iPods and their users

Second to the shellac record and perhaps the player piano, the invention of magnetic tape is widely regarded as the pivotal addition to music in the twentieth century. Conceived in 1900 by Valdemar Poulsen, a Danish engineer who magnetized plastic tape coated with ferric particles, magnetic tape was the initial development in audio recording that served as impetus for the 33 1/3 vinyl record, the stereophonic stylus, and the cassette tape. As the 20th century felt the inevitable beckon of the 21st, digital technology again redefined both music production and distribution. Shortly after WinAmp popularized the "digital jukebox" in 1997, portable .mp3 players entered development. And thus it came into being... the iPod.

Drastically shifting the means by which people receive music, the iPod quickly became the must-have gadget--easy, convenient, portable, stylish, even relatively inexpensive. Previously, technology had only sought to improve audio fidelity and unit durability. Even the portable cassette Walkman was simply a little boombox sans speakers. However, with the iPod, people could navigate catalogs of music with the press of a button and write the soundtracks to their own lives--any where, any time. The theoretical implications of such a technology are countless; its actual application have only begun to be realized.

Who uses iPods? What classes of people? What ages? Which gender? How do people use their iPods? When? Where? For what purposes? What features of the iPod actually change the way people listen to music? Do people still buy records? They can't all download illegally, can they? Are certain genres more popular on iPods? Which ones? For what reason? How do people relate to their iPods, and to what part? The look? The convenience? The features? Or, god forbid, the music itself? It seems the most obvious questions prompt the most revealing answers.

Sampling the student population of Brown University, I attempted to find a cross-section of iPod users who answered these questions in a variety of ways in order to glimpse the broad capabilities of the iPod and its innumerable uses. While I interviewed users across the spectrum of age, race, gender and class, the eventual determining factors for their inclusion were the model of their iPod (or iPhone), their primary uses, and their opinions of the technology. Equally important to my analysis, the focus of my ethnographic research atypically centers around a technology, not a population or subculture. Because of this, many of the common responses do not reveal relationships of people together, rather individuals with their own digital music. The three interview excerpts below represent three differing personal/digital relationships, which best depict the range of iPod use. (Personal photos submitted by interviewees.)














Michael Fruta, senior.
Model: 4gb nano
"I use [my iPod] getting to and from places, walking. Other times too, but mostly just having it on in the background."
"All my music is on my computer. I get all my music from bit torrent sites so the iPod is really the only way I can keep it with me."
"Yeah, who buys CDs anymore? Not me."












Rebecca Sigel, sophomore.
Model: 20gb video
"Honestly, I rarely use it. Only when I'm driving do I use it regularly, but it's more convenient just to pick something than to change CDs in traffic."
"I still buy a few CDs, and tracks off iTunes, but other than those and maybe some NPR, most of my music is on my iPod or computer."
"Not that I don't enjoy the "Wicked" soundtrack, but sometimes I'm embarrassed of my iPod contents."














Ethan Levy, junior.
Model: iPhone
"I use my iPhone for music all the time. Biking, walking, chilling, sleeping, working, cooking. I have a set of speakers that lets me listen to it at home all the time."
"I really like [the Shuffle feature]. Most of the time I just want to listen to an artist, and I'll have a lot of their stuff, so I just use it to get to know more of what I have."
"Sharing? I do use my iPhone to show music to other people, and vice versa, but also the iPhone Internet makes it easy to access a lot as well."


Beyond these three interviews, several more students described similar patterns of usage, and even some to greater extremes. (Despite the technological literacy of most students, I specifically excluded the most tech-savvy interviewees who live and die by their gadgets with no regard for the music itself.) Athletes used iPods for working out, rather than driving; users of the iPod Shuffle embraced the feature instead of avoiding it--different profiles with different uses, and indeed none too surprising.

The variance of iPod use I found in Brown students is predictable. Some completely reliant on the technology, others indifferent to its myriad features. Yet the conclusion I have finally drawn is as revealing of the iPod itself as it is a number of new technologies. What I found in interviewing users from this age group is that the iPod is now a technology inseparable from its digital contents; iPods exist no longer as a convenient replacement for CDs and vinyl—by in large, they have relegated all analog media to antiquity, and iPod users could care less.

The cyclical patterns of fashion seem to skip generations of technology. Vinyl records have come back into fashion for the hipster scene because they are outdated enough to warrant revival; cassettes and Discmen are yet to deserve such categorization. This is not unlike the repopularized classic typewriters for those who desire subcultural supremacy by rejecting modern invention, yet surely there are few users who work on a first generation Apples because they are realistically practical. (They. are. not.) The iPod generation has established itself as perhaps the most significant landmark in this cycle to date. There is no going back. The iPod here and will not regress. More than any specific words that interviewees said about their daily iPod use, it was the tone in which all interviewees spoke--a matter-of-fact acceptance of iPod technology--that illustrated to me that however it was used, the iPod was simply an accepted facet of their life that was no longer just novelty.

Nowadays, the iPod isn't even questioned. New features, redesigns, the ever-expanding access--the iPod forces all music listeners to accept it and let go of obsolete technologies. As a traditionalist, I find this realization hard to swallow. Nevertheless, as I have learned from others time and time again, the iPod will assuredly soundtrack my generation.

Steven H. Hall
May 6, 2009





Works cited:
Chris Anderson, "The Long Tail"
Tia DeNora, "Music as a technology of the self"
Mark Levine, "Pandora Maps the Musical Genome"
Steven Levy, "The perfect thing: how the iPod shuffles commerce, culture, and coolness"
Gerald Marzorati, "How the Album Got Played Out"

Critical Review - Wald

Drawing from other research I've done (and mentioned previously), I find a lot of similarities between Wald's analysis of the "corridos" in Mexican/SW American culture, and the culture of British 19th century music halls. While the latter emphasized variety performance--dance, song, comedy, cabaret, theatre, etc.--both seemingly serve(d) a dual function as both a recognized popular style, as well as a conduit of subcultural lore. As Wald characterized: "Since their inception, corridos have been a sort of musical literature and newspaper for the working class community... they have always gone in for a good deal of tabloid sensationalism, and frequently mixed truth and fiction, but they also continue to transmit the news and cultural information that is of interest to their audience." [p216] Similarly, the London music halls served as popular nighttime entertainment for all, yet were of particular popularity for those "in the know," who read through the often comical or satirical fare to grasp working-class social, cultural or political subtexts. In my mind, that certain aspects of music go unknown to entire populations of listeners is significant because it multiplies the role that music can have; the dual function of music to entertain and inform implicates both the performer and the audience in the music itself.

