Sunday, November 25, 2012

Musicking in Dayton


It was an event that almost defied description.  As the participants arrived, it was difficult to tell what they had in common.  And yes, they were participants, not an audience.  Some were dressed for a formal event, men in the obligatory black bow tie and cuff links, ladies in black sequined dresses.  Others were men well passed retirement age, with shoulder length hair, boots, jeans and cowboy hats. Musicians came with instrument cases.  Parents came with children.  As they entered, they were greeted by a well-dressed doorman, a rented security guard, and a man with dreadlocks playing a steel drum. 
            The inside décor was every bit as eclectic.  In the entrance were tiki torches on either side of a giant stone face that could have come from the statue of Ozymandias.  The wall to the left was decorated with a variety of musical instruments that ranged from primitive folk instruments to death metal guitars.  They were hung over one bad ass West Coast custom motorcycle.  The right wall featured tombstones being the names of the establishments that had previously inhabited the building, but had gone out of business.  The date of the last departure was 2011.
            The  diversity of the people and the décor served to give context to the performances that were taking place in the room.  Only a few of the performances were happening on the stage.  On the left side of the room, the man behind the bar was engaged in making an ice sculpture.  Simultaneously, a fire dancer was entertaining the guests on the dance floor.  Simultaneous performances in fire and ice? Perhaps it bordered on cliché, but it was compelling nonetheless. On the balcony to the right an older lady was rendering a seaside Italian villa in oil paint.  Next to her a younger lady was painting the Tardis from the Dr. Who series.  Most of the guests would have been able to identify both paintings.
            The onstage performances were meant to be the aural expression of the other activities and they succeeded in doing so.  The beginning sequence was approximately as follows:  a tenor aria from an Italian opera, followed by Native American flute and drums, followed by a young female singer/songwriter.   After her performance the guests were brought to their feet by a blues band featuring a Dobro player, a guy playing harmonica, and an accordion player.  At one point in the performance, a slightly inebriated young female participated by pounding on the large ceremonial African drum that was placed in the middle of the room as part of the décor.  Blues jam meets drum circle, and the musicking cycle is complete.  Christopher Small would have been proud.  Unfortunately, Christopher Small passed away on September 5, 2011.
            In the beginning paragraphs of this paper, I purposefully chose to use the word “participants” and “guests” as opposed to such words as “audience” or “spectators,” for this is what they were.  In a Christopher Small inspired ethnographic analysis of a musical event, the question must be asked, “What exactly is going on here?” Simple observation would not have revealed the common thread that united the financiers and the fashionistas with the roofers and the rockers, but there was a relational connection between them.  That relational connection was Greg.
            Greg is the owner of the venue and the host of the event.  Greg is a lover of art and music.  Greg was also the guy playing the Native American flute and the guy playing harmonica with the band.  If Christopher Small was right, if music is all about how we structure relationships, then Greg had succeeded in creating his ideal world, if only for one evening.  He was surrounded by the art, the music and the people he loved, and all of those elements were interacting with each other.  Whether he knew it or not, Greg was musicking.
            The remainder of this paper will consist of an attempt to lay the philosophic foundation and academic structure behind the event the reader has just experienced vicariously.  Greg, the host of the event, was just following his heart and pursuing his passion, but in doing so he was engaged in an activity that has deep roots, and a promising future.  Hopefully, this paper will satisfy the curiosity of the scholars and feed the appetite of the sociomusicologists who value such events and long for them to be more commonplace.