Why Schafer is not a Canadian artist

While writing an essay one of R. Murray Schafer's works last year, I encountered a rather disturbing quote of his:

I am opposed to [immigration in Canada] since I consider the country already overpopulated. Canada’s most urgent problem is the discovery of an identity, an issue in no way served by the receipt of more strangers. (58)*

"Strangers", said the man, turning up his nose and thumbing the "GENUINE CANADIAN" badge that he had pinned on his lapel that morning.

We are all strangers.

When I encountered that quote, I was willing to cut Schafer a little slack, thinking that he might have good things to say otherwise about Canadian identity. His notes for the piece "North/White" however (which was performed by the Esprit Orchestra last night at Koerner Hall), revived the initial shock and disgust I felt upon reading that quote the first time. A glance through his program notes will likely quell any suspicion that I am wrong when I say that Schafer is not a Canadian artist.

These are the notes for North/White:

I call this piece North/White because, like white light,
which is composed of all visible frequencies, it combines all the producible notes of the symphony orchestra from the deepest to the highest instruments.

The North is not described by the adjective “pretty” and neither is this piece. North/White is inspired by the rape of the Canadian North. This rape is being carried out by the nation’s government in conspiracy with business and industry. The instruments of destruction are pipelines and airstrips, highways and snowmobiles.

But more than the environment is being destroyed by these actions, for, just as the moon excursions destroyed the mythogenic power of the moon (it ceased to be poetry and became property), Canadians are about to be deprived of the “idea of North,” which is at the core of the Canadian identity. The North is a place of austerity, of spaciousness and loneliness; the North is pure; the North is temptationless. These qualities are forged into the mind of the Northerner; his temperament is synonymous with them.

There are few true Canadians and they are not to be found in cities. They do not sweat in discotheques, eat barbecued meat-balls or watch late movies on television. They do not live in high-rise apartments, preferring a clean space to the smell of neighbours’ spaghetti.

But these few remainders from an authentic time are apparently to be sacrificed and the North, like the South and the West and the East, is to be broken by men and machines.

That, at least, is the design which the little technocrats of progress have planned. They seek not only to civilize the North but to civilize the imagination of the North. They do not realize that when they chop into the North they chop up the integrity of their own minds, blocking the awe-inspiring mysteries with gas stations and reducing their legends to plastic dolls.

The idea of North is a Canadian myth.

Without a myth a nation dies.

This piece is dedicated to the splendid and indestructible idea of North.

He goes further to say:

"North and East are the only directions that interest me: the East for sunlight, warmth, history and mythology; the North for purity and austerity. For me the West is just cowboys and chopsticks, and the South symbolizes tropical humidity and laziness. And so, having written East and North/White, I let matters stand."

In lieu of a rant, I have written Mr. Schafer a short letter explaining my feelings. (EDIT 11/18/09: This is of course a hypothetical letter. I have no interest in actually sending it.)

Dear Mr. Schafer:

Snowshoeing your way along a self-prescribed "Canadian" path only serves to cement the impression I had of you through your music, which is self-important and played only because you have managed to trick a sufficiently large group of people into thinking that it has some profound higher meaning. The world has left you and your romantic babble behind, Mr. Schafer, and for the better. There is no threat of losing our myth, for the North will always remain the North - waiting for those who seek it, and seeping into our subconscious on the coldest of winter nights. But our identity transcends mere weather conditions or physical manifestations of isolation. It is often anchored by these realities, but it is as diverse as its people, who are here to stay and who belong here.

And for all your complaints about modern culture, you sure seem to soak up every ounce you can. Wasn't it you I saw at the Grand Opening Festival Dinner, a table at which cost $10 000? Oh, it was. And do the wolves and sled dogs howl out your tunes when you can't find performers or an audience to appreciate them? Oh, you don't have to...because the non-Canadian cities provide you with both. I see...

You are not a Canadian artist, Mr. Schafer. You neither understand, nor care to understand, what that truly means.

Sincerely,

David Lacalamita

*Schafer, R. Murray. Patria and the Theatre of Confluence. Indian River, ON: Arcana Editions, c1991

A (treasure) hunt for craftsmanship

I originally wanted to continue the I Heart Aesthetics saga and discuss "good" and "bad" music as objectively as the last two entries. I may still do that, but in the meantime, I want to discuss craftsmanship and my own potential limitations as a music critic in hearing any sign of it in the music of the band Treasure Hunt. Have a listen to a song in which I can appreciate the craftsmanship, and then listen to some Treasure Hunt:





There’s something to be said for craftsmanship. The Think About Life tune, for example, is actually a very subtle composition despite being based on a fairly simple musical idea (the bass line and clavichord combo). Multiple layers are slowly added to enhance the build; there is a clear climax and a satisfying denouement; there is an interesting non-repeating section (“Ah, in the summer sun, dancing in the gay clubs”) in which the bass line does a little dance, and the vocal style is unique and interesting. It shows some serious skill to be able to push a simple bass line for 3 minutes 45 seconds. I could say more about it, but I’ll let you discover its subtleties. Let’s move on to Treasure Hunt and to the real subject of this entry.

