Wednesday, 30 December 2015

Gatekeepers

Martin Robinson writes in favour of ‘gatekeepers’.  I’ve written elsewhere of the need to recognise when communities of enquiry are operating as gated communities of enquiry and to be able to identify who is gatekeeping.

How are these ideas related? Are we using the same term to mean different things?

Martin’s example of the art gallery ‘gatekeeper’ sounds more like a curator to me. Certainly the people responsible for selecting which works of art are displayed in a gallery often go by this title. Perhaps this person, who appears to act as a tour guide is also a curator? By coincidence I’ve recently been reading a book, the title of which goes some way to describing its content – Curationism– How Curating Is Taking Over The Art World And Everything Else by DavidBalzer. The book takes particular aim at the rise of the celebrity curator and I mention it only because it may be of interest.

Denis Lawton’s description of the curriculum as ‘selections of a culture’ seems relevant to Martin’s post. I agree with Martin’s point that selections are not neutral. Selections imply omissions so perhaps ‘gatekeeper’ is apt. However I think not. And here are two reasons - aim and focus.

Aim
The gatekeeper’s role as I understand it is to maintain order by allowing entry only to that which is in keeping with what is already present. At the risk of being glib, the best-known gatekeeper in the Western world may be St Peter. His job is to ensure that only those who meet pre-ordained criteria are granted access – heaven is eternal, and I suggest, unchanging.

The curator’s aim is to provide rich content. That content will reflect or perhaps establish a tradition but gallery curators will also attempt to disrupt traditions and put works into conversation with each other. Taken as analogy for the curriculum, this comes close to a quote Martin and I both seem to like – Michael Oakshott’s ‘conversation of mankind’. But how do we establish a rich conversation and not simply what my good friend Jason Buckley (aka The Philosophy Man) terms ‘a distributed monologue’ where the same sentiments are expressed but from different mouths?

Focus
The gatekeeper is focused on the space he (for it usually is he) guards. He need not, in fact must not, venture too far but rather waits till approached and then makes his decision –to what extent does the would-be entrant resemble that which is already present. Kafka’s gate may well be open but curricula, conference spaces rarely are. (I was once told I was ‘pushing at an open door’ by a colleague. A year later, they conceded the door wasn’t quite as open as they had first perceived.) I associate gatekeeper with gated communities, which are established usually to keep the Barbarian’s at the gate. Actual gated communities have been described as ‘cognitive shelters’ which limit access to the unusual, the unfamiliar and the markedly different. My sense is that gated communities are actual and metaphorical ‘safe spaces’ – but that as they are established and maintained by the relatively powerful in society, they needn’t declare themselves as such.

The curator also has an eye on the space – assuming there is a space. (We can curate mixtapes and spotify lists, but I don’t think we can gatekeep them.) However the curator is required to be outward focusing and inquisitive for her role is actively seek inclusions not merely wait for them to present themselves for consideration.

I think Martin misunderstands ‘colonial epistemic injustices’ when he asks ‘should the colonial past be ignored?’ – I think what is at stake is not include or ignore but how the selections add to the conversation.  To take a well used example from my own university education, when we study Conrad’s ‘Heart of Darkness’ but are not made aware of Achebe’s ‘An Image of Africa’ we are initiated into an impoverished conversation.

I’m not sure the  ‘don’t complain about hearing jazz at a jazz club analogy’ holds up. My university, UCL describes itself as ‘London’s Global University’ not a ‘European Education University’. The analogy then would be of claiming to be a Music Venue and then only playing jazz, acting as if it was the only genre of music. But even then I’m not sure. A music venue is where I go to experience or perhaps consume music. But isn’t education about something far broader than that? A liberal education is about encountering a rich variety of ways of being and of developing autonomy to make educated choices isn’t it? Martin’s notion of Eurocentric education seems rather parochial by comparison and seems to be justified by a cultural relativism that I’m pretty sure he does not usually favour.


Martin ends by suggesting “set up alternative curricula, telling alternative stories and become a gatekeeper yourself.” I’m pretty sure he’s aware of the rich tradition of these very things in this country. But again, I would argue that whilst we can become curators ourselves, in order to become gatekeepers we must have authority over ‘a space’ of some kind. Which returns us to questions of who is gatekeeping which space and how does this relate to history and power.

