Imagine being intimately connected with some forty-odd people who you barely know in a matter of minutes. Imagine doing something so enjoyable that you could not care less how foolish you might look by throwing yourself wholeheartedly into it. That is exactly how I felt Wednesday night when we went contra dancing. Until a little over a week ago, contra dance existed unbeknownst to me. And now it is something I wish I had had access to my entire life. I left that gymnasium with a fresh mindset, feeling more relaxed than I ever have since I left home. I spent three hours dancing face-to-face with strangers, and all my worries, frustrations, and inhibitions disappeared completely. Furthermore, I do not think I fully realized that until I sat down to write this paper. Several people in the Bloomington community welcome newcomers and experts alike to join their cohort of contra dancers, and on Wednesday night, I was one of those newcomers. Looking back on the experience, the fundamental aspects of participatory music merged in this one activity, contra dancing, to make for this incredibly wonderful experience that I will be sure to return to many times in my life.

     This experience of contra dancing is a clear representation of the dynamics of participatory music making. There was no distinction between the artist and the audience. I was aware of the fiddle, guitar, and banjo players, but the focus was not placed on them. The focus was rather dispersed throughout the entire gymnasium: each dancer was just as important as any other, and each musician was just as important as any of the dancers. A valuable and necessary half would be missing if either were not present and productive. Everyone was performing for everyone else. People of all skill levels were able, and expected, to join in the dancing. The successfulness of our group was based on its ability to accommodate differences in skill levels. At least half of the group had never experienced contra dancing while the other half knew exactly what they were doing. Even though maybe they were slightly irritated by our lack of experience, they did not kick us out on the street. Slowly, with patience for the skill diversity, the newcomers improved, showing the success of our group. The point of contra dancing, like any participatory form of music, is social bonding. And that is exactly what happened; I made many connections with people I would not have met otherwise, and I was inspired to participate in contra dancing again because of the sense of community that could be so readily felt among that cohort of people.

     A sense of flow was so easily reached in this example of participatory music making as well. Flow is such a rewarding state in which to be, and an activity that could allow for so many people to be in that state at once is so binding and vital. It allows everyone to be connected in this mutual state of enjoyment. I believe this is why I left feeling so uplifted; for those three hours, all my stress vanished. I was not worried about getting the steps perfectly; it was fun just to be learning something new. And as the night progressed, I could steadily feel myself understanding the steps and the style of the dance more and more. I began to dance less like I had two left feet if only just a tiny bit. But the ceiling for improvement is not fixed. Although I found it amazing to step back and look at how far everyone had come, how gradually we were dancing like a cohesive group, it was still clear that there is endless room for improvement. That challenge, that need to do better for the sake of the group, that flow state that is only reached through that challenge, is what makes contra dancing desirable to return to.

     Never before have I participated in such a musical event. In America, the value of participatory music making does not seem to be a collective emphasis. Only when you come across small cohorts like the one revolving around contra dance in the Bloomington community do you discover its existence in our society. But that is exactly what participatory music seeks to do: bring together the people in individual, local groups, rather than seek domination over all groups. Participatory music allows diversity within a group and diversity between all groups, so that all groups may come together and live cohesively based on their differences. This cohort in Bloomington comes together for a singular activity – contra dance – and in doing so, creates this social bonding that is so difficult to find, yet so often sought after by many Americans. And while these people come together for this activity that they know and love, they still welcome newcomers like me who wish to learn, who wish to experience new things that they could take up as habits in their lives.

     “Punk is the remedy for my sickness,” states Dolly Zilhan during the documentary The Punks Are Alright. Dolly works in a factory in Indonesia producing wires for a meager salary of only a couple of dollars an hour. His wires then are used to produce electronics and other items sold at incredibly higher prices than that which Dolly actually receives. Here in America, we are blinded by living on the good end of capitalism. People living overseas, in places like Indonesia where large corporations often find cheap labor, truly feel the brunt of capitalism. There are no labor laws, therefore the people are not treated fairly, leading to their feeling of inability to escape economically-strained lives. However, Dolly found a release through a punk album that reached him from Brazil, which in turn was inspired by a punk band in Canada. Punk provides an emotional escape for the Indonesians as well as other oppressed people. Punk is an ideology that cannot be strictly defined in terms of a genre of music, but rather must be seen as a lifestyle for those who wish to rebel against capitalism and fundamentalism.

