Author: appltones

21 year old journalism student. I don't know how to make music, but I know I love to listen, share, and write. Enjoy.

Luk Thung and the Sound of Siam – Digital Artefact

My digital artefact can be viewed here: https://soundcloud.com/appltones/luk-thung-and-the-sound-of-siam-digital-artefact

Contextual statement – task 3

Given the heart of this project being around the meaning and feeling of traditional Thai music and how I react and relate to it, it seemed only necessary to undertake an auto-ethnographic study in the form of a podcast.

Auto-ethnographic methodology

“When researchers write autoethnographies, they seek to produce aesthetic and evocative thick descriptions of personal and interpersonal experience.” (Ellis et al, 2011)

For the sake of authentic auto-ethnographic research, it was deemed fitting that reactions to the music, or at least some of the reactions, had to be fresh or live.

To achieve this, two things were ensured:

  • The podcast was done in one take
    • Although this was difficult and took planning to ensure timing and structure was well established prior to recording, it was an essential way to keep the methodology authentic, “aesthetic and evocative”.
    • Songs were chosen at random from the record to be listened to during the podcast
    • Another effort to ensure the listener was able to grasp how I, the auto-ethnographer was reacting to the music.

Epiphanies

“When researchers do autoethnography, they retrospectively and selectively write about epiphanies that stem from, or are made possible by, being part of a culture and/or by possessing a particular cultural identity.” (Ellis et al, 2011)

Epiphanies are what make auto-ethnographic research so valuable. This experience was highly intriguing due to the observation that before beginning the podcast, only one epiphany had been thought of for discussion, however as the recording took place and the previously unheard songs were heard, more came to mind. This can be attributed to the personal and concurrent style of auto-ethnography, where the research relies on the ongoing reaction and feedback of the reader.

A perfect example of an auto-ethnographic epiphany is best seen in the reflection towards the end of the podcast where it’s discussed how it seems these songs have strong psychedelic influences, and it’s questioned whether this can be put down to the past drug culture of South-East Asia, or its simply the listener’s interpretation.

Personal touches

Auto-ethnographers “must use personal experience to illustrate facets of cultural experience, and, in so doing, make characteristics of a culture familiar for insiders and outsiders.” (Ellis et al, 2011)

Although this podcast was planned to be in a live, or fresh setting, it was always intended to keep in touch with a personal connection. While it often contains commentary on music features, much of the reflection is based on my own persona as a passionate music fan. Heavily reflected also are the links I find between my own common listenings, and the unheard, fresh sounds of Luk Thung, an important part of keeping in touch with personal, auto-ethnographic research and presentation.

References

Ellis, C., Adams, T. and Bochner, A. (2011). Autoethnography: An Overview. [online] Volume 12, No. 1(10). Available at: http://www.qualitative-research.net/index.php/fqs/article/view/1589/3095 [Accessed 22 Oct. 2018].

Reflecting on the process

Establishing a process for this research project has been majorly back-and-forth. Following suit in the method outlined by Carolyn Ellis in Autoethnography: An Overview has been far more difficult than first anticipated. I now recognise that even this reflection is part of the auto ethnographic process, as I’m analysing my own personal experience to understand the greater concept.

Back-and-forth

Here I refer to the constant train of ideas my brain would conceive around my research project of Luk Thung, which would eventually have to be brought to a halt for the ensuring that they matched the auto ethnographic process.

Too often I found myself venturing a ways down the ethnography path, without incorporating the essential autobiography aspect. Epiphanies were initially not recognised as key moments in the research narrative, but simply ideas that could be explored throughout my work.

My brain was working productively to – well – brainstorm ideas useful to research, but left behind was the acknowledgment and logging of those points in time where an idea or change was conceived or enacted.

I had actually drafted a whole blog post based around background information for Luk Thung, including its history and meaning, until I realised what I really needed to be doing. I started over, and documented the epiphany I had while watching Sita Sings The Blues, and how the process flowed from that point.

Sarah Wall said that during the process of writing Easier Said than Done: Writing an Autoethnography, revealed to her once again was the value of experience and reflection (Wall 2008, pg. 50). I feel I can appreciate this notion with Wall more wholly now, after being forced to repeatedly review my functions as an auto ethnographer, I now understand the value of the process, and the reflection of that process, rather than just the product.

Auto

An integral part of this process I’m blabbing on about is me. As I mentioned, there came a point where I had to begin my piece again, and part of starting again was questioning where I belong in the narrative. Luckily, the answer was music, which is something I not only feel comfortable discussing at length, but something I actually enjoy. Acknowledging the importance of the auto was an integral part of understanding and practicing the ideas that Ellis and Wall present.

