Because of the ways in which its presence and absence articulate a non-verbal language within the social configuration of Lins, this jukebox enables temporary governances that might be particular to that place, but nevertheless reflect a larger sociopolitical scenario. It is capable of encapsulating the tension between a long history of racial and class-based segregation in Brazil and particularly in Rio, as well as the social, cultural, and political implications of one of the most brutal Police forces in the world. The cultural and political function of this type of jukebox – illegally assembled and distributed over a network on the fringes of the economic system –, subvert and extend well beyond its intended design, embracing the contingency of localized listening practices in order to become, in itself, an ambiguous device. It is embedded in a system of practices and policies which defy the scope of written - and in turn generate new forms of unwritten - laws. This particular Jukebox dwells on the fringes of legality, illegality, and a third state of “imposed” illegality by the Military Police, articulated via the listening practices it affords. My attention then shifted to this machine and the listening practices around it. There, Samara and I met for a few beers, and in our conversation she casually mentioned how she would often closely listen to a Jukebox which sat in another bar, uphill and very close to her house.
Lins, as this massive part of the city is best known for, has more than 20000 residents, and in 2013 was the 36th region of the city to be occupied by the so-called “pacifying forces” of the military police (known as UPPs). Helping mediate some of the contacts I wanted to chat with was Samara Tanaka, a designer and educator who lives in the Complexo do Lins, the militarized name for a group of 12 favelas whose borders seamlessly blend with the mostly residential neighborhood of Lins de Vasconcelos, in the northern part of Rio de Janeiro. I wanted to speak with people whose listening practices are in constant negotiation, particularly in correlation with experiences of police violence. In 2015 I was researching the political role of sound and listening in Brazil, particularly after the wave of demonstrations of 2013 and the increasing political turmoil building up in the country. The device I am particularly interested in here is a Jukebox. My aim here is to expand on this notion by focusing not solely on the act of listening to music in itself, but also on the creation of an entire ecology of listening devices and practices that make use of music – and its absence – to mediate social and political narratives. These studies expose the multifaceted ways in which sound is appropriated, manipulated, and deployed as a device for oppression and control. From the ubiquity of music (Kassabian 2013) to its use as a torture mechanism in US prisons (Cusick 2006, 2008a, 2008b, 2011), to sound as “vibrational affect” (Goodman 2010). Studies on sound and power and their violent articulations are abound from the instrumentalization of sonic media by the Nazi regime in Germany (Birdsall 2012) to discussions on the affective power of noise and its cultural implications (Thompson 2017). That this mediation process is always an articulation of power demands an interrogation of its use as a means of exercising, sustaining, enforcing, and reproducing violence. Listening occurs inside and outside, moving outwards and inwards in resonance with the world and the power relationships that constitute it. Listening is a mediating and mediated phenomenon it produces and is produced by an interplay of haptic, affective, cultural, social, and political responses, engaged not only in the ear but with the whole body.
0 kommentar(er)
