Hand Shakes, Cultural Responsiveness, and Precision in Language and Thought

This week, our world music class read an article by Carlos R. Abril entitled Toward a More Culturally Responsive General Music Classroom. At the end of class, each student filled out a short questionnaire on the topic of cultural responsiveness. The last question asked something like "what is one of your concerns/fears regarding your cultural responsiveness in the classroom?" to which I answered that I fear the possibility that I will someday(s) falter in my precision of language and thought, and fall into the trap of wording a question or response in a culturally unresponsive manner without realizing it.

Coincidentally, I had a conversation with a close friend yesterday that touched on this very concern. This friend, whom I will call Frank, made the point that in "other cultures" hand-shakes can be performed very differently than they often are "here." For example, according to Frank, in India 2 or more persons will maintain the grip and motion of a hand-shake throughout a transaction, say to buy something at a market, which is much different than "how we usually shake hands."

At this point in the conversation, I began feeling a bit puzzled, as I have shaken hands many times with many people and in many different ways: some people shake with smaller motions, and some bigger; some persons will make multiple motions after the initial grip is established (up and down repeatedly), while others perform a single up-down motion before releasing the grip; still others make no motion at all while their hands are in contact. The grip used can vary greatly as well. For example, a former bass teacher of mine has a very strong grip, and so I have to use equal strength when shaking his hand to congratulate him after a performance, lest my hand be crushed. When meeting a lady for the first time, I tend to use a light touch and let her hand drape over mine, as I was once taught that this was proper in many instances.

I tried questioning Frank to determine what kind of hand shake "we usually use," but he was not able to, or not interested in, demonstrating for me, and so we moved on in our conversation. I felt I was put in a somewhat tough position at this point. In my mind, I thought I had to make a decision whether or not to probe Frank with further questioning and possibly pointing out to him that not everyone's hand-shake "here" [in America, I assume] follows the same format, and that he should be aware of this and demonstrate that awareness through better word choice; would I sternly point this out in front of a mutual friend in the car with us, potentially eliciting push-back from Frank in an attempt by him to save face? In the end, I elected to let this point go for the sake of diplomacy in the moment, and to keep it in mind in case a similar conversation ever occurs between us.

I wish I had had a better opportunity to address this issue with Frank, because in the process I could have accomplished some important social objectives: 1) I would have gained greater insight into Frank's cultural disposition, and learned which what sort of hand-shake he is most familiar and in what context(s) he most often shakes hands; 2) I would have helped Frank to improve the precision of his language and thought regarding the norms of one culture versus another (for example, how "I" usually shake hands, rather than how "we" usually do), and to better anticipate the need for a demonstration of something like a hand-shake to clarify his examples. In my music classroom, wherever and whomever I teach, I will have to work to accomplish these objectives all the time.

Games, Phoney Folk, and a Singing Dog

Just a quick disclaimer: the tune featured in the above video is from a video game soundtrack, and like many video game tunes it is designed to loop forever until a specific change happens within the game to trigger a cut-off or fade-out. In other words, you do not need to play the whole 10-minute video to hear the whole tune; the whole form, including the intro which does not repeat, plays in just the first 52 seconds.

This tune is entitled K. K. Condor is one of my favorite tunes from the soundtrack of the video game Super Smash Bros. Brawl. It is performed by the fictional character K. K. Slider, originally in the game Animal Crossing. It is influenced by South American First Nation music, specifically the tune Song of the Condor, which can be downloaded or otherwise purchased from Smithsonian Folkways from the page linked to. This influence is evident in the similarities of instrumentation and form; the forms of the two pieces are similar, with sections featuring whistling (K. K. Condor) or a high-pitched flute (Song of the Condor), though in the original these sections would alternate with ones featuring a chordophone sounding parallel thirds whereas in K. K. Condor these sections instead feature the vocables used by K. K. Slider in his many songs. Both pieces feature accompaniment on a strummed chordophone with similar rhythmic patterns, though Song of the Condor also features what sounds to me like one or more membranophones, or drums.

In addition to the structures of the two pieces bearing similarities, the tuning of K. K. Slider's whistling is used in an interesting way. As in some other video game tunes I've heard in my many years of gaming, most of the parts in K. K. Condor are very well in-tune (the guitar and vocables), but at least one part is purposefully out-of-tune (the whistling). This was definitely intended, as the digital nature of most video games makes the pitch content very easy to control and make consistent, and K. K. Condor's whistling in this tune and others is consistently out-of-tune. This suggests to me intent by the composer to fit the whistling to K. K. Slider's character; he is basically a singer-songwriter or solo folk musician, self-accompanied on acoustic guitar, and therefore is likely to be self-taught or lacking formal training as reflected by his whistling intonation being poor.

