I think that we picked a great set of songs. They have everything we’re looking for in a standard pop song, but are different enough from each other that we can separate them.
To me, it seemed the biggest way to categorize the songs is by song structure: How did the use of instrumentation and emphasis on the refrain affect the bridge? Generally, the two seemed to go together, and I came up with two different poles and then most of other songs.
On one end was Lil’ Mama’s “Lip Gloss”, with virtually no instrumentation and a heavy emphasis on the refrain. Rihanna and Beyonce are very close on the spectrum. The bridges on these songs all seem tacked on and almost like an intrusion to the song. Especially with “Lip Gloss”
On the other end is F.K.O., with more instrumentation, but no real refrain. Wu Tang is similar. They go verse after verse with only once or twice interrupting for a very brief “Protect ya neck”.
My question is how do these song structures affect the inherent purpose and reception of the songs? Can the structures work rhetorically independently of the lyrics?
Also, if we want to talk about the lyrics, here’s something interesting I noticed. In each of the songs, especially the hip hop, the performer carried their own ethos. Lauren Hill told us the importance of real hip hop, Beyonce gave an F-you to committal-phobic men, Snoop Dogg smokes weed etc. To me it seemed that the only performer that didn’t carry their own ethos was Rihanna. Jay-Z shows up at the beginning of the song to basically tell us that she’s with him and we should listen to her, then he disappears. Did that seem strange to anyone else or am I just thinking to much?
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ReplyDeleteWatch this immediately after the Beyonce video!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KU3N5c2Kxnw
Jonny, I think you happened to draw the week with most challenging readings--is this just me? I am still struggling to weave additional (functional) understanding out of these selections, and I hope that the blog posts and our in-class discussion can give me a nudge.
ReplyDeleteResponding to your question in light of the readings, I am wondering if I can frame your question within the explanation that Middleton offers of musematic and discursive repetition. As defined, "Musematic repetition is the repetition of short units; the most immediately familiar examples--riffs--are found in African-American musics and in rock. Discursive repetition is the repetition of longer units, at the level of the phrase."
I saw these as handy useful methodological tools for handling/approaching musical analysis--something that can offer relatively quantifiable units of assessment to help reviewers avoid some of the subjective reification that can occur when performing song analysis. Although I think Middleton explains these forms of repetition in very simplistic and limited ways (can musematic repetition really be limited to specific genres/traditions? Seems a very undialogic way of thinking), I appreciate having something as take-away.
With musematic/discursive reptition in mind, and getting back to your original question, I can see how maybewe might gain a more firm grasp on the slippery idea of structure and be able to group these songs together based on a benchmark (forms of repetition). The problem I am having is a sort of implication of Middleton's (and this might be me reading too much in here), that there is a better or more aesthetically preferable use of repetition that would render these songs more effective, structurally, than others. This starts to draw hard lines--something I don't want to do. I know what works for me, but again, I see how consideration of repetition/structure can run the risk of again establishing aesthetic hierarchies.
I think Jonny gives us a savvy breakdown of the different song structures we’re looking at in this selection. While I never quite feel comfortable rhetorically splicing music and lyrics (I think the power of lyrics is linked inexorably to melody and chord structure), I’m willing to consider structure on its own as a rhetorical device.
ReplyDeleteI’m going to turn again to the idea of style (can we define “style” loosely enough to include musical structure?) as the fourth rhetorical appeal. These songs may not make actual arguments (okay, “If you like it then you should’ve put a ring on it” may be an argument, but I don’t think the song’s main function is to assert this claim) but they are each devised to have a certain effect on the listener, an artist-audience relationship we might call rhetoric.
And catchiness is a valuable rhetorical asset. (Yes We Can! for instance.) So, most of these songs stick with people because of their choruses, and are thus structured around the chorus. In these cases (“Umbrella,” “Single Ladies”), as Jonny notes, the bridge might feel almost like an afterthought—a ploy to keep the song from becoming too repetitious, but still repetitious enough that you’ll sing, “ella, ella, ella,” to yourself for a week straight. Elvis Costello, I’d say, puts a little more meat into the bridge of “Oliver’s Army,” but even here the chorus is what lodges in your mind. The standard verse-chorus-bridge formula is ubiquitous in pop music because it rhetorically works.
As a little addendum, I think the structure of “Protect Ya Neck” is interesting because it subverts this pop formula. There isn’t much of a chorus; instead, the song features each member of the group one by one. It almost seems akin to jazz, where each group member takes his “solo” and the performance of the piece takes precedent over its composition.
