The Land As Reverent in the Dance Culture and Music of Aotearoa
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WaveShapeConversion: The Land as Reverent in the Dance Culture and Music of Aotearoa __________________________________________________________ A Thesis Submitted in partial Fulfilment of the Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Cultural Studies in the University of Canterbury by Sharon McIver University of Canterbury 2007 Contents Acknowledgements....................................................................................................................1 Abstract………..……………………………………………………………………...…….....2 Introduction: Talking About Our Home, Land and Sea – Aotearoa History and the Pākehā Utopian Myth……………………………………………………………………….........……4 Chapter One: Hearing Waves and Shapes – the Honouring of Aotearoa in Music………….43 Chapter Two: Singing the Onus of Colonisation – the Uprising of Aotearoa Roots Music…………………………………………………………………………………………83 Chapter Three: We Want to Get Outside – Disappearing Spaces and the Politics of Change………………………………………………………………………………………118 Chapter Four: It’s What’s Down Low – Aotearoa Dance Culture and the Carnivalesque…162 Chapter Five: Looking to the Past, Reaching for the Future – Tribal Conversion as a Means to Evolution………………………………………………………………………...………….197 Coda (written August, 2008): Taking up the Challenge at Canaan Downs – Envisaging Aotearoa dance culture as a Sustainable Utopia for the Next Generation of Dancers……………………………………………………………………………………...253 Notes………………………………………………………………………………………...263 Glossary of Māori Words…………………………………………...………………………266 Works Cited…………………………………………………………………………………269 1 Acknowledgements To Matthew who created the beautiful visuals for presentations, and who with Tanya and whānau welcomed me into their home. To Suzi, for sharing her beautiful homes, and Rebecca and the Carnevale whānau, for the great park up spots, the laughter and the Italian hospitality – and to Zico for rocking my world. Gina, for sharing a passion for music, and all my soul sisters who kept me from going (completely) insane. To Michael who inspired me to write this in the first place, and who with Paddy supported my vision with lush tunes throughout. For Rata, Te Kahurangi and Parihaka who shared their stories – this thesis would not be the same without you. To the Massive and White Elephant whānau for the four injections of inspiration per year and all the ‘offsite’ support. What we have is magic. A big thank you to my supervisors Erin Mackie and Howard McNaughton for their support and guidance throughout, and to Patrick Evans and John Newton for giving lectures on “Noo Zillan’ kulcha” that no one wanted to miss. To the McIver clan for sharing their music and humour and especially to Mum who taught me how to recycle with style, and whose generosity kept the wolf from the door, and to Dad who taught me about politics – turned out I was listening after all. To the Cant Coven for providing the support and laughter to get through the final years, during a time when the Arts are increasingly under threat – here’s to beautiful, intelligent women. Tim Owen for picking up rubbish, and who along with Simon Kong lent me words of support. For Marama and Te Kopu, who got me to and from the events in one piece, and who kept us warm and dry – field research wouldn’t have been the same without you. To all those in the Aotearoa music industry who provided invaluable resources, time and music – your support of local music has finally paid off! This thesis is dedicated to everyone involved with dance culture - the organisers, crew, volunteers, DJ’s, VJ’s and all who make the parties happen. We do it for the love of it, but it’s always worth it. Thank you to the dancers for dancing, sharing, theorising and laughing, and much respect to anyone who picks up rubbish – maybe one day we won’t have to. Finally, to the musicians, the soul of Aotearoa dance culture, for the gift of music that restores our faith in this land and its people, and inspires us with a new vision of utopia. Where such music exists, there will always be hope. 2 Abstract This thesis is the result of more than ten years involvement with outdoor dance events in Aotearoa, with a specific focus on Te Wai Pounamu (South Island) and Otautahi (Christchurch). Two symbiotic themes are explored here – that of the significance of the landscape in inspiring a conversion to tribal-based spirituality at the events, and the role of the music in ‘painting’ a picture of Aotearoa in sound, with an emphasis on those musicians heard in the outdoor dance zones. With no major publications or studies specific to Aotearoa to reference, a framework based on global post-rave culture has been included in each chapter so that similarities and differences to Aotearoa dance culture may be established. Using theoretical frameworks that include Hakim Bey’s TAZ (Temporary Autonomous Zone), the carnivalesque, and tribalism, the