Dundee Talk Notes

‘A great place: a lawless hole with rancid drinks

and reckless drunks…’ Multiple voices, multiple

memories: Public history-making and activist

archivism in online popular music archives.

Good afternoon . My name is Jez Collins, I work

in the Birmingham Centre for Media and Cultural

Research at Birmingham City University and I

arrived there via my practice based work as the

founder of the Birmingham Popular Music Archive

of which, more later (SLIDE 1)

Popular music archives, heritage and histories

are emerging online from a diverse set of

practices, exhibiting a prodigious va –rye-ity of

reference points and modes of memory making.

Created, curated, and populated by public history

makers and activist archivists, these sites, I

suggest, can be seen as challenging the

traditional gatekeepers of popular music heritage

and dominant popular music historiography.

In this presentation, I’ll explore the manner in

which online communities construct memories to

geographically and temporally specific sites of

music culture. I’ll explore the role of music

itself in such sites, and the posting of ephemera

and narratives of associated cultures of

consumption which in turn prompt discussions

recalling both individual and community histories

and raise questions about the nature of the music

archive, of history and heritage.

In light of the contested status of popular music

as heritage object, the sites I’ll present here

insist upon its importance and are built around a

broader idea of music cultures and place, and

are often devoid of recordings, relying instead

on written remembrances and popular music

ephemera – photographs, flyers tickets stubs and

so on.

I’ll outline how such spaces are created,

curated, and populated by public history makers,

activist archivists and individuals who, although

they might baulk at such terms, tirelessly

document and share music, associated ephemera and

generate collective cultural memories.

Theorizing the public history makers and activist

archivists (slide 2)

Curators of online music sites – where the use of

recordings, or other artifacts are both

authorized and unauthorized - might be identified

as the latest manifestation of what Howard Zinn

labelled ‘activist archivists’ whereby he called

upon the American archive profession to break

with its traditional restrictions of being the

preserve of the ‘rich and powerful elements in

society, whilst the poor and impotent continued

to languish in archival obscurity.’ Instead he

urged archivists ‘to compile a whole new world of

documentary material about the lives, desires and

needs of the ordinary people’.

This position is echoed in that of social

historians such as Raphael Samuel, Hilda Keen,

and others who have called upon professionals to

recognise the value of everyday lives and

practices as areas of legitimate historical study

and archival practice. Samuel for instance

describes history as more than the preserve of

the individual expert rather it is, he said ‘a

social form of knowledge, the work, in any given

instance, of a thousand different hands’.

Samuel highlights a number of amateur

individuals, groups, associations and clubs that

have been instrumental to our understanding of

historical practices and claims these amateurs

and their work should cause us to rethink our

approach to history-making. Not he says, as

divided between ‘professionals’ and ‘public’ but

rather if ‘history was thought of as an activity

rather than a profession, then the number of

practitioners would be legion’. For Samuel, this

manifests itself in the uncovering of history in

legends and myths, in folk ballads, in television

and literature and other forms of popular

cultural activity, which is held within our

individual and collective memories.

In this light, the relatively recent growth in

support for the creation of community archives

described by Andrew Flinn and Mary Stevens is for

them is a political act. While noting the wildly

differing subject matter, approaches, aims and

objectives of community archives, they identify

two areas of commonality in such initiatives.

First there is an underlying distrust of

‘official’ archives and a desire by creators of

community archives to maintain autonomy.

Secondly, community archives are motivated by the

very failure of mainstream heritage narratives

and collections to reflect and actively represent

their histories, stories and knowledge.

As Flinn further observes, the digital

environment has had a major role in underwriting

activism and the creation of community archives

that allow new voices and new histories to be

heard and which form around an unbounded

plurality of tangible and intangible heritage

objects.

But how can we understand what role popular music

may have in this history/memory paradigm?

Jose van Dijck provides a method in answering

such a question by arguing that recorded music is

integral to the construction of our personal and

collective cultural memory. Van Dijck states that

memory is simultaneously embodied, enabled and

embedded and that we relive our experiences

through constructed narratives therefore by

creating public spaces we can create and share

our music heritages.

Van Dijck argues we engage with recorded music by

applying emotion and lived experiences which form

mental maps with particular pieces of music which

are later recalled as part of our individual

memory. We then share and exchange these memories

with others through ‘explicit memory narratives’

that ‘directly bespeak musical memory as it

relates to personal and group identity’. These

collective experiences, van Dijck says, can then

be seen as ‘collective reservoirs of recorded

music’ which become our cultural heritage.

