Evan Williams The African American Male Voice in the Electroacoustic works of Steve Reich and Jacob ter Veldhuis The following is a paper presentation given at the 2014 Graduate Student Conference at Bowling Green State University. As such, it is not properly formatted with citations, however, a list of references is given at the end.

Introduction

Hello, my name is Evan Williams. I am a recent graduate of the composition department

here at BGSU. The paper I will be presenting today is a continuation of my masters thesis

research while here at Bowling Green. Since then, I have expanded my analysis and criticism to

include issues of agency and representation, along insight from composer Jacob ter Veldhuis

himself.

Cultural appropriation has always been a tried and true element of Western art

music, especially in 20th and 21st Century Minimalism. Yet, through the use of electroacoustic

techniques, these composers could not only approximate trans-cultural elements in their work,

but use them wholesale. In the use of appropriated recorded sound, the standard issues of

exoticism and “the Other” become amplified as the listener becomes a sort of voyeur observing

human beings transformed into an artistic work.

For these composers, the speaking voice of African American males is an object of

fascination. They justify the use of this vocal material through a sense of admiration for a

perceived musicality in the Black male voice. There are also cultural issues in play as well.

Whether implicitly or explicitly, each piece tackles issues of race, including injustice, crime and

punishment, religion, and poverty.

So are these works well-meaning attempts to shine a light on racial issues in the United

States? Or are they exploitation for artistic gain, or worse a condemnation of Black America?

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Today we will look at two works by Reich, It’s Gonna Rain, and Come Out, and Grab It! by

Jacob ter Verldhuis to explore the possible answers to these questions.

But first, a little background on the electroacoustic medium. The precedent for the sort of

music comes from the idea of musique concrete. While its German counterpart, elektronische

musik maintained the traditional musical elements of pitch and rhythm, through the use of

synthesizers (albeit in a highly modernist context), the French musique concrete was something

entirely new, employing what most people would consider nothing more than noise recorded on

tape or records to create artistic works. It reflects the modernist trends that were rocking the

music world in the mid-20th Century.

The practitioners of musique concrete often value the ability to hear a sound out of its

original context and appreciate it for its own sake. Sounds such as trains, glass breaking, doors

closing, footsteps, rain, and running water are not always presented to tell a narrative or to

invoke those images, but are selected only to create a sonic experience. An ideal listener would

be able to divorce themselves from the associations they have with that sound and appreciate it

for its sonic qualities and the timbral relations with the other sounds used. Of course, it’s likely

that this ideal listener does not exist, as one cannot help the fact that the mind will automatically

recognize and contextualize the sound of a door, or any other familiar sound.

This is why the use of a human voice is powerful. Not only does it provide immediate

recognition, but the attentive mind will attempt to understand the meaning and emotional

inflections of the voice.

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It’s Gonna Rain

According to his (sometimes contradictory) writings, it would seem that Steve Reich would

like to have it both ways when it comes to It’s Gonna Rain, his first of many pieces

incorporating the “phasing” technique. At times, Reich plays down the speaker’s subject matter

and the political realities of 1965, when the piece was written, and extols the sonic content of the

work. Yet, Reich also declares that, “the incessant repetition intensified [the words’] meaning

and their melody at one and the same time.” He states, “I never would have thought [of myself as

politically engaged at that time] . . . But remember, It’s Gonna Rain is 1965 and I was living in

San Francisco in 1962, during the Cuban Missile Crisis,” but he also notes, “personally, at that

time, I was going through a divorce, and the piece is expressive of an extremely dark mood.”

Yet, musicologist Martin Scherzinger notes, “By the time Reich published ‘Music as a Gradual

Process’ in 1968, socio-political motifs have all but disappeared from Reich’s commentaries.”

He goes on to say: “For Reich, the recording of a person’s spoken voice…is as much a

personification of that person as a photograph…” He quotes Reich saying, “when other people

listen to that [voice] they feel a persona present.” Yet Scherzinger calls some of Reich’s

descriptions of the voice “disarmingly technical,” that constitute “instrumental abstraction.” He

maintains that this abstraction makes the voice of this man seem “radically Other” or even like a

“primitive Other.”

The music itself sports this dual technical yet political nature. It employs the recording of a

street preacher known only as Brother Walter retelling the Biblical story of Noah. Formally and

technically, Part I consists of an introduction of the full speech excerpt shown here. The rest of

the work is a palindrome in which the portion “It’s gon’ rain” is looped over and over again, yet

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two versions of it slowly go in and out of phase with each other. What is phasing you may ask?

In simple terms, when the two identical sound samples are completely in phase, they sound

together, however, when one is shifted slightly, it begins to sound like an echo. If you continue

shifting them out of phase, eventually the sounds begin to cancel each other out making only

portions audible at a time. Here are a couple of samples of Part I taken from different times

throughout the work.

While you cannot always presume the ethnicity of a speaker from the sound of their voice

alone, Brother Walter’s voice has the unmistakable quality of a Black Pentecostal preacher,

which, as Reich says “hovers between speaking and singing.” Given his invocation of the Cuban

Missile Crisis where he quote, “thought we might be going up in so much radioactive smoke,”

it’s clear that Reich views the message of It’s Gonna Rain as a dark and apocalyptic one. He

draws the comparison between a flood sent by an angry god and the very real threat of mankind

destroying itself through nuclear annihilation.

