perils of the social sensitivities/nodes/nuts

so I turn on the magic box and this fellow I have somehow connected to has activated my name in a  post where he is air-raiding me to the void. .... It was along the lines of "just listened to Dave Graney's somewhat didactic song "field record me" and was disappointed by yet another ignorant depiction of the role of linguists and their work of preserving dying languages through the use of field recordings. What an ignorant rock person.. what would he know etc etc etc ..."

This is the song...
https://soundcloud.com/dave-graney-lym/field-record-me

A woman chimed in with " Wow what a great disappointment this must be to you"

The fellow shot back " disappointed, yes…liked him better when he was a moodist .. but not that surprised at the att.. ignorance is the fuel of so many a rock sermon!"

The woman returned "Unfortunately maybe Dave's showing his age. This kind of objectification or essentialising would have been spot on a few decades ago, just like framing Indigenous people as eternal victims. (...unless of course he has a specific early 20th C bearded pipe-smoking ethnographer in mind...)"

I must state I know neither of these two and was not eavesdropping. It was all opened on my social manor.

The man returned " yep, although many old farts manage not to think in such simplistic terms..there's not much excuse for those stereotypes really.. just lazy thinking. (Unless we're talking dementia?)"

I felt the need to object! " the song is a cry of pain, in a world where people can only listen/hear / see music when it is safely dead or from a foreign clime . Like say, poncey types going on about primitive cultures or making field recordings of exotic savages. In the song, the singer is asking them to field record him, in his natural habitat. But they can't hear him. So you know, one of us is ignorant and its not me. Cheers."

I included the lyrics...

"field record me
put me in the picture, give me a page
put me in a place and time where you can find me
pin me down and forget me
field record me
make me real
treat me as if I was here
field record me
put on your coat with many pockets and stick that pipe in your mouth
and approach me sensitively in my world
field record me
field record me
treat me like a golden bug
and you’ve had the mad luck to be here"

To me, that's pretty direct and plain language. As a songwriter, you like to get simpler and simpler. Less words. More groove and feel. When I play live I often introduce it as a song about a musicians dream where aliens will be in the audience one day and understand what he's going on about. And take news of him back to their planet. Where he is worshipped as a god.  I allude to the educated, rich new Yorkers going down South of America in the 30s and 40s and making field recordings.

I added "I sing songs about my world, not others."

Then lost my cool..." what fucking knobs"

That felt better.

The man came back ...

"Well I suppose I can‘t rightly argue with a creative about what their own song is about. So, if you say ‘field record me’ is not about linguists making fieldwork recordings, then fair enough.

Reading the lyrics again though, I find it difficult not to interpret it as an attack on language documentation, since field recording is generally something done by linguists. Pretty much the only other people who do it are ethnomusicologists...Is the song about ethnomusicologists, perhaps?
The poncey character is a cliche. I guess the song was meant to be set in the 19th century. That didn't come through at all. And the phrases you use: ‘exotic savage’ and ‘primitive’ are racist stereotypes. They are offensive to anyone doing actual fieldwork. If that's what you think fieldwork is about, then actually, you are very ignorant".

This guy would not back off! How many ways can he insult me? 

Even though he was obviously a linguist and very well educated, I felt I should speak plainly…

"why the hell would I be bothered writing a song about linguists? New York folk lorists went to the southern states of America and field recorded people like Muddy Waters in the 40s and earlier. All sorts of folk farmers and the like. The song is about being an Australian singer. Its set in 2012. I don't give a rats testicle what field work is, like most people."

Silence for a couple of days then he shot back with another tirade (which is now invisible to me- as is he)   about it being true that people don't care about his valuable work of preserving dying languages but he does it. (diddums) Also that , perhaps, the song could be interpreted in the way I said, "with the aid of mass scaffolding."

Then he added "ciao".

Excuse me.

"CUUUUUUUUUUNT!"

Yes, thats better. Anyway, whoever he is, he is dead to me. And his bitches too. They had just dropped in to air raid me. Probably, like most people, they don't know where all the flim flam connections pop up.

It was this exchange that worried me though. The fellow professes to be a  linguist but he seems to take everything so subjectively. He can't understand English or the local variant. The cadence, the patois. My song was about just that! In the local field, people can't see or hear many things unless there is a precedent from the US or the UK. If it doesn't, it doesn't exist. As invisible as a creep that's been blocked on the interwebs.

What chance do all those dying languages have?  In the hands of this ignorant , know-all blockhead?

February 3rd THE DAMES (Clare Moores project w/ Kaye Patterson and Rosie Westbrook) at the Post Office Hotel Sydney Rd Coburg 4-6pm

 
February 10th - Butterfly Club 204 Bank st sth Melbourne 8pm. Dave Graney and Clare Moore acoustic set (vibes and 12 string).

 

FRIDAY February 22nd dave graney and the mistLY at the SOUND LOUNGE/Ocean Grove Hotel.175 Bonnyvale Rd 52551122
Doors at 6pm,show at 8pm.Advance tickets-seating 0408575799