Van Dijck argues that remembrance is always

embedded in the individual but our wider social

contexts stimulate memories of the past through

frameworks in the present. Here, then, we can see

how the internet, and in particular specific

sites that concern themselves with collective

histories, memories and recollections, can be

seen as ‘cultural frames for recollection’ that

‘do not simply invoke but actually help construct

collective memory’.

Curating Sites of Popular Music Memory (SLIDE 3)

I’m going to turn now to some examples of online

popular music archives.

(SLIDE 4) Digital Memories and Recorded Music

The impact of digital technologies on the music

industries has been well documented. Stages of

production, distribution and consumption have all

been inflected by the take-up of audio-

compression technologies, peer-to-peer file-

sharing networks like Napster and streaming sites

like Spotify, as well as online music stores such

as i-Tunes. However an enormous amount of

recordings remain unavailable in this or any

form.

Professional archivists and amateurs qualified

only by a passion for music have responded to

this situation by collecting and making material

available online in carefully crafted and curated

sites. Two examples of officially or sanctioned

and supported projects are the ‘Women’s

Liberation Music Archive’ SLIDE 5 and SLIDE 6 the

Hungarian ‘Gramofon Online’.

But I want to focus on an unauthorised site that

makes recordings available without permission.

SLIDE 7 Bodega Pop is a blog site dedicated to

music the author has collected from bodegas and

which he states

can almost never be found in the ‘World

Music’ section of the few remaining places to

buy CDs in the U.S, nor for that matter on iTunes

or cheapo MP3 sites like Soundike

The author digitises and streams albums as well

as making them available to download alongside

liner notes and images of the sleeves. The

community responds with comments and while these

are often in the nature of simple

acknowledgements for the curator’s efforts other

posters offer discussions on the meanings of this

music in their personal histories and how music

offers a means of reconnecting with ‘lost’ or

neglected artefacts with great personal

significance.

SLIDE 8 But in a blog post, picked up and re-

posted on other similar sites, the author

underlines his rationale for this kind of

practice. Titled Guilty until proven innocent? Gary rails

against the FBI closure of Megaupload not in

explicit support of Megaupload itself but because

of the knock on effect on :

the loss of countless music blogs, the loss of

the communities they fostered, the loss of the

evidence of otherwise forgotten expressive

culture(s) that they brought to the surface and

shared.

He mentions sites like Holy Warbles, Madrotter,

Global Grooves, Mutant Sounds and his personal

favourite The Vault: Japanese Music Junkies

Unite.

These sites he argues are akin to libraries –

repositories of knowledge holding rare, obscure,

out of print music that in his words are

‘expressive cultural artefacts’ but it is he says

not just the music, mind you, which is

lovely. But artefacts that are now once again

unavailable for, say, anyone studying the

region and period.

While the rights holders and the law might

disagree vehemently, lovers of the music, for

whom it has primarily personal and collective

meaning as a cultural, rather than an economic

object, claim it as their heritage by their

actions in and around online archive sites.

The sites I present next generally avoid problems

with intellectual property rights presented by

placing digitized recordings at their centre and

instead focus on a broader approach to music

culture anchored on other kinds of artefacts and

above all the generation of memories of music and

its place in individual and community life.

Birmingham Popular Music Archive (SLIDE 9) was

founded in 2008 by myself. The BPMA offers this

statement of intent: ‘We want Birmingham to take

pride in its musical heritage and to start

shouting out about it [… ]We want to hear about

ALL the music activity in the city.’

The BPMA has sought to take full advantage of the

democratic potential of online culture that

allows for the attempt to capture the scope of

the city’s popular music heritage. Thus,

addressing the people of Birmingham as a whole,

it asks its users to ‘Tell us what you know, tell

us what you think’, encouraging them to

contribute to building and shaping the archive.

The approach is an exploratory and open one and

there are no set parameters for what should or

should not be included.

With a view to the kinds of artefacts that

capture music culture, BPMA evinces an awareness

of how ‘music provides us with memories,

individual and shared experiences and self-

expression. For us, these memories and meanings

can be stirred by a vast array of music ephemera,

it could be a song, it might be a photograph or a

ticket stub or it could be someone else’s

recollections that make a connection with you and

trigger your music experiences.’