     Dolly Zilhan and Henrike Baliv both feel the frustration of living in inescapable poverty and both find a fleeting sense of empowerment through punk. Henrike Baliv lives in Brazil where, similar to Dolly and other Indonesians, the natives face extreme economic hardship. The economic struggle for people in these areas often stems from capitalism: people from the first world taking advantage of the needs of the people from the third world in order to satisfy their own wants. Henrike used to teach in a school in Sao Paulo, where the kids and the parents both were welcome to come and learn in order to make their lives better. Henrike taught kids from troubled households with pasts haunted by drugs and rape. Henrike used punk music to save those kids. If the kids were playing music, then they were not on the streets. Participating in punk music kept them alive by giving them something else to do with their lives besides trafficking drugs. Henrike discovered punk music secondhand from a Canadian band known as the Forgotten Rebels, forming his own band known as the Blind Pigs. The cycle then repeated itself when Dolly discovered the Blind Pigs’s music, writing to Henrike and receiving a copy of their album through the mail. Punk united these people through the outlet it provided to fully express their angst and frustration of living oppressed lives.

     Not only do these people live economically-stressed lives, they also face the struggle of living in limbo between the Western and fundamentalist worlds. Both Brazil and Indonesia are extremely religious countries: one being largely Catholic and the other being largely Muslim. They live in fear every day, unsure of what violent occurrence might take place next, unsure if a bomb might explode over their house. They are unable to participate in the ideals of Western culture for fear of what may come if they stray away from fundamentalist beliefs. They hold on to their religion because it is all that they have left, but at the same time it seems to be what creates the most conflict in their societies. It is interesting to see how two communities, whose religious beliefs make them seem vastly different, are united by punk and the collective anger it expresses.

     Another thing I found so interesting is how such an in-your-face kind of lifestyle and genre of music has such an open and welcoming following. These three different punk bands represented in the movie all felt connected to each other from miles away. They all found comfort and understanding through the punk bonds they shared. They tried to do things to repay the others for helping them discover this emotional outlet. And when we discussed mosh pit at a punk concert, it was fascinating to hear that every person looks out for each other. Punks are not interested in bringing people down. They are interested in mutual acceptance, mutual understanding, and the meeting of mutual need. As confrontational as punk may seem, it is just as good at bringing up other people in similar situations.

     This documentary gave me a completely new perspective on punk music and the lifestyle in general. I have never really been a fan of punk music; I do not enjoy the screaming of lyrics, the chaotic and violent sounds of the music. But after watching this movie and discussing this topic in class, I see how punk music really serves a purpose to those who feel powerless and feel without control over their own lives. I have never experienced anything like the people in Brazil or Indonesia, and I may never experience anything like that for the rest of my life. Living in America, I have religious freedom, I have political freedom, and I have the ability to make my life better if I choose to work hard. But no matter how hard the people of these third world countries work, no matter how closely they abide by the laws and guidelines of their nations and societies, they still live in fear and they still live in oppression. I have been through tough situations in my life, but what these people go through, day in and day out, completely surpasses any hardship I could ever face. And on top of that, I support this system that suppresses them every time I spend a dollar on some mass-produced good. The reason I am able to get such a good price on something is essentially due to the fact that people like Dolly are getting paid less and less. But then that brings the question to mind that if I did not spend my money on these items, how would they earn a salary at all? Capitalism is a difficult situation for me to understand, and one that would take an immensely large amount of time, cooperation, and patience from all around the world to fix. And right now, progress and collective, global action in favor of the third world seems to be nonexistent. But after discussing punk, I have a new appreciation and admiration for the music and the lifestyle in light of how it empowers the people lowest on Earth’s totem pole.

     Farmers’ markets are largely built on the value of direct exchange between the producer and the consumer, removing the middleman so that hardworking farmers are not swindled out of their well-earned money. What comes along with this value, however, is a sense of community, a sense of supporting your neighbors who are trying to make a living just like everybody else. People come for different reasons: for fresh produce, for garden-grown flowers, for a tasty meal, for art pieces, for entertainment. But what keeps people coming back is the social aspect of the market, the interaction and relationships with others built on comradery and mutual need. This sense of community can be actively felt throughout the Bloomington Farmers’ Market.

     The music that is performed at the Bloomington Farmers’ Market makes a huge difference in the experience of shopping and just being there. For instance, I am from South Bend and we have a farmers’ market, but there is something vastly different about Bloomington’s market. There is no music performed at South Bend’s market, and there is not nearly as many vendors, families, and shoppers either.

