Monday, November 28, 2011

Witch House Field Notes #2 - Virtual

Here is a selection of videos that are necessary to watch in order to get a more in-depth feel for the witch house sound and aesthetic, which is formed through the cultural references and symbols that are used, the video footage that is paired with the music, and the Youtube comments that respond to the aesthetic and add references to related music and pop culture. These videos are chosen for having interesting commentaries in their comments sections, so the comments are an important part of understanding this internet music subculture.

Salem - Sick: (lyrics in comments)

 

Some artists who adopt the witch house sound are willing to associate their music with the "witch house" label, but others, like Gvcci Hvcci who commented on their Soundcloud page to a fan who said "i love you gvcci hvcci, but damn why are all your songs under 2 minutes! this is witch house remember?¿" by responding, "This isn't witch house it's hip hop you fag. I can rap however the fuck I want." Often artists who willingly associate themselves with the genre also use symbols such as crosses or triangles in their videos, their song titles or their internet presence.

Gvcci Hvcci - Superlow:


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cudYhyx5UIA

Witch House | †‡† (RRRITUALZZZ) - Psychic Teens:





PWIN ▲▲ TEAKS - I will always love you 

(Notice the reference to Twin Peaks in the band's name)


WU LYF (might be an interesting translocal connection):






Horse McGyver - Teen Meme Anti-Dream

Sleep ∞ Over - Outer limits (maybe interesting comments)





A major influence on the witch house scene is Southern rap, especially chopped/screwed, which was popularized in Houston by DJ Screw, the Swishahouse label and others in the late 1990s. There is a noticeable amount of drug references in the slowed-down lyrics, and it is no secret that use of pills and painkillers such as codeine (in "purple drank") were a part of this subculture of Southern rap.

Lil White - oxycotton


DJ screw mix of SPM - high so high



LAST.FM groups/tags for Witch house

a selection of Salem remixes:

Salem remix of Gucci Mane


another Salem remix, of Charli XCX





Salem remix, Lil B slangin yayo 





Wednesday, November 23, 2011

"All Black: Jungle" Response

Jungle, which came out of the rave scene when DJs began experimenting with "black sounds" in the late 80s, is a diasporic music that mostly borrows from Jamaican music. This type of dance music often incorporates reggae vocals, vocals similar to rapping, or samples from films or other found material, on top of jungle's distinguishing sound which is an exaggerated use of bass. The music is definitely produced and consumed mainly by urban youth (one junglist puts it simply, "Jungle is about making music that adults hate and kids love"), but while jungle redefines notions of "Britishness" and British culture from a black perspective, the music scene itself is not so racially divided. From the film it is clear that jungle is a genre that black and white urban youths make and listen to together. However, one interviewee defined the rise of jungle as "a coming of age for black Britain," and the music definitely involves consciousness of multiple identities (i.e. diasporic identity) for many of its participants.


As such, the development of jungle is "fuelled by the creative tension between tradition and improvisation" (Les Back), and the result is a sound that some DJs close to the genre consider distinctly underground. Authenticity is highly valued in this genre at the time the film was made, and the jungle records of the early 90s were mainly released on independent minor labels. In a time and place (Britain) where blacks deal with racism and poverty, does jungle serve to redefine "black Britain" and the place and history of blacks in Britain? Is the backlash against jungle's mainstream success an attempt to preserve the integrity of this diasporic sound, or is this simply jealousy of mainstream success (as one of the interviewees says in the film)?

