from this brief glance at the abyss of the infinite groove, we come to the truth: “Truth is real, truth is real/ That which is not real does not exist”. This could be reduced to the phrase, “That which is not true it does not exist”, or “all that exists is truth, and it is real”. This logic of pure immediacy locates truth in the infinite present, forever bringing into existence the real and then instantly becoming untrue as it becomes past, where it no longer exists. Next we encounter a different temporal dimension: “In and out roundabout/ Dance to the day when fear it is gone” A day will come, (as a result of the change perhaps) when fear it is gone, and we can dance in and out, roundabout until then.
The circular form of the truth of the present, the bringing in and out of existence is oriented towards a future when “fear it is gone”. This phrase is the trajectory of “change” promised by this song. Rather than simply saying change will bring the day when “fear is gone” it seems that it could also say “‘fear it’, is gone” or “fear of ‘it is’, is gone”. The present tense ‘is’ reproduces the time of the present which here, although displaced to a future to come, embodies an immediacy without fear, where fear is not. However, the ‘it’ inserts a further ambiguity that is compounded by the chorus which reasserts itself at this point, almost as if from an entirely different sonic universe. “Gather all that we can/ Keep in harmony with love's sweet plan” The two interruptions by the chorus inscribe a thought provoking contradictory form within this anthem of change. Are we gathering the present, accumulating change in compliance with some divine plan that will bring the day when fear is gone? Is this a Buddhist ethics of karmic accumulation? Do we have here a primordial formulation of the experience economy which prioritizes the consumption of experiences and emotional intensities so well in tune to the marketing of extreme culture? Can we detect herein the deeply contradictory origins of present?
What is the point of confusingly unfolding the contents of a naive mainstream hippy jam? That “Change” is ambiguous, and to understand the present we might be able to trace its key features to specific moments of contradictions within the very fabric of aesthetic production and consumption (here I use the dictionary meaning of aesthetic that includes decorative and affective functions). Popular music seems to be a form ripe for these questions regarding the political. For example the present absence of self-described “political” music may be a fascinating point of departure for further inquiry. As DM demonstrated in his use of ZZ top, these forms have a very concrete way of illustrating abstract contradictions that define the recent past and present in complex but interesting ways.
Download “Change is Now” link in comments.
Lyrics:
Change Is Now (Hillman/McGuinn)
Change is now, change is now
Things that seemed to be solid are not
All is now, all is now
The time that we have to live
Gather all that we can
Keep in harmony with love's sweet plan
Truth is real, truth is real
That which is not real does not exist
In and out roundabout
Dance to the day when fear it is gone
Gather all that we can
Keep in harmony with love's sweet plan
Change is now, change is now
Things that seemed to be solid are not
In and out roundabout
Dance to the day when fear it is gone
Fear it is gone
Fear it is gone
7 comments:
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or
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"Chang" is Now? Don't see where the Chinese enter into this at all!
The Chinese enter into everything! :-)
Fixed the typo, but feel like "chang is now" would have better captured the present perhaps!
I did a lecture on Fela Kuti where I played different music samples in order to trace the relationship between african beats and political protest through James Brown, Fela, and Antibalas (an interesting example of a contemporary and explicitly political band). Anyway I asked the students (around 80 undergrads) if they could think of any contemporary bands that constituted protest music. Their responses included Green Day, Rage Against the Machine, The Dixie Chicks, and rap music in general. I don't think we necessarily need to discuss Green Day, but I guess that lets you know where today's youth are at.
Perhaps if we are redefining the political we also need to redefine political music. It seems to me that sonic youth during the late ‘80’s/ early ‘90’s, and possibly even up to the present, has been pushing the boundaries of what it means to be political. And if they were doing it, certainly a lot of other folks were as well.
For me the instrumental explorations on sister are a way of asking questions. Seeing where things take you and being open to different possibilities is always a political move.
“We should kill time, I want to shut it down!” – and then a long really weird jam (see pipeline : http://www.mediafire.com/?1mxzhzvzrah). These are extremely non-hierarchical forms of communication.
David Harvey published a book right around the time that Daydream Nation was released in which he talked about the annihilation of time through space. He argues that the aestheticization of politics (in a Marxian sense) is more or less synonymous with the prioritization of space over time. Both of these processes limit the opportunities for political activism. Harvey places these shifts in time, space, and aesthetics within the context of a change in the mode of production. Not a radical change but still important – the movement from Keynesian to Flexible forms of accumulation. Within flexible accumulation the image is prioritized. Commodities are produced and distributed in smaller quantities that correspond with increasingly specific lifestyle niches. Identity is achieved not through engaging in a process of becoming in which one is transformed over time, but through the instantaneous reference. Sonic Youth puts Mike Kelly on one cover and Gerhard Richter on another. It is an instant message that assumes a shared “common sense” about what these images mean. It is a form of communication that fits within a particular economic context.
But why can’t this be political? Harvey’s argument is that like modernization, political change is essentially a transformation that occurs through time. To circumvent that transformation through referencing symbols and places is to deny the possibility for political change. Perhaps I am misreading Harvey here, but it seems that the underlying assumption is also that political economic transformations are associated with Real Inequality whereas the symbolic transformation of identity is not.