'Gatekeeper' by Eska. 



Friday, 4 December 2015

My Notes from 'Reaching Out' 5

Thought I'd post my notes for the Listen Closely segment on the Reaching Out show I do with UK Hip-Hop legend Ty on Soho Radio.

Click here for a link to the show.


Listen Closely – Microphone Fiend, Eric B and Rakim


I’m going to focus mostly on Rakim.

Context
In 2012, The Source ranked Rakim #1 on their list of the 'Top 50 Lyricists of All Time

In 1987 Rakim announced himself with Eric B for President. Three things about that record:

1.     Rakim’s flow – “I can swing on anything even the string of a harp”
Jazz – Theolonius Monk
2.     His delivery – Recorded sitting down, Marley Marl & Shan tried to persuade him to put more effort into it. (EPMD accused of biting his style)
3.     The break – Funky President and the start of a period in hip-hop where just about every song was based around a James Brown break. To quote DaddiO from Stetsasonic: “Tell the truth James Brown was old, till Eric & Ra came up with I got Soul”

On that song on the first album, Paid in Full,
The dismount of the first verse is one of the most quotable lyrics in Hip-hop:

I start to think and then I sink into the paper
Like I was ink,
When I’m writing I’m trapped in between the lines
I escape when I finish the rhyme
I got Soul

·      The writing/creative process
·      Contained & liberated by writing – (A theme in Microphone Fiend)
·      Mos Def & Talib Kweli quote this

First Mention of Rakim as a  ‘microphone fiend’ appears on this song:
The dismount of the 2nd verse:

I drip steam
Like a microphone fiend
Eager to MC is my theme
I get hype when I hear a drum roll
Rakim is on the mic
And you know I got soul.

Microphone fiend – My Melody verse 2
So what I’m a microphone fiend, addicted soon as I sing

**

Microphone Fiend - Eric B and Rakim
(Song covered by Rage Against the Machine and Fun Lovin Criminals)

Rappers rapping about drugs is not a particularly rare angle. Ice-T’s I’m Your Pusher, Biggie’s 10 Crack Commandments are just 2 examples. But in both cases the MC is literally or metaphorically the dealer, pushing dope product whilst remaining in control of the situation – “Don’t Get High off Your Own Supply” as Biggie reminds us. Microphone Fiend is something very different – the MC has “gotta habit” and fiends “for a microphone like heroin”.

Musically the song is sparse. As was more common in 1988, the song barely has a hook. It’s made great by the rapping. The break comes from Dundee’s finest funk band, The Average White Band’s School Boy Crush, perhaps explains the opening bars?

“I was a fiend before I became a teen,
I melted microphones, Instead of cones of ice-cream
Music orientated so when Hip-Hop was originated
Fitted like pieces of puzzle –complicated.”

This combines a few of Rakim’s favourite themes – Firstly, his identity as an MC. We have the idea of being an MC as a calling, a craving, an addiction that has to be fed – and one that starts in childhood. Names for his MC identity include the microphonist, the microphone soloist. In his hand the mic becomes a musical instrument.

The “music orientated” presumably refers to the fact that Rakim came from a musical family, his aunt being singer Ruth Brown.. As he says “It’s inherited, it runs in the family.” So Hip-Hop’s emergence came at a perfect time for him.

But I think thatFitted like Pieces of puzzle, complicated”  might also refer to the writing process. Constructing a verse so all the pieces fit. Rakim is the best rapper rapping about rapping.

*
Even if driven by a craving, the MC is a craftsman, putting pieces together:
“I’m raging, ripping up the stage and
Don’t it sound amazing
Cause every rhyme is made and
Thought of, Cuz it’s sort of an addiction”

Rakim is the best rapper rapping about rapping. He wants to ‘move the crowd’ but he also wants the crowd to appreciate the effort and skill that has gone into the construction of the rhyme.

There’s an intensity to the music, to Rakim’s delivery and within the lyrics. For example,  'Cool cos I don’t get upset, I kick a hole in the speakers, pull the plug then I jet'. These always struck me as more intense, more unnerving than a lot of rappers shouting about what they do. As Rakim puts it “The thrill of suspense is intense you’re horrified, But this ain’t the cinema or “Tales of the Darkside”. In his stillness, his monotone delivery and his lyrical intensity, Rakim for me was always realer, (and even more threatening) than say NWA.