You're not the only one struggling to locate a functional methodology, Joe. More than delineating a particular process that can be used for a new music theory, as Krims would call it, the readings this week demonstrated, at least for me, the problems that arise when fields and their many methodologies act with, upon, and against each other. As I listened to the selections, I imagined the criticisms that a classically trained music theorist could level at an attempt to discuss "Umbrella" in terms of Middleton's two types of repetition or by using words like "hard" to talk about rap. In terms of ethnography, I couldn't help but think of all the traps that seem to surface when talking about songs and music as culture making. Who decides what a song does and for whom? How do we view song making in relation to power and the means of production? Should we even attempt such questions? Each reading seemed to search for a way to ground discussions of music and purposely complicate the idea of actually finding solid ground at the same time. Whew.
ReplyDeleteWhile my gut is that he is creating a binary that is a bit easy, I do appreciate Krims' attempt to relegate discussions of musical textual analyses to the realm of "poetics" and broader cultural and social theories to new "music theory." At the very least, it highlights possible places to begin talking about pop songs, although, clearly, text, sound, structure, and function overlap. I cannot imagine discussing "Lip Gloss" without mentioning the repetition in the text itself—in terms of rhythm, lyrics, harmony spots, etc. Then again, it seems equally important to mention that the song lyrics create an advertisement for cosmetics companies. The song is a commodity selling other commodities. Simultaneously, it could be read as utilizing a convention in rap music, the rapper's boasting, only to critique it. Where is the ethos, or what is boastworthy in terms of rap conventions, in wearing "poppin'" lip gloss?
With so many possibilities for investigating a text, how do we choose a methodology that meets our (ethical) motives for investigating it in the first place? This seems like an important question to answer before using pop songs as "texts" in the classroom, as I confess I do, though my answer to this question is not solidified.
As an aside, in case anyone is interested, I've included the link to the Danny Hoch PSA (it's a little over three minutes long) briefly mentioned in class last time. I didn't do Mr. Hoch, acclaimed hip-hop performance artist, justice in describing his take on hip-hop culture versus rap, and I think his "PSA" definitely relates to Krims' discussion on pages 10 and 11. It may be interesting to discuss how Hoch's and Krims' views of rap and hip-hop intersect and differ and how they illuminate/complicate the cultural workings of rap and hip-hop.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YbqNdTdcvV0
First, I'd like to address Johnny's second question/subject because I found it the most relevant to the Middleton readings. In terms of ethos, I found it logical that Beyonce, Lil Mama, Lily Allen, Snoop Dogg, and Lauren Hill, specifically, did not need someone (another well-known artist) or something (the way Rihanna needed a little pre-song pep talk to the crowd) to boost their credibility. I think this is, one, due to the fact that they are all rap artists (although I know Lily Allen might be a stretch). And rap artists believe-ability is based on their reputations/authenticity. If I am listening to their music, I assume, more than I would a pop artist, that they have some experience with their subject matter. For example, Snoop Dog references the use of crack when he says, "Jack be nimble, Jack be quick/ Jack up the spoon on the candlestick." I hear him as experiencing this in first person. And also, he's specific in his examples, using imagery of a spoon and flame. I recognize him as an authentic rap artist (yes, different from hip-hop) because of his reputation of covering other topics including gang violence, more specifically identifying as a Crip. Secondly, and maybe this should not be part of our discussion, but I find it hard to ignore, was the fact that majority of these songs were alongside videos. Almost all of them were official videos. No doubt, created for MTV or public viewing in order to enhance their ethos and portray the song lyrics or a persona of the artist.
ReplyDeleteAddressing the first question, do I think the songs can work rhetorically independently of the lyrics? Simple answer, no. I don't think they can. This is first because songs like "Lip Gloss," "Put a Ring On It" and "Umbrella" rely so heavily on discursive movement. I remember Beyonce's leotard and metallic arm band, her swaying hips and breath intake, Rihanna's refrain "Umbrella, ella, ella, aye, aye... " as I do the instrumental structure. I would argue, more, even. It is both the musematic repetition (used best in "Lip Gloss") and the discursive repetition of chorus (used in "Put a Ring On It") that push the songs along. Meaning, it is the repeating or chorus lines that remain with the audience after the song has commenced. Especially with pop songs, there is a connection with the lyrics/refrain as much as there is with the beat/musical structure of the song. I imagined the days when I still listened to the radio, how I described a song to a friend. The two ways I did it were either to hum the melody or sing the musematic/discursive repetition. I swayed with the music or the chorus. Or was it both? It must have been both. I have a difficult time making a distinction, with pop music, between what I remember, the lyrics or the weak/simple instrumental structure.