Discussion question(s): so, how can it do this? How does music take on a role of something more than just "the music itself"? What is it in the music that fosters some to take it at face-value and others to decode? Furthermore, what can one discern of a subculture centered around such musics? Is immersion necessary for understanding?

Critical Review - Wayne&Wax

I'd like to comment specifically on an observation made early in the Wayne&Wax post "we use so many snares." In this post, Wayne notes that "reggaeton is an Internet music" and to me this is a crucial point that contextualizes how one perceives reggaeton and what goes into its composition. Particularly in light of other "Internet musics," the composition directly effects how individuals consume music, how it is performed live, and how people identify with the music itself. To emphasize my point, to underscore the importance of prefacing a music as an "Internet music" I would like to refer to an example we often use in class.

GirlTalk, masher-upper extraordinaire, stands at the pinnacle of digital music, exploiting the possibilities of both digital composition--in his meticulous splicing and laptop performance--as well as digital distribution--sweeping dorm room playlists through viral videos and MySpace links. Both these uses of digital technology connect GirlTalk with his audience, yet distance him from the music. In composing his tracks, GirlTalk does not conventionally write a melody nor a chord progression, he simply lifts snippets from other songs (albeit masterfully). The music is thus reduced to simple ctrl-X/ctrl-V commands, detached from the sounds themselves; the beat becomes regulated by its BPM, not by its "feel." This deconstruction of the "music itself" is further reflected in GirlTalk's live performance: an obviously over-compensating spectacle of stages full of fans in Day-Glo garb, aggrandizing a musician whose music is entirely pre-composed. Granted, this participation connects fan to artist, yet illustrates the inherent limits of digital music composition.

My point in using this example is not to accuse reggaeton of any such distance, but simply to frame further analysis of the genre by identifying the pitfalls already experienced by a (not so) distant relative. Wayne's detailed analysis (and examples) of reggaeton rhythms visually break down this simplistic view of composition--instead of previous generations speaking of the "feel" of different rhythmic patterns, different regional tendencies, he now makes his case by showing us FruityLoop sequences. On one hand, it opens the doors of composition to innumerable young beat-makers and aspiring reggaeton artists, yet conversely exposes its restrictions.

Discussion question(s): How can digital composition and live performance be reconciled? What works? What doesn't? Does seeing the process behind reggaeton broken down and analyzed in any way detract from the "music itself" or emphasize its artistry?

Research... not going as planned.

For all those in my class reading this, this is an open request for help.

In beginning my research, I have found more and more obstacles in what I thought would be a straightforward subject of research. For those who don't know, my initial research proposal is here -- it outlines my intention to survey at least 100 Brown students to identify quantitative data on iPod use. My hope with this survey was to determine what people used their iPods for, how they were incorporated into their daily life, to what extent people identified with digital music, what genres of music people used most, generally what the relationship was between subject and technology via the iPod. However, after a sample of this survey, the preliminary results proved quite opposite.

The cross-section of Brown students revealed the entire spectrum of iPod use. Some would say this is a good thing--I disagree... somewhat. My aim was to reach specific conclusions as to how people interacted with their iPod, how they used it in their daily life, and in fact to generalize this usage to broader conclusions that might illuminate college students and their patterns of digital music consumption. However, what I now predict I will find in further research is that these patterns cannot be generalized and (for the most part) cannot be summed by quantitative data because it simply reinforces the undefinable versatility of the iPod as a malleable technology. Because of the great variety in my initial findings, I have now decided to forgo the quantitative portion of my research and focus specifically on qualitative profiles of iPod users, ones which can then be compared to form a cross-section of iPod usage.

I will admit two primary mistakes in my research thus far, two that I hope will illuminate the problem so that those reading this may understand where I was coming from in undertaking this project and may understand where I need to go. My first mistake was generalizing a student population that, at face value, often seems homogeneous in taste yet is in fact quite broad. I assumed that genres of music would be consistent, downloading patterns too, and that surveys would produce statistics that reinforced my initial hypotheses that iPods were in fact a dominant means of music consumption, often used in a similar manner by varying users. My hypothesis was wrong: wrong not only in its superficial evaluation of the Brown student body but also wrong in how greatly I underestimated the versatility of the iPod--both in its technical features and in the creativity of its users. My second mistake was my interview: I interviewed someone out of my target range, hoping that an older iPod user would shed light on the student population and in fact bring context to trends among student groups. In fact, this interview only confused me, complicating my survey findings yet assuring me that I needed to change direction.

Class: this is where you come in.

Think about your friends. Think about their iPods. Think about their music in dorm rooms, dining halls, locker rooms, house parties, frat lounges, libraries, back porches, wherever. When you think of music in all these different contexts, what comes to mind?

I don't mean to stereotype music in these different locales, quite the opposite. I really want your feedback because in reading these surveys (primarily from people I didn't know) I came to understand that the cross-section of student iPod users extended beyond what I would have guessed, and I hope that you all can help me find these extremities of which I was unaware. So perhaps I should rephrase my question: if you had to describe how three friends used their iPods differently from one another, what would they be? Could you guess why?

By taking these suggestions, I would like to dissect the different iPod uses and varying iPod technologies. What is the difference, say, between one who owns a iPod Shuffle (without a display screen) and one who owns an iPhone (with an accessible iTunes store)? How can one compare one who meticulously outlines playlists for moods, settings, genres, and one who lives and dies by the shuffle feature? By what criteria can one measure one uses their iPod to augment their vinyl collection and one who solely downloads illegal files? These are but a few of the questions I now realize I am unable to answer quantitatively and questions that I need help in answering. What say you? How can I redirect my research to a more productive, nay, illuminating end?

So to conclude, really, I have no new research to speak of. In fact, I'm almost starting over. Kiri, Liam: my apologies. More information is soon to come, and hopefully from the comments of this post. But if nothing else, I am learning during this research not to put the cart before the horse and think that hypotheses will in any way guide actual findings. Hopefully, I can find subjects willing to offer in-depth, qualitative information that will better illustrate the culture of the iPod and how it so deeply (and distinctly) ingrains itself with each user.

To all: think, next time you plug in your earbuds. Your iPod may hold more than mp3s.