The sudden explosion from order to chaos – from cool to kicking a hole in the speaker. From chilling to needing to write, to needing to perform. And I’d say this an intensity well illustrated through the metaphor of addiction .

I think he’s names the shift in the status of the MC  (who at this point is still named after the DJ remember) when he says:

“Ladies and gentlemen, you’re about to see
A pastime hobby about to be to
Taken to the maximum…”

Rakim raised expectations of what an MC could do – and as he did so, he pointed out that was doing so.

Eric B and Rakim - Microphone Fiend


Thursday, 2 October 2014

Exhibit B and the Art of Conversation about Racism


I have read thoughtful pieces about Exhibit B in the last few weeks and thought long and hard about whether to add my own voice to the conversation. Most of the pieces have understandably focused on arguing that the work should/should not have been shown. I want to try and offer some thoughts about the debate itself.

Many have argued that closing Exhibit B was an act of censorship in that it limited freedom of expression. Rather than criticising the Barbican for closing it down, a number of writers have blamed the campaigners who were present at the opening night (and some have blamed everyone who signed the petition also). This seems, on first sight, a problematic position - invoking freedom of expression for the artist but not extending this right to those, who for whatever reason, might wish to protest. If one holds that lawful protest equates to censorship, the implications for democracy are very serious indeed. If one holds that freedom of expression is a right, then that right must be extended to those who engage in lawful protest. (Incidentally, few commentators have made reference to the importance of Black-led protest in improving the living conditions of Black people in the UK and globally and how this has included artistic representation in shows such as "The Black and White Minstrels" - perhaps television is not considered art?)

It is perhaps with this in mind that the Barbican statement implied that the protest was not peaceful even though there had been no arrests made by the police on the opening night. Whilst the police have not said that the protest was unlawful in any way, the Barbican statement has been interpreted by some commentators as claiming that it was violent - this seems to me a reasonable reading of the statement, unless the claim that the protest was not 'peaceful' was really intended to mean it was not 'quiet'.  I think that sound and voice are motifs in the debate.

The 'mob' that were 'whipped up into a frenzy' as one writer puts it, were chanting and drumming. (We might consider whether the difference between a 'mob' and say 'a group of autonomous individuals engaged in collective action' is merely rhetorical.)  Inside, the Black performers had been told by their White director to remain silent and to hold eye contact with their audience. Some writers have contrasted their 'dignified' position with those of the protestors. It is not difficult to see echoes of discourses of how Black people should respond to the subject of racism - dignified silence versus loud anger. Bailey's choice of language, in describing the protest as "a violent riot" appears to be in tension with his declared wish to examine "systems of racism and how they dehumanise all who are touched by them" when we consider how such systems have often used narratives of Black people as inherently violent. If we think back to 2011, we are likely to agree that actual rioters get pretty strong legal treatment in this country.

Of course there are many  possible responses to racism, but it is not clear that Exhibit B explores them. And with its all-Black cast, isn't Exhibit B actually about Black people rather than colonialism and racism? Can one tell a story about European colonialism whilst removing the colonialists from the story? Can one tell a story of "the white gaze" without including white people?

Perhaps the white gaze is to be added the moment the audience enters. Perhaps as some commentators have suggested, the piece is for those people who, like the director himself, can gaze on Black bodies and meditate on how they have benefited from their subjugation. This reading of the piece would allow for an argument that our own racialised identity informs (to some extent) how we come to look at racism. I've watched interviews and trailers, but I am still confused as to what the director would make of this claim. I can see that some commentators think it racist to suggest this. For them, questions of who is best positioned to discuss x, amount to another form of censorship. However one can reject an extreme position such as listing what an artist can and can't talk about and still think it important to discuss who gets to speak about what in art.