Alongside the reproductions of physical things

then, it is ultimately the prodigious accounts

and memories captured that give breadth and depth

to the archive and articulate the voice and

concerns of contributors.

(Slide 10) Here we see a narrative developing on

a thread about a club called Barabarellas, a club

that was home to a disco and rock crowd and then

when punk came along , a punk crowd. Individual

histories, are shared, acting as prompts for

others

Poster Sean: Remember my good friend Graham

‘Banner’ Bannister being dragged out of Barbs

by the police. We were queuing up to get into

some concert or other (there seemed to be a

brilliant gig every week) and a crowd of

bored lads decided it would be a good idea to

walk over a car parked outside the club,

banner included. The car was quickly damaged.

It turns out it belonged to an employee of

the club. the police were called and Banner,

at 6 foot daft, was quickly pointed out.

So many memories of the place.

ainsley robinson replies: Jeepers ,think that

car walking escapade included me, If i recall

also tried to smash the window of some tyre

company on the corner of Cumbernauld st/broad

st and later tried pulling over the statues

we passed as we went into city centre-not

proud now…it was the zeitgeist..anarchy n all

that. of the time,well that’s my excuse and

i’m sticking to it.

(Slide 11) For Jet Black what kind of punk you

were determined which room you went in

Barbs had 3 rooms, front left datachic, back

left spectrum, back right the pose. many

happy days there as one of the original

punks, with your own dress code before the

uniform look took over

(SLIDE 12) And for Paddy Barbs was a place to

recall his youth:

Barbarellas was by far the best punk

venue back in 77, along with Rebeccas it

was definately the place to go if you

liked some heavy Dub tunes to listen to

in between some great gigs.

////

Sorry if ive gone o a bit folks but

Barbarellas did play a big part in my

youth, i was 18 in 1977. All three rooms

in Barbs were great fun, and all the

young punks who frequented any of the

gigs above will agree that these were

the days of real punk, as the above

poster says before the uniforms came in.

Here then, we see how one venue holds multiple

histories and memories and how these narratives

or historical sources, can provide new insights

into music history and music culture.

Slide 13

For poster Dorothy, now exiled in the USA there

is a sense of sadness in remembrance of her youth

and a strong cultural link to Birmingham

expressed through music culture:

The Cedar Club and Fewtrell family were home

AWAY from home to all the “Townies” what a

great place it was for them. I shed many a

tear over the Cedarclub and its gang. My life

changed completely when Don Reuben (still the

love of my life) died in 1965 and even after

two husbands I still dream of him and the

club, and the antics they got up to.

Here in Miami I have met holidaymakers from

“Brum” and the first question they ask is

“Remember the Cedar Club”. What a great

reputation after all these years.

You cannot repeat those days of the sixties

or the people.

It is so different today.

Good luck to all of you that are still here

with us.

(SLIDE 14) In contrast to these projects, are a

wealth of more informal and self-interested

practices that takes place elsewhere online but

nonetheless has a part to play in valuing popular

music as heritage. Sites such as ‘Birmingham

Roundabout’ or ‘Birmingham History Forum’ are not

primarily about popular music and culture

although both have elicited a wealth of

contributions on the subject.

To take one example from the latter site, a

thread was opened in 2005 with the question

‘Anyone got any memories and information about

nightclubs in Brum, from any time last century?’

The community continues to add to the 100 pages

of comments, and respondents enter into a process

of exploration and recollection.

(SLIDE 15) Impis: Hi, everyone.

I have joined this forum, 'specially to allow me

to contribute to this thread.

At the age of 16, around Easter of 1973, I worked

for a few weeks as a dancer at the Locarno. After

that, I was offered, and took, a job at La Dolce

Vita which was diagonally opposite, on Smallbrook

queensway. I worked there, as a go go dancer, for

about 18 months and absolutely loved it.

Impis goes on to talk about other places she

worked at before returning to the Dolce

I loved, with a passion, working at La Dolce -

it was the one place where i felt free and

confident, and on top of the world. I guess this

was partly because this is where i fell in love

for the first time - and where i escaped

'normality' for brief periods of time. This was

at the time of the pub bombings, I think - I know

we had many bomb scares and often had to evacuate

the club.

I only went to the Barn, Solihull [Hockley Heath]

a couple of times. I thought it quite fun, at

first, but then realised that the revolving dance

floor turned it into rather a cattle market - the

chaps standing round the edge while a steady

procession of young ladies went past their eyes.