Taking a more in-depth look at Ben's addendum might be a worthwhile endeavor. To my thinking, the notion of performance over composition ought to be regarded as a highlight of rhetorical appeal in modern popular and/or hip hop music. I may be taking liberties here in the direction of our study, but I think it is interesting to note that five out of nine of our selections were music videos. (I have not included Lauryn Hill, as the video on Youtube was removed before I viewed it.) Visual performance is quite obviously becoming more and more of a concentration within popular music, especially with the rise of technologies that allow such visual performances to be viewed easily and regularly. (Feel free to blame Jim Porter for my focus here.)
ReplyDeleteSuch visual performativity is (arguably) meant to underscore the arguments/themes/genres expressed in music through lyrics and, the topic of our discussion, structure. I have often considered music that is created for dancing as well as for listening aesthetics to be inextricably linked with the movements (or structure) of the dance (i.e. the waltz, etc.). Ben has mentioned the connection between lyrics and melody and chord structure. And with this in mind, I believe there is a certain tension between the structure of these songs and the visual performance, especially regarding dance. My basis for this lies within the emphasis placed in modern dance upon originality and improvisation. The disjointed nature of the lyrics (linking bridge, verse, and chorus—or at least musematic and discursive repetition) speaks to this modern love affair with seeming improvisational (or reactionary?) lyrics, structure, and dance.
Perhaps it is subversive to tie an aural experience with a kinetic and visual appeal, but in dealing with the rhetoric of poetry, and of much prose, we do take format (shape or pattern) into account as well as form (content and organization). Am I completely off-base here?
I’m thinking about Jonny’s question – How do song structures affect the inherent purpose and reception of the songs? Can these structures work rhetorically independent of the lyrics? – and I’m trying to draw upon the assigned readings and the music to give some sort of answer, but I’m sort of at a loss. One of my reasons for posting the Wu-Tang song had to do with structure; compared to the other tracks on the 36 Chambers album, the “Protect Ya Neck” track is markedly linear in structure. So I think I’ll try and answer Jonny’s question with Wu-Tang in mind. I don’t know what the purpose of “Protect Ya Neck” is – the song probably has multiple purposes, entertainment being one of them – but I know that it was the first song recorded and self-released by Wu-Tang. So, I’m guessing one of the song’s purposes was to introduce Wu-Tang Clan to the listening audience. This makes sense when thinking about how the song is structured. Eight of the nine members of the Wu-Tang collective are featured on this song. It almost sounds as if the mic is being passed from person to person and each is introducing himself by his “flow”. The vocals and delivery are further showcased by the muted instrumentation/beat in the background as well as by the absence of any chorus/bridge interruptions. In answering Jonny’s question with this specific Wu-Tang track in mind, I’m tempted to say that the structure of the song and the lyrics are informing and enriching one another, rather than working independently. I see the song structure and lyrics performing similar work to introduce the audience (though I guess it would be the original 1993 audience) to each member of the band as well as to the Wu-Tang Clan as a whole (particularly to the Clan’s obsession with obscure kung fu films, which will be reiterated throughout the entire album). Structurally, the music begins and ends with an audio excerpt – a few notes, plus some fighting sounds – pulled from a kung fu film called Executioners from Shaolin. Lyrically, the song contains additional kung fu references, for example U-god says something like “here comes my Shoalin style.” It’s hard to say how these obscure references/allusions/appropriations, present in both the structure of the song and the lyrics, affect the reception of the song. For me, in terms of how I receive the song, Wu-Tang’s use of kung fu jingles/terminology/fighting sounds situates the song in a battle-field-like setting and vaguely connects the physical violence of kung fu with the violent aesthetic of the MC’s flow. (GZA even seems to be profiling the opponent in the last verse of the song, as a rapper whose A and R person climbs mountains and plays electric guitars.) The Wu-Tang Clan also seems to be drawing deliberate parallels between the practice of kung fu fighting and rapping: both are practices that must be mastered; both are the result of a specific school of training associated with a geographic location (i.e. Shaolin = Staten Island).