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Simon Hayes Interview


Transcription of interview with Simon Hayes on 11-7-11
Questions are asked by Gus Wenner and Jason Steinbach
=================================
Q: What attracts to witch house as a genre?
A: Well I really love that sort of Swishahouse style of rap to begin with, and I have always loved DJ Screw, and then I met the guys from Salem, and became good friends with them, and became totally infatuated with their album and thought it was amazing.
Q: So it was their first album that got you into the actual "witch house" scene.
A: Yeah. And after I really started getting into Salem, I got into other witch house bands.
Q: So how did you find the other bands? Was it just by going online, or through meeting other people through Salem?
A: Well, I got into Salem through meeting Jack, who is the singer in Salem. I bought their album after meeting him, and after I liked their album so much I started listening to other bands in the genre. Specifically, the guy whose name is "little O big O" with five O's.
Q: I think it’s just pronounced “Oh.” So it was the Internet? That was how you found out about the other bands?
A: Yeah, just reading about it, and then I asked Salem who they liked the most out of all the other people, and they recommended "little O big O"
Q: So as far as the witch house scene, do you see any elements of the audience that stand out?
A: It seems like it's a very internet-centric fan base. Because it's so new, I feel like so much of their audience is like, you read about it on the Internet, it's blogs – a much younger generation.
Q: Do you see the music or the attitudes of the bands as a response to Internet culture or the blogosphere?
A: Yes and no. Just based on personal interactions with Salem, they’re all about the internet, YouTube, Twitter, appropriating things on the internet, that's how they make a lot of their music videos, these found clips on Youtube, and theyre whole aesthetic is based around the internet...trolling the internet, weird video clips of fights and burnouts and gangs and strip clubs and video games like Call of Duty, that's very much their aesthetic.
Q: The whole thing with naming your band after symbols and unpronounceable names seems to be tied in with the whole, kind of ironic response to the Internet.
A: Yes, I would say so. I would say there's a huge connection between the Internet and the aesthetic of these bands, it's not so much a response, it's an aesthetic. Like, bands in the 60s, Jimi Hendrix, their aesthetic was counterculture, Woodstock, free love, Monterrey Pop Festival, headbands, peace signs. Witch house is the Internet. Not exclusively, but that's a huge part of it.
Q: So we already talked about DJ Screw a bit... what do you think are the main influences in terms of other genres/styles?
A: I think it's definitely the chopped and screwed thing...the stuttering of those slow beats, slowed down versions of pop songs and rap songs, remixing songs. It's almost like a (?) approach to rap and electronic music. Like extracting a beat or a little sample of a vocal track, an abstract clip of a sound or beat, and cutting it up and making it into a larger beat.
Q: Witch house is really influenced by chopped and screwed, and chopped and screwed has obvious strong references to drugs in almost all of its songs, so I am wondering how much you think that drug culture carried over into witch house?
A: It’s not the same. There is no drug equivalent of Codeine in witch house. There’s definitely no identifiable drug in witch house. But I think it is case by case. Kids will be kids – everybody takes drugs.
Q: But do you think that witch house is influenced by drugs more so than other genres? I hear in the music such a lagged, stoned aesthetic, whether its codeine, heroin or what have you.
A: That’s a good point. That type of music is conducive to drugs, like shoegaze. It’s a very drugged out style. The people that listen to it and make it are more likely on drugs than the people that listen to top 40 radio.
Q: We’re interested in hearing about what you think the significance of the symbols, the upside down crosses and triangles are.
A: It’s a unified aesthetic with everyone in witch house. I’m not sure if it has to do with the Internet or text messaging…I don’t really know where it comes from, but it is definitely a common denominator with all of those bands. When I am texting Jack from Salem the symbols are in his text messages.
Q: What do you think Salem has that made them such an icon of witch house?
A: I think they have an incredible album. They made the best witch house album. All the pieces fit perfectly. With every genre there’s always a pinnacle that happens, and I think stylistically, the way they dress, their back-story, the record that they made, they are that. They did the best job to articulate witch house, both in terms of their personality and style and their record.
Q: Jason and I were talking about the role of irony in witch house. For example, John [from Salem] has a money sign tattooed on his face. Also, since it is such an internet-centric genre, and the Internet is very critical, analytical and ironic…how do you see irony playing out in witch house?
A: That’s a very good question. I think that there is an element of irony to it but the music is very serious. Jack from Salem is a very ironic individual.
Q: What is the aesthetic attitude of the audience?
A: There is a little slice of everybody in the audience. It’s definitely an aesthetically conscious crowd, a hip crowd. You definitely feel like your walking into a cool place when you go to a witch house concert. The audience draws heavily from gay/ghetto/Goth, as well as hipster. The thing about witch house is that it is hard to identify; it is a little slippery. There is an element of mystery to all of these guys. They are all hard to get in touch with, elusive, mysterious. John from Salem has a cell phone from 1998 – I don’t know if that’s ironic or not…

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Rock-upy* Providence


I first heard about Occustock in an email that was sent out to a group of my friends a week or so before the event. Intrigued by what seemed to be a portmanteau of Occupy Wall Street and Woodstock, I followed a link to the Facebook event page, which gave a tentative list of acts but no schedule. It was obvious from the fan page that the concert was planned last minute and on a tight budget, but the quality of the musical acts was decidedly of less importance than the resourcefulness of the organizers in setting up the event against difficulties, since Occustock is embedded in a broader social movement that is not just about music. With cultural images of “protest music” having been fed to me by pop culture my whole life, but with no real-world experience of it, I was interested to see what lay at the intersection of protest and music in Providence in 2011.

Occustock was planned as a three-day event, organized as an impromptu free music festival by the local Occupy Providence group. The second night of the “masquerade music festival” was scheduled for Saturday evening (10-29-11) at India Point Park, but rain and snow moved the concert indoors to the Whiskey Republic, a bar just off of College Hill. Curious to see what kinds of political and cultural messages would come through -- if any -- at this event, which promised not just local musicians and acts from Boston and New York, but also “speakers and workshops” according to a Providence Phoenix article written about Occustock a few days before the festival, I went to observe. The same article also recognized the difficulties of setting up an ambitious show like Occustock in such a short amount of time  -- the organizers claiming to have conceived of the idea for the event only a week earlier -- while relying on the good will of local businesses and Occupy sympathizers for resources. As a result, the show on Saturday had a definite “feel of the improvised, the thrown-together,” especially in the small turnout that ended up making it to the snow location. On the other hand, this also created a more intimate setting, which I feel was conducive to the exercise of building solidarity between Occupiers and sympathizers alike.