This piece is a great example of what video game soundtracks often are: pieces of music in pre-established styles or fusions of said styles. I like to think that my experience gaming since kindergarten has left me more exposed and open to a wide variety of musical styles than I otherwise would have been, even if tunes like K. K. Condor are not the most authentic settings of those styles.

Is a Given Example of World Music Typical of The Culture it Represents?

http://youtu.be/DY1pcEtHI_w

Video linked to:

Title of video: "Tuvan Throat Singing"
Title of piece: Not listed
Performer: Name not listed
Culture: Tuva

In the article "Music That Represents Culture: Selecting Music with Integrity," Carlos R. Abril discusses the process of finding world music materials that are truly representative of the cultures from which they arise. One important point mentioned is that one must take into account whether a musical example--be it notation, audio, video, etc.--presents typical aspects of a given culture. With little information provided in this video's description, it can be difficult to say whether said video shows typical aspects of Tuvan throat singing and Tuvan culture. I think that the example is at least somewhat typical of a throat singing performance for a few reasons: 1) The musical characteristics--simple rhythmic accompaniment on chordophone, pentatonic mode, vocal timbre, etc.--seem to mesh with those seen in other videos of Tuvan and Mongolian throat singing performances on YouTube, as does 2) the dress of the performer in the context of musician-performing-for-large-audience. This video also takes place outside, which is where this music would have been sung anyway; the sounds involved are meant to imitate those found in nature, such as bird sounds (high overtone whistling) and more. I am unsure as to whether the audience-performer dynamic is typical of pure, everyday performance because the performer seems dressed somewhat formally and the setup of the audience (in great numbers; all facing one way toward the performer like in a concert hall) is also, I think, comparatively formal.

Thinking About Creating Efficient and Intuitive Beat-Counting Systems

In chapter 3 of Thinking Musically (3rd edition), the author discusses some of the many ways in which time can be and is used as an organizing principle in music. A part of the reading that stuck out for me was the section on pages 75 and 76 that lists the strings of syllables used in India for counting macro- and micro-beats, or the beat and subdivisions of the beat. The basics of the counting system are as follows:

• "Ta" = a single beat, or the macro-beat
• "Ta ka" = a macro-beat subdivided into two micro-beats
• "Ta ki ta" = subdivision into three micro-beats
• "Ta ka di mi" = subdivision into four micro-beats
• Various strings of these fundamental subdivisions are used, up through a pattern containing 9 micro-beats: "Ta ka Ta ki ta Ta ka di mi" (2+3+4)

The author refers to this system as "the most systematically worked out organization for subdividing beats that [she has] encountered...." While on the surface this system seems to me adequate (I have listened to some Indian classical music, mostly Hindustani or North Indian, but I have not studied it extensively), if I were to construct my own system for counting beats and subdivisions, which I may eventually, that system would be very different.

One of the gripes I have with the Indian beat-counting system outlined above is that every kind of macro-beat, no matter what number of micro-beats are contained therein, begins with the same syllable: "Ta." This would be somewhat advantageous in that "Ta" would, to the listener, always mean the on-beat, or first micro-beat within a macro-beat, except that "ta" is also the sound that denotes the third of three micro-beats in "Ta ki ta." Even if this other "ta" were replaced with some other syllable to avoid the confusion between on- and off-beats, there would still be the issue that I, as a listener, cannot know how many micro-beats to expect within a given micro-beat until I have heard the second syllable in one of the fundamental subdivision patterns, if there is one (keep in mind that "Ta" can exist by itself as well, with no further subdivision).  For example, if I say "Ta," there is no way that another person listening would know, upon hearing my piece or improvisation for the first time, whether I am going to follow that with "ka," "ki," or nothing prior to the next "Ta." Similarly, both the subdivision pattern for two micro-beats and that for four micro-beats follow "Ta" with "ka," meaning that after hearing these two syllables one still would not be able to say with certainty whether to expect "di mi" or nothing between "ka" and the next "Ta."

In conclusion, I while I am glad that the Indian counting system presented in the text is somewhat versatile, including basic units of subdivision up through 4 macro-beats and allowing for various combinations of said units, I think that an even more thorough system could easily be, and should be, developed, ideally one wherein each basic unit of subdivision began with, and completely comprised, unique syllables, and also wherein each beat within a measure had its own on-beat syllable. Perhaps there already has been a system created that satisfies these parameters, but I have not found one; other counting systems in frequent use--"du-ta-deh-ta" and "ta ta ti ti ta"--have similar issues to those I listed above, namely recycling of few syllables for use in multiple contexts leading to conflicting information and necessarily slowing down the decoding of them.

I may touch on the topic of creating efficient, intuitive musical solfege systems in future blog posts, as I have much interest in the topic.  I have even created my own solfege system for pitch: a modified and, I think, optimized version of traditional fixed- and movable-Do solfege.