However, Brother Walter’s voice is one we cannot ignore. While Reich may be concerned

with the Cuban Missile Crisis, the principle political concern for African Americans in the

1960’s was equality. In this light, if Brother Walter’s preaching is in any way political, the story

of Noah can be seen as a message of power and hope for him. Just as the wicked were punished

and the just Noah and his family were rewarded, one can easily see how injustice being washed

away is a welcomed idea for African Americans.

So we must ask, is Brother Walter in full control of his message in It’s Gonna Rain, or does

Reich exploit his voice for his own means. It’s easy to see that Walter does not maintain his full

agency in Reich’s work. For one, we do not know how much or little of Brother Walter’s

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message we get in Reich’s recording. In addition, his voice is not being used to communicate to

the audience, but as a work of art to entertain. Of course, none of this indicates any

maliciousness on the part of Reich. After all, Reich was not setting out to help Brother Walter

spread his message, but to make a work of art. In addition, through this work, Brother Walter’s

message did spread much further and has endured much longer than it ever would have if it

never left the streets of San Francisco.

The point is that there is a clear imbalance of power favoring Reich in the artist/subject

relationship. And given the cultural, social, and political realities of the struggles of African

Americans in the 1960’s that still exist today, such an imbalance cannot be ignored in our

understanding of this music.

Come Out

While It’s Gonna Rain’s political nature may be debatable, Come Out is clearly a

political work. In his book Writings on Music, Reich calls Come Out a “refinement of It’s Gonna

Rain both in the choice of speech source, and in the exact working out of the phase shifting

process.” He was asked to write it in 1966 for a benefit concert of the retrial of six young Black

men known as the Harlem Six. These young men were accused of committing murder during the

Harlem Riots of 1964. Only one of them was actually guilty. One of the accused, Daniel Hamm,

is speaking about being a victim of police brutality while he was under arrest. The police were

taking the beaten inmates to the hospital for treatment, but only those who were bleeding, so

Hamm opened one of his bruises so he could also go to the hospital. The form and construction

are similar to It’s Gonna Rain, however the samples never come back into phase, the piece

simple fades out once it reaches the height of the phase shifting. In addition, after three

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repetitions of the full text in the opening, it never returns, instead ending on repeated calls of

“come out to show them” as if by many voices (Reich indicates it there are 8 voices by the end).

Here’s a short sample.

Hamm’s words evoke sympathy for his plight, yet after several minutes of the repetition of

“…come out to show them” a since of anger also seems to be present. Indeed, the four days of

rioting in Harlem were a product intense anger over another incident of police brutality, the

shooting of 15-year-old Black male names James Powell. Civil rights leaders and groups made

statements throughout the riots, including Malcolm X saying, “There are probably more armed

Negroes in Harlem than in any other spot on earth” - “If the people who are armed get involved

in this, you can bet they'll really have something on their hands.” Reich’s repeated invocation of

“Come out to show them” could be interpreted as a call for action – “come out to show them our

anger,” “come out to show them our strength.”

Of course, Hamm’s original statement seems neither angry or saddened, it’s rather neutral.

But the rhythmic groove and minor pitch collection that the voice eventually starts to create do

seem to give it that feeling of anger with the situation and the issues of race involved.

Jacob TV and Grab It!

This anger serves as a good segue to our discussion of Jacob ter Veldhuis’ Grab It!

Before I begin this portion presentation, however, I must warn that Grab It! employs very

explicit language, that will not be censored in this presentation. If that will offend, I will not

hold it against you if you chose to excuse yourself at this time. However, I encourage you to

return for any questions you may have at the end.

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Grab It! was written in 1999 originally for quote “tenor saxophone and ghettoblaster”

unquote, a somewhat racialized term for a portable stereo or “Boombox.” Yet the composer has

made multiple arrangements of the work for other instruments, including electric guitar.

The spoken samples of the work are taken from Scared Straight, a 1978 Emmy and

Academy Award winning documentary where convicts, mostly African American, serving 25

years to life talk about their prison experiences to at-risk youth. These prisoners use violent

language and imagery while talking to these young people, and ter Veldhuis does not shy away

from any of that language.

Virtually every element of the work is appropriated from African American music

and culture. The piece employs a number of Blues scales, and the melodic material harkens to

the Bebop jazz idiom. In addition, the names of five iconic African American jazz tenor

saxophonists are printed throughout the score with the above descriptions, whose tone and style

the player should emulate in those sections

In the score notes ter Veldhuis states “…in my opinion, the roots of a lot of Afro-

American music can be found in the spoken word. The musical quality of speech increases by

the power of emotion…” a statement not unlike Reich’s views of the Black speaking voice. In an

email responding to my questions he told me, “When I was … just 15, I discovered the delta

blues, and later on the Chicago blues… And the language they spoke, that particular kind of

slang, sounded so authentic and exotic to me…”

The work opens with a scheme in which almost every new word or syllable is

accompanied by a new addition in the pitch collection by the performer. The speech melodies are

so exact that player and fixed track become one, a meta-instrument that has all of the qualities of

both the spoken word and the melodic instrument. Here is a sample of this relationship.