ReplyDeleteOne of the tenuous links in my mind between the readings for this week exists between Krims's claim that rap music "participates in identity formation..." (8) (and was it Krims also who claimed that this id formation occurred in both the audience and the artist? hope so) and Middleton's assertion that repetition (a component in most, if not all, music, including rap) is "often associated with the phenomenon of being 'sent', particularly in relation to 'hypnotic' rhythmic repetitions and audience trance: a collective loss of the self" (19). Of all the binaries exposed or constructed by the two authors we read this week, this is the one that interests me most, though I guess in the end, this isn't really a binary at all: the identification with song and subsequent loss of self. This is related to Johnny's second question concerning the performer's ethos, as well as our readings, for the construction of ethos in music is layered, and what Krims talks about concerning rap (place, poetics) and Middleton (repetition [... to focus on just a few areas]) all work to construct identity in music. The ethos of the performer is something the audience can latch onto, and perhaps, through myriad devices-- of which one is repetition-- the listener can perform an erasure of sorts that ultimately functions as the formation of an identity. (I think we are even practitioners of this, to some extent: look at our "pop" selections for this week. Identity in current pop culture seems unapologetically linked to music tastes.)
ReplyDeleteThis argument seems a little dangerous-- and seems to discredit the audience's volition, as if everyone were listening, entranced, waiting to be inscribed with an identity (anyone see the Josie and the Pussycats movie?)-- which doesn't seem right/fair. But what I'm interested in talking about is something I started thinking about last week: that audiences go to certain artists for certain things, even certain selves. And this is delivered not only by emulating or identifying with an artist's persona, but by finding meaning in the music itself-- which resonates for many reasons, one of which is repetition.
I think it's interesting that Johnny pointed out Rihanna as the only example of borrowed ethos; I think part of how Snoop's song "My Medicine" works is by borrowing from Johnny Cash's ethos. Similar to "Umbrella," there's an introduction at the beginning (though done in this case by the singer himself,) and Snoop goes on to give one of the more ludicrous tributes to a dead, formerly drug-abusing pop icon that I've ever heard. Scratch that, I think this one wins. Sure, Snoop, as a Crip gangster, rapper, etc., has enough credibility to carry this song's lyrics on his own-- but the music. This song is twangy, almost bluegrass... Snoop hasn't done this before.; this generally isn't the sound of rap. But the borrowed ethos works in the song. I wonder how it would have worked without the tongue-in-cheek, without the dedication? I like to think that the listeners who come to Snoop for a certain aesthetic/identity/ethos/what have you found their " complicated.
This post is mostly in response to the first question. I’m interested in how much the sound, in particular, the way the artist delivers the rhythm, or beat, contributes to the rhetoric of the song. In other words, how we can draw rhetorical meaning from the "beat" alone?
ReplyDeleteWhile listening to the selections—particularly the hip hop ones—I thought about a time in college when I started really having an interest hip hop and I told one of my professors this (one I’d admired quite a bit). She said, “Doesn’t it all sound the same?” At the time I just thought, “no,” but not until this week did I start to really understand the variety. Maybe she was referring to the lack of melody, or the repetition of melody that occurs maybe more frequently in this type of music. I think I’m most impressed by how much leverage the artists get out of the sounds; the creative ways they communicate, just with the type of bass used, or the ways in which the artists deliver the beat/rhythm. I’m thinking particularly of the “Lip Gloss” song—how the beat is simplified to clapping and what sounds like hands beating on cafeteria table tops. I don’t know who came up with this idea, but I thought it helped create, not only a youthful impact, but it took me right back to my high school; it seemed to create a setting for the song. Atmosphere, maybe.
With this in mind, I’m thinking about Krim’s article, how he says that identity comes from the sound more than in rock music (p.3). I wish I could have read more of what he had to say about this. He nodded to it, mentioning that rappers have terms for different kinds of sound (hard, for example, on p. 31). I think he mentions later that it’s what chapter two will be about.
I was also interested in his point, on p. 43, that rap music is often about the subject of rap. The Lauryn Hill song I posted is an example of this—it’s a critique. This reminded me of Kanye West’s song “Crack Music,” which I think threads the subjects of drugs and the music industry and politics, revealing how these influence each other and, in the end, hinder the African American community. Here’s a fan produced video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eZfq0BDug40
This song is another example of creativity in the way the artist delivers the rhythm—it sounds like a drum core, which adds to meaning. I think that in this instance, the drums work well to emphasize the rhetoric in the lyrics.