Collective Memory and the Constructio

Liljedahl: Recalling the (Afro)Future: Collective Memory and the Constructio RECALLING THE (AFRO)FUTURE: COLLECTIVE MEMORY AND THE CONSTRUCTION OF SUBVERSIVE MEANINGS IN JANELLE MONÁE’S METROPOLIS-SUITES Everywhere, the “street” is considered the ground and guarantee of all reality, a compulsory logic explaining all Black Music, conveniently mishearing antisocial surrealism as social realism. Here sound is unglued from such obligations, until it eludes all social responsibility, thereby accentuating its unreality principle. (Eshun 1998: -41) When we listen to music in a non-live setting, we do so via some form of audio reproduction technology. To most listeners, the significant part about the technology is not the technology itself but the data (music) it stores and reverberates into our ears (Sofia 2000). Most of these listeners have memories tied to their favourite songs (DeNora 2000) but if the music is at the centre of the history of a people, can the songs themselves be seen as a form of recollection? In this paper, I suggest that sound reproduction technology can be read as a storage of memories in the context of Black American popular music. I will turn my attention to the critical potential of Afrofuturist narratives in the field of memory- technology in order to focus on how collective memory is performed as Afrofuturist technology in Black American popular music, specifically in the music of Janelle Monáe. At play in the theoretical backdrop of this article are two key concepts: Signifyin(g) and collective memory, the first of which I will describe in simplified terms, while the latter warrants a more thorough discussion. After the introduction of those core concepts, I move onto a presentation of the narratives in Janelle Monae’s music and its foundation in Afrofuturism. Finally, when reading two music videos, “Q.U.E.E.N.” and “PrimeTime”, I apply what Alexander Weheliye calls “thinking sound” in order to explicate how the lines between individual and collective memory can blur and evaporate. Thinking sound is “[the] interfacing [of] historically seemingly disparate texts in order to excavate their intensities (which only emerge in the process of juxtaposition and re-contextualization), much as DJs treat records in their mixes” (2005: 73). “You can edit me, but the booty don’t lie”, Monáe raps on “Q.U.E.E.N.” (Monáe 2013f: 5:40). Referenced in her statement is the centrality of bodied expression in Black American cultural history and the ways those expressions has historically been met with abject dismissal. The reason the booty “don’t lie” is because the meanings conveyed through “the booty” persists despite the 1 In the introduction of Eshun 1998, he counts pages in reverse. What would usually be page ‘i’ is here page ‘-10’, page ‘ii’ is ‘-9’ and so forth. Published by RIT Scholar Works, 2021 1 Third Stone, Vol. 2 [2021], Iss. 1, Art. 2 dismissive “editing”. It persists by means of Signifyin(g), a concept most notably investigated by Henry Louis Gates in The Signifying Monkey: A Theory of African-American Literary Criticism from 1988. The term describes the long tradition of covert and subversive communication found in West African and Black American cultures. Signifyin(g) is an intracultural form of signification and interaction that exploits the gap between the denotative and figurative meanings of words, as well as the gap between signifier and signified, to transfer a meaning that purposefully circumvents people who are not members of a given culture. If you know the cultural codes, then you know, and if you do not, then you will be fooled or left confused and act accordingly. Put differently, dismissal does not latch on to Siginifyin(g) practices because the critiques levelled at, for instance, twerk or booty dance (such as allegations of objectification of women) fail to address the actual, that is, culturally coded, significance of such dances. Although Signifyin(g) is only mentioned sparingly throughout this article, the practice it describes lies as a theoretical undertow for this entire text. In Afrofuturist music, meaning is communicated from in between the signifier and the signified and from in between the denotative and the figurative meaning of words, which makes Signifyin(g) one of the genre’s main modes of communication. Collective memory is often understood as something other than a form of individual memory. Best described as a shared pool of information in the memories of members of a social group, the term has a long tradition within the study of cultural traumas, such as the Holocaust or chattel slavery. James E. Young prefers the term “collected memory”, as “societies cannot remember in any other way than through their constituents’ memories” (1993: xi). Other notable scholars such as historian Amos Funkenstein attest that groups or objects are unable to have memories—only individuals can remember (1989). Young and Funkenstein argue that collective memory should be seen as a sum of internal individual memories, while sociologist