Mashing-up the Past, Critiquing the Present, Wrecking the Future:
The Kleptones' A Night at the Hip-Hopera
Benjamin J. Robertson
Department of English
University of Colorado, Bolder
Abstract
This paper describes what I call the practice of the present: the construction of the contemporary as an integral whole, not subject to revision or critique, undertaken by contemporary producers of cultural content in an effort to achieve and maintain immortality. Through a series of lawsuits and other legal maneuverings, the cultural content industries have attempted to stop the cultural practices of those who do not conform to authorized models. Such efforts have been especially strong in response to those productions which involve making new statements out of old content, as with the mashup form, which combines old vocal tracks from one song with old musical tracks from another to make new and often starting statements. The prohibition on critical cultural statements represents an attack on the unforeseen, the new, and as such prevents the future from being anything but a mere extension of the present. The mashup form generally and The Kleptones' mashup album A Night at the Hip-Hopera specifically offer a means of fighting the practice of the present by demonstrating that cultural objects and moments are fundamentally unstable, are always open to editing, remixing, and the new.
"It
is the business of the future to be dangerous."
The
subject of this essay is a quest for immortality, a refusal to come to grips
with the passage of time.
This
quest is the current, unspoken undertaking of American producers of cultural
content, who have come to understand their position within/as the culture
industry as unimpeachable fact. From this fact derives a future that is nothing
but the present as practice, in which current models of production and
distribution are forcibly maintained for the benefit of an industry that is on
the verge of irrelevance. This practice of the present—the construction
of the contemporary as an integral whole, not subject to revision or critique—is an
extrapolation of sameness, the future as the futuristic. It is part and parcel
of a need for safety, and avoids at all costs the unknown of l'avenir, the danger of wreckage that is
part and parcel of the new. It serves to ensure that the content producing
industries' immortality.
Perhaps
since the publication of the FreeNet protocol in July 1999 and certainly since
the "threat" manifested by the creation of Napster several months later,
producers of cultural content have been fighting a battle for the future of
top-down production and distribution of cultural objects such as songs, movies,
television programs, books, etc. These objects are defined by the Recoding
Industry Association of America (RIAA), the Motion Picture Association of
America (MPAA), and other such groups as "products" to be sold (or,
increasingly, licensed) to consumers who have no rights over them
except consumption. Several important moments in this battle are worth
highlighting here.
First:
The lawsuit against Napster, filed in
1999 and mainly settled in 2001, and similar legal challenges to peer-to-peer
(P2P) file-sharing (such as the Grokster case )
are attempts to maintain control over the archive of cultural objects with
regard to distribution.
Second:
Lawsuits against individuals who use P2P networks represent attempts to exert control over the archive of cultural objects with
regard to consumption.
Third:
Cease and desist orders served to artists who mine the archive of cultural
objects to remix, mashup, appropriate, or otherwise make use of cultural
history for the purpose of engendering new cultural forms, objects, and
enunciations, represent attempts to exert control over said archives with
regard to production.
As
this brief history suggests, when their future is at stake, the response from these would-be
immortals has been swift and definitive. However, even as such events as described in my first two examples
garner the most attention from major media outlets, perhaps the most
problematic aspect of this battle has been over the use of cultural objects
from the past. One of the more decisive victories for the content production
industry was over sampling, a once widespread and innovative practice in rap and
other genres that has taken a significant hit since the heyday of Public
Enemy's It Takes a Nation of Millions to
Hold Us Back and The Beastie Boys Paul's
Boutique, as the lack of a mechanical license for samples has made their
use prohibitively expensive.
The
stakes in the battle over sampling and other new-from-old production is clear:
if cultural objects are treated as coherent texts, things that cannot be taken
apart, studied, and recombined, then those objects will be forever beyond
critique. Without such critique, there can only ever be a future that is safe,
one that is nothing but an extrapolation of the present.
For
the rest of this essay I will focus on a particular form of new-from-old
production, the mashup. Mashups are songs and albums most frequently created by
mixing the isolated vocal track from one piece of music with loops of the
instrumental tracks from a second. Some notable
examples of this form include djbc's Wu Orleans and Glassbreaks,
Girl Talk's Feed the Animals, and Danger Mouse's The Grey Album.
I wish to turn my attention to a single example of the mashup genre, an album
that makes both thematic and formal interventions into the discourse and
practice of cultural content production: A
Night at the Hip-Hopera, a 2004 release from The Kleptones that mixes music
by Queen and lyrics from the thirty-year history of rap and hip-hop.
