Non-Canonical Music Criticism

Earlier this week I read Gary Tomlinson’s essay, "Cultural Dialogics and Jazz: A White Historian Signifies." (pp. 64-94 of Disciplining Music: Musicology and its Canons, which I mentioned in an earlier blog).

Tomlinson explicates the practice of 'dialogical knowledge', cohering with Derrida's admirable imperative to 'speak the other's language without renouncing [our] own'. Dialogical knowledge is decentered, arising from the recognition that all points of view have something to share, and that no point of view should be privileged above another. Tomlinson criticizes the 'monologic knowledge' that results from canonical thinking, namely, the kind of jazz criticism that assumes a particular 'canon' of what constitutes jazz.

Applying this critique to a concrete situation, Tomlinson turns to the reception of Miles Davis' 1969 album, In A Silent Way. This was the album that anticipated the major changes of the 1970 watershed, Bitches Brew. It is arguable which of these albums was the first jazz-fusion album, but the honor would certainly go to one of them and not to anyone else.


Miles Davis, In A Silent Way (Columbia: February 18, 1969)

The author quotes four harsh critiques of In A Silent Way's contribution to jazz, then condemns them for the "stark inability to hear Davis's fusion music except against the background of what jazz was before it.... Instead they hear only a departure from the canonized jazz tradition of their own making."

Tomlinson then puts forward his own assessment of Davis' fusion of 1969-74: as "a compelling expressive force created by his unflinching facing of the dialogical extremes of his background and environment." Davis's fusion music is dialogical knowledge in action, bringing together disparate elements into a cohesive whole. In A Silent Way bridges difference without alleviating it: jazz music and rock music; art music and popular music; acoustic music and electric music; black musicians and white musicians.

Making this theological, albeit in a very quick way, one could relate fusion to the postmodern Christian project of Milbank et al. Particularly the idea that a Trinitarian Christianity presents the best way to affirm difference without destroying it. Thus the Christian worldview becomes not just a metanarrative, but a meta-metanarrative. I've yet to determine whether I buy that claim, but I must say it's attractive. And chique, at the moment. (See John Milbank, Theology and Social Theory (Blackwell, 1990; pp. 278-379), The Word Made Strange (Blackwell, 1997; pp. 171-93), as well as his essay in The Postmodern God, "Postmodern Critical Augustinianism" (Blackwell, 1997; pp. 265-78).

But getting back to Tomlinson's essay, I agree with his assessment of fusion. It is something I have thought about for quite some time, ever since experiencing the powerful relational dynamics of fusion music. My time in both BlueBeat Revue and A Lo Hecho Pecho taught me about the ethics of performance: how to hold back and support someone else when they are soloing; how to accent particular rhythms or melodic phrases; how to have meaningful and successful 'conversation' on stage or in the practice room; and, most fundamentally, how to listen. And I’m not just talking about a passive listening, but the kind of listening that actively engages the voice of the other. The kind of listening that allows the other to be more itself as it speaks in a distinctive relation to you.

As I make a mix CD to introduce fusion to a friend of mine, these are my reflections.

Postscript: Tomlinson’s essay lends a curious interpretation of my current musical collaboration in St Andrews: ‘The Canonical Approach’. Although our name comes more from the biblical hermeneutics of Brevard Childs than musicology.

BlueBeat Revue at Alley Katz in Richmond, VA, 1998 (or 1999?). Left to right: Rich Stine, myself, Nick Panos, Gordy Haab.

The 'Heart of Midlothian' on the Royal Mile in Edinburgh. I was born & raised in Midlothian, Virginia, which was named by Scottish coalminers (first coalmines in North America!).

A self-portrait of Peter Paul Rubens. Photo taken at the Rubenshuis, Antwerp, January 2004 (just minutes before security yelled, "No pictures!!!")

Angkor Wat, Cambodia. I took this photo in February 2003.

More on Van Gogh

I should mention two books by my friend, Cliff Edwards (no relation that we can think of). He teaches Religious Studies at Virginia Commonwealth University in my hometown of Richmond, VA. His most recent book, The Shoes of Van Gogh, has a chapter devoted to the Heidegger/Derrida debate.


