Club Cultures and Female Subjectivity: The Move from Hometo House

Simonson, Mary.

Women and Music: A Journal of Gender and Culture, Volume 8, 2004, pp.86-92 (Review)

Published by University of Nebraska PressDOI: 10.1353/wam.2004.0009

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86 Women & Music Volume 8

Reviews

MARY SIMONSON

Club Cultures and Female Subjectivity: The Move from Home to House. By Maria Pini. New York: PalgraveMacmillan, 2001. 192 pp. Bibliography, index. Cloth, $69.95.

In the past decade, scholarly explora-tions of club and rave cultures haveabounded: Will Straw and David Hesmond-

halgh have launched inquiries into dance musicproduction; Ben Malbon and Sarah Thorntonhave discussed clubbing and raving in relationto ideas of youth resistance and subcultures; andKai Fikentscher and Fiona Buckland have un-dertaken ethnographic studies of the New Yorkclub scene.1 In a number of cases, gender issues

1. See Will Straw, “The Booth, the Floor, and the Wall:Dance Music and the Fear of Falling,” Public 8 (1993);David Hesmondhalgh, “The Cultural Politics of DanceMusic,” Soundings 5 (Spring 1997); Ben Malbon, Club-bing: Dancing, Ecstasy, and Vitality (London: Routledge,1999); Sarah Thornton, Club Cultures: Music, Media,and Subcultural Capital (Cambridge: Polity, 1995); KaiFikentscher, “You Better Work!”: Underground DanceMusic in New York City (Hanover nh: Wesleyan Uni-versity Press, 2000); Fiona Buckland, Impossible Dance:

have played an important role in these inquiries.Scholars including Thornton, Angela McRobbie,and Barbara Bradby have critiqued the tendencyof clubbing scholarship to focus on aspects ofproduction (a level of participation that tendsto be male dominated), and the frequency withwhich such scholarship privileges Birmingham-esque narratives of subcultural capital and re-sistance that treat clubbers as unsexed, unraced,unmarked participants whose experiences arenot affected by their identities.2

Club Culture and Queer World-Making (Middletown ct:Wesleyan University Press, 2002).2. See Thornton, Club Cultures; Angela McRobbie, “ShutUp and Dance: Youth Culture and Changing Modes ofFemininity,” in Postmodernism and Popular Culture, ed.Angela McRobbie (London: Routledge, 1994); BarbaraBradby, “Sampling Sexuality: Gender, Technology, andthe Body in Dance Music” Popular Music 12, no. 2 (May1993).

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Maria Pini’s Club Cultures and Female Sub-jectivity: The Move from Home to Houseemerges as a response to such feminist critiquesof clubbing scholarship. Instead of lamentingthe invisibility of women and their experiencesin accounts of raving and clubbing, Pini rewritesthe club narrative from a female point of view,weaving together women’s accounts of experi-ences within and outside of clubs. Combiningself-reflexive feminist ethnography, interviews,various feminist philosophical writings on fe-male subjectivity and post-feminist identities,and nuanced critiques of the ways in which thevoices of female clubbers and ravers have beenwritten over in most literature on club cultures,Pini redefines the clubbing experience as a spacein which women actively construct and performfemale identities and subjectivities, play with no-tions of femininity, and explore new feminisms.Separated from the “everyday,” clubbing andraving allow for the negotiation and rewritingof “woman” at this moment in history.

Unlike much writing on clubbing, however,Pini’s study is not about raving as a phenom-enon, issues of music and event production, orthe politics behind the popularity of clubbing.Rather, Pini employs clubs and raves as spaces inwhich to think about women’s experiences andconstructions of self at a historical moment inwhich conceptions of feminism and femininityare in flux. Club Cultures is about how womengenerate and use clubbing and raving, not aboutthe production or phenomenon of these cultures.Indeed, Pini goes so far as to acknowledge thather decision to use clubbing and raving as avenue in which to explore changing modes offemininity is somewhat arbitrary; there are aplethora of other locations in which women ex-periment with identity. Yet social dance spacessuch as clubs and raves work especially wellfor thinking about alternative constructions of“woman,” she argues, because they are liminalspaces in which a set of unwritten rules and pro-cedures provide a level of safety and freedom forwomen interested in using drugs, escaping frompressures to attend to heterosexual relationships,dressing up, and so on. “With rave,” Pini writes,