For instance, I genuinely wonder whether the campaign calling for closing Exhibit B would have been as well supported if it had been possible to point to a number of other recent pieces at the Barbican (and beyond) that had tackled the white gaze. If it was clear that Black artists were supported with public funds in making art that spoke of the brutality of European colonialism, might not people have engaged in strong critiques of Exhibit B but been aware that Brett Bailey's voice was only one in the conversation, rather than the (seemingly) lone voice? I think this complicates the censorship argument which seems to rely on a meritocratic notion that the art that gets funded and seen is the best art. Of course art should (be allowed to) be provocative and to divide opinion. However saying that anything that is legal is art if claimed as such, appears to hand over aesthetic and ethical questions to the law-makers. As an extreme example, it means that the actual enslavement and trading of Black people could be art if it was claimed as such in the UK before 1807.

There is clearly diversity of opinion amongst Black artists in particular around the issues this episode has highlighted. Artists for whom I have the greatest of respect have found themselves on opposite sides of a for/against debate. I do not wish to deny the agency of the Black actors who participated in Exhibit B, all of whom made informed decisions and some of whom have spoken about their reasons for participating. I think it is perhaps slightly troubling that the director has not always used people who consider themselves actors as the work has toured. He appears to be content to find Black people who will consent to participating in the work and are able to stand still and give eye contact. Does using Black people interchangeably in the piece critique the historical denial of full personhood to Black people, or mirror it to some extent? Perhaps the final section of the piece, in which actors write about their reasons for getting involved mitigates against accusations that the actors are not permitted their own voices in the piece. And do those who argue that participants are not "really Black" (I have seen such comments online) not themselves essentialise Black people?

The extent to which the participants can be said to have been 'acting' appears to be a fault line in the debate. Is it reasonable to compare Exhibit B, an art installation, to a film such as "12 Years a Slave" as many have done? Is there a crucial difference in how the audience are positioned? When I watch a film I am a viewer. In an art installation do I become a participant? If my response is part of "the piece" how am I to respond? Perhaps the only appropriate response to seeing Black people shackled is to rush to liberate them? On first hearing about Exhibit B, I had speculated with friends as to what would happen if people entered and did just this. But what if the protestors outside had declared their drumming and chanting as art (which to my knowledge they did not)? We might have had an interesting juxtaposition of public art and publicly funded art.

I think that one artistic response to this episode would be a piece of verbatim theatre on this episode, perhaps accompanied by talks and discussions. Certainly the debates around Exhibit B have reached far more people than the piece itself would have on its planned short run in London. Perhaps we have Brett Bailey to thank for this. Perhaps we have the protestors.

Thursday, 17 October 2013

"But it's just a dialect that I select when I hang..."



This week, I was interviewed for a Guardian 'Comment is Free' article on the banning of slang in a school. Today I was invited to give an interview for a Canadian radio show.

My own thoughts are that slang/language bans are problematic but I don't know all the details around the school in question and wouldn't want to comment on it directly. It's easy to launch into a criticism of something without taking the time to find out more about that which you are criticising. I have experienced that more than once with regard to Hip-Hop Education and it achieves little more than boosting numbers of blog views and twitter followers.

I view the current obsession on slang in the UK within the broader context of the return to a narrative of the 'deserving' and 'undeserving' poor and the argument that social inequality can be eradicated by working class people becoming more 'respectable'; modifying their speech, clothes and cultural practices. I find it interesting that there are so many stories about the undeserving poor at this particular moment in history. I note also that this same narrative is prominent in the US, where a discussion about the ethics of killing an unarmed working-class Black teenager soon descended (in some quarters) to a discussion on how working-class Black teenagers dress.

Whilst I place great emphasis on teaching the language of power, I would argue that secondary school is a place where the question of what counts as 'Standard English' (and why) can be explored through poetry, literature, grammar studies and historical enquiry. I do not think that teaching 'Standard English' is at all oppressive to working class students (I say this only because many of the comments seem to assume that this is the position of anyone who doesn't favour banning slang). Recognising that different language registers are used in different contexts is important. Enabling access to higher education, whilst not the only purpose of educating children, is an important one. However, I am unconvinced that listing banned words is the way forward.

Tuesday, 16 April 2013

3 Criticisms of UK #HipHopEd

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Last month, we held the 3rd UK #HipHopEd Seminar, which, it was widely agreed was the best yet. In attendance was UK Hip-Hop legend Ty (@TyMusic ) whose recent Jazz Cafe gig was itself a lesson in Hip-Hop and featured support from fellow HipHopEders Breis (@mrbreis ) and KMT (@KMT_MAY ) amongst others.