     When I visited on Saturday, people of all ages were dispersed throughout the market. Families and children seemed to congregate around the music and other forms of entertainment. Families also seemed to gravitate towards the prepared foods, where they could all go and eat together. Mostly adults could be found shopping for raw foods and art. The politics, in the traditional, American sense, could be found close by the City Hall; booths for political parties and animal activists could be found there. However, politics in the broadest sense of the word could be found all throughout the market where people were freely and fairly exchanging money and products. All people were able to participate as a vendor, as a buyer, or as a performer.

     That morning, I was able to talk to a vendor named Theresa who was selling homegrown produce and plants. She was from St. Louis and she told me that “there is more musical talent walking around Bloomington than you could ever find driving through St. Louis.” Theresa’s children went to Harmony School, which has an alternative teaching style that she feels really benefited her children. They went on to college and majored in music, and they plan to stay in Bloomington. Like anyone to whom I have spoken about Bloomington, they appreciate the community and the diversity that go hand-in-hand in this little Midwestern town.

     I also spoke with Todd, the guitar player performing that day. Todd said that “the Bloomington Farmers’ Market is the best gig [he has] ever played, better than any bar or anywhere else.” Todd is what is known as a busker: he performs on the street for a dollar or two in his guitar case. This is strictly voluntary; Todd is not obligated to perform there, but whenever he feels like he can, he does. He sings and plays guitar because he feels as though that is the only thing he is good at doing. Playing at the Farmers’ Market is his “letout,” a place where he can express himself and connect with other people. In addition to the Bloomington Farmers’ Market, Todd performs in two nursing homes, and he feels as though the people in his three main venues truly appreciate his work. I reaffirmed this by saying that when I walked in and saw him playing, it made me smile. Last Sunday, he was featured in the Herald Times, which was his greatest honor since winning a trophy at his high school talent show. It is clear that Todd performs at the Farmers’ Market without a thought for self-glorification, but rather for the bonds that it strengthens with the people of his community. He would never leave Bloomington unless he got “a million dollar contract.” Something I found interesting was when he pointed out the STP baseball cap that he was wearing. He told me he wore that because it was something neutral, something that encouraged everybody to listen to him. He said if he wore a Cubs hat, for instance, then a White Sox fan might pass by him. Then, he pointed out his shirt which was printed all around with a large photograph of a man, and smiling he said, “Everybody loves Andy Griffith.” Todd returns again and again to the Bloomington Farmers’ Market “to be part of the community, to be happy, and to feel good.”

     After experiencing the Bloomington Farmers’ Market and learning about new aspects of music in this IFS class, it is clear that shopping at a farmers’ market shares the same dynamics as participatory music. All people are welcome and encouraged to shop and support the small farmers of the area. All farmers, artists, and crafters are welcome to sell their products. Everyone there is expected to join in the interaction between producer and consumer. The quality of the producer is based on the amount of consumers he/she attracts. Without an equal representation of both halves of this audience, the Farmers’ Market could not function and would never be successful. But the cohesive cooperation of all people at the Bloomington Farmers’ Market allows for an enjoyable experience for everyone.

(A map of the Bloomington Farmers' Market)

(The Herald Times article Todd was featured in on August 3, 2014)

     This first clip shows traditional polka dancing at a wedding, which is the only setting where I have ever personally experienced polka dancing.  I have a large family on both my father's and mother's sides, so I have been to many weddings for cousins along with those for family friends. Many times I have watched couples take the floor as the polka music begins to play. They start to skip around the dance floor in the typical polka-dance fashion, and as the repetitive melody continues to play, more and more people, young and old, get out on the dance floor as well. Polka dancing is a form of participatory music in the fact that there are only participants and potential participants. Anyone can get out there and dance if they so desire. The musicians play a continuous, densely-textured tune to which people can dance for a prolonged period of time. And if the musicians are not doing a good job performing a danceable tune, nobody will get out there to perform the polka dance, reflecting poorly upon the musicians. The participatory dynamic limits the amount of variation that the musicians can perform. However, the potential for a large amount of people to find enjoyment in participation is what is most important and is what is clearly the most prominent aspect of this musical event. Men and women of all age groups are potential participants, and if they were not performing, the other half of this spectacle (the musical aspect) would have difficulty sustaining people's interest.