“different conditions are in place—conditionswhich allow for the fabrication, embodiment,and exploration of very different fictions of fem-ininity. These are fictions where an insistenceupon the ‘right’ to adventure, a valorization of‘madness,’ and a celebration of ‘autoeroticism’are central.”3 Just as Pini’s female clubbers usethe dance floor as a space to play with variousdefinitions and constructions of self, Pini herselftakes to the dance floor to choreograph a narra-tive of postmodern transformations in feminini-ties and feminism, and the difficulties and con-tradictions inherent in negotiating these shifts.

Women’s voices are at the center of ClubCultures. The book’s main section features in-terviews of eighteen white female London raversbetween the ages of nineteen and thirty-five,which were gathered as part of Pini’s ma andPhD work at Goldsmiths College at the Uni-versity of London.4 In turn, these women speakto us either individually or in dialogue withtheir friends, sharing their views on the role ofclubbing in their lives, the link between theirclubbing activities and self-conceptions, the con-nections they see between freedom and clubbing,and ways in which their experiences clubbingaffect their lives and identities, temporarily or inpermanent ways. Pini carefully extracts centralthemes from each account: raves as a spaceto step outside of heterosexual partnerships toparticipate in girl groups; the club as a “home”and respite from the alienation of many womenfrom traditional landmarks of adult femininity;raves and clubs as a safe space for “unfeminine”behaviors such as drug use; and rave as a spacefor the performance of identities. Weaving eachwoman’s own words and experiential accountstogether with feminist theory and her own ideasand musings, Pini not only facilitates the emer-gence of women’s clubbing experiences but also

3. Maria Pini, Club Cultures and Female Subjectivity: TheMove from Home to House (Hampshire: Palgrave, 2001),192.4. The interviews were collected primarily between 1990and 1994; four interviews were a part of ma researchon women and the early rave scene in Britain, and theremaining interviews were a part of PhD research.

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gently extracts knowledges and ideas aboutevolving female subjectivities and femininitiesfrom these broader experiential discussions.

Club Cultures is not merely an ethnographyof women’s experience, however, but a consci-entious attempt at postmodern feminist ethnog-raphy. What does it mean, Pini asks, to use thecategory “woman” and the experiential accountin a poststructuralist world? How does the tradi-tion of academic knowledge interface with suchtechniques? Drawing together the writings ofDonna Haraway, Rosi Braidotti, and ValerieWalkerdine, Pini neatly acknowledges the dan-gers inherent in using “woman” as a category,but argues that it is possible to use the term in ananti-essentialist way: “woman” can describe arange of constantly shifting, temporary identitiesthat emphasize differences between women aswell as their shared experiences and knowledges.“Instead of ditching the category [of ‘woman’]because of difference, we need to redefine it interms of diversity,” she writes.5 And indeed, inClub Cultures, “woman” as a category is by nomeans monolithic or predetermined. Rather, itrefers to the set of varied and yet overlapping andinteracting experiences of a few women whomPini takes care to identify and position in termsof race, class, social position, and life situation.Each female raver that we hear from speaks forherself, elucidating possibilities and experiencesthat other female ravers may (or may not) share.Moreover, Pini is careful to acknowledge boththe incompleteness and constructedness of anyexperiential account, and any ethnography: theinterviews in Club Cultures, she writes, “do notrepresent a ‘full human subject’ and neither arethey about representations which are somehow‘uncontaminated’ by language, culture, and con-text more broadly.”6 It is in the convergence ofthese multiple experiential narratives, in the seri-ous acknowledgment of various women’s “real”and imagined accounts of “what-could-be” and“what-should-be,” in the sounds of these women

5. Pini, Club Cultures and Female Subjectivity, 67.6. Pini, Club Cultures and Female Subjectivity, 68.

speaking their own truths and visions, that Pini’sfeminist ethnography coalesces.