The realisation of my part in this narrative has actually motivated me, due to the fact this is more-or-less the first time I’ve undertaken a research/study in such a manner. Auto ethnography as Ellis details it, provides opportunities for exploring worldly aspects in a way that incorporates the storyteller, which is exciting because in this particular case – given my love of music – I’m able to enjoy the process, making it easier to detail the process and product of the narrative.

References

Ellis, C., Adams, T. and Bochner, A. (2018). Autoethnography: An Overview. Forum: Qualitative Social Research, [online] 12(1). Available at: http://www.qualitative-research.net/index.php/fqs/article/view/1589/3095  [Accessed 16 Sep. 2018].

Wall, S. (2008). Easier Said than Done: Writing an Autoethnography. International Journal of Qualitative Methods, [online] 7(1), pp.38-53. Available at: http://journals.sagepub.com/doi/pdf/10.1177/160940690800700103 [Accessed 16 Sep. 2018].

 

 

 

 

Luk Thung, Thai Funk, and Sita Sings The Blues

Initial experiences with my chosen field site in one word: Revelation.

Luk Thung, or literally translated to child of the fields, is the genre of Thai music I will be auto-ethnographically investigating, along with some of its relating and neighbouring genres. For lack of a better description, let’s call it Thai folk music, however I’ll later get into why I believe it’s far more than that.

You’re probably thinking, why the hell would someone choose to investigate Thai folk music? Sita Sings The Blues, that’s why. However, please don’t be mistake – I despised the film. I wholly and openly accept there was probably a deep and well thought out plot beneath the madness, however my brain simply couldn’t handle the visual mess the film presented, destroying any opportunity to enjoy – or even understand – the film. There was just one element that saved it for me, one element that could even be enjoyed if one shut their eyes (ขอบคุณพระเจ้า), and that’s the soundtrack of Annette Hanshaw.

(Peep a taste of the film and Annette Hanshaw’s work)

I’d like to think I’m a wide listener of music as a whole, and this film’s score only widened that listening scope. Although Hanshaw is American, AND the music she produced for SSTB has some strong Western influece, it’s the sound she birthed for this film that inspired my research. My ears sent thanks for the warm production pairing beautifully with the bright, angelic vocals, and it’s impossible to not love plentiful use of the sitar.

Enough drooling, now some inspiration had formed. I searched high and low for the genre I wanted to look at, until I finally landed in South-East Asia. The epiphany came while listening to the record of one of my favourite bands in the world – Khruangbin. They actually genre themselves as Thai Funk, which isn’t exactly Luk Thung, but there’s some undeniable links there.

(Enjoy them on this funky number via Night Time Stories)

For the sake of a flowing research process, I’ll be limiting my field sites (as the scope of the genre is rather broad) to some of the sub-genres of Luk Thung that are a little more niche, and contain some interesting links to my own personal tastes.

My main focus will be a record, or compilation, called The Sound of Siam: Leftfield Luk Thung, Jazz and Molam in Thailand 1954-1975. It’s more-or-less a mixtape of traditional Luk Thung, along with some groovy variations, some a little more jazzy, and some with a psych-rock edge you’d otherwise find on a Pink Floyd track.

I was able to give the compilation a thorough rinsing as my Sunday mornings are traditionally spent by putting on an album and listening through as I nurse a hangover or make a big breakfast, which is exactly what I did.

What’s interesting is my own pre-research interpretation of the sound of the songs (obviously not the lyrical interpretation as I don’t speak Thai) somewhat matched the supposed meaning of the music, which is hardship, pain even. It’s the music of the working people, those in the farm, or the field (child of the field)… and I felt that! Or at least something along those lines. I found it incredible that music with such beauty in the loud, high-pitched vocals can carry such a melancholy meaning.

This is something I look forward to investigating further through my auto ethnographic research, because:

  1. The music rules
  2. The music rules
  3. I want to know more about Luk Thung and the craziness in its history and meaning.

Stay tuned Thai jazzers…

 

 

 

 

Akira – A new found love

Akira, I wasn’t expecting that.

Having not been aware of this film’s existence prior to our live tweeting exercise, I was astounded at my research divulging the world’s love and praise for this strange film’s style and message.

I’ll be dissecting my own reaction to the film (I’ll try my best not to get too excited and HSC-analysing-stuff-until-my-thesaurus-breaks-ish) along with my thoughts on the live tweeting activity that fortunately brought it to my eyes.