While the concert was free, the organizers were enthusiastically offering Halloween masks in exchange for donations to keep Occupy Providence going through the winter. Occustock was in fact supposed to be masquerade themed, although few people besides some of the organizers were actually wearing masks on Saturday night. However, the concept of “masked mirth” (as the Phoenix put it) is fitting with the cultural messages that are being attributed to the Occupy movement lately. In our contemporary society, anonymity and equality are closely connected, both in practical life and in the cultural myths we share with each other. We see the connection between anonymity and free society in the comic book and film V for Vendetta, and a real-life example of this connection is the adoption of the same mask (based on the likeness of Guy Fawkes) for the purpose of anonymous protesting, most notably by the hacker group Anonymous in anti-Scientology protests in 2008. In their contemporary social context, masks are aligned with several of the ideals that are common across the Occupy movement. On a practical level, they protect one’s First Amendment rights, especially during peaceful protest; the mask also symbolizes the decentralization of a mass movement which gains strength through solidarity and numbers, not through leaders or individual identities. In the context of Occustock, the masquerade theme also emphasizes the inclusivity of the “Occupy subculture.” All that is needed to join the movement is geniune interest, such that even anonymous individuals would be welcomed. As one of the organizers, a 27-year old local hip-hop musician originally from Seattle, says of Goldman Sachs bankers, “They're welcome to throw on a mask and a costume and come dance with us.” The invitation to wear masks to Occustock is also a call for public participation in the creation of a unique social event, which is intended not to be in the realm of passive consumer culture, but to be, instead, a social participatory experience.

Neither specific political messages about the widening economic divide, nor “99% vs. 1%” rhetoric, already repeated and re-posted ad infinitum on and off the internet, were brought up in this Saturday evening of Occustock. The mood was not one of anger or resentment, but of simple musical empowerment and the self-aware creation of a peaceful community space. The opening act of the evening was two Indian men playing classical Indian music on the sitar and a hand drum. The musicians commented on the spiritual quality of the music, and talked briefly about the role music has played in Indian politics after being prompted by one of the organizers. The speaker for the evening, a Brown professor specializing in Indian history, followed right after this performance. I had seen her speak before at a “teach-in” that was held on campus, and she gave a brief and less academic version of the short speech she had made there, to the Occustock crowd. After making parallels to Gandhi and his committed nonviolence, she emphasized the importance of creating new mythologies for this movement to explain to itself how the country reached such a level of inequality.

An astute observer could recognize that the myth-making process she described was already under way at Occustock. For instance, the resourcefulness of the movement was brought up throughout the evening, and the diverse ideologies of the Occupy movement were reduced to their simplest elements, almost to the point of juvenile emotional appeals. After the professor’s poetic words, one of the organizers spoke about Occupy as simply “an excuse for all of us to be nicer to each other,” again elevating the power of collective good will and collaboration without verging into political rhetoric. He suggested that people in the audience should take this time to look around them, meet new people, include others into their discussions, and see what thoughts others might have to share. Another Occupy organizer at the event spoke to the movement’s reliance on donations from small businesses and the kindness of people who sympathize with “the 99 percent,” emphasizing the collective bargaining power and representation that “Occupy” confers to someone who is organizing an event. Through this narrative, new economic strategies can be vocalized, as it is well known that people are increasingly realizing the illegitimacy of the current (especially economic) systems in place. In the same vein, the organizers supplied the audience with free beer and appetizers, giving the credit to the manager of the bar, and making sure everyone knew there was free food and drink available. This attitude subverts the prevailing consumption culture, and imagines resourcefulness as the alternative social paradigm. The rest of the show consisted of Providence-based Last Good Tooth, then a series of solo and duo guitar and singing acts. The performers were overwhelmingly young white males in their 20s, and the audience was predominantly Brown students. They played songs mostly in the rock, folk and punk genres, and none of them brought up anything political while they played, focusing instead on the music. At one point the singer for Last Good Tooth sarcastically remarked on the excessive number of televisions that were on in that corner of the bar, more than he had ever seen in his life. Through such subtle gestures, the mood of the evening stayed at odds with the status quo of consumerist culture, and by extension passive TV-watching culture. Interestingly, the concert setting opened up a different level of discourse than the protest atmosphere, a level that never appeals to politics directly. It articulates certain discourses on equality, compassion, resourcefulness and anonymity that are common across the movement, but on a level that is more appropriate for the social setting created by a musical event.

This type of concert, reminiscent of an eclectic music festival but also with the feel of an open mic, is very effective in extending the efforts that are going on in streets, public squares and parks around the country. It allows a different form of social engagement to take place, between the creation-consumption of culture and the act of protest. It consciously rejects the bland consumerism that is usually so ingrained in the creation-consumption of culture. Bringing people together for the purpose of enjoying music, and claiming association with the mythical 99 percent allows Occustock to prove that rules, permits and restrictions are weaker than the will of the collective, either in planning a last-minute series of outdoor concerts or occupying a public space. This re-imagining and mythologizing of collective agency in the public space is always an important part of sustaining and spreading a movement, and significantly one can observe a self-conscious process of hashing out new myths and narratives at music events like Occustock, suggesting that “protest music” still has some social efficacy despite having somewhat changed its form since the days of Woodstock.

* credit for “Rock-upy” goes to the Occustock Facebook fan page
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