Critical Review - Flores

I didn't even really know what 'boogaloo' was. I have been listening to a record called "Boogaloo to Beck" for years, a jazz tribute record to pop icon Beck, wondering what it meant: is the sound boogaloo? Are the songs boogaloo? Did they mean to write "bungalow"? Wtf? Needless to say, I was quite surprised to actual learn the history of boogaloo as Flores here describes it.

However, to hear that boogaloo is regarded as a short-lived, disregarded genre seemed funny to me because (though I should have guessed that) I actually that it must be some developed jazz subgenre, intricate and inaccessible. I find it interesting that a genre cast aside would then be appropriated by jazz artists. Anyway, while I realize it sounds like an aside, my discussion question relates:

Discussion question(s): Is musical language recycled? Genres? Styles? If so, how? Do the cultural associations transfer with the revivals or interpretations of a genre such as boogaloo? Where have we seen a similar appropriation of one music by another, and how has it functioned differently?

Interview Excerpt -- Daniel Smith

For this interview, I spoke with a former colleague of mine about his musical preferences, regarding both taste in music and use of technologies. Smith went into great detail through the interview, and the responses I have selected for summary below only glimpse some of the broader issues addressed. Unfortunately, the audio recording I made--speaker phone to digital recording--peaked throughout the interview and unfortunately is very distorted. However, if anyone would like to read the full transcript, it is posted here.


Q: With the mood-related music, is there one aspect of it you tend to relate to—tempo, beat, lyrics, aesthetics, etc?

It’s a balance often. I’m absolutely interested in lyrical content and there are artists such as, oh well, without getting too specific, someone like Bob Dylan, who fascinates me as well as others because the lyrical content is so important. However there are other realms too, rhythm particularly—I grew up in a household with an older brother and sister and my musical tastes were very much influenced by theirs. And oddly enough, about the time that I would’ve been a young teenager, it was the punk incursion in America, as well as shortly thereafter sort of the start of rap and hip-hop music, but more significantly I think for me was that my sister had just traveled to Jamaica. She had brought back records from that country that were absolutely riveting to my brother and me. So there has always been that attention to heavily rhythmic music like rap and reggae, both of which remain very important to me.

Q: From what you’ve said about your history with vinyl records and other formats, I have to ask what new technologies you use in discovering/listening to music—iPod, iTunes, MySpace, Pandora?

Primarily iTunes. I find it absolutely fascinating and I got into it in this way. There was a part of my collection that was simply not appearing on vinyl for a long period of time so I would continue to look for traces of it out there and now of course as more time has passed more and more of what in the marketplace would be obscure recordings or not previously commercially a viable recording, in other words 10, 20, 30 years old, are appearing now, and it’s so much easier to look back through iTunes and pick out several of the songs that I liked or remembered. Also within that realm, there was always a tension in years past, you never got to preview a vinyl album unless they had one on in the store and of course I’m talking about ancient history here. Now however if there’s an album, for example, if I’m thinking about the new Lil’ Wayne album… heard the big hit, perhaps in the club perhaps on the radio and I want to know what the rest is like, well, I can actually sample it online, and I think it’s absolutely wonderful. Oddly enough it hasn’t led to greater increased purchases for me, in terms of purchasing entire albums based on this or along the lines of purchasing specific songs. That tends to be a mean too now in my listening which is, I tend not to be as much out of focus as perhaps I once was. I’m much more into preparing mixes or different compilations and that tends to be very rewarding for me and they even have a new feature on iTunes, it’s a button where if you selected a specific song in your library it will arrange a mix for you based on its interpretation of the qualities of that song and I find that delightful.


Q: Touching on what you’ve said earlier, what is your relationship with live music and what do you get out of it as opposed to recorded music?

I started going to live performances when I was a teenager, and I’m racking my brain now to try to remember a touchstone live performance and it probably wont come right to the surface. However, I did start going when I was a teenager. The interesting part of it was I think I initially went probably out of that teenage desire to just get out of your house and do something fun with your friends and all the rest. But you’re also very much too a part, not just of experiencing the music, but many of the initial concerts that I went to were a part of that whole fandom that many of us lived in to in that age. It was not just that you needed to see a live recreation of your favorite song or album, but you really wanted to see that performer and you wanted to have that physical experience of being in the same room with them. I still remain a fan of certain performers, but it doesn’t have that same emotional resonance that it might have at say the age of 15 or 16, being in the same room with someone you considered the greatest artist that year. It’s interesting, because I’ve had this conversation with friends, I’m obviously, as any concertgoer, I’ve been to some pretty bad ones where nothing lived up to what you thought it would be, but I think I tend to go to concerts now with a different perception and that is the performance aspect of it. An art form, which is the presentation of music in concert. Certainly I’m still going to them, in fact, as I’ve gotten older, one of the things that has happened is that I’ve become a more frequent traveler to shows. I just came back from Montreal, and the reason I had gone there was to see Nick Cave perform, and that was fascinating for me because I’d first seen him in ’83. And I’d seen a lot of him in the 80’s when he toured more frequently. The first time I saw Nick Cave was the birthday party show. But it was very interesting because Nick has just turned 50 I believe, and nothing could have stopped me from going to that show. I had to see where he was you know I’ve followed his released work and recorded for him, but it’s been a long time since I’ve seen him physically, publicly, you know, not since the 90s.
Although if you had asked me though at the age of 15 or 16 if I would ever go see Bob Dylan, I would have dismissed that as not really a probable concert that I would see, possibly because I associated him with the 1960s and having much less to do with my time. Now however? I will travel to go see him, in fact just last year I traveled to go see him. Often the people I will travel to go see are people with whom I’ve had a long history with, I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing but I’ve actually now seen Bob Dylan in a hockey rink in Rochester, MN. I drove to Missouri, maybe 7 or 8 hours, to see the Fall perform in a strip mall, simply because they weren’t going to be performing where I was. Maybe part of it too Steve, is that some of these artists will not be performing in the future, that some of them are getting up there. But part of it is still that excitement of the concert experience that each one is going to be totally different and some of them have just been epic.

Performance Ethnography Essay

As I waited for the blue-robed clan to ascend the Holy Mountain, I could feel the cold sweat run down the back of my neck, balance to the hot pulse in my ringing ears. The cacophonous noise, optic saturation, blindly inebriated surrender to all things synesthetic—a one-night amalgam of sensory overload was the fortuitous result of the most unusual elements. Together, a gay club, noise rock and surrealist film provided equilibrium between two widely variant cultures for a performance both entertaining and enlightening.