To my joy, I couldn’t help but notice the parallels Akira held with that of one of my all-time favourite films – Blade Runner.

blade-runner-1982.jpg

(A shot from the film Blade Runner via https://variety.com/2017/film/columns/how-blade-runner-became-a-geek-metaphor-for-art-1202583468/ )

The first and most obvious being the incredible Neo-Tokyo cityscape, featuring an eclectic combination of metropolis sky-scrapers and grimy industrial wasteland. Just like Ridley Scott’s dystopian city, the landscape beautifully mirrors the overwhelming gap between the powerful and the poor.

Now let’s talk about that colour, wow. I rarely get to throw around the word iridescent (see definition below) but it fits wonderfully here.

iridescent
adjective
  1. showing luminous colours that seem to change when seen from different angles.
    “the drake’s head has an iridescent purple sheen”

Whether or not the effect of shifting colours and double exposures was a result of the lack of tech at the time, it plays to the chaos of the scenes and landscape in an awesome, almost accidental way, and I could hardly look away to do my tweeting.

Finally, the soundtrack. THE SOUNDTRACK. I could never salivate more than I do when listening to Vangelis’ soundtrack of Blade Runner, but Akira sure gave it a good crack. Relatively simple production, perfect rise and fall with the action, and careful selection of sounds and instruments to give it just enough Asian flavour. As a music and sound nerd, I believe soundtracking can dictate the immersion we feel in a film, album, or any life situation, and to Geinoh Yamashirogumi for doing this with Akira, I tip my hat.

I’ll admit my moments of frustration having to look away from the scenes of Akira to live tweet, but I enjoyed the process nonetheless. There’s a sense of community you feel as a result of participating in the feed. It’s like when you’re in a big crowded cinema for a premiere and you’re wondering if everybody else is loving or hating the movie as much as you are, well this answers those questions.

There’s certainly some interesting merit to a constant flow of extra context to the film you’re watching too. Fascinating pieces of trivia made public by a peer, or subtle elements of the film you might’ve missed are just few of the interesting benefits of a live forum environment, benefits I didn’t expect to find.

 

(Featured image courtesy of ESPIOARTWORK-102 via https://www.deviantart.com/espioartwork-102/art/Akira-1988-500416653)

 

 

Gojira: Nothing beats the timeless

This reflection of the 1956 original story of big, weird train-eating Lizard thingy is a little different.

Heartbreaking as it is, I wasn’t able to enjoy the viewing of Gojira with my seminar buddies as I was completing the last week of an internship. However I soldier on with an alternative take.

Personally, I’m a lover of anything timeless. In the current day and age we love new. We need the new technology, new clothes, new foods, new, new, new. But why? We get so wrapped up in the shiny screen or flashy fit of our recent purchase that we’re blind to the fact that our love for it will probably fade and die as quickly as its level of trendiness in our society does.

If I was to ask what your favourite song or piece of clothing was, I’d bet it’s not in the charts or trends right now. In fact, I’d almost bet it wasn’t even made in the current decade. This is my definition of timeless, the things in life that stand the test of time as the flashy and new fall to waste around them.

I’ve compared the reaction of the internet to Ishirō Honda’s 1954 original Gojira, to the 1998 and 2014 Godzilla remake, and it pleasantly justifies yet challenges my rant about timelessness.

The original kills the competition with its ratings 93% on Rotten Tomatoes, 97% on Film Takeout, and 7.6/10 on IMDb.  The ratings stoop quite magnificently with the 1998 Matthew Broderick remake, a dismal 16% on Rotten Tomatoes, 32% on Metacritic, and 5/10 on IGN.com (sad face). A surprise comes with the most recent take, fetching 75% on Rotten Tomatoes, 6.4/10 on IMDb, and 9/10 on IGN.com.

Equally as interesting was the observations made by critics and fans alike. One theme I continued to find through feedback was the poetic nature of the original flick (as poetic as a film about big, weird train-eating Lizard thingys can get), and how the reimagined films lacked the same poetic qualities. The reviews for the middle child film are hardly worth giving words to, but I’ll summarise by noting I’m not rushing to see it. To the admiration of critics the 2014 Godzilla did borrow some of its classic predecessor’s most loved qualities, making it a worthwhile visit to cinemas, but alas, it still just simply didn’t live up to the standard of the original.

I’m not here to trash the modern film industry, or the modern anything to be frank, I watch new movies, buy new clothes and new technology. I just want to explore and justify my love for anything that is too wonderfully classic to be outdone or replaced by the new versions.

Now that my rant is over, go and have a laugh at this hilariously made You Tube review of the 2014 film by the AngryJoeShow.

 

Are you a fan of the timeless side of life too? If so, what’s your poison?