Keenan Brain Meanderings

Hello everyone,

I’m just here to say that I’ve left the community music masters program.

I think this is very related to the need to care for my mental health, which I have been struggling with recently. As this is a place of openness, I might as well mention that they have not been this severe before, and with increasing regularity very negative and destructive thoughts have been entering my mind, while I feel I sit idle.

For me taking care of my mental health means becoming more involved in environmental initiatives in the community through volunteering, as well as more activism, as that is the sole thing that alleviates my feelings of depression and anxiety, and gives me hope. I think these are very natural reactions to the current environmental crisis facing the world today, and this is a good way to respond. Over the past week especially I have prioritized work relating to this, and feel considerably better.

I’ve learned a lot from all of you and I’ll connect with each of you over Facebook hopefully. If that doesn’t work, my number is 226-600-5710, and my email is keenanreimerwatts@gmail.com.

Lots of love to everyone. Thank you so much for your thoughts over the past month. Hope to see you all again!

Keenan

After stepping back from the classical music world, which is what I grew up as thinking of as ‘my music’, I really lost the sense of having an identity. After taking up fiddle and falling into the world of folk, I’m keeping busy playing ‘dixieland’, fiddle tunes, harmonica tunes, bluegrass, country, blues, jazz…all that sort of stuff…which, actually, seems to all come from the black experience.

The first essay in the book on cultural appropriation (Borrowed Power) focuses on appropriation. It’s a tough read, especially for someone who, as I get deeper and deeper into this sort of music, it gives me a satisfaction and a sense of community and happiness that classical didn’t do.

Having read ‘Music, Talent, and Performance”, and now having read this essay on appropriation of black music, I am stuck between a rock and a hard place, and am unsure how to place myself…I feel like I have no music! It’s pretty sad, in a way. Still working on it.

Is it not understandable that one would dive into (arguably, more) community-based music making cultures, when their own is so wrought with tension and difficulties?

Anyways, I am hoping Gerard will add a book to the list – “Yes, you can play our music – your musical culture is sick”…it would be very helpful right about now!

Hey everyone,

Thank you so much for the conversation tonight, many of the presentations and discussions have really peaked my interest. This post might be more for El Hefe (Gerard) to answer to in more detail, although of course, welcome one and all.

I find myself in conflict. The concepts of colonialism and fostering a global ethic (a.k.a. cosmopolitanism, although I would prefer this to extend to all life…) are at odds in me, and the role of music is stuck right in the middle.

Remnants of colonialism are everywhere, and as Gerard said, the guilt from this runs pretty deep in many of us who come from this history of colonizing. We discuss cultural appropriation and mindfulness of other cultures, and that we must tread very, very carefully when playing music from other cultures.

That said, Josh tonight talked about cosmopolitanism tonight, and showed a video of people from all over the world, all while we were reading statements of, generally speaking, inclusivity. This is awesome, and I appreciate the message. Actually, I am trying to foster a deep sense of belonging to humanity as a whole in myself, so I related strongly to many of the statements, I’m sure many of you did too!

However, this ‘global ethic fostering’ is coming up against some walls, at least for me.

First a little Keenan-history –  for myself, moving away from classical music (that which I defined as ‘my music’ for a while), I started getting into folk. It was awesome (still is, long live fiddle)…but I found myself bothered by how it doesn’t seem very intercultural…at least, the scene here that I play in…I found this still to be a predominantly white practice (*especially bluegrass). Also, there’s a pretty sketchy history to the tunes, and the lyrics…lots of very obvious appropriation going on here. So I suppose intercultural in the wrong way, ha.

So in response to this, I’m trying to expand beyond my horizons and explore many other genres, so that I feel I gain a deeper understanding and appreciation for other peoples forms of expression. Here is a picture of my upstairs, slowly filling with instruments I am learning to play.

I spend my days prepping for gigs, but also playing along to all sorts of different genres, and trying to get a feel for them while reading them. I like to think this is making me a more empathetic person, and although we speak with different sounds, I am starting to realize that everyone is expressing emotions that are definitely universally felt. In any case, that’s the idea.

There are lots of people I know like this, but I’ve also noticed something about them – they’re usually white dudes. I don’t want to overgeneralize, and I haven’t REALLY done lots of searching, but that’s a trend I’m noticing.

Specifically, Jacob Collier is the quintessential example of this sort of “global music ethic” in action. He has a TED talk where he talks about inclusivity, invites the audience to participate, his concerts are phenomenally audience-inclusive…and he plays a hell of a lot of instruments pulling from a bajillion different genres…the final result being jazz. He lives in London. If you don’t know him, check it out! Especially this:

This series, IHarmU, is a great example of community music in action over the internet. However, it’s also a great example of someone playing a hell of a lot of different instruments…from other cultures…borrowing from their styles…and re-arranging folk melodies and the like to be whatever he likes (usually, this is 10 Jacob heads singing at you).