Walking down to the White Mice show, I really only expected to have my ears blown. I heard the Providence noise scene was a force to be reckoned with, that its fans took the music as seriously as its bands did, and that earplugs were strongly advised. Yet this fervor, if nothing else, implied to me a vibrant subculture with lively shows and passionate members. The night was far more than this, to say the least. Even just walking up to the venue, visible septum piercings, jagged Mohawks and overwhelming body odor alerted me to the authenticity of the hardcore fans, emphasized by their cryptic cant and insouciant candor. Pushing my way through a sea of Marlboros to the door, I quickly broke eye contact with the shadowy doorman, and quicker hid my notebook in pocket. Ultimately friendly, at face the crowd at the Dark Lady did not appear too welcoming.

But this would be the first of many surprises throughout the night. Despite glares from bystanders outside, the women at the desk were warm and friendly, or so I thought until I met the effeminate, affectionate bartenders. This was the first major contrast during the night, and the first large question about the event: how did a notoriously homosexual club and hardcore noise scene come to coexist in an evening’s performance? Why these cultures? Why here? Why now? All the staff, most all the audience, were all smiles, jokes, and spirit. What in theory sounded like an absurd combination presented itself to be a natural partnership of kindred subcultures, weakly linked in the Providence periphery.

For me, culturally enforced gender stereotypes portray most gay clubs in urban America commonplace for disco revivals and Cher karaoke. One certainly imagines late nights of drinking and dancing, perhaps even pride nights and drag shows. At great distance from this stereotypical culture I thought to find Providence noise shows, but I was mistaken. In recent months, the Dark Lady has collaborated with local noise rock, hardcore and underground indie bands to present a series called Paint It Pink, a loosely curated series whose MySpace profile boasts the motto: “Paint It Pink wants to book the gayest show you’ll ever play.” Sure, gay club: gay music: okay, I get it. But the puzzling pairing with noise rock seemed unfitting for the Dark Lady, whose crystalline chandeliers were adorned with pink feather boas, whose bar featured a dozen brightly colored liqueurs. Moreover, for the first hour waiting for the show to start, I found myself sipping drinks rather quickly to offset the collective tension of concertgoers viewing two wall-size screenings of midgets and transsexuals fellating enormous, enormous dicks. Even some of the most metallic punks in the room seemed slightly off put.

Soon as the music started, the porn stopped—the atmosphere even stranger. The first act, Suffering Bastard, tore through a set of 20 one-minute songs, pausing their aural assault for momentary introductions like: “This one’s about shit!” or “This one is for the Fonz, heyyy.” Ever-shifting from half time to triple time, the band nearly destroyed their two basses, grinding them between pelvis and amplifier for distorted effects while the lead singer bit his own arm repeatedly, drawing blood.

The second band, Pygmy Shrews, was rhythmically more consistent yet lacked the hardcore potency of Suffering Bastard, sticking to a more accessible post-hardcore featuring female vocals, astutely observed by one unseen audience member to sound like “a really fucked-up Bratmobile.” This appeal was not lost on the gen(d)erally indifferent audience who seemed drawn to the vocalist’s defined androgyny and masculine presence, I noted as a few Dark Lady regulars took their fingers from their ears.

After the first two bands played in rapid succession, the headliners of the bill, White Mice, delayed performance for a seemingly endless stint at the bar with a whiskey bottle. As the lights dimmed a large man, dressed in garb befitting a tyrannical Russian czar took center stage, shouting introductions from blank pages, wearing a turban made of film rolls. And then… well I’d never experienced anything quite like it. Three white mice, eyes glowing red from heads torn and mangled, assailing their instruments into a jarring din, enrapturing an audience of dozens into a swaying, sweating, submissive frenzy. Half moshing, half meditating, the audience reacted to White Mice’s every note; one could watch the faces of those closest to the stage, contorting with every shift in the endless drone of distortion. To say there was interaction between White Mice and their audience might be a stretch—they said virtually nothing from stage, had no discernable lyrics to sing along with, and rarely fell into any regular beat suited for dance of any kind. Nevertheless, the audience loved it and applauded enthusiastically at the conclusion of a 45 minute set.

Strangely enough, the most obvious link between these two cultures was the visual presentation during the musical performances. A muted showing of “The Holy Mountain,” 1972 Lennon/Ono-sponsored, Jodorowsky-directed cult classic cum mescaline trip transported the audience from the Dark Lady to a post-Dadaist dreamland, at some points tracking the screaming vocal lines to protest portrayals, doves bursting forth from peoples’ chests, and at other points underscoring deep bass drones with shot after shot of clans climbing mountains, shaving their heads, and partaking in sacrificial rituals. The juxtaposition offered little explanation of the scene the audience found themselves in, yet seemed to provide a subtle reconciliation.

It then became clear—the answer to all those “why” questions I had asked myself when I first entered. As I watched factory clones model manufactured anatomical parts, I began tying together the possible connections between these two cultures—noise rock and gay nightclub—only to discover that the overlaps were as innumerable as they were remote. A penchant for self-indulgence, affinity for a trancelike state, the idea of public display as a projected self-image, populating a real environment in which things could be both simulated yet honestly exaggerated—the cultures awkwardly fit together by melding performance into space by means of clever curation. While the show was certainly anamolous in the larger music scene, it certainly worked well this night and emphasized the not-so-impervious barriers between oft relegated subcultures, perhaps even foreshadowed future cross-cultural exchange.

What struck me most about the night was that both subcultures existed so strongly before the new series Paint It Pink. It was not the case where one dominant culture advocates another, nor where both collaborate for mutual survival. Rather, the collaboration seemed purely creative and succeeded in achieving a artistic synthesis in which the audience was shown but a greater glimpse at the underlying nature of both cultures, their small shared essence, in the shared glorification of real performance.

Word count: 1202

Ethnography project -- Fieldnotes #1

In beginning my research, I've drafted a survey for iPod users to determine the effect of iPod technology on personal identity and music. Though the survey is still in draft form, many sample questions are listed below. My plan is to collect at least 100 surveys through the month of March in order to augment qualitative personal interviews with quantitative statistical data. (These questions are currently an outline; each will be redrafted, ordered, and include multiple choice options to choose from.)