It’s hard to see craftsmanship in something like the music Treasure Hunt plays, which seems to be based on the belief that being loud has artistic merit. It’s kind of like how certain artists get away with bad art because they make it two stories tall. Their music rejects continuity in favour of abrupt juxtapositions, rejects the full spectrum from sound to silence in favour of the extremes, and it attempts coherence through repetition. With two drummers, it is also clearly more about rhythm than anything else. While these are worthy musical ideas, when I encountered them in Treasure Hunt’s set at the POP Montreal festival in October, I really really did hate it. The problem was that nothings stuck; the music just bounced right off of me so that when the set was done, I couldn’t tell how many songs had been played or in what ways one piece (there was no singing) was different than the next. I felt completely disoriented, with absolutely no musical landmarks, no way to establish expectations and feel surprised, and no real change in mood throughout.

I find it difficult, in general, to appreciate art in which I can’t find subtlety, which is problematic because the only way to appreciate subtlety is to understand genre, form, and a whole slew of other musical elements. No single critic, therefore, can be expected to accurately critique every type of music. My evaluation of Treasure Hunt obviously has “flaws”, because a lot of people seemed to appreciate it.* And the bands from which the members originally came (Wintersleep, Hot Hot Heat and Wolf Parade) are all fairly decent, well-established bands, so these musicians aren’t amateurs and this is all obviously quite intentional. But it’s actually baffling. Why would a competent musician put out music like this? Is this, perhaps, a genre which I know nothing about and is it therefore a fault of my own that I find no subtlety in this? As someone who strives to know something about music, should I be educating myself until I can?

Thoughts encouraged.


*The band that played after Treasure Hunt was Oh No Forest Fires, the lead singer of which said “Did you all see Treasure Hunt? You know that nasty old stripper that comes on at the strip club after the young sexy ones do their thing? Yeah, I feel like that stripper right now.” Which I am fairly certain he meant as a compliment to them.

Doubletalk?

While I'm all for using outside references to describe music (an inherently difficult thing to do), I might draw the line when your description of a band tells your average music lover absolutely nothing.

This is taken from Sergio Elmir's article in Exclaim! on Global Propaganda. I know I don't know anything about reggae or world music, but shouldn't I at least be able to get the picture?

"Caballo's third album is an extension of a uniquely global drum & bass sound that Caballo's been developing over time."

Okay, you think..."global"...cool adjective. I thinkI get it. \frown

"His ragga-heavy, politically charged rhymes travel across borders on the back of dubby bass lines while bouncing along to Balkan beats and cumbia riddims."

... So... ?

"The album ranges from glitch-y Balkan dub to dark dub-step to old school drum & bass flavour."

Now, if I want to know anything about this music, I have to go look up all of these terms, which completely defeats the purpose of reading an article. How about shortening the whole thing to "Do you like political world music you've never heard of? Check this band out!"

I get a very pretentious vibe from this write-up. Unless "Balkan beats" are a sound everyone knows about I just don't...

The Future of Music

There is an interesting article in this month's Exclaim! about the 2009 Transmission music conference. This is apparently a North American (maybe just Canadian - a bit unclear from their website) organization that puts together conferences about the entertainment industry. This is not the interesting part. Writer Allison Outhit aims a provocative suggestion at music industry folk: Is music more about music or about making money off of music?

"One fundamental question that never gets posed," she says, "not even at Transmission, is whether it's right that we continue to base all discussions on the future of music on the premise that only through its commodification can we truly 'value' music."

As I try to start up my own band, the inevitable question "why" has been easy to answer for me: because I love making it, and because other people like consuming it and perhaps there's a chance we might scratch each other's back. Even if I never get paid a dime, I'll still play/write. I think Radiohead has got it right: the future of music is free. Call me naive, but I still believe that if at some point, people want me to drop everything else I'm doing and just make music, then they'll come out to shows and buy merch and give what they can give for tracks. Until then, I'll continue to work and make music on the side.

I hope the industry never manages to resurrect the cash cow that music once was. But I'd be interested to hear an economist's opinion.