A song like pacific coast highway (http://www.mediafire.com/?5tn2ngzltvc) is not political in the sense that it speaks about policies. The song is about driving and giving and taking and probably fucking as well. It is similar to transcritique’s description of “raw sexual pleas” in the music of the Byrds. I don’t know if all sexual pleas are political, but I think that if they expand our sense of how to love then they can be. If evangelicals are using politics to change how people love and using their love practices to impact policy, then certainly a love song can be a powerful thing.
My intent here is not so much to analyze sonic youth, as much as to open up a discussion about the entire genre of music and lifestyle that they have become somewhat iconic of over the years. This ranges from abstract free jazz that deconstructs hierarchies, to straight forward punk of “the president sucks” variety that sy engages in on dirty, to relatively sophisticated identity politics that are seen in a song like swimsuit issue. While this genre of music certainly has a large audience, I don’t think anyone is selling millions of albums which certainly would have been the case for the peace/ alternative lifestyle music of the earlier era that transcritique discusses.
I think it would be useful to follow transcritique’s suggestion of moving towards a concrete discussion of the relationship between the aesthetic dimensions of politics and music. Does the alternative/indie genre have any potential for the construction of a broad movement that unites lifestyle and politics? Is the lack of an explicit political message in much of this music problematic, or is this exactly the approach that is necessary for the current political moment? I have a hunch that it is the latter (who really want to listen to bands singing about Bush?) but I’m not quite sure how this works.
Let me know if the music links don’t work. I’m generally poor at this sort of thing. Most likely you all have copies of these tracks anyway.
Sonic Youth is great. Most of their songs, including PCH, seem to me as if they are delivered heavy sarcasm. Some SY songs alternate between sarcasm (perhaps in the verses) and anthemic sincerity (perhaps in the chorus) (Sorry, I can't come up with any examples; it's been years since I've listened to SY, and I don't think I have any of their albums anymore). The Byrds song TC posted doesn't seem sarcastic to me (but I don't know the Byrds at all). So they may both be about ways of loving, but their spins on it are very different.
So anyway, er, I guess I have to tie this into politics now...
I agree that PCH is political in the sense DM suggests. I wouldn't consider it "protest music." Nothing really hangs on what is or isn't protest music, but it does seem like sarcasm doesn't lend itself to a protest song; it's too easy to misread, or overlook. Simpler seems better: An unambiguous chorus, and perhaps a simple narrative in the verses. If I knew my 60's protest rock better, I'd give some examples, but I know that's a common formula.
But maybe I'm wrong. Arlo Guthrie's "Alice's Restaurant" might be a counter-example, as might Bruce Springsteen's "Born in the USA". (Both of these do have a clear narrative, however.)
It's interesting that your students cited rap music in general as being political, since none of it that I've heard on the radio for a long time has had any explicit political content (this might just reflect the fact that I don't turn the radio on very often and don't listen very carefully, though). This probably shows that the students already have a fairly broad notion of political protest, whereby anything that confronts authority or mentions social ills such as poverty is considered political.
The relationship between protest music and irony is interesting, and it would seem to have direct implications for A's argument that protest music should be unambiguous with a simple narrative. Amos Latteier has created an interesting project (werenotgonnatakeit.org) that allows a person to sing a "protest song" to the tune of Twisted Sister's "We're Not Gonna Take It." The chorus is the same chant of the songs title but the verses are left for you to create. In some ways "We're Not Gonna Take It" is the ultimate protest, but it's hard to interpret an appropriation of the song as anything but ironic. In fact it may be that any straight forward "protest song" would be inevitably tinged with irony within the current moment we are living in. Even bands like Rage Against the Machine that take (took?) themselves very seriously would only be played for one's friends if the intent was to spark some sort of ironic humor. I would say that this sort of sarcasm is possibly even a form of anti-protest, because what is being mocked, atleast directly, is in fact the protester.
Perhaps this partially explains the lack of overtly political music today. In order for political music to be perceived as credible or legitimate it must have some link with an oppressed group or a style of music that is associated with resistance (thus it is very difficult to see antibalas' afrofunk tune "Indictment" as sarcastic).
Perhaps the area where music currently has the most political potential is in redefining our assumptions about value and living a meaningful life. Again I want to raise the issue of sonic youth and the genre of music they represent. Although they may make few "political statements," is it possible that they shift people's perceptions of value in a coherent and potentially desirable manner? And here it seems that irony is being used differently. The irony here is very subtle. The irony seems to prevent one from taking himself too seriously, but not from living in the moment and doing things like tripping balls, falling in love, or starting a community garden. It seems that protest music is nearly impossible to produce today, but the potential for political music is vast. If we agree that different forms of music are political in the sense that they transform values, then in what direction should this transformation take place? Tigrenoche gives us some clues in this regard in his post on identities, but it would be interesting to combine his arguments with an analysis of contemporary or historical musical forms.
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