• How long have you owned an iPod? (How many have you owned?)
• What model(s) iPod do you have?
• When do you listen to your iPod the most? (During what activities?)
• How often do you use the "Shuffle" mode? (For what purpose?)
• How often do you use Podcasts? (For what purpose?)
• How often do you create your own playlist? (For what purpose?)
• How many genres of music do you have on your iPod?
  
• Which genres of music do you listen to on a regular basis? (Which do you listen to the most?)
• Do you download music? (Legally? Illegally?)
• From what source(s) do you get the majority of your music?
• Do you purchase CDs, vinyl records, cassettes, or other "analog" media?
• Do you listen to the radio? (AM? FM? XM? Pandora, etc?)

In addition to the quantitative survey questions, I will also be interviewing select participants with the following qualitative questions:

• How does having an iPod affect how you listen to music?
• How reliant are you on your iPod for music consumption?
• How would you envision your life without an iPod?
• Do you identify with any musical subculture? (i.e. punk, goth, indie, etc.)
• Does your iPod reflect that identity in its contents?
• If someone were to look at your iPod, do you think they would get a sense of your musical tastes?
• Do you share your iPod? Do you show it to other people? Do you ever trade iPods?
• Are you ever embarrassed by the music on your iPod? Do you believe in "guilty pleasure" music"? Do you find yourself having music on your iPod for which you would not buy the record in a store?

Beyond drafting these survey questions, I've also started to explore the current research on iPods, downloading technology, and personal music identity. Among other articles, I chose two chapters of Steven Levy's book "The Perfect Thing: how the iPod shuffles commerce, culture and coolness. A brief summary follows.

“Download”
The story begins in 1988. Though Sony dominated music with the Walkman, German computer programmers invented the MP3, unknowing of its implications. In 1997, WinAmp is the first “digital jukebox.” The labels freak out, starting suing (for the first time), and develop as Levy puts it “a world-class fear of change.” [p138]

Contrasting MP3.com’s earlier fate, Levy discusses Napster’s inception, its consequent lawsuits, and subsequent knockoffs. With these knockoffs, Levy observes an overlooked distinction: “Napster had directed its users to songs on other users’ computer by means of a central database under its control; this was the smoking gun that made the service legally culpable… [the software of newcomers] did not have a central database. Their software set up self-sustaining file-sharing networks that lived on their own in cyberspace, like those giant fungi that cover thousands of acres in the northwest.” [p144]

Levy points out both the ignorance and the hypocrisy of the recording industry. Ignorantly, one record exec notably compared downloading to car theft—Levy notes that car-theft is zero-sum and downloading is infinite-sum. Hypocritically, the industry made ethical claims while “their history was an unbroken litany of publishing credits pilfered from artists, unpaid royalties, and envelopes stuffed with illegal payola.” [p145]

Here begins the story of Steve Jobs and how the iPod changed things:
o 2001, iPod undergoes “whirlwind development.”
o 2002, SJobs sets his eyes on a digital music store. Problem: “How do you get people to want to pay for what they can get for free?”
o How could he succeed where others had failed? SJobs was powerful and rich, that’s why. With varying forms of capital, he negotiated with the major companies the rules for iTunes downloading—songs forever, files on three computers, burnable ten times.
o April 2003, iTunes Music Store launches with 200,000 songs (2 million by 2006) to tremendous success, attributable in part to the Mac software formatting and compatibility with the iPod itself. Also, purchasing was made easy and understandable.
o October 2003, iTunes launches for Windows. Another success.
o 2004, SJobs predicts the eradication of physical media.

Good and bad: On one hand, iTunes caused the regression of music from the album to the single—probably a bad thing. On the other hand, Levy points out this actually widens distributive options, citing a successful three-song release from Liz Phair.


“Identity”
The most two important quotes:
o “Playlist is character.” [p23]
o “It’s not just what you like—it’s who you are.” [p26]

From the analog music-lover’s perspective, the iPod as identity is eternally detrimental to self-identity. The scarcity and obscurity of once hallowed music is undermined by digital availability. Levy cites Kelefa Sanneh “…it’s getting harder to find any music at all that’s hard to find.” [p24]

From the digital music-lover’s perspective, the iPod as identity is phenomenal, and this trend seems to be growing.

Notable people with iPods that Levy mentions: George W. Bush, Tony Blair, Pope Benedict XVI, Dick Cheney, various movie stars.

Levy briefly discusses the iTunes sharing feature as a window to digital voyeurism (borderline fetishism), affirming it as a source of identity. His anecdotal proof fails to convince, though his use of the term “impression management” indicates the phenomenon all iPod users are inherently aware of. Levy also pens the phrase “opening the iTunes kimono.”


Another article that I read per Mark Perlman's Music and Modern Life course here at Brown is Gerald Marzorati's "How the Album Got Played Out".

• In 1997, Radiohead’s Ok Computer received universal critical praise but faced relatively disappointing sales.
• Marzorati blaims the decline in popularity of the LP format, particularly among the affluent white males who once voraciously consumed albums in their entirety.
• This decline is not a result of a stagnant creativity, but unbearable pressure on major labels to generate quarterly profits, increasingly standardized radio playlists, and most importantly the ease with which listeners can scan through an album, re-arrange its tracklist, or select only the songs they want via digital downloading.
• In the late 1960’s pop artists like Bob Dylan, the Beatles, and the Beach Boys began experimenting with the LP format, crafting strings of songs that functioned as a cohesive unit rather than a collection of singles.
• Today, listeners are showing less and less patience for conceptual albums and a greater willingness to buy albums based on one song. As a result, labels are investing more in potential one-hit wonders and less in album-oriented rock musicians.
• Marzorati imagines a future where full albums are reduced to collector’s items for diehard fans, while general public continues to consume what they want, when they want it, with their finger constantly hovering over the “Next Track” button.

Miller (questions)

1. If the choice of music in GTA helps the gamer to identify with his/her criminal avatar, does it not reduce the impact of the violent/sexual situations which the gamer must traverse? What is the significance of being able to hum a song you know while digitally recreating a drive-by shooting?

2. Inversely, do the gamers' strong associations with the crime and brutality in GTA and its soundtrack reinforce the social and cultural stereotypes of hip-hop and violence? Though Rockstar Games successfully recreate an historical setting in a digital realm, do the responses of gamers reflect anything more than a face-value reading of music associated with crime, violence, and negative stereotypes of American urban life?

