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Global Sonic Cultures Personal/ Relevant

Account of a Gig Based on Geertzian ‘Thick Description’

‘The term thick descriptions was first used by Ryle (1949) and later by Geertz (1973) who applied it in ethnography. Thick description refers to the detailed account of field experiences in which the researcher makes explicit the patterns of cultural and social relationships and puts them in context.’

In a shabby dim-lit basement room, underneath an Italian Restaurant in Dalston, somewhere around 50 sweaty people huddle around a low rise stage, occupied by various machines adorned with wires wrapping around one another like vines. Blueish purple hues of light intermittently scatter over their heads as a silhouette emerges onto the stage. As the overhead light reveals the figure in a flurry of deep red, wolf whistles and applaud fill the room, drowning out the remains of quiet chatter. Seemingly transfixed on the hardware in front of him, he proceeds to engage with its knobs and buttons. Before anyone has a chance to prepare, a cascade of notes dance into everyone’s ears, shortly followed by a wall of soothing bass tones. The crowd sways in response, moving as one, to the rich chordal harmonies emanating from a sound-system hidden behind a sea of people. As if in some form of premeditated choreography. As the music comes to an end the clink of glasses and the shuffle of footsteps slowly become audible again. A second figure steps onto the stage, warmly welcomed by cheers and whistles. After briefly addressing the crowd he makes a hand gesture to the first figure and the sound of a drum loop cuts through the room. Dusty in texture and solid in pocket, all members of the crowd succumb to its groove, invited to move their bodies in unison with it. Flesh rubs on flesh as people compete for space to express themselves through movement. The heat contained within this relatively small room starts to become more and more noticeable. Beads of sweat glimmer in the hazy lighting as the crowd, one by one, start stripping off their outer layers. The second figure starts to rap into a mic, decorating the drum loop with poetic efficiency. The heat, whilst borderline unbearable, is forgotten about for a brief moment as the crowd find themselves hypnotised by the performance. United in a common appreciation for this particular vibe, the crowd is comforted in the unspoken camaraderie that a shared music taste can bring.

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Global Sonic Cultures

The Power of Silence

Sat in front of a piano and a blank piece of manuscript paper, John cage famously subjected his audience to 4 minutes and 33 seconds of silence. Widely misunderstood as a deliberate provocation or a hoax, aimed at mocking the audience, its meaning is still debated. Whatever the supposed intention, I feel this Cagean silence acts as a catalyst for its listeners to expand the mind to the fact that all sounds are music. A deeper, perhaps more meaningful approach to listening. This notion of silence reminds me of an animated film I once saw called ‘The Red Turtle’ (dir. by Hayao Miyazaki). While the film is not silent, there is zero dialogue throughout. I found myself sitting in anticipation for the moment that the protagonist would utter his first words. But the moment never came. I think it may have served as an important lesson, much like Cage’s 4’33, to abandon expectation in the face of silence, freeing up your mind to its immersivity and in turn paying it the respect it deserves. To be truthful, there is no such thing as complete and utter silence on our planet, unless fabricated by some acoustic/ technological means. Which only shows that there is always something to tune into, whether we realise it or not.

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Global Sonic Cultures

When Silence Rises From Earth

Silence is powerful. This is the message I received in response to watching the short audio-visual piece ‘When Silence Rises From Earth: 4’33” (More Than Cage Imagined Mix)’ by IR : Sankara Future Dub Resurgence. Both an audio-visual global collaboration/ installation and community event, taking place in the Dub Museum located in Kampala, Uganda, it gives an insight into its indigenous resistance and provides a stage for other countries experiencing political strife. During a ritual preparation of a Djembe drum (Warming up of its skins as is traditionally done before any performance) a handful of members engage in a silent, politically charged meditation.

Poster collages, rich in colour, are seen plastered on each wall adjacent to the group’s members, providing a rich cultural context to what they stand for. Plentiful in Anarchist symbolism and quotes from philosophers and activists, we are invited visually to ponder on anti colonial resistance and are advised that the true path to fulfilment in oneself and society is via the spiritual means, as opposed to the material. This is shown through cosmological figures such as Sun Ra, ideological concepts such as ‘The Fourth World’ and ‘Siba’, meaning ‘a pious distance from power’ and quotes by revered resistance figures such as ‘Free West Papua’ and ‘No-one makes any progress on the spiritual path until they are of benefit to their fellow human beings’. These messages, not heard in the networks of global corporate media, invoke a sense of responsibility within us to be of help to our fellow man in some shape or form, and coupled with the narration of a Palestinian mother and her South American-born son instructing us to ‘please prepare the silence’ in Arabic, Spanish and English, we are shown the importance of inclusivity, in that we are all equal and deserving of the same treatment, regardless of race, class or gender.

In an immediate sense, however, this project was brought to life amidst the 2020 global pandemic, but more locally so during the Ugandan political crisis. Furthermore, many setbacks that recording studios in the global north aren’t exposed to, such as power outages, roadblocks and disconnected telecommunications only increases the sense of urgency in Sankara’s piece.

Inspired by John Cage, Sankara focused on silence as a tool to bring light to the multiplicity of ideals they stand for. The minimal sounds juxtapose the maximalist images we see on the walls, that almost demand to be seen, and consequently colour our auditory experience of the Dub Museum. This synthesis of audio and visuals give the silence that ensues an ethical imperative.

What makes this project so meaningful is the unique nature of the Dub Museum. An autonomous area, free from ‘the institutional worlds of political parties, NGOs, corporate funding, electronic music festivals, academic universities, and avant-garde art scenes.’ The location itself points towards a time where non hierarchical societies existed in pre-colonial Africa and within it contains an anti-imperialist agenda. Silence may be misunderstood, but in a place such as this it is given context, form and purpose.

I am able to liken it to my own experiences of prayer or widespread remembrance and feelings of solidarity and togetherness come to mind. In a world full of noise, the power of silence is definitely underestimated.