Rock & roll began and persists as a force of social and cultural change, among other things. This rebellion is often contained within the status quo of mainstream music and society, as with alternative rock. While all rock music is a commodity these days, even Fugazi, dissent can slip through the cracks of corporate America. It is almost a motto of what we play at WCBN that our music is rebellious, "theirs" is not. We somehow offer an "alternative" to dominant cultural forms via supposedly more interesting and innovative music. But can this mainstream music full of faux rebellion turn into a means of considerable dissent and cultural commentary in certain contexts? This may take place to a certain degree in the malls of America, but I'm thinking of a more distant place.
Earlier this year I spent nearly six months in South Asia, primarily in Sri Lanka and southern India. The music market in South Asia is almost exclusively in cassettes. In India, tapes tend to cost between 35 and 100 rupees, approximately one to three dollars. While cheap by American standards, these prices are more expensive than an average meal or movie ticket, though still within reach of many Indians. The dominant musical form in India is film music, an occasionally brilliant blend of Indian classical and folk music with every other form of music out there. In Sri Lanka, on the other hand, the dominant music is baila, a hybrid of traditional folk melodies and Portuguese rhythms that grew out of colonial encounters. Like film music, it can often sound like it was made on a bad Casio keyboard, but can also be quite amazing.
This modern indigenous music dominates the market, but Western and Indian rock and pop music are gradually encroaching on the scene. Over the past few years non-film-based Indian music, dubbed Hindi-pop, fueled by MTV, has taken off. While movies are a very democratic medium in South Asia, television and the rock and pop music it promotes tend to have a rather elite audience. A hit Hindi-pop album will sell at least 5,000 copies, minuscule in comparison to the millions of soundtracks sold in South Asia.
In the cultural and musical contexts of South Asia (and maybe in other parts of the world for all I know) rock & roll can promote significant social and cultural change. The odd part comes with which rock and pop music is fostering dissent and against which mainstream music and mores it is rebelling. Most of the Western music available in South Asia is Top 40 crap, and even worse than that, British Top 40 crap. The Spice Girls, Take That, and Michael Jackson are all huge. So is Yanni, who held a series of concerts outside the Taj Mahal in March, coming soon to a PBS pledge drive near you. Basically some of the blandest Western music is the most popular and most widely available.
Besides all this pop crap though, some more "alternative" music is available. Getting a major label contract means more than just better domestic distribution, but foreign as well. So cassettes by major label mavericks, such as Neil Young, Slayer, Beck, Public Enemy, and even Kraftwerk, can be found in stores throughout the subcontinent. Although Beck may not have gotten more than a rupee of the sixty rupees (about $1.70) that I paid for an Odelay tape, the fact that some Indian kid could get it at the same store that I did does mean something beyond the global reach of David Geffen.
However, this differs greatly from some kid in Ypsilanti being able to buy Beck at the local K-Mart. The difference lies in the musical and cultural context of the music's marketing, purchasing and listening. For example, our hypothetical Ypsi kid's friends may be into Marilyn Manson or Hanson and his/her parents may even have some old Bowie or Joni Mitchell albums gathering dust. Rock music is the dominant form of music in America today, providing a benchmark for all forms of popular musical expression. This is not so in South Asia.
Our hypothetical Indian Beck buyer is not just going against mainstream rock music, but against mainstream music altogether. This is somewhat akin to the early days of rock & roll in the 50s, when a commercial youth culture was initially forming in the US. In a way, young South Asians are attempting to buy forty-odd years of American social, cultural, and especially sexual rebellion. Granted, this can only go so far due to rock's limited audience in South Asia, but change is coming. Just as India and Sri Lanka are trying to imitate dynamic Asian economies from Japan to Singapore, they are also replicating corollary social and cultural changes, such as the growth of youth culture.
For example, at the end of May, I went to the monthly "Rock Saturday" at a club in Colombo, the capital and largest city in Sri Lanka. The ages of the very affluent and rather Westernized crowd mostly ranged from 16 to 30 years old. A feeling of restless, reckless, rebellious youth pervaded the air. This atmosphere reminded me of the hard-core punk shows that I went to in high school in the 1980s. One difference was that the venue was a bright clean club and not a dark basement full of slam-dancing spike-haired skaters. The major difference, though, was that the 200 rupee cover charge was way beyond the means of the average teen.
I arrived at the club to catch the last three songs by the only Sri Lankan heavy metal band. They were better than I had expected, which isn't saying much. The reaction to the band was pretty polite. Sadly, my attempts at international heavy metal understanding through a banging head and a horned hand were not reciprocated. Once the band finished and the DJ began, though, the crowd started getting all worked up. The music was pretty standard stuff: Lenny Kravitz, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Blind Melon, Guns 'N Roses, Gin Blossoms, R.E.M. The whole scene reminded me of too many parties I went to in college. The same music was playing. Cheap beer was flowing. People were dancing in groups, singing along. It all seemed pretty lame. Been there, done that, I thought with too cool cynicism. Somehow my listening to Yo La Tengo in my hotel room that afternoon was a more authentic experience.
After a while, though, I realized that I was seriously underestimating the evening's events. What seemed to be a standard night of partying by the youth of today appeared to be somewhat radical upon closer inspection. Blaring rock music. Sweating bodies. Flowing beer. Dancing publicly. Talking to members of the opposite sex. Dancing with members of the opposite sex. Touching members of the opposite sex. God forbid, kissing members of the opposite sex. Normal stuff for any Saturday night in Ann Arbor. However, in a country where most marriages are arranged, and public hand-holding can cause massive scandals, this is risky stuff. Rock and roll was freeing these young Sri Lankans' asses, and their minds should soon follow.
Rock & roll began and persists as a celebration of (the rebelliousness of) youth, among other things. Over the years rock music and youth culture have been so commercialized in the US to lose much of their potential for dissent. Rock's attraction for these young South Asians may be in its associations with modernity and the West, but it has helped develop a particularly South Asian youth culture that has yet to be fully commodified. Rock and roll is providing them with an otherwise unavailable emotional and social outlet, albeit for a rather elite audience. They were able to generate personal meaning out of this otherwise foreign music, transforming the music, themselves and their culture in the process. Rock music provides a "real" alternative for young Indians and Sri Lankans and for those South Asians about to rock, I salute you.