3. [for the class] Think about your daily life, the music you listen to as you go about mundane activities. Think about music you use in different circumstances, music that triggers excitement, fear, aggression. If you yourself were "in" this game, what music would soundtrack your own GTA experience?

Ethnography project -- Second thoughts / iPod+identity

UPDATE:

As I reread my proposal against other students' ideas, I understand that the breadth of my subject might be too much for the undertaking. To narrow, I believe I am going to focus specifically on the idea of iPods and personal identity. Through interviews, field research, and historical readings, I will attempt to outline some of the aforementioned changing trends in personal identity by interviewing young people about the contents of their iPods, how they use this music, and how they identify with both the music and the technology. As a point of contrast, I will also interview older adults about their record collections and analog technologies. Within these interviews, I aim to address subjects such as personal choice, emotion, identification, musical geography, cultural boundaries, distribution, and other aspects of music that affect personal identity.

Added source ideas:
Tia DeNora, "Music as a technology of the self"
Steven Levy, The perfect thing: how the iPod shuffles commerce, culture, and coolness
Chris Anderson, "The Long Tail"
Mark Levine, "Pandora Maps the Musical Genome"

Ethnography Project -- First thoughts

My primary interest regarding musical youth cultures is not the collective, it is the individual. The more we examine cut-up aesthetic, sampling, and remix culture, the more we understand the modern notion of personal identity as being one of multiplicative symbiosis between cultures and codes--a notion that centralizes variety and excludes exclusion. For my project this semester, my plan is to examine recent literature regarding digital downloading, remix culture, mash-ups and electronic sampling, streaming radio, and iPod technologies, and to contrast this with some of the more historical subcultural texts examining specific trends and technologies from past generations. Equally, I will augment my theoretical study with surveys from youth participants in the aforementioned cultures/technologies (qualitative, quantitative, or both: TBD) to illuminate what I predict will be an increasing "interconnectedness" between subcultures currently, more so than in the past. While this trend may be predictable, my intent through fieldwork, interviews and current theoretical study is to trace a substantive link between the subcultural overlap in collective identity with a similar overlap in personal identity. It is my contention that individuals recognize greater social inclusion due to cultural overlaps in the wake of recent trends and technologies. The now-dated inclination for identity per exclusion has been sublimated into numerous personal identities, redefining the self as a converging Venn diagram. While this theory is preliminary, I hope that narrowing the focus to specific technologies and a target group will illustrate a characteristic example of what my theoretical study will expound as a larger social pattern.

Source ideas:
Dick Hebdige, Subculture: the Meaning of Style
DJ Spooky aka That Subliminal Kid, Rhythm Science
Pierre Bourdieu, Distinction: A Social Critique of the Judgment of Taste
[more soon]

Weinstein

In beginning Weinstein's essay on metal culture, my worry was that it would fail to address metal the way that Hodkinson had failed to address goth: "Why metal?" However, Weinstein essentially begins with just this answer, describing how metal may stand as a "folk" culture in a commercial setting, one that outwardly appears to be a passive, collective mass. Weinstein astutely cites that each time a metal fan strikes the pose of an air-guitar, the connectedness of metal culture is not only illustrated, but strengthened. From this reductive view, Weinstein acknowledges that while music is a central element of metal culture, it does not define it; I believe that this methodology of analysis is more revealing about a musical subculture and better identifies what connects music, audience, symbol, and society.

One of the more enlightening observations Weinstein makes of metal culture is in its origins, identifying that it was born from both the psychedelic and machismo attitudes of 1960s youth culture. Its earliest proponents, "white, male, and heterosexual youth became socioculturally de-centered by emerging movements of women, gays, and nonwhites. Nostalgia for centricity, then, also had its part in the metal subculture's conservation of the 1960s." [p101] Noting that these characteristics do not sum up all metal's members, I believe Weinstein well phrases the latent inertia that underlies many youth subcultures, saying "there could have been no heavy metal music if there had been no incipient subculture ready to guide and embrace it." [p102] An oft overlooked circumstance in musical subcultures, the music is itself a product of the culture.

Aside, I think it is important to add to Weinstein's section "Male" that since its publication, numerous metal icons have come out as homosexual or supporting homosexuality, including Rob Halford of Judas Priest, who Weinstein cites as a central metal proponent.

As he evaluates metal's evolution through the 1970s, or "me decade" as he quotes Tom Wolfe, Weinstein downplays metal's musical origins in the 1960s. He attempts to correlate metal's rise with a generation's Utopian disillusionment being shattered to social apathy. On the contrary, I think that the teenage indifference metal initially brought to light had latently existed since Elvis. Weinstein even quotes the Who as professing "I hope I die before I get old" as teenage motto of the mid-1960s. Bands such as the Stooges, Black Sabbath, the Velvet Underground, and Alice Cooper predated the downfall of the hippie movement and the rise of metal as it is known today; the metallic seeds had been planted long before the spirit of the 1960s drew to a close. One who says the teenagers' angst was not of their own making clearly misunderstands teenagers and the allure of heavy metal.

Briefly, Weinstein proceeds to evaluate metal culture in terms of its audience's ethnic composition (white) and socioeconomic status (working class). Weinsteins evaluations are again thorough, yet not as enlightening as his findings on metal's origins. From here, Weinstein moves into the discussion of his McClary-cum-Megadeth term "the music itself": music, lyrics, and styles of metal.

Beginning with the music, Weinstein identifies loud volumes, heavy bottom sounds, and guitar virtuosity as central to heavy metal's appeal. Discussing metal lyrics, he observes that their significance varies greatly throughout the subculture, yet serve two primary functions: one, they act as a unifying symbol for fans who memorize them by rote, not unlike Americans and the Star-Spangled Banner; and two, they are a platform for the culture's fascination with the aesthetics of human vocal performance, the "spine-chilling screams, sounds that come from another world." [p126] As Weinstein moves to contrast conventional youth dances with "headbanging," his comments on metal style differ from other youth subcultures by noting: "Heavy metal is not cool. It is not hip." [p132] The essence of metal stems from a different unifying facet of youthful rebellion; it seeks not to redefine what is chic and hip, replacing the outdated, but to build upon an existing tradition which celebrates all that is angst, dark, brutal and heavy. In metal, Weinstein describes, the style and symbolism is abundant, yet the music is central--the inherent link between the two is metal's self-perpetuating appeal: "It is great as music for what it does to [the fans]--how it draws them into it, excites them, and finally leaves them wasted, completely spent, having burned the potlatch of their youthful vitality and purged their emotions." [p143]

Discussion question(s): Is the development of metal truly different than other subcultures, or is the study of metal simply more thorough? At what point does a subculture becomes a "culture," and, in becoming so, at what point does a subculture become self-aware (or can it)? Can subcultures shape their own future--if so, why do more not follow the path of metal? Why are not there more musical subcultures as strong, vibrant as metal?