overriding theme to emerge is that of utopia, a concept that in Aotearoa is also central to the Pākehā mythology that often stands in for a hidden violent colonial history, of which te Tiriti o Waitangi (the Treaty of Waitangi) has been a source of division since it was signed in 1840. Thus, in the Introduction several well-known local songs have been discussed in relation to both the Pākehā mythology and the history of te Tiriti in order to contextualise the discussion of the importance of Māori and Pākehā integration in the dance zones in the following chapters. The thesis comprises of two main themes: the events and the music. At the events I took a participatory-observer approach that included working as rubbish crew, which provided a wealth of information about the waste created by the organisers and vendors, and the packaging brought in by the dancers. Thus the utopian visions that were felt on the dancefloor are balanced with descriptions of the dystopian reality that when the dancers and volunteers go home, becomes the responsibility of a strong core of ‘afterparty’ crew. Musically, the development of a local electronic sound that is influenced by the environmental soundscape, along with the emergence of a live roots reggae scene that promotes both positivity and political engagement, has aided spiritual conversion in the dance zones. Whereas electronic acts and DJ’s were the norm at the Gathering a decade ago, in 2008 the stages at dance events are a mixture of electronic and live acts, along 3 with DJ’s, and most of the performers are local. Influenced by a strong reggae movement in Aotearoa, along with Jamaican/UK dance styles such as dub and drum and bass, local ‘roots’ musicians are weaving a new philosophy that is based on ancient tribal practices, environmentalism and the aroha (love) principles of outdoor dance culture. The sound of the landscape is in the music, whilst the vocals outline new utopian visions for Aotearoa that acknowledge the many cultures that make up this land. Thus, in Aotearoa dance music lies the kernel of hope that Aotearoa dance culture may yet evolve to fulfil its potential. 4 Introduction: Talking About Our Home, Land and Sea – Aotearoa History and the Pākehā Utopian Myth Information which facilitates informed Treaty debate needs to go into the streets, the suburbs, and the small towns in the rural areas. It needs to occur in business communities, factories, offices and neighbourhoods. It needs to happen in schools, community organisations and rest homes. It needs to take place in sporting facilities, pubs, prisons and places of religious worship. It needs to happen within and among families and hapu. It needs to happen wherever New Zealanders gather. (Robert and Joanna Consedine 226) And there they’re all sated, A Queen Bee, with her company Of worriers, not Warriors Put your people gainst numbers Cos they aint no swords Gainst your empty words For some extra noughts At the end of it. And Oh, Queen Bee should know But she can’t see her flowers Through her own Trees Talkin bout our Home, Land and Sea (Trinity Roots “Home Land and Sea” sic.) The music made in Aotearoa (New Zealand) has long shaped my understanding of our land and culture. Like many of the Pākehā (New Zealander of European descent) generation growing up during the 1970’s and 1980’s, I feel ambivalence for my home, a love/fear relationship reflected in the music that locates us in our world. After World War II, Aotearoa enjoyed a long period of economic growth, and with high exports and low unemployment, the Government could afford to be generous with the ‘model’ Welfare State. Based on the experiences of our baby-boomer parents’ generation, our generation expected to inherit the free healthcare, education, and generous benefit system that our parents had enjoyed. We were mostly too young to take note of the fiscal crises of the 5 1970’s beyond the actions directly affecting home life, such as ‘Carless Days’ (a government law implemented to reduce oil consumption during the peak oil crises of the 1970’s) and the dreaded ‘strike action’, which for a young child was often experienced in terms of some sort of deprivation, such as the loss of bread or the interruption of travel plans. The irony of a comic song by comedian John Clarke’s Fred Dagg character, “We Don’t Know How Lucky We Are”, had hinted that all was not well in our ‘pastoral paradise’ during the 1970’s, but as we witnessed the rapid dismantling of our ‘social utopia’, the 1980’s was summed up by a bitterly ironic song by Blam Blam Blam called “There is no depression in New Zealand.” Released in April 1981, the song coincided with the South African Springbok Rugby Tour that exploded the ‘racial harmony’ aspect of Pākehā mythology. The 1981 Springbok Tour was a landmark event that is tied to memories of my first year at high school, and more than any other event in my childhood and adolescence changed the way I felt about the ‘nation’ where I was born.