So, herein lies the question: on the one hand, when we are talking about fostering a sense of community with music, bridging gaps, resolving conflict…is this not a perfect example of that? On the other hand, when we are talking about cultural appropriation, colonialism still being present, the idea of the ’empty land’ being discovered…is this not also a perfect example? Playing all these different kinds of music, being a ‘super-musician of the world’…is that the place for a white person, in this day in age? Does it bring the world closer?

I am noticing that Jacob Collier, and many other people who follow a similar ethic, have inspired many students who I teach in our composition program at Laurier…there seems to be a surge in focus on jazz, which seems to me to be one of the most inclusive genres which can prepare you for collaboration across, well, most anything. Perhaps this is a good thing – Herbie Hancock, a huge supporter of Jacob (as is Quincy Jones) discusses the ethics of jazz here:

Perhaps this is overthinking, and the more important thing is to bring people together, in the most immediate sense, so we, together, can tackle issues that are existential threats to our existence. However, I can’t help but wonder that this is an extension of colonialism, in a way?

Perhaps cosmopolitanism is in a way a privilege that perhaps not everyone can afford – a worldview that still maintains a dominant elite who use it as an excuse to consider the world to be their oyster, culturally and otherwise.

Personally, I am about to release an EP of an arrangement of tunes by Bartok. Well not really by Bartok, he arranged them for 2 violins, and I am arranging THOSE. Bartok himself stole(?) these melodies from people in various places around Europe. Am I screwed? Is this an example of cultural appropriation?

It seems to me that the world is a pot with many ingredients in it – ingredients that will dissolve eventually… it just needs some more stirring. Or, should we take the ingredients out and make sure they are still distinct?

Any thoughts on this?

So, I just finished the book mentioned above. I would highly, highly recommend to anyone who has gone through this system of music education, as it certainly untied many knots for me and I greatly enjoyed reading about other experiences that mirrored my own – I am sure many of you will also have the same feelings.

To be honest, this book left me with more questions than answers. I have found, as boundaries around what I define as music, education, community, and the like shift and change, my initial preconceptions of what these were are falling to pieces.

Of course, this was a long time in the works…even when I was at Laurier I remember questioning many of the aspects of the institution, and constantly exploring other music.

However, this book certainly shattered whatever remnants I had left of hanging onto my conservatory training.

So, as I cease to define myself by this past experience in my life, what remains? Many questions. For instance: what is music? What music is important? Should music be important? What is music about? Should it be about anything? Does anything matter? Am I real? What is life?

This is one of the main reasons why I have come into this program, and that is to give me a space wherein I can question the ways in which I defined myself, definitions grounded in my past experiences. So, one month in, mission accomplished! ha.

This book was an incredibly well-structured perspective on the way in which conservatories are built more around other things than music, it seems. They are sacred places, testaments, relics, places of politics, of hierarchy, of contradiction, and of a hell of a lot of stress. They are places where everything, when really questions, in steeped in a history that is so, so intricate and complex, and speaks to some parts of our history that we don’t want to face. They are places of power, or at least, where people are still trying to hold on to power.

I look forward to talking more to the class about this, and hearing some of your experiences as well. I will likely read a number of things that stuck out to me, because there is no way I can cover everything, as Gerard said…and then we can all go on a walk.

This book “Music, Talent and Performance – a Conservatory Cultural System” is making me think that there are some very unhealthy aspects to the way in which “music” (in comma, as oftentimes this is framed as the place to study music in its totality) in conservatories has been taught.

One person who has recently caught my attention is Dion Flores. He was a classmate of mine, and has recently begun blogging on the idea of oppression. This blog in particular may be of interest to those in this class:

https://www.critiqueblog.org/the-profile-and-pathology-of-the-oppressed-musician/

I am not sure what to think. For now, it seems as thought it is a strong reaction…something which overgeneralizes experiences at Laurier, as well as Memorial University (where Dion studied music). However, I am starting to think there may be a connection between this sort of thinking, and that of the conservatory culture. There seems to be a demographic of people who react very strongly to the conservatory system, perhaps for some reasons that will be outlined in my book.

For now, thoughts, anyone? It’s a longer blog that he wrote than this, but worth reading and thinking about. I just hope I’m not a obeying the dominant elite by playing Chopin!

This is an odd title, but as I start to read “Music, Talent, and Performance – a Conservatory Cultural System”, it is causing me to re-frame how I view practice…actually, it almost re-frames my approach to the idea of preparation.

Suppose we all practiced speaking before we interacted. Weird, right? Very few of us do that, I’d guess, unless we were preparing for a specific event, public speaking, a presentation (even then, I don’t practice too much aha)…most often, we wing it. We just improvise our conversations, go with the flow, with perhaps a goal of simply connecting…but not of saying a very specific thing prior to engaging in conversation.

That’s a little different with conservatory training – it’s very much about practicing to speak well before speaking ‘your part’ with others. Not as much improvisation. Preparation is one of the primary requisites in lessons – I remember a whole lesson of mine being a judgement centered around ‘have you prepared?’.