This book reprints a foreword by Henri Nouwen, which was originally prepared for Edwards' earlier book, Van Gogh and God.


It is this earlier book in which Edwards takes a special look at Still Life with Bible (see Saturday's post "RESEARCH TRIP PART FOUR"). Check out Hugh T. Kerr's review of the book in Theology Today.

In this essay, Jared Dockery asks whether Van Gogh considered literature such as Zola's to be a "replacement" or a "supplement" to biblical literature. This is indeed an important question regarding the work, one which is perhaps illuminated by the fact that the Bible is open to Isaiah 53. Edwards writes in a later review, "Because a similar suffering-healing plot runs through both Isaiah and Zola's story of a mistreated orphan, I suggest that the painting demonstrates van Gogh's perspective that the 'naturalistic' artist of ordinary life, whether Zola or himself, was the modern heir of the biblical prophets."

While I have not performed the necessary scholarship myself, I would tend toward the 'supplement' thesis as well. Whether or not that was Van Gogh's own intent, I cannot say for certain. But I'm not wedded to the belief that interpretation must be bound up with artist's/author's intent. The work lends itself to several readings, and I happen to prefer a 'supplement' reading. And, of course, one could spell out such a reading in numerous ways.

What I find especially interesting, however, is that Oleanders painting of three years later. Is naturalistic literature such as Zola's to be seen as a supplement to nature itself? Or do the flowers--as replacements of the Bible and candle--refer to the death of his father, thus intimating a kind of resurrection or new life?

Given a liberal understanding of 'intentionality', however, one may affirm both--and probably more--interpretations.

This was just going to be a quick blog, giving props to Cliff for his new book on the Shoes. I'm just having too much fun making hypertext. And regular text. (Or would that be 'hypotext'?)

RESEARCH TRIP CONCLUSION
Later that night in NYC
After leaving the museum, however, all hell broke loose while trying to get back to the train station. Note to self: When a major political event, one with the potential to repeat historical catastrophes (e.g. 1968 DNC in Chicago), is occurring next door to where you need to catch your train... just go to the next station down. A successful catching of the train is just not going to happen.

The next day I read in the NY Times that the crowd in which we'd been trapped was arrested en masse just after we escaped (innocent bystanders included, many of whom probably just wanted to find the @#$%! train station). We saw someone break into the MSNBC booth there in Herald Square, which brought about many cheers from the crowd. But that, in turn, made the riot-geared police anxious, as the shields and clubs went up. Very exciting, in a creepy way. Even though I just wanted to get to the train station, I couldn't help but want to be a part of something. And with the excuse of being an 'innocent bystander', I figured I was immune. Go figure.


"As protesters converged on Herald Square in the evening, the police tried to contain the increasingly raucous crowds."
Photo Credit: Michael Kamber for The New York Times; Copyright 2004 The New York Times Company


"Police tackled protesters in streets, corners and in front of stores. Innocent bystanders were also caught up in the maelstrom." Photo Credit: Michael Kamber for The New York Times; Copyright 2004 The New York Times Company

Friday's NY Times told the rest of the story: how a NY state judge condemned the police for arresting so many people without charges or legal representation. The judge freed everyone and imposed fines on the city.

Good for the judge. But bad for the city. I feel sorry for NYC taxpayers; they had to put up with so much for that convention. Anyone working in Midtown Manhattan was clearly inconvenienced. You simply could NOT move around. And who paid for all the overtime pay for the police? I doubt it was the RNC.

On the other side of the token, what a great place to have such a convention. Nervous about security? Just go to New York. In the NYPD alone, you get the closest thing there is to another military force. If I were a Republican, I'd be scared to go anywhere but New York!!!

RESEARCH TRIP PART FOUR
Tuesday in NYC
Part Two: Redemption
Disappointed from not being able to see the Fouquet page, I walked all around the museum. My goodness, that place is huge. Too many great works to name here. But the best find came with two particular Van Gogh works, both from 1888, and both refer to works from 1885.