Maurice Halbwachs contends that “there is no point in seeking where memories are preserved in my brain or in some nook of my mind to which I alone have access: for they are recalled to me externally” (1992: 38). The argument against Halbwachs and the term “collective memory”— not the concept itself, but its status as actual memory—is that it frames the individual as “a sort of automaton, passively obeying the interiorized collective will” (Fentress and Wickham 1992: ix). Yet there is a significant difference between remembering and the isolative act that his critics call memory. Halbwachs writes, “it is not in memory but in the dream that the mind is most removed from society” (1992: 42), implying that the dreamer (the isolated rememberer) is unable to rely directly on the frameworks of collective memory, while individuals who are awake have the means to reconstruct memories from people and groups around them (Sutton 2012). In other words, the issue is https://scholarworks.rit.edu/thirdstone/vol2/iss1/2 2 Liljedahl: Recalling the (Afro)Future: Collective Memory and the Constructio whether “memory” is an apt term for what critics see as a form of intracultural (historical) narrative. I adopt my understanding of collective memory from Halbwachs by viewing memory as a matter of how minds work together in society and how their operations are structured by social arrangements. Since “it is in society that people normally acquire their memories [and it] is also in society that they recall, recognize, and localize their memories”, the concept of collective memory goes beyond the traumas of slavery and centuries of oppression (Halbwachs 1992: 38). By recognizing collective memory as more than just a sociological concept, Halbwachs’ understanding of the term leads to a broader cultural or inscribed embodied memory in which “our modern devices for storing and retrieving information … all require that [bodies] do something that traps and holds information, long after the human organism has stopped informing” (Connerton 1989: 73). Put differently, memories are inscribed between bodies, and reproductive technologies allow these memories to be accessed and reinscribed to new bodies after the original body stops communicating. Instead of applying memory theory directly, I engage with the music and the subject of memory from different angles to highlight the diversity and significance of recollection in Black American popular music. Memory theory thus serves as a theoretical framework that binds the technological, performative, and musicological approaches together. Rather than use memory theory to discuss whether a collective memory is a ‘real’ memory or not, I show that Black and Afrofuturist praxis disrupts, short circuits, and deforms the entire premise of the question. Looking through the prism of race, sound, and technology enables a reinterpretation of the term “collective memory” as actual memory within the discourse of Black American popular music. LITERAL AND FIGURATIVE AFROFUTURIST NARRATIVES Afrofuturism is difficult to pin down, as it exists in several forms—aesthetic movement, political framework and praxis, artistic frame of reference, and academic discourse—that all intersect and overlap. There are as many definitions as there are Afrofuturists, but common ground can be found. Ytasha Womack, author of Afrofuturism: The World of Black Sci-Fi and Fantasy Culture, broadly defines the term as “an intersection of imagination, technology, the future, and liberation” (2013: 9). In this context, I would describe it as an aesthetic that draws on science fiction, historical fiction, fantasy, magical realism, and Black mythological and folkloric traditions (e.g., Yoruban, Akan, Igbo, Mandé, Vodou/hoodoo, Dogon, and ancient Egyptian mythology) in order to renegotiate perceptions of past, present, and future and navigate these temporalities simultaneously. Put plainly, when Afrofuturists address the future, they also Published by RIT Scholar Works, 2021 3 Third Stone, Vol. 2 [2021], Iss. 1, Art. 2 address the past and present. Memory, as a concept, is thus upset because it is no longer necessarily tied to the past. This is the case with Janelle Monáe, although her focus is aimed more toward Black American history and less toward a mythological pre-American homeland. Monáe presents Afrofuturist narratives in her five Metropolis-Suites, some of which I will analyse and interpret in this article. The stories are told mainly through three albums, Metropolis: The Chase Suite (2008a), The ArchAndroid (2010a), and The Electric Lady (2013c). Monáe claims that an evil group called the Great Divide, who uses time travel to oppress and hinder equality, sent her, who is part android, back to our present from the year 2719. With a strand of Monáe’s DNA, the group’s members create Cindi Mayweather in this future. Cindi is an android from the city of Metropolis who was built with a “rock-star proficiency package and a working soul” that made her a worldwide superstar (Monáe 2008b).

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