I believe that this carries over into the way in which we interact socially as well. I used to be a very quiet kid. I would avoid interactions I was uncomfortable with, and spend lots of time on my own. The public sphere was a little much….large crowds, speaking publicly, these were things that were actually hard for me and I tended to avoid. I imagine that this is what leads to some people become socially anxious…the expectation of preparation in other spheres of their live carrying over into the personal, day-to-day interactions. Social anxiety is something that is certainly on the rise, and why is that?

Following that, I wonder to what extent my social persona has been defined by the way in which I was taught to approach music – after all, I didn’t have the experience to make the distinction, when I went to study “music” at WLU, between freely improvised music, “conversational music”, and the western classical conservatory tradition, very much focused on preparation…I thought I was studying “music” in a total sense. Little did I know!

So, without having broadened my perspective on what music making can look like, that definition, perhaps, carried over into the way I approach my social interactions.

As I found my way into folk music, this whole thing started to unravel. It was a profound change, actually, and it’s still underway as I explore more and more ways to approach music. And, socially, I have become different as well, I’ve noticed. My approach to music making is becoming more and more about the collective. It’s changed my perspective. Music is more just another way to talk.

How does this relate to preparation? Well, as I read a previous post about ‘practicing’ community music, it makes me wonder: is it something to practice? Perhaps it is the same mindset that many of us bring to the everyday…a kinda ‘roll with it’ approach. Is it something to practice?

Part of me thinks that, just like conversation, it’s not something you can prepare for on your own. How can you anticipate a whole conversation, and the many turns it can take? Unless you really know the other person well, you just have to roll with it.

So anyways, I think it’s really interesting to think about how training in music can affect our approach to society, and our approach to music. The only issue is that it’s hard to foster that free approach to music making in a culture that is already burdened with anxiety of social interactions. Certainly just doing it more won’t hurt. I’m going to go shop at the Kitchener Market before it closes. Bye!

This morning I got up at 2:00am to bike to participate in the All Nations Grand River Water Walk. I am quite tired and hopefully coffee will get me through the rest of the day.

It is an incredibly beautiful action, in essence carrying water from the Grand River head all the way to it’s mouth. The distance is many hundreds of kilometers. To learn more about this walk, you can visit:
https://www.grandriverwaterwalk2018.com/

There are many participants, from what I understand. Today at 3am there were over 15 people helping carry the water, similar to a relay, passing it on from one pair of people to the next so that there is no stop to the flow of walking until the day is done.

Of course, this is community-based, but I think on the broadest scale possible, as it represents involving nature as part of the community (at least that is how I felt). Although I did not walk the water (this role is for women exclusively) I carried the eagle staff. I am not entirely sure of the full symbolic meaning of either the water or the staff, but I was still fully welcomed as a member of the walk just by showing up, and offering to help.

While walking the water, you pray to the water. I think it was one of the more moving experiences I’ve had with something I take for granted so often. Regularly I heard people singing to the water as they approached us to hand of the staff and the water, and while waiting in the relay I was taught songs to sing as well. So, at around 5 I was carrying this staff and singing while participating in this walk.

I don’t have much else to say, to be honest. I think it was an incredibly moving experience, and I am always touched by how often music is incorporated into these sorts of rituals.

To me, it served as a reminder of the roots of music, reminding me of where much music comes from…that is, people who may not be ‘trained’ per se (whatever that means) but know the songs of their own culture very well, and sing them beautifully in a unique way.

This movement began in 2003, and was started by Josephine Mandamin – her story is worth reading, and there’s a little bit of information on Wikipedia of course.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Josephine_Mandamin

I am off to meet with a former professor about organizing a concert to raise money for an organization fighting to ensure the survival of elephants. Phew!

This is a brief entry, but I was just thinking that almost all of the fundraising concerts I have been a part of to date have been incredibly formal, as almost all of them have been with other classically trained musicians. The performance tradition is very separate, as we all know…most often, “audience” and “performer” are quite apart.

I just wonder, what are the implications of such a ‘performer-based’ art form, in terms of it’s ability to collectively raise awareness about issues that affect all of us? One would think that a financially successful concert results from all of us, as a collective, feeling moved to take action. Perhaps this is not a time for excellence, given the environmental crisis we face, but a time for collective movements grounded in groups.

Related: recently I have been practicing the Chopin Op. 10 and 25 etudes. They’re quite well known in the classical circuit, and it’s not often that you hear them all performed in a concert.

My initial intention for learning these etudes was to:

a. give myself a challenge
b. be able to perform something people know well
c. raise money for what I am passionate about (environmental issues), with a solo act that is flexibly and easier to organize that groups.

But I wonder what I am upholding by performing these, regardless of what cause I would like to support? Pete Seeger was a phenomenal organizer of community, and most often, people were all singing together. I doubt people will sing along to these etudes, but do they still have the potential to bring together community in a way that they once did?

Just a quick thought, trying to make this a habit.

*as an update to this post, what came out of the meeting was a hope to establish a single day a year, potentially the first Sunday of December, where pianists collectively come together to raise awareness of how the piano industry has cost elephants their lives, while raising money for organizations fighting to preserve them. I suppose that this is a way in which the broader community of pianists can come together. It’s hopeful, and I hope it leads somewhere :).