Not so good. For the same reason, I didn't much

like the beer keller - where a balcony on the

first floor enabled chaps to look down on the

ladies.

Gosh - I have just remembered that the Dolce had

a dance floor that lowered and rose. Thanks to

anyone who's taken time to read my little

reminissing.

[I am now a teacher, btw - a far cry from being a

little blonde go go dancer]

Wrapped up then, in just this one comment, is

Impis’ musical history in the naming of venues,

personal identity and development in the places

she worked. There are also implications for

sexual politics in the identification of the

subjugation of women in ‘the cattle market’ and

‘looking down on’ club environments, for social

politics with the pub bombings, and then finally

the separation of past and present. Impis is now

a teacher with the implication of leading a very

different life. While there can be no claim for

this being a full life story, the rich stories of

Impis and her musical activities are alive with

history, identity and meaning, providing what

Flinn calls an ‘authentic voice of the past’ in

the construction of public histories and

archives.

But it is Facebook that appears to be harvesting

a lot of music archival practice.

Here are just a couple of examples of the types

of activity taking place on Facebook :

‘Upstairs at the Mermaid’ (SLIDE 16) deals with a

pub venue that was, amongst other things, a

centre for gigs by Anarcho-Punk, goth and

‘psychobilly’ bands and associated subcultures;

Nick Bullen founder of seminal thrash/grindcore

band Naplam Death recalls it as ‘A great place: a

lawless hole with rancid drinks and reckless

drunks...I went to my first gig there back in

February 1984 and then played my first gig there

in June 1984’.

The ‘Crown Punks’ page (SLIDE 17) is dedicated to

a subcultural group that in 1976 found this pub a

convivial space in which to congregate, -

‘For all the old punks that frequented the Crown

pub in Birmingham from 1977 onwards. Pictures,

history, music, memories or just want to find out

what happened to someone…’

So at each site there are ever increasing amounts

of uploaded historical materials. There are links

to official band sites and other tribute pages,

embedded video from YouTube and occasional

streams of music. There are also digitised

photographs, ticket stubs, posters and other

ephemera from personal collections— in the words

of Marion Leonard, the ‘material objects’ of

popular music.

(SLIDE 18) As Kirk and Sellen have written, while

appearing mundane, digital copies can

simultaneously be emotive and ‘devoid of value,

but in other respects be rich with it’, and so

photographs and any other posted reproductions

become the archival artifact that is ‘the memory

glue’ for individuals and communities in

recalling and sharing music-based experiences.

Conclusion (SLIDE 19)

The nature of online communication allows for

what at first glance appears to be comments made

with little care or attention to language or even

detail.

Often scrappy in nature, posts echo the rather

uneven ways in which we make memory out of such

mnemonics. Names, sounds, scenes and places are

cited and users call on others to add detail for

their own sometimes vaguely recalled fragments of

experience. Much of the site and the nature of

interactions therein offer an analogue of the

conversational exchange that takes place in

person between individuals and within groups when

they prompt each other in this way.

While famous bands and events are cited,

references to the specifics of the local and

specialised knowledge – about ‘also-rans’,

scenes, or sites, offer a layering and detailed

texturing of activity in the city and the places

in which music was sought out and experienced.

Thus, discussions reflect on the passing of the

kinds of culture made in such places.

But it is also the ongoing process of sociability

online and the interactions between members that

gives rise to narratives and multiple

perspectives on the past. Autobiographical

remembering leads to an appeal to the community

to also remember, what Wang & Brockmeier call the

‘mnemonic transmission’ that seeks to corral the

communities musical cultural memory.

Together, the practices I have explored raise

questions about the nature of the archive, of

history and heritage. Acknowledging Leonard’s

point (echoed in Simon Reynolds’ book

‘retromania) that material culture artifacts

alone ‘cannot stand in for, or be detached from

the sonic and bodily experience of music’, I

would nonetheless extend van Dijck’s analysis to

the ephemera associated with music production and

that generated by its consumers and which we see

uploaded by online communities. These communities

and the online architecture which enables their

concerns are, I suggest, ‘cultural frames for

recollection’ that ‘do not simply invoke but

actually help construct collective memory’

The presence of music as a motivating cultural

force is apparent in generating so much memory

work which attests to its historical importance

in the lives of so many of us.