Two Chinese Pieces on Pipa

Title:  “A Moonlit Night On The Spring River” and “Ambush from 10 Sides”

Performers:  Vivian Ge

Culture:  Chinese

Orchestration:  Pipa

            Here’s another video that includes performance as well as some verbal explanation of the tradition from which come the music and the performer.  According to miss Ge, the Pipa has a history of over two thousand years.  That’s coming from a musical history—Chinese musical history—of upwards of 7000 years!  It’s awesome that these traditions have been preserved for so long…

            Or have they?  One of the most important bits of cultural context I’ve gotten from my reading about China has involved political and musical reform implemented since 1949, when the People’s Republic of China was established and a new movement to unite the peoples of China through music began.  New musical genres, especially involving large, westernized ensembles (like traditional European classical orchestras, but with Chinese instruments), were created for the purpose of popularizing guoyue, or literally “music of the nation.”  Since then, much appreciation has been shown for folk genres, instruments, and musicians, and conservatories have been established for the purpose of producing highly skilled musicians.

This brings me to the topic of authenticity.  How do we know that the music performed in this video is authentic?  Vivian Ge doesn’t actually say that she’s playing folk music, although she does mention that the Pipa “has always had the title of being the king of folk music.”  I don’t know how much formal training, if any, miss Ge has received, but I guess it’s possible that this performance is pretty close to authentic or way off.

Ravi Shankar, Alla Rakha - Tabla Solo in Jhaptal

Title:  Tabla Solo in Jhaptal

Performers:  Ustad Allah Rakha Khan (co-hosted by Ravi Shankar)

Culture:  Hindustani classical music, often referred to as North Indian classical music or Shāstriya Sangīt

Orchestration:  Tabla (includes right-hand drum “tabla” and left-hand drum “baya”)

Indian classical music fascinates me, and it is really cool to see a segment of a performance dedicated to some explanation of the tabla.  Something that continues to impress me about this music is the thoroughness with which the system within it has been organized and categorized.  For instance, that each of the sounds produced on the table and baya has a corresponding syllable, as demonstrated by the two musicians in the video, is really awesome because this probably allows well-practiced Indian classical musicians to communicate about the denoted sounds and rhythms much more effectively than if they were all just sort of using their own idiosyncratic sets of onomatopoeia to discuss them.  I wonder how long the use of these syllables has been a part of the North Indian classical music tradition and how helpful they have been in transmitting teachings of the music to later generations.

Song of the Grass-Mud Horse (Cao Ni Ma)

Title:  Song of the Grass-Mud Horse (Cao Ni Ma)

Composer/Performer(s):  Protesters of Chinese censorship of free speech (2^nd video: plus Ai Weiwei, influential Chinese artist and political activist)

Culture:  Chinese

Orchestration:  Voices (either children or altered (pitch-raised) adults.  I’m not sure.); some typical western traditional orchestral instruments (synthesized, I think) including flute, xylophone, and percussion.

This piece seems, on the surface very benign—nothing more than some children’s song (at least if you can’t speak Chinese and have only read a very literal translation of the lyrics).  However, the song is filled with phrases that sound much like Chinese profanity.  Censorship and barring of free speech are currently huge issues in China, and this song is a means of protest; real profanity would be censored by the Chinese government, but something that sounds like profanity but isn’t, makes it through.  This is a great example of the people of a culture making music meaningful and useful for them.  The song is useful for protest and venting frustration, and it means, to those who understand spoken Chinese, something very different than what it says.

The second video is of artist and political activist Ai Weiwei singing along with the song as repayment to numerous supporters who helped to pay a fine slapped on him by the Chinese government.  At one point in 2011 Weiwei “disappeared” and was interrogated in secrecy by Chinese officers concerning his protest of the government…for 81 days.  To find out more about Ai Weiwei and issues in China, see the website for the documentary recently done on him, Never Sorry, or, if you have the option, the documentary itself on Netflix (DVD also available?).

Here’s the YouTube description of the first video:

“According to the New York Times, "The Grass-Mud Horse" is a mythical creature whose name in Chinese sounds like "fuck your mother". These horses face a “problem: invading river crabs that are devouring their grassland. In spoken Chinese, river crab sounds very much like harmony, which in Chinas cyberspace has become a synonym for censorship. Censored bloggers often say their posts have been harmonized — a term directly derived from President Hu Jintaos regular exhortations for Chinese citizens to create a harmonious society.

“While grass-mud horse sounds like a nasty curse in Chinese, its written Chinese characters are completely different, and its meaning —taken literally — is benign. Thus, the beast has dodged the Chinese governments efforts to censor information over the Internet that is seditious or inflammatory.

“Xiao Qiang, an adjunct professor of journalism at the University of California, Berkeley, said that the grass-mud horse is an icon of resistance to censorship.
童声合唱：草泥马之歌”