The
album begins by stating, "This digital recording is brought to you courtesy of
EMI Records, the world's greatest music company," an obvious swipe at the
cease-and-desist letters leveled by the content industry against mashup artists
such as Danger Mouse as well as a preemptive strike against similar letters The
Kleptones expected in the wake of Hip-Hopera. The track, "Precession," will later sample an interview with British band
Frankie Goes to Hollywood, who are asked if they consider themselves to be
musicians. One member responds: "Musicians? Nah! We're the hammer that knocks
the nail in." Given the context we must understand this statement to be one
about the necessity of "completing" the work of previous artists by making new
meaning out of old objects, of taking what were once considered atomistic,
integral, coherent texts and breaking them apart, recombining them in new
orders and thereby producing new music and meaning. Later in the album (track
seven, "Love"), Queen guitarist Brian May appears to endorse The Kleptones'
project in all of its ramifications and significance:
I
love this, this quest that we're on. It's so different that I think that it
might be misunderstood, you know. This is us and our heart and our soul is in
there, uh, communicated through the wonderful young artist. So this is Queen at
full strength and full power; I'm quite shocked myself. Heh. It's incredible
how much people use queen music [...] You've seen a kind of glimpse of the
future, which gives some hope.
At
every turn The Kleptones make the listener aware of the clash between old and
new, of the manner in which old statements, appropriated, reordered,
recontextualized, recombined, can make new statements that contradict the
intent of the original (or channel the original meanings in new, previously
impossible directions). Hip-Hopera makes
these new meanings, as stated, on a thematic level by drawing attention to the
issues of intellectual property and through its multifaceted portrayal of the
conflicts endemic to the history of popular music (the early battle between
rock and rap was nothing if not a fight between old and new, between entrenched
power and a new power that threatened it). On a formal level, the juxtaposition
of musical forms demonstrates that artists disinclined to talk to and learn
from one another, artists that are often pitted against one another by a system
that seeks to exploit them both (and can do so best by keeping them separate)
can find common cause. Moreover, the mashup form deconstructs the notion of
musical composition at its most basic level. The question of musical ability,
of musical literacy, can no longer be considered strictly from the point of
view of formal training in major keys and the sight-reading of notes on a
score. Musical fluency will now be considered the ability to understand a
musical composition and edit it with the tools of composition at hand, tools
that can be self-taught, that do not require indoctrination by and admission
into an elite class.
All
of these ideas come together in the album's final track, "Question," an
evisceration of the mentality that leads to the consideration of cultural
objects as property (more specific, as property that is limited to a particular
form), a mentality that serves as the foundation for the practices of the
present undertaken by content producing industries. The track begins with a
sample from then-ABC news anchor Peter Jennings, who states, "Finally this
evening, another copyright nightmare for the music industry," and continues
with a parody of the statements of copyright ownership and the End User License
Agreements that dominate the landscape of information age consumerism. The remainder
of the track is composed of a nigh-innumerable number of samples—from The Big Lebowski, Aqua Teen Hunger Force, Blade
Runner, Fight Club, The Decline of Western Civilization, and
elsewhere. These samples are juxtaposed with the music to "Who Wants to Live
Forever," a 1986 Queen song written and recorded for the soundtrack to The Highlander, a film that tells the
story of a centuries-long battle between immortals (mainly white men, of
course), all of whom are fighting to be the last one standing. "Question" lays
bare the desire of the music industry to maintain itself forever in its present
state, to maintain the business model of top-down production and distribution,
of absolute control over its products.
Two
samples in particular are of interest here for understanding the theme of the
album, and I will deal with them briefly by way of conclusion. The first comes
from Hugh Hefner, who states: "What do you get with freedom? Excesses.
Exploitation. Of course. And what does one say to that? A small price to pay.
If you don't like it, don't listen to it, don't read it, don't watch it.
Without free communication, you don't have a free society. Democracy is based
on that." In the end, The Kleptones do not make a simple statement about music
or musical freedom. They make a case for the necessity of new musical forms as
an example of new forms of communication generally by both critiquing those who
would forever avoid the new as well as those cultural objects that are
too-often considered to be integral, coherent, and whole.
And
as much fun as Hip-Hopera is, and as
interesting as its various critiques are, nothing in it is so important as the
fact that it does critique, that it critiques something, and thereby
illustrates the manner in which we can learn from, build upon, and otherwise
use the past without being bound by it. It is through such critique that the
future, the new, develops. This critique is not so much the foundation of
freedom as it is a litmus test. Once we are no longer able to engender such statements,
once we accept cultural forms as finished and static objects for passive
consumption—in short, once we are only able to think in terms specified
by the enforced relationship between dutiful subject and produced object, we
will no longer be living in a democracy. At that point it may be too late to change anything.
Hence
the urgency of the second sample, which is of Marshall McLuhan quoting Alfred
North Whitehead (an example of the sanctioned appropriation made possible when
one has the proper credentials and operates in the proper context), the same
Whitehead quote that serves as an introduction to The Medium is the Massage :
"The major advances in civilization are processes which all but wreck the
societies in which they occur." The full Whitehead quote, which is from the
last paragraph of his 1927 text Symbolism:
Its Meaning and Effect reads as follows:
It
is the first step in sociological wisdom, to recognize that the major advances
in civilization are processes which all but wreck the societies in which they
occur—like unto an arrow in the hand of a child. The art of free society
consists first in the maintenance of the symbolic code; and secondly in
fearlessness of revision, to secure that the code serves those purposes which
satisfy an enlightened reason. Those societies which cannot combine reverence
to their symbols with freedom of revision, must ultimately decay either from
anarchy, or from the slow atrophy of a life stifled by useless shadows. (88)
Major advances, whether in technologies or in cultural forms, wreck
society, wreck the future. As such, the first task of a society is to preserve
its codes against such destruction if that destruction is not carried out in
the name of reason. When it is carried out in the name of reason, the next step
is to fearlessly revise the code, which we can here understand to be the
cultural objects locked up by the content producing industries' practices of
the present. What should be clear is that the problem resides in two
interrelated places: between the need to both protect and destroy, on the one
hand, and within the rationalism that decides when to take one action or the
other.