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The heavy splicing of the voice and at times incoherent syllables add to the harsh and

angry nature of the voice. The effect is not unlike angry “gansta” rap. All instances of wisdom

and advice that the prisoners give the students are lost, until the end of the work.

Toward the end, a sort of interlude in C major interrupts the violent meta-instrument.

This section is much more calm and is sort of reminiscent of a Rock Ballad, and instead of

playing in unison with the voice, the performer accompanies it with gentle figures. In addition,

the voice is heard in more complete and coherent excerpts. Even though ter Veldhuis

significantly alters the order of the text, a clear meaning can be understood. This message is

rather positive and uplifting, given what preceded it. It serves as a sort of warning to avoid the

life that this prisoner has had to live. Here’s a brief excerpt.

Given all of this, it may be interesting to know that this is a White male who is speaking

through most of this interlude. Unlike most of the voices of the Black men, this man is afforded

the most agency, in that his voice is the most unaltered and understood. The calming voice of

this man seems to be one reason among the violent Black males. Put more bluntly, this man

seems to serve as a “White Savior” to bring order and reason to the “Primitive Otherness” of the

Black Males, despite the fact that the message and vocal delivery of this White male was no

more uplifting or any less explicit or violent than most of the Black men in the documentary.

The violent voice samples before the interlude are taken so out of context that we assume

that these are all violent, guilty men. The focus is on their harsh violent nature, more than the

fact that they are attempting to help kids avoid their situation. If it is seeking to shine a light on

these issues, it does so by focusing on the crimes of the inmates, not society’s cycle of poverty

that helped drive them to prison.

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These sorts of reactions to Grab It! are not at all uncommon. In his email to me, ter

Veldhuis admits his outsider status to these issues and says that, “I would probably never have

written Grab it! if I had been an American...!” But he maintains, “I still believe Grab it! is a

respectful piece, that's how I meant it to be…” Finally, as for the White voice, ter Veldhuis says

“…his positive message is what counted, and he happened to be white, that was a coincidence

really….I did not realize at all who was white and who was black. I was surprised to find out

about it later myself!” Personally, on first hearing this work, I assumed the man was a White

New Yorker, and perhaps a police officer or warden given the nature and presentation of his text.

Conclusion

To close, one can argue that this type of electroacoustic music is founded on the idea of

exploitation, using the sounds to serve the needs of the composer, even if those sounds are

human voices.

While, there are very many important questions of agency and representation that we must

ask when considering these works, I do not pretend to serve as an absolute authority on whose

opinion you should rely on in whether to feel guilty or not. Nor do I in any way condemn these

works. On the contrary, the works of both of these composers have been a great influence on my

own, and I believe these pieces are sparks for dialogues that we need to have.

We may very well be uncomfortable with the way these pieces portray African Americans,

or with their diluting of the true messages of these speakers, but that does not mean that we must

feel guilty in enjoying these works of art. Just as we must ask ourselves the tough questions

concerning anti-Semitism when we study Wagner, we must enjoy these works in full knowledge

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of the problems they may pose. In any case, we can be fairly sure that the malice involved in

Wagner’s works in not intended in the works of Reich and ter Veldhuis. If anything, they most

likely see themselves as seeking to aid in the plight of these Black males. Issues of power are

always inherent in such interventions. Pointing them out and tackling them head-on is the

only way we improve these relationships and make our art live up to the lofty goals we set

for it.

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Banaszak, Greg. “A Lesson with Composer Jacob Ter Veldhuis.” Saxophone Journal, Sep/Oct2011, Vol. 36 Issue 1, 50-52.

Gallagher, Kevin. Grab It! for Electric Guitar and Boombox. Video by Jan Willem Looze. YouTube, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sCTukXFOY_w (accessed March 20, 2013).

“Harlem Riots of 1964.” Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harlem_Riot_of_1964. (accessed March 1, 2014)

Reich, Steve. Come Out contained in Steve Reich: Early Works. 1992. Nonesuch B000005IYO, Digital Download.

--. It’s Gonna Rain Part I contained in Steve Reich: Early Works.

--. “Music as a Gradual Process.” 1968. PDF http://ccnmtl.columbia.edu/draft/ben/feld/mod1/readings/reich.html (accessed February 24, 2014).

--. Writings About Music: 1995-2000. New York: Oxford University Press, 2002.

Scherzinger, Martin. “Curious Intersections, Uncommon Magic: Steve Reich’s It’s Gonna Rain.” Current Musicology, Issues 79-80 (2005), 207-244. http://0-web.ebscohost.com.maurice.bgsu.edu/ehost/pdfviewer/pdfviewer?sid=ab8685e5-fb2f-4335-8e7e-45222fc88739%40sessionmgr104&vid=5&hid=114 (accessed March 7, 2013).

Ter Veldhuis, Jacob. Grab It! for Tenor Saxophone and Ghettoblaster. Doorn, Netherlands: Boombox Music Publishers, 2008.