I first noticed Van Gogh's Oleanders, not so much for the beautiful oleanders, but for the book that is sitting beside them in this still life: Emile Zola's La Joie de Vivre. Immediately I knew what this painting was really about.


You see, my favorite painting by Van Gogh shows this same book in reference to his father. Van Gogh's father despised French novels, arguing that they were just trashy, poor excuses for literature. But Vincent appreciated them, and actually thought they were a kind of 'Bible for modern life'. So when his father died, he painted Still Life with Bible, which shows his father's Bible with an extinguished candle. And in front of both the Bible and the candle...is Zola's book.


For years I have loved the story behind Still Life with Bible. Earlier this year in Amsterdam, I finally saw the real thing (on the first floor), as well as the actual Bible itself (displayed on the second floor). And stumbling upon Oleanders in New York was nothing less than providential. Not only did I get to witness a kind of redemption in Van Gogh's art (moving from the darkness of his father's death to the joy of new life), but the day itself was redeemed in a way. My disappointment regarding the Fouquet was redeemed by surprise and revelation regarding the Van Gogh.

So that's the first of the two surprises with Van Gogh. The MMOA also has a version of Shoes (1888). Earlier this year in Amsterdam, I saw the more famous version of Shoes (1885).
1885 version

1888 version


The earlier version was referenced in Heidegger's aesthetic treatise from the 1930s, 'On the Origin of a Work of Art', in which he described theses shoes as those of a peasant-woman. In the 1960s, Meyer Shapiro criticized Heidegger's reading of the work, challenging their ownership. He preferred the interpretation that they were a city-dweller's shoes, perhaps even Van Gogh's own shoes. He chalked Heidegger's reading up to the totalitarian tendencies toward romanticization of the pastoral life. But then Derrida came along in the 1980s (in 'The Truth in Painting [peinture]') and deconstructed them both. How do we even know this is a pair of shoes? Clever as always, Derrida uses the ambiguity of the painting to cast doubt upon any notions of truth corresponding to reality.

After struggling through Heidegger & Derrida last semester, it was refreshing to see a brighter version of Shoes. They may be just as ambiguous, but that's fine with me. I appreciate Derrida's insights. But it was just good to see some brightness and color around those shoes for once!

In the MMOA shop, I bought 23 cards to add to my collection, as well as a copy of Stuart Isacoff's Temperament. As with the Paglia book, look for my thoughts regarding this in a future post.

RESEARCH TRIP PART THREE

Tuesday in NYC
PART ONE: Disappointment
Took the PATH train over to Manhattan, then took the subway up to the Upper East Side. After the obligatory sidewalk hotdog, we entered the Metropolitan Museum of Art and stayed until closing time.

My primary reason for going there was to see one thing: a page from Etienne Chevalier's Book of Hours (painted by Jean Fouquet).

I wrote a paper on this work last semester, but was disappointed to learn that it is not on display. Nor do they ever plan on displaying it except in a special exhibition. While I was very disappointed in not seeing this work that I had come to love (I even had it on my Windows desktop for about six months!), this disappointment yielded an interesting twist to the findings of my paper.

I concluded that the truth of the artwork is to be found in its use, rather than in any ideas, concepts, or feelings expressed by the artwork itself. Thus this particular page may be said to be "about" the Holy Spirit only in the context of the other pages (on display at the Conde museum in Chantilly, France). I wrote that, separated from its original context as a devotional piece for the Hours of the Holy Spirit, this page has very little to do with the Holy Spirit. On the wall of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC, it is not a painting about the Holy Spirit. But that's the rub. I learned on Tuesday that the piece isn't even on a wall. It's just sitting on a shelf somewhere in the archives. It's use--the truth of the piece--is now reduced to being a historical footnote, a commodity that is owned by the MMOA as an investment and NOT as a work of art.

RESEARCH TRIP PART TWO

Monday in Princeton
I spent Monday in the special collections of Princeton Theological Seminary, particularly the reading room of the Karl Barth Research Center. Curator/Director Clifford Anderson was MOST helpful in recommending resources of which I was completely unaware.