One of the most unique and important mo-ments in Club Cultures comes when Pini addsfeminist philosophical inquiries on postmodernfemininities, female subjectivities, and more gen-eral ideas about changing modes of feminismto the mix, creating a purposely loose linkagebetween experience and theory. Pini focusesprimarily on two “alternative” female subjectiv-ities—Rosi Braidotti’s nomad and Donna Har-away’s cyborg—and attempts to connect themto the nontraditional subjectivities exploredand embraced by the female ravers she hasinterviewed.7 The fluid, nonpermanent identityof Braidotti’s nomad, Pini argues, may be under-stood as paralleling the liminal experiences thatmany female ravers have in clubs. Women ravingoften move from their “everyday” identity intoa temporary raving mode and back during thecourse of a night or weekend; the moments ofintense community that the raver feels during theexperience, like those of the nomad, aren’t aboutpermanence, stability, or self-definition, butabout temporary interconnectedness. Similarly,ravers transgress the boundaries of “woman”in various ways, connecting with other ravers,with the technology involved in the rave sceneand music, and with their own bodies in a mind/body/spirit/technology assemblage that bearsclose resemblance to the technological assem-blage of Haraway’s cyborg. Pini choreographsthis trio of alternative female subjectivities in aremarkably thoughtful and careful way: thoughthe female raver, the nomad, and the cyborg joineach other on the dance floor, Pini allows eachher own space in which to move. “Drawing aflow of connections between the raver, the cy-borg, and the nomad,” she writes, “is not aboutappropriating the raver into the arms of hightheory as if suggesting that she was actually, orthat she were somehow the same as Haraway’s

7. See Rosi Braidotti, Nomadic Subjects: Embodiment andSexual Difference in Contemporary Feminist Theory (NewYork: Columbia University Press, 1994); and Donna Har-away, Simians, Cyborgs, and Women: The Reinvention ofNature (London: Free Association Books, 1991).

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cyborg or Braidotti’s nomad. Instead . . . it isabout drawing an otherwise unlikely flow ofconnections intended to make manifest some-thing about contemporary cultural visions andcontemporary cultural fantasies about both thepresent and the future.”8 In the raver, perhapswe find a living, breathing version of what manyfeminist scholars have been attempting to con-struct theoretically.

Pini’s meticulous, precise enmeshing of theexperiences and accounts of female ravers withBraidotti’s and Haraway’s highly theoretical, al-most fantastic visions of alternative femininitiesis compelling and convincing. Indeed, if thereis any way in which the link between the fe-male raver and notions of the cyborg or no-mad remains tenuous, it is perhaps due less tothe comparison itself than to an ellipsis in Pini’sown ethnographic accounts of the raver. Despitethe freedom that Pini gives these female raversto share their voices with us, their bodies re-main largely hidden, effectively short-circuitingthe mind/body/spirit/technology assemblage thatPini draws from Haraway’s cyborg model. Cer-tainly, Pini is more than eager to discuss embod-ied experiences: we hear women discuss look-ing and being seen, getting dressed, taking drugsand feeling their effects, drinking enough water,recovering from their nights out, and exploringand expressing their own sexualities on and offthe dance floor. Strikingly, however, we neverwatch them dance, never glimpse their bodiesin movement alone or together, never open our-selves to them kinesthetically, never truly ac-knowledge their corporeality in action.

Given her grounded, ethnographic frame-work, Pini is understandably suspicious of thetendency of feminists and philosophers to ab-stract “the dance” as a theoretical and meta-phorical tool for rewriting subjectivities in non-phallocentric, “feminine,” and holistic ways.In her rush to “move away from these philo-sophical abstractions and return to the embod-ied practices and situated accounts of femaleravers,” though, Pini actually elides any discus-

8. Pini, Club Cultures and Female Subjectivity, 157.

sion of dance itself as an embodied practice. Inthe process, she ignores the strong possibilitythat the ways these women dance—their move-ments, physical interactions with other raverson the dance floor, and understandings of theirown dancing bodies—must certainly play somerole in their explorations and constructions ofsubjectivities. The “alternative identities” thatPini teases out of various interviews don’t quiteleave enough space for the bodily knowledgesand corporealities generated and played with inthe highly physical act of clubbing. And unfor-tunately, without these dancing bodies, there islittle opportunity for the reader truly to enterthe club and share these women’s experiencekinesthetically; as the dancer and dance scholarSally Ness has noted, “to say simply that one has‘embodied knowledge’ doesn’t take a reader veryfar in comprehending a specific lived experienceof embodiment.”9 Moreover, Pini pays relativelylittle attention to how the “new” modes offemale embodiment and identification that sheidentifies interact with tropes historically in-scribed on female bodies. She focuses repeatedly,for example, on the idea of “madness” as a “wayof being” that can be explored safely withinthe rave context, yet fails to acknowledge theway this madness relates to the association ofwomen’s moving bodies with pathologies andhysteria, or to flesh out the ways in which ravingpotentially subverts these associations not onlyby sanctioning such behavior but by reframing“looking” and “being seen” so as to prevent“diagnosis” by an audience of watchers.10