Slobin

"Music in Diaspora: The View from Euro-America" begins with Slobin's strong claim of why music and its context in daily human life must be studied: it is simply unavoidable. "...music has always been wired into the mobile body, forming earliest memories and later evoking deep-set emotions." [p244] Because of this significance, the influence of music in the ethnic diaspora is central to understanding any people in their geographic or social location, according to Slobin, with which I agree. He also specifies that music not only reveals patterns within cultures, but between cultures as well.

Through the essay, Slobin attempts to define the relationship between the "superculture" and varying subcultural diaspora. He admits that subcultures elude definition, and thus the relations between subcultures, or between sub- and supercultures, are difficult to define, though cites examples that illustrate both definition and relationship. Specifically, Slobin identifies individuals, or "activists," that often serve as proponents for small subcultures or crossovers in which individuals navigate dual-identities, such as Cuban-American / African-American in the case of Jon Secada [p249]. He concludes the essay by discussing these individuals in the greater context of "oppositionality," which addresses high-cultures's incorporation of low-culture, often realized by superculture's incorporation of subculture--a challenge to diaspora cultures who seek both recognition and respect, inclusion and independence.

Discussion question(s): how can a subculture assert itself within a superculture without being incorporated, commercialized, or generally taken advantage of? Is it possible for a subculture to exist simultaneously, or is the cultural hierarchy unavoidable? How do ethnographic diaspora differ from the social diaspora of the subcultures we've already examined? And, how can we contextualize musical youth cultures in terms of Slobin's definitions of cultural diaspora?

Hodkinson

Hodkinson's analysis of British goth culture focuses on its strength of translocal connections as elemental to its identity. He begins by identifying the abstract connections of personal identity and taste before expanding his analysis to "concrete" connections via commerce and media, specifically citing the Internet as new ground for subcultural expansion.

Though Hodkinson's analysis and discussion of goth is thorough throughout, there is very little relating his findings to the goth culture itself, nor any justification of goth as his subject of study. In fact, most of his analyses read as general statements on youth culture in general. "Meanwhile, key influential individuals such as DJs were equally liable to pick up musical ideas and influences from attending events elsewhere, ideas which may then be imported back into the set list of their local goth club." [p137] This quotation could easily be applied to various youth cultures, just as Hodkinson's discussion of the impact of specialty shops could be linked to the style of any subculture. By not discussing the significance of any signs, symbols, capital, or communications specific to goth culture, Hodkinson fails to answer the simple question of how goth distinguishes itself from any other subculture. More specifically, his introduction of goth's tenets illustrate its members' tendencies toward reclusion, isolation, and individualism, yet at no point does he reconcile these with his description of social networking and collective identity, presumably counterintuitive to other youth subcultures, such as Thornton's discussion of acid-house culture which is based on highly social clubs and raves.

Discussion question(s): Why goth? How are goth's symbols and culture linked? If punk remnants can be identified in goth, what are they, and how do they differ?

UPDATE: After watching the goth special on the Culture Show, I believe even more strongly that the aesthetics of goth, while lie central to the collective identity, do not suffice as subcultural essence without greater contextualization. As Donny Robbins dresses up in goth attire and claims to "feel" goth, he seemingly only does so because other goths complimented his garb. In actuality, Robbins displayed little of the theatricality, self-indulgence or fetishism that underlies the gothic fascination with imagery. I believe that he and Hodkinson both fail to explain why goth really is what it is and how it exists as a subculture.

Cohen

In this article, Sara Cohen attempts to rationalize why the study of popular music is lacking in anthropological context, having long been comprised of models abstracted from empirical data. She begins by discussing some of the issues addressed by traditional anthropological studies, such as kinship, ethnicity, identity, society, culture and community [p124].* While observing the broad range of these issues, Cohen then notes the narrow focus of popular music studies: "...lyrical and musical texts may be deconstructed and their 'meaning' asserted, but the important question 'meaning for whom?' is often neglected" [p126]; she traces varying foci from McLuhan to Hebdige to Grossberg to Frith. From these past approaches, Cohen begins to describe the value of ethnographic approaches to connect popular music (and its social context) with specific peoples and individuals, citing Finnegan's description of music's role as a personal 'path' for people in guiding activities and relationships. After describing her own past and present research in various Liverpool music scenes, Cohen expounds the value of ethnographical study: its ability to augment theoretical models, its versatility between macro and micro applications, and its emphasis on interaction, rather than mere observation.

Though she concludes by recognizing the emergence of popular ethnography, I think that this article highlights the fact that academics, disconnected from both mainstream and underground subcultures, do not realize that much of what they consider to be ethnographical study is commonplace to the individual within these respective scenes. Though historically, study was required to mediate the process of documentation, developments of the digital age (such as blogs and online communities) now facilitate the immediate chronicling of popular music and modern life.

Discussion question(s): How can technology directly reconcile the disconnect between popular music and academia? Can technology legitimize publication by younger authors? Will online communities serve as authentic subjects for study? As the Internet emphasizes the 'collective' over the personal, how will the course of popular music ethnography change trajectory?


*(Interestingly, she alludes to the fact that much of the current ethnographical studies of popular culture stems from past anthropological studies of native, foreign peoples. I believe, to read studies that use(d) such a methodology directly colors how the subject is viewed, regardless of the studies' conclusions.)

Thornton

Thornton begins her essay by describing a night out in the London club scene, bouncing from club to party to rave. Though her account seems somewhat distant from the culture, her descriptions are illuminating and preface her following evaluation of subcultures in the 1990s. She continues with a section on youth subcultures, tracing the recent history of varying theories and meta-theories that separate the field of cultural studies into their analyses of mainstream/alternative, and similar dichotomies. In this, Thornton seems to reject the traditional binaries for an expanded set of relationships she views as necessary in the 1990s, citing the observation of Grossberg that "the mass audience of pop, the mainstream of style, is the postmodern subculture" [p97]. Personally, I find this ridiculous, but she keeps going.