Karl Barth, Swiss Reformed Theologian, 1886-1968

One particular resource I will mention here: the Stoltzfus dissertation (Harvard, 2002) on the theological use of musical aesthetics in Schleiermacher, Barth, and Wittgenstein. It's currently under review at CUP. I eagerly anticipate its publication and the subsequent discussions it may evoke.

I also scoured every issue of the Zeitschrift fuer dialektische Theologie, a journal that I have NOT been able to locate in either Scotland OR Virginia. A travesty, really.

I also found plenty of material that will require translation. How I wish I had stuck with my German in high school. (I remember arguing with my teacher when I gave it up after three years: "I want to be a minister. Why would I need to study German?" Her response that the majority of great modern theologians were German-speaking just didn't register for some reason. How I wish I could knock some sense into that stupid kid who didn't listen!)

Then I bought a couple of used books in a bookstore before retiring: John Lyon's study of Chomsky and Lyotard's Postmodern Fables.

RESEARCH TRIP PART ONE

Friday-Sunday
I left work Friday afternoon to spend the weekend with some friends on the Eastern Shore of Virginia. Had a very relaxing time, reminiscing about high school days in Midlothian, Virginia, and learning whatever happened with so-and-so, etc.

And then there was the Cape Charles Ghost Tour, written and occasionally led by Eastern Shore writer-director, Scott Whitaker. I highly recommend this tour. It's a great way to enjoy an evening out on the shore. I got goose bumps. (Or were those mosquito bites?) Well researched, well written, well told...all-around a well-done project.

photo credit: www.capecharlestours.com

My host lent me his copy of Camille Paglia's Sex, Art, and American Culture, which I have yet to read. But look for my remarks in a future post.

As I left, I stopped by a used bookstore just north of Cambridge, MD (my friend Elisabeth's old stomping grounds) and scored a deal on Disciplining Music: Musicology and Its Canons (UCP, 1992), as well as a collection of sermons by the great sacred-musicologist & Wesley scholar, Erik Routley.

What I've been doing in the past 27 months...

So when I started this blog, I'd just completed a Th.M. (Master of Theology). It was the first time since the age of five that I'd not been registered to return to school in the fall, so I wanted some kind of outlet for my thoughts.

As you can see those thoughts were short-lived.

So I worked for the next year, as associate editor for a homiletical (preaching) journal, Lectionary Homiletics. I'm still with the same journal, but now I'm also a postgraduate in St Andrews, Scotland, at the Institute for Theology, Imagination & the Arts (ITIA). I've finished my coursework, so now I'm spending my time in research.


St Mary's College, St Andrews, Scotland

My research concerns the proper scope of dogmatic inquiry. Basically, I'm asking the question: "What kinds of activities may the dogmatics of the church legitimately scrutinize in order to ensure that those activities proclaim the revelation of God?" More specifically, I'm asking if theologians may legitimately scrutinize the MUSIC of the church. This is all being done within a Barthian framework, particularly Karl Barth's doctrine of revelation & its threefold form (Christ, scripture, proclamation). But this is a critically Barthian project, meaning that I'm not taking every word of Barth as the absolute truth.

Barth wanted to limit the scope of dogmatic inquiry to preaching and the sacraments. And, truth be told, he was really only about preaching. His attention to the sacraments could have been much better. But I think the church must scrutinize all of its practices, and I'm particularly interested in scrutinizing its music.

The practical implications of all this...I want to find a solution to--or at least present a perspective on--the so-called "worship wars" that doesn't simply reduce everything to matters of 'taste'. While that is indeed an important aesthetic category, it's emphasized entirely too much. Especially in our consumer-driven society, where individual demands are supplied in order to attain mass capital.

"Mass capital." Don't you just love double entendre? At least Derrida would giggle.

Okay, it's been a couple of YEARS since I touched this thing (27 months to the day, in fact). I'd forgotten I ever even had a blog. I'll post more in coming days & weeks.