     This next video exemplifies presentational music extremely well. There is a clear distinction between the performers, Imagine Dragons and Kendrick Lamar, compared with the audience. The audience has clearly come to listen and watch this performance. They may be dancing or singing along, which is allowed for by the frame of the event, but this is not the main aspect of the performance. The audience's participation is limited in this sense. The emphasis is very much so placed on Imagine Dragons and Kendrick Lamar. The presentational dynamic of this performance allows for artistic expression by the musicians, and the mixing of these two songs is a clear variation from the two artists' styles. The choreography, the lights, the smoke, and the musical performance itself all had to be rehearsed thoroughly to put together this amazing performance.

 



     This recording of "Bad" by U2 serves as an example of high fidelity music. The purpose of this recording is to index a live performance of U2. The song is strictly in sonic form: there are no performers and no visuals. But the instruments and Bono's singing provide for the necessary variation required to hold the listener's interest. The high fidelity form of this musical performance allows for this to be a commodified object. With this form, artist-audience interaction is limited, but there is the potential for many different interpretations and connections to be made by the audience depending on when they heard it and how they were feeling at that time.





     This last video depicts a form of studio audio art. No person would be able to perform these sounds with the use of voice or instrumentation or any other conventional device for making musical sounds. These sounds are computer generated and performed by computers through human manipulation. This DJ, deadmau5, has complete control over the finished, abstract product of his work. He has the potential to make whatever sounds he wants, but again there are limitations placed on artist-audience interaction. These sounds are really not human-like, allowing for little to no human interaction.

     My Uncle Jon was one of my favorite family members. Out of everyone, he was one of the people to whom I was closest. He lived in town so I saw him a lot, and not just on holidays and special occasions like other family. Rather than knock on our front door and wait for us to answer like everyone else did, he would drop by our house and walk right in the back door. I took those impromptu visits for granted. I took his voice, his kind words, and his smile for granted. Uncle Jon had a habit of always saying to me, "Have I told you lately? You're beautiful." He worked as a groundskeeper for a retirement home in Elkhart, which is a town near South Bend. He loved nature and the outdoors. His gifts were always something that you could enjoy outside. He was always so proud of my accomplishments, and I wish he could see all that I have done since he left us. I know he would not be able to hide his joy for me. I did 4-H for ten years, and he would always go out to the fair to see my projects. Uncle Jon was one of the few people, besides my parents and brother, who would come out to my track meets and watch me run. He had so many groups of friends because he was so kind to everyone he met. He was one of the most optimistic people I knew, always saying, "Life's too short to be anything but happy."

     My Uncle Jon took his life during the Thanksgiving break of my sophomore year. His death was a shock to all who knew him: family, friends, acquaintances. Just about anyone who had made any sort of contact with Jon showed up to his viewing; there was a steady stream of people the whole day who came to pay their respects to the man who would have given the shirt off of his back to anyone in need.

     During his funeral, a few people got up to say something about this beloved man who was so suddenly taken from our lives. My Uncle Rick, Jon's brother, got up and said a few words. Then he played the song "Wish You Were Here" by Pink Floyd. I remember sitting in those rows of people, listening to the song, tearing up only slightly as I was trying to keep my composure. Then my little cousin Sophie walked up to me with a timid smile, offering me a box of tissues, and I could not hold myself together any longer. For the sake of this assignment, I am able to diagram a sign-object relation. But in the moment, it was all so fluid and emotional that I did not even notice.

     The sign was the song "Wish You Were Here." The object was the meaning of the song. We all truly wished that Jon was still there with us. We wished he had not taken a gun to his head. We wished he was there smiling at us, comforting us, asking us why we were mourning. And finally the interpretant was my crying. 

     The sign now acts as an index in the fact that when I hear it, I become saddened and am reminded of my uncle's passing. The song co-occurred with his funeral, so hearing "Wish You Were Here" brings that day to mind. During the Closing Ceremonies at the 2012 Summer Olympics, one of my favorite artists covered this song, and I don't think I had heard "Wish You Were Here" since it was played at Jon's funeral. Hearing the tune made me recall how I felt that day, how I wish I could still see him and talk with him. The song can be seen as a symbol as well. "Wish You Were Here" linguistically states how I literally felt towards my uncle. The slow, melancholy beat and the questioning, mournful lyrics are iconic of how I was feeling that day. Now depending on the frame I am in, I can either let this song really depress me, or I can wait for a better time to express my feelings. If I was in a large group, for example, and I heard this song, I would try to veil my emotions and sorrow. But if I was alone, or maybe it was the day my Uncle Jon died, I would be more likely to let my emotions flow free.