The following section, "The Social Logic of Subcultural Capital," Thornton discusses the social umbrella of the 'mainstream,' and what that designation suggests about class, age, scene, and status. Her argument is that the mainstream, though having multiple definitions, is something against which adolescents and young adults can differentiate themselves in order to carve out a social niche based on freedom and leisure, rather than structure and occupation; the mainstream exists as something they acknowledge and reinforce by simultaneously responding to, or rebelling against, its (seemingly omni-)presence. She concludes by discussing the gender differences in cultural capital and how these affect the composition of both the mainstream and subcultures.

Thornton concludes with a rather specific, yet uncaptivating, description of her methodologies in observing the British club scene. More relevant, in mind, is in her final conclusion, which provides not only a brief summary of her argument, but an explicit list of the social binaries that construct the larger positions of "us" and "them."

Discussion question(s): Individually, what are overlapping qualities between mainstream and underground cultures, if any? Style? Rebellion? Virtuosity? Beyond this, if cultures beneath the mainstream are formed via continual undermining of cultural authority (age, race, class, etc.), from where does subcultural authority emerge? How is it maintained, or can it be? Or does it even exist?

McClary

McClary aptly introduces her essay with Byrne's noted refrain "Same as it ever was" to describe the physicality of music, ever-present in its social impact. Tracing writings on music from Plato to Frith, she outlines the changes in the social perceptions and function of music, maintaining the role of the body as central throughout. McClary identifies gender and race as two social constructs particularly disrupted by music, noting that these subversions often go unnoticed in lieu of commercialism and cultural saturation. Though her historical analysis is broad, its closing seems to draw targeted conclusions regarding the history of African-American exploitation, the prostitution of the pop music performer, and the role of dance in subcultural development.

While I agree that examining this aspect of music is relevant to its overall history, I disagree with McClary's evaluation on the social impact of music since the 1960s, specifically her contention that the political music during Vietnam (i.e. rock'n'roll) disengaged the body from the music. Her theory of "technologies of the body" does little to reconcile music and politics/power, as it still fails to fully describe how one relates to/affects the other. Underscoring this, her subsequent emphasis on the African-American dominance of 20th century cultural imagery (specifically as it pertains to the body) discredits rock'n'roll as perhaps the most significant, if not the most physical, movement in music to popularly emerge at that time.

In my opinion, rock'n'roll did more to subvert social norms by physically empowering youth, the underclass, ethnic minorities, women or gay people than any African-American music between the 1950s and 1980s. Rock'n'roll did so by fostering internal "technologies of the body," which facilitated self-expression, in turn generating new sources of collective identity.
Glam rock with its self-indulgent theatricality, physchedelia tapping into the individual unconscious, punk rock defining youth rebellion with personal fashion and a fuckall ethos, these genres used their own conceptions of the body to manipulate predominant social constructions.

Conversely, the African-American genres McClary cites ("genres designed to maximize physical engagement") were consciously designed to have this corporeal effect, illustrated in her first example of Wilson Pickett. It was a formulaic change in the 'groove' that held sway, a type of calculation that shifted African-American music from the instinctive genres of jazz, blues, and r&b toward the popular genres of pop, soul, and disco (distinguished from the former by commercial potential). It seems that while trends like "the Motown Sound" and other highly stylized genres abandoned the modernist notion of the 'primitive' by glossing over its 'blackness', rock'n'roll adopted an updated primitivism by redistinguishing the individual from the collective by means of physical, personal expression. In my mind, the simple fact that African-American music was more danceable is overshadowed by the physical expressiveness of rock'n'roll; thusly, I believe that the latter has had more of a social impact and can be viewed to better illustrate the theoretical "technologies of the body."

(Granted these two are not mutually exclusive and overlap at numerous points throughout history. Furthermore, both have at one point or another succumbed to rampant oversaturation and commercialism, calling the authenticity of all genres and subgenres into question. I am generally responding to what I view as a generalization in McClary's theory, though I do not disagree with her observation that music, the body, and their effects are inherently, and irrevocably, connected.)

Discussion question(s): what specific musical ideas define something as 'white' or 'black'? What musical ideas (NOT lyrics) can be defined as political? How can we contextualize hip-hop in McClary's idea of music and the body?

Hebdige

The brief introductory excerpt from Hebdige's larger "Subculture: The Meaning of Style" addresses British punk as a (then) contemporary example of an emergent youth movement, one combined of musical, racial, and social components. It begins by describing the unusual social climate of Britain in the summer of 1976 when punk emerged there; Hebdige continues by discussing different cultural factors that impacted the would-be punk generation. He makes sure to foreshadow his discussion of race and racial tensions during this time, as he cites its particular relevance to punk in contrast to the impact of more commonly discussed social institutions--the school, the media, the family, etc. Musically, Hebdige introduces the major influences to British punk (David Bowie, American punk) as well as its biggest icons (The Clash, The Sex Pistols), though does not yet at length discuss their specific contributions.

The immediate relevance of this excerpt is its thorough analysis of a youth subculture, widely disregarded for its fuck-all ethos, in a way that is both effective and explicative. He defines punk by its multiple sources of identity, citing aesthetic minutia as subcultural linchpins, (... because punk style contained distorted reflections of all the major post-war subcultures. [p26]) This focus is just one of many that illustrates punk as a complicated representation of inherent questions to youth subcultures: the definition of signs and symbols, the balance of politics and apathy, the sources of personal and collective identity, the granting of (sub)cultural authority.

However, even though Hebdige identifies sources of inertia for the punk movement in this excerpt, beyond this passage he fails to fully reconcile punk 'style' with its underlying ethos: self-identity in punk relies on the constant subversion/perversion of cultural symbols, including any of its own (sub)cultural symbols; thus, at the moment anything is considered to be 'punk', it must immediately be rejected as such for having that label. By as early as 1977, as punk trends infiltrated the mainstream, the punk thing to do was to not be punk. Because of this ironic notion of personal v. collective identity, I believe Hebdige's early analysis of the punk's roots is far more revealing to the true nature of youth subculture than any analysis of punk's fate, marked by cultural saturation and social misinterpretation.

Discussion question(s): how can a subculture, defined by youthful rebellion, withstand commercialization? Is this possible? Why or why not? Examples?

test

start

prof. kiri miller
kiri_miller@brown.edu

TA. liam mcgranahan
liam_mcgranahan@brown.edu

T/TH 10:30-11:50am
grant recital hall