To get a sense of how our Hip-Hop Education conversations are progressing, please read this excellent write up by @unseenflirt

Whilst response to the post by UnseenFlirt has been overwhelmingly positive, there have also been a few criticisms of our Hip-Hop Education work. Below I list 3 such criticisms and offer a brief response to each.


1. "Education should not be about students' own lives but rather about extending their horizons."

I think the 'own lives' vs 'wider culture' issue is a false dichotomy. Many would argue that good learners make connections between these two realms and that Hip-Hop Education is one of many approaches that can help learners to do this. When I used lyrics from Immortal Technique withstudents, they were able to draw links with Marx's historical analysis and Plato's simile of the cave, before reflecting upon the choices that were afforded them in their own lives. Akala's Hip-Hop Shakespeare work encourages students to make connections between the language, concepts and themes in two seemingly disparate art forms. The implicit message in some mainstream education that students bring little of cultural value to the educational encounter is often cited as a reason for 'disengagement'. Nobody at our UK HipHopEd seminar suggested that Hip-Hop be the sole content or method for instruction.

2. "Allowing slang in the classroom will be detrimental to students' language development."

I think concerns about literacy development rest on a second false dichotomy, namely 'Standard vs Non-standard English'. A pedagogy that accepts and interrogates 'Englishes' can not only teach the language of power but also can place it in a socio-historical context. There is a body of research that supports the claim that explicitly discussing 'code-switching' with students can not only aid the learning of standard forms of a language but also have additional broader benefits related to valuing students and their families and communities.

For more on the subject of 'Englishes' have a read of this paper by Dr David E Kirkland, who some of us heard speak at the Institute of Education, London last year.


3. "Hip-Hop Education is the latest desperate attempt to be 'down with the kids'".

Finally, the  'down with the kids' argument, whilst a familiar one, quite possibly betrays a particular vision of an ideal educator. Those of us engaged in Hip-Hop Education are immersed in, or at least very familiar with Hip-Hop culture having grown up with it. We recognise its educative potential and see that even modern, negative aspects of it can be analysed to help students make sense of the wider world. To us, and to many of our students, it makes far more sense for Hip-Hop to be included in the classroom rather than excluded.

Clearly there's more to say on all 3 points - it's quite likely we'll discuss one or all of them at the next UK #HipHopEd seminar! If you'd like to participate in the next seminar, let me know via comments of twitter! @rapclassroom

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*The UK #HipHopEd Seminar Series is a space for Hip-Hop Educators.
Artists, Teachers, Activists and Academics to come together to present, discuss, support and challenge each other, in a spirit of democratic learning.

UK #HipHopEd was recently featured on BBC1Xtra's 'When Words Collide', and Chris Emdin, our key-note speaker at Seminar 1 has been featured in the British press for his science education work with GZA.

Future plans discussed include a book, blog and open conference.

In Seminar 1, we had a chance to share our routes into Hip-Hop Education however we might define it.
In Seminar 2, we began to identify key principles and practices in our work.
In Seminar 3 we began to consider 3 key questions:
 
1. What do we do and why do we do it?
2. What are the main criticisms of Hip-Hop Education and how do we respond to them?
3. What would a UKHipHopEd Manifesto look like?



Seminar 4 is scheduled to take place in June 2013 in London. If you're interested in participating, hit me up! @rapclassroom



Tuesday, 19 February 2013

World Book Day - A Teacher's Dilemma


World Book Day is coming up on March 7th. I like World Book Day and I love books.

In the run-up to World Book Day few years ago, I received a phone call from a colleague. He asked me for suggestions for Black male characters from children's books as he wanted to dress as one. We came up with a depressingly short list and got to talking about why this might be, whether it was important and what we could do about it.

Together with another colleague of mine, we created the resource below. It is grounded in a real-life situation but raises some philosophical issues. I have used it with teachers, teacher-educators and with Year 6 pupils. People have responded to it in a range of ways, some very positive, some quite hostile. Either way, it has generated some interesting discussion.

The point of it is not merely to suggest a Black character from children's literature - but please feel free to do so - but rather to identify and discuss the issues that this seemingly mundane e-mail (based as it is on a real-life phone call) raises.