While
I cannot definitively state when destruction is necessary and when protection
is needed, we should of course always be wary of any discussion of reason and
ask whether the reason being deployed as a yardstick is the one we would choose
for ourselves. When reason appears as nothing but a practice of the present, a
practice of useless shadows, we must adopt our own, and destroy the codes that
serve the previous one. If The Kleptones and other mashup artists are correct,
society must undertake such revision/destruction, again and again. Society must
by necessity invite destruction, must be fearless in the face of this destruction.
Such destruction is not revolution; it is the passage of time.
Digital
technologies and mashups must wreck society if there is to be a future that is
not a vulgar mirror of the present. The threat of this wreckage is not to those
who would have such a future, but to those who are against the destruction such
creativity would mean to them. Thus these advances are first legislated, then
adjudicated, and finally naturalized in such a manner as to limit their
potential for such destruction and simultaneously rob them of their potential.
The destruction of a society based on a reason not our own at the hands of The
Kleptones and similar artists is preferable to the stagnation content producers
have willfully injected in the symbolic code since at least the advent of the
printing press. We must remind them that their future is not ours. The right
track will be the one we produce.
Works Cited
Kleptones,
The. A Night at the Hip-Hopera. 2004.
«»
Whitehead,
Alfred North. Symbolism: Its Meaning and
Effect. New York: Macmillan, 1958.
«»
Notes
This line, from Alfred North Whitehead, is quoted by Marshall McLuhan at the
end of The Medium is the Massage: An
Inventory of Effects (San Francisco: Hardwired, 1967).
For
a more complete history see Lawrence Lessig's The Future of Ideas: The Fate of the Commons in a Connected World (New
York: Vintage, 2001) and Free Culture:
How Big Media Uses Technology and the Law to Lockdown Culture and Control
Creativity (New York: Penguin, 2004),
«». For a discussion of these issues
in the context of the music industry see The
Future of Music: Manifesto for the Digital Music Revolution by David Kusek
and Gerd Leonard (Boston: Berklee P, 2005) and William Fisher's Promises to Keep: Technology, Law, and the
Future of Entertainment. Stanford: Stanford UP, 2004.
«».
A&M Records v. Napster, Inc., 239 F.3d 1004 (9th Cir. 2001). For more on
the Napster case, see Douglas, Guy, "Copyright and Peer-To-Peer Music File
Sharing: The Napster Case and the Argument Against Legislative Reform" in Murdoch University Electronic Journal of Law 11,1 (2004) «».
Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc. v. Grokster, Ltd., 545 U.S. 913 (2005).
Content producers have increasingly engaged in the criminalization of the
actions of their consumers, and filed suit against 261 music fans in September
2003. In "RIAA vs. the People: Four Years Later"
«», the Electronic Frontier Foundation
estimates that as of late 2007 some 20,000 lawsuits have been filed against
individuals for sharing copyrighted content online.
For
more on sampling see Kembrew McLeod's Freedom
of Expression: Overzealous Copyright Bozos and Other Enemies of Creativity (New York: Doubleday, 2005).
«».
While the term "mashup" is most often associated with music, it can equally
apply to other cultural practices. Consider, for example, Jonathan Lethem's
"The Ecstasy of Influence: A Plagiarism" (Harper's,
February 2007), «», which is
comprised almost entirely of unattributed citations of other prose, or the
"trailers" to such "films" as Shining «» or Big «», which demonstrate
the meaning-making possibilities of familiar films by re-imagining them in
different genres.
Waxy.org was one of the first sites to mirror the album upon its release and
was served with a cease and desist order by Disney for infringing on the
content producer's distribution rights, an order with which waxy.org did not
comply. See the text of the order here:
«».
In
many respects (but not all) mashup production bears resemblance to what Jacques
Attali calls "composing" in Noise: The Political Economy of Music (Trans. Brian Massumi. Minneapolis and London: U of Minnesota P, 1985).
Of
course, democracy itself and its instantiations should/is also the object of
such critical work.
See note 1, above.
Biography
Benjamin J Robertson teaches in the English Department at the University of Colorado, Boulder and is Managing editor of electronic book review. He is currently working on two book projects: Corruption and Sameness: The Late Cold War and the Ends of the 80s and Material Science Fictions: The Internet of Things and the Politics of the Future.
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