One wonders whether the omission of danc-ing female bodies and the cultural traditions andmeanings they interrogate from Club Cultures

9. Sally Ness, “Dancing in the Field: Notes from Mem-ory,” in Moving History/Dancing Cultures: A Dance His-tory Reader, ed. Ann Cooper Albright and Ann Dils (Mid-dletown ct: Wesleyan University Press, 2001), 73.10. For further reading on historical connections be-tween female bodies, hysteria, and movement, see JanetBeizer, Ventriloquized Bodies: Narratives of Hysteria inNineteenth-Century France (Ithaca ny: Cornell UniversityPress, 1994); and Felicia McCarren, Dance Pathologies:Performance, Poetics, Medicine (Palo Alto ca: StanfordUniversity Press, 1998).

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might be inherently connected with the distancethat Pini constructs between herself and her ownraving experience in her writing. As the perfor-mance theorist Deirdre Sklar has emphasized,understanding experience and emotion are of-ten corporeal processes: “to ‘move with’ peo-ple whose experience I was trying to understandwas a way to also ‘feel with’ them, providing anopening into the kind of cultural knowledge thatis not available through words or observationalone.”11 Pini is a raver herself, she tells us inthe opening lines of Club Cultures; her interest inthe scene as a location of feminist inquiry comesfrom her own experiences there. Undoubtedly,she has experienced the feeling of her own bodyin motion on the dance floor. And while she ac-knowledges that her own experiences as a raver“bring her closer” to the issues that many ofthe women discuss in interviews, Pini does notseem to get closer to the women themselves; shedoes not “move with” these women. Rather, sheremains physically and figuratively hidden fromus: despite her belief that there are no clear dis-tinctions to be made between the world of the re-searcher and the world of the “researched,” andher attempts to “touch, approximate, or connectwith” the female ravers she meets, we never getto see this meeting take place.12 Certainly (andcrucially), Pini’s work is consciously and ad-mirably reflexive: she carefully positions herselfin relation to her subjects, grounding the workin her own experiences and personal history, shehonestly acknowledges the incompleteness andconstructedness of any narrative or study, andshe openly explores flows of power and culturalcapital within an ethnographic inquiry. Despitethis, Pini remains a choreographer rather than aparticipant in her dance of identities and subjec-

11. Deirdre Sklar, “Can Bodylore Be Brought to ItsSenses?” Journal of American Folklore 107, no. 423(Winter 1994): 11.12. Pini, Club Cultures and Female Subjectivity, 90. It isintriguing to imagine what might happen if Pini were toattempt to generate a sense of movement within her ownwriting: perhaps this might be one way to embody thenonverbal communication she believes is so important torave, as well as the sort of body-centered “madness” thatshe discusses.

tivities: in giving voice to other women’s experi-ences, she leaves her own unspoken.

A large and compelling part of Pini’s ClubCultures choreography is dedicated to revisingthe notion of the “Utopian” in relation to clubculture scholarship, and women’s experiencesin clubs. Women’s experiences and visions oftheir clubbing activities, Pini notes, have oftenbeen dismissed for coming too close—in termsof language and tropes—to idealized, utopianfictions. Yet these fictions, and the visions anddesires that they experiment with, Pini argues,are just as meaningful and useful in thinkingabout women’s clubbing experiences, as are theactualities and facts of these experiences: club-bers construct subjectivities out of both fact andfiction, “what could/should be” as well as “whatis.” Launching a crucial inquiry into the notionof “freedom” within club culture, Pini acknowl-edges that the utopian visions that surface inmany women’s clubbing narratives are the prod-uct of complex, conscious constructions of selfand experience. Specifically, Pini argues, the factthat many women use the term “freedom” todescribe their nights on the dance floor doesn’tmean that clubbing and raving are inherentlyliberating experiences. Nor is the “freedom” ofraves necessarily synonymous with concepts likeDeleuze and Guattari’s “body without organs”or Hakim Bey’s “temporary autonomous zone,”where liberation comes through the dissolve ofthe self. Rather, Pini weaves together various in-terviewees’ experiences of preparing for and ne-gotiating clubs and raves to argue that freedomand liberation are actively constructed by manywomen within the space of a rave—much in thesame way that they use such spaces to constructa sense of femininity and female subjectivity.

