Disruption: the music just leads to aggravation

A response to various readings in cultural studies

Adorno’s model of passive consumption^[1] may in fact sound rather appealing to the rock-as-art elitists here and abroad, those troubled souls still lingering in the ideology of Frith’s self-righteous progressives^[2]. Its criticism of American popular music as mere childish entertainment, and suggestions of outright hegemony, seem congruent with the typical Marxist approach to mass media. And what’s even more, born of these modernist, Marxist traditions, his model provides an exterior in which these “living room couch professors” of music criticism are protected, free to insulate themselves in the avant-garde dogma of their own record collections. And although there is still evidence that Adorno may in fact be correct–the lack of recognizable subcultures in America, for example, is suggestive of an established trend towards passive consumption, which resists appropriation-among the ranks of the cultural theorists, there is little practice of such elitism^[3].

Indeed, the conclusion seems to be that Adorno’s writings must be revised, uprooted from their foundations in “high art” intellectualism, and perhaps even melded with those of Benjamin. The project of cultural studies, seems to be, in this way, merely an attempt to incorporate of all meanings, all practices, all consumption, useless and otherwise, under the crass institutions of commercialism. Capitalism won, by the way. Of course, the rush to celebrate the New Dark Age is frustrated by the theoretical constructs which oppose such democratizing efforts. And while theoreticians like Frith are simply comfortable with mediating a space between Adorno and cultural positivism, the attempts made by latter day authors, like Negus, represent an increasingly hostile approach to this Marxist tradition. The intellectual drift has clearly begun, away from a recognition of otherness, and towards a world in which Gramsci’s Americanism takes form, and is appropriated by the institution as a mere fetish.

The discourse at hand, of course, should deal with this evolving concept of active or creative consumption and its relation to the subculture, or scene, as Straw would undoubtedly define it^[4], in question. However, the method for decoding these practices is hardly clear. Cohen’s noble, yet seemingly dispassionate effort to realize the unnamable in Liverpool^[5] is indeed a triumph of sociological observation, however, her conclusions are rather innocuous. The daily practices of her subject group seem culturally lifeless, apolitical and pointless when presented within her positivist framework. This is indeed not a suitable death for the Saddlecreek. Negus’ interest in the music of the apathetic masses, of course, seems even less fitting. When he urges his readers to examine their own music collections (which, he assumes to be completely fragmented), to prove that there are few true consistent models of consumption, he denies the very possibility of subcultural homology, making a crucial departure from theoretical tradition. Contrary to Negus’ assertions, homology does indeed exist on certain levels–some people actually subscribe to a coherent genre, and consume accordingly–and without its recognition, little can be accomplished.

Instead, one should look to Frith’s Sound Effects for more applicable models of creative consumption. His discussions of “Formalist” approaches to media production are particularly useful when dealing with the Saddlecreek chaps, as they seem, in general, to adhere to the reality-as-a-construct principle. And thus, they act accordingly, doing just as Frith suggests, seizing “the technical means of message production,” amassing cheap, low-fidelity recording equipment, studio spaces, and Localized forms of promotion in an attempt to combat the established constructs of the mass media^[2:1]. Like Frith, they’ve realized the ideological apparatuses necessary to maintain this system, developing fetishes to legitimate these inadequacies. Local studios and regional independent labels, both considered unprofessional by in large, are conceptualized here as a more pure environment for music and four-track recording is discussed by these actors not in terms of its inherent limitations, but rather in terms of its value as a tool for transmitting true emotion. This true emotion, incidentally, is, in general, the ideal in the world of the Saddlecreek, and thus, it can be said that this subculture is firmly rooted in Frith’s conception of art as “personal confession”^[2:2]. It is their hope that the warm tones, and distant static of a portable four track studio are the means by which this intimacy can be achieved, without concession to the dominant forms. This is clearly an example of a functional allocation remade ideologically in order to mediate a space between production and artistic integrity.

Of course, this is mere appropriation by the bands themselves, and while Cohen sees value in examining the ways in which musicians consume, the predominant opinion seems to be, as Frith concludes, that consumption by the audience, the “media text” readers, is of greater concern^[2:3]. Perhaps then, it would be better to consider this subculture, musicians included, in terms of its role as simply an audience. Reconsidered this way, the Saddlecreek subculture is ultimately reduced to Straw’s conception of a “scene.” The explosion of interest in independent rock ‘n’ roll in the Midwest is indeed the result of a coalition, a series of “alliances’” with the various regional hardcore, punk institutions which preceded it^[3:1]. And what’s even more, it is very much a result of “‘cross-fertilization’”^[3:2]. Spawned by other scenes across the country, the Saddlecreek audience is nothing more than a satellite for independent rock ‘n’ roll, incorporating its styles and ideologies and consuming its canonical records.

And yet, in the realm of cultural studies, this type of consumption, which is conducted with little regard for spatial, geographic location or class distinction, and thus raises questions concerning group identity and regionalism, is considered “creative”. Whatever the case, the Saddlecreek audience has achieved much in the way of appropriation in this sense, using records and scenes from across the United States, and abroad, to develop a coherent homology which resists the music of the masses and perpetuates its own efforts. As consumers, this audience has succeeded in appropriating itself a space in the underground, developing facets, pseudo-regionalist attributes, of itself which make it distinct, and making cross-fertilization with other scenes a priority. Having reestablished intimacy with the artist (through correspondence and post-concert courtships) and allotted themselves their own free space, these youths find themselves not simply buying a record, but purchasing, what they imagine to be, a concept, a tangible solution to the omnipotence of crass commercial radio, a tool which they can use to attack the system. Within the Saddlecreek, these national acts represent not simply the efforts of isolated artists, but a continuing dialectic between the market and the community. As a result, the audience in question is able to give itself a role in consumption, while still resisting mass incorporation; and thus again, the theoretician finds function (consumption) married happily to legitimizing ideology. Like electromagnetic waves, consumption is fed by ideology, and vice versa, neither completely responsible for the other.

Lending such credibility to such an established institution like indie rock, it might be noted, may indeed be questionable politically–its seemingly perpetual subtextual existence beneath the surface of the mass media for at least the last thirty years raises issues concerning just how… oppositional it really is–and yet, this practice seems legitimately “creative,” satisfying, as Benjamin suggests^[6], the more important psychological needs of the community.

Of course, this whole discussion of ideology and consumption really seems elementary. Is it not the practice of all consumers to legitimate their purchases? Isn’t that the root of all hyper-capitalist spending? Isn’t this ideology really just a facade designed to mask consumption for consumption’s sake? Is not this quest to resist the masses just another re-imagination of Adorno’s swing kids as Frith’s progressives? Or worse yet, isn’t this, contrary to Negus’ assertions, just capitalism and individualism remade? The answer is, of course, unclear, which seems fitting, for the method, cultural studies, is too underdeveloped to conclude much of anything.