     Dave Matthews Band’s “Everyday” is one of my favorite songs, and on top of that I think it describes me fairly well. First of all, I really love Dave Matthews Band. I think the members are all amazing musicians who specialize in their instruments and can play them in a way of which I can only dream. They are incredibly talented, and yet they are so down-to-earth that they just seem like any average guys you would see on the street. The fact that they are reachable as people, makes their music reachable as well. The free-spiritedness of the band allows me – and I’m sure many other Dave Matthews fans – to connect with them and their music. There is something in their songs that is difficult to find with other artists and difficult to explain.
     Now back to the song, I love “Everyday” because every time I hear it, it makes me so happy. I cannot listen to it and not smile. Whenever I hear it I want to get up and dance, but then I have to remind myself that I am in public, and I have to settle for swaying happily in my seat instead. The lyrics are fairly simple, but the message they reiterate is so meaningful. Everyone needs love. We are social beings. Humans seek love from parents, siblings, families, spouses, friends. If love was not necessary, no one would try to foster any sort of relationship with anyone else. And the love received is what makes each day worth living. If I did not have people I love and who loved me back, I would never be able to pick myself up after falling down and I would have no one with whom I could share my joys. My life would be meaningless. Accomplishments are nothing if you have no one left to share them with, and the deepest sorrows are pains that cannot be handled alone.
     Aside from that, I love the music video. When I was younger, I used to give everyone hugs. Anyone my mom showed a remote sense of knowing, I would immediately hug. Nothing is more comforting than a loving embrace. It does not matter if you are young or old, man or woman, happy or sad, famous or anonymous, whatever your race, whatever your sexuality, the warmth of a  good hug cannot be replaced.

     “Wonderful World” by Louis Armstrong accurately describes where I come from. I am a fairly optimistic person and I am easily pleased by the simple things in life. When I am having a good day, this song is exactly what I see in the world. All the life and loveliness of Earth is difficult to ignore when life is going perfectly, when there is not a care in the world. But when things take a turn for the worst, I have to remind myself just how wonderful life is, just how lucky I am to be breathing clean air, to be walking on green grass, to be looking up at a beautiful, blue sky. Not one day on this great earth should be taken for granted, and that is where I come from – a wonderful world. When I feel anxious about being in college, not knowing if I am doing anything right, I try to calm myself down and look around at the beauty of the campus. I try to remind myself that I am here for a reason, that everything will work out, and soon Bloomington will be a slice of where I am from as well.

     “Let It Be” by The Beatles is such a classic song and I feel a connection to it in the way I live my life. I have learned that there are some things in this life that I cannot control, no matter how much I wish I could. There are things in the past that I cannot change and there will be things in the future that I will not like, but I just have to roll with the punches. Even though sometimes life seems horrible and each day seems a burden, I know that eventually things will have a way of working out – that everything happens for a reason even if I cannot explain that reason at that specific moment. When I am calm, I am happy. And when I am happy, I am enjoying life. I remind myself every day that life is too short to be anything but happy.

     NEEDTOBREATHE’s “Something Beautiful” is a song that describes what it is like to have faith in some higher being. I grew up Catholic and went to Catholic school all my life. When I was looking at colleges though, I knew that I wanted to go to a large public school where I could broaden my horizons. I wanted diversity and a taste of the real world. However, going to IU does not mean I am going to lose touch with my faith. I do not want to be that crazy Catholic, Jesus-freak girl, shoving my faith down others’ throats, but I will always value my faith. Faith is complete love and trust in something not visible to the eyes maybe, but always visible to the heart and soul. And that faith is one thing I can always hold onto. That faith is the one thing no one can take away from me. I struggle with certain aspects of the Catholic faith and I do not necessarily agree with everything I am taught about it, but I do believe in God and I do believe in Heaven. The thought of there being nothing when I die terrifies me. I refuse to believe that the loved ones I have lost are not in a better place and that I will not get to see them again someday. There has to be some reason for this life, and there has to be some good at the end of it. There cannot just be oblivion at the end of our lives where we cease to exist. That concept is impossible for me to grasp. Whatever is in the next life has to be something so beyond measure that all the struggles and hardships of this life dissolve into happiness and relief.