Even as Pini focuses on the “consumption”side of clubbing, then—exploring how womenexperience and “use” clubbing rather thanaspects of dj culture or scene making—shemethodically deconstructs the production-consumption binary, demonstrating that femaleclubbers and ravers are themselves producers oftheir own clubbing experience. Clubbing, Pinidemonstrates, is about participant production:

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“The self has to be brought into being and main-tained” by each clubber.13 Yet Pini’s resituationof the participant as part of club “world mak-ing” hints at another possibility: might the act ofclubbing itself be theorized as performance, andthe female clubber understood as a performer?The clubbing “process” described by Pini andher interviewees, beginning with preparationsand dressing, followed by the event itself, andending with a sort of Sunday recovery period, isremarkably similar both to Richard Schechner’sseven-part conception of performance and toVictor Turner’s notion of the social drama.14

Moreover, the women’s accounts and Pini’sanalysis both point toward clubbing as a liminalexperience that is quite similar to the peak ofTurner’s social drama: clubbing is a time inwhich participants can remove themselves fromthe “real world,” behaving in ways that mightnot normally be acceptable, while addressinginternal and external conflicts they face. Indeed,lurking beneath Pini’s writing is the possibility ofclubbing as “play,” an “acting out of becominganother, of displaying a normally hidden partof yourself—and of becoming this other without

13. Pini, Club Cultures and Female Subjectivity, 182.14. Richard Schechner’s conception of performance in-volves seven parts: training, workshops, rehearsals, warm-ups, performance, cooldown (which includes post-per-formance activities), and aftermath (long-term conse-quences, changes in status of the performers, etc.). Thougheach of these stages may carry different weight in differentsituations and cultures, all are part of the performance,according to Schechner; the performance is more thanthe “show.” Schechner also notes the similarities betweenthis process and initiations: both involve separation, tran-sition, and incorporation. He writes, “Like initiations,performances ‘make’ one person into another. Unlike ini-tiations, performances usually see to it that the performergets his own self back.” Richard Schechner, BetweenTheater and Anthropology (Philadelphia: University ofPennsylvania Press, 1985), 19–20. Victor Turner’s ideaof social drama is a similar three-stage process: there is abreach, then a crisis, then a redressive action of sorts; theresult is “restoration of peace and ‘normalcy’ among theparticipants or social recognition of irremediable breachor schism.” Victor Turner, “Dewey, Dilthey, and Drama:An Essay in the Anthropology of Experience,” in TheAnthropology of Experience, ed. Victor W. Turner andEdward M. Bruner (Urbana: University of Illinois Press,1986), 39.

worrying about the consequences.”15 Resituat-ing clubbing as a performance of sorts not onlyoffers a new set of tools with which to explorethe identities and activities of clubbers but alsoprovides potential models of performance inwhich “the gaze,” audience-performer relations,and participation all function in nontraditionalways.16

In Club Cultures, clubbing and raving are ex-cavated from the “underground” and examinedin relation to the everyday lives of many women.Subtly repositioning women’s clubbing and rav-ing activities as yet another moment in a long tra-dition of female social dance, Pini begins to un-ravel the mysticism surrounding the club scene.As each female clubber is given the opportu-nity to share and reflect on her own experi-ences, understandings, and uses of clubbing, thisunderground-mainstream dichotomy comes fur-ther undone. Raving, it is revealed in a numberof the interviews, is hardly a means of markingoneself as “hip”; rather, for many women, danc-ing all night is a source of embarrassment in themainstream world. Carefully integrating ethno-graphic looks at clubbing and women who par-ticipate with broader feminist theoretical con-structs, however, Pini opens a window on whythese women continue to dance even as they labeltheir activities “uncool.”17 Raving and clubbingare spaces for constructing and expressing one’sidentity and subjectivity, spaces for self-pleasure,for momentarily retreating from heterosexual re-lationships and traditional female roles, for re-jecting predatory males, for finding comfortablespaces, and for expressing “madness” in waysnot considered acceptable in these women’s dailylives. Club Cultures is a book of meticulously

15. Schechner, Between Theater and Anthropology, 300.16. Reflecting on a number of interviews, for instance, Pininotes that the pleasures of looking and being looked at“appear to suggest a kind of almost mirror engagement—a process whereby the self is reflected back to the self,with the intense gaze from another acting as a mirrorconfirming and intensifying one’s own ‘high’. The pleasurethus appears to be about being ‘seen’, and being able to‘see’ oneself, in a particular kind of light.” Pini, ClubCultures and Female Subjectivity, 124–25.17. Pini, Club Cultures and Female Subjectivity, 139.

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choreographed parallels that weave back andforth across one another in a noncausal fashion,evolving and developing together, mutually in-forming each other: night and day, the club andthe office, the voices of female clubbers and femi-

nist theoretical queries, the raver and the cyborg,femininities and contemporary social dance cul-ture. Though we never quite make it onto thedance floor, it is easy to imagine Pini and herinterviewees moving from home to house.

BEVERLEY DIAMOND

Music in Lubavitcher Life. By Ellen Koskoff. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2001. 200 pp. Glossary,appendices, bibliography, index. Cloth, $39.95.

The ethnomusicologist Ellen Koskoff hasproduced a long-anticipated study of music inthe Lubavitcher Jewish community in America(particularly Crown Heights, New York, butalso smaller communities in Pennsylvania andMinnesota). The book is based on fieldworkconducted over a twenty-two-year period. Thelengthy engagement with this branch of the Ha-sidic Jewish religion not only has deepened herknowledge but has also allowed her to reflecton shifts in beliefs within the community andwithin her own attitudes toward Orthodox Ju-daism. It is rare that we read products of suchextended reflection about an encounter that iseffectively cross-cultural. Koskoff was raisedin “an upwardly mobile, politically left-wingJewish family” that had no prior involvementwith the Hasidic world. As the specific subjectmatter of the book is completely outside the ex-perience of this reviewer, I appreciate Koskoff’sclear writing about Lubavitcher history and Ha-sidic theology. The role of the musical genre ofnigunim (song) in relation to that history andtheology is explicit. But most importantly, thelived experience of the musical performance ofnigunim in relation to the laws of Lubavitcherbelief, the stages of devekut, and the tensionsbetween tradition and modernity come alive inthis engaging book.

In the first two parts of her study, Koskoff un-folds an idealized account of Lubavitcher beliefand spiritual practice, while the next two lookat the inherent tensions and contradictions oflife lived, “the untidy ground of culture” (105).Koskoff makes effective use of the strategy of

shifting between experiential description andmore objectified explanation, a style of repre-sentation found in a number of recent ethnomu-sicological monographs. She includes fieldwork“scenes” to help us understand her relationshipto the community and to enliven descriptions ofindividuals and experiences. These first-personaccounts incorporate her questions, some of herinsecurities, and even her disagreements withLubavitcher friends.

A vividly crafted opening ethnography of afarbrengen (a spiritual and social gathering) in-troduces many concepts that recur subsequently.Chapter 2 moves to analytical issues, discussingethnomusicological approaches, Jewish musicscholarship, gender theory, and performancestudy. Parts of this chapter still read like theliterature review in a PhD dissertation, with ref-erences that provide a broad framework, ratherthan a real working of ideas, but she has cer-tainly rethought and updated the material in thelong period since she wrote her dissertation onthis subject. We learn that this study is rootedin cognitive approaches and studies of culture asperformance. She sees “culture as ideational andinternal, as well as material and external” (23).

Part 2, “Inside the Context,” presents corereligious beliefs, Lubavitcher Hasidim’s historyand philosophy, as well as contemporary so-cial contexts. Her account clarifies the mean-ing of the ten sefirot that symbolize stages ofseeking unity with the divine (devekut). A largearray of Lubavitcher laws, sometimes describedby the metaphor of fences, are described. Thechallenges they present for modern adherents are