Bulgaria Lenses

I arrived in Bulgaria almost a week ago, but for the past month or so I have been brainstorming how to describe in a post what my goals are here (and later in Romania). Of course, the central tenet of this phase of my project is to learn to play kaval, a traditional Bulgarian flute. You will certainly hear a lot more about the (wonderful and challenging) instrument in the coming months, so I won’t say too much about it here.

In learning to play the instrument, from a formal standpoint I will also learn Bulgarian folk songs and get a better sense of the modes, colors, and rhythms involved. I will gain skills to be able to share this music and perform in different ensembles and contexts. Plus, my understanding of music and performance as a whole will be enriched. However, playing music is, to me, only the tip of the iceberg for what it means to be a musician. It was not until after my 2013 work with Andean flutes in Peru that I realized that, in addition to loving music from an aesthetic and emotive perspective, I am also completely fascinated by its social and historical (and consequently political) context.

Whoa, whoa, hold your horses. What on earth is this classically trained flutist doing talking about politics? Like all other “high art” (and often even more so because of its abstract semantics), classical music is perfectly apolitical, is it not?

I didn’t realize it at the time, or maybe I’m just projecting a new interpretation in retrospect, but I think it was partly that “high art” designation and all of the baggage that comes along with it (classism, racism, colonialism, etc.) that drove me to go to Peru. As I wrote in my journal at the start of that trip, I was feeling alienated by the pressures and politics of the classical music world. I loved (and still love) the music and I knew I could do it, knew how to succeed, but I was beginning to question whether it was worth it. Is there any way to be a classical musician without simultaneously acting as a pawn for various systems of inequality and oppression?

That trip did not resolve my cognitive dissonance, but it did help solidify a few questions for me (including the one above). And these are the questions that form the lenses through which I approach these nine months as a Fulbright grantee in Bulgaria and Romania. (I should mention, “This site (http://rachelsusser.com) is not an official Fulbright Program site. The views expressed on this site are entirely those of its author and do not represent the views of the Fulbright Program, the U.S. Department of State or any of its partner organizations.”)

I describe some of the questions that fall under each of the lenses below. Of course, I cannot predict which (if any) of these questions will be impacted by my work here. But it will be interesting to look back on them next year to compare where I am starting to where I will end up!

Feminism

1. Who plays which instruments and why? In readings I did prior to traveling to Peru, I learned that, historically, Andean flutists were men because the flute was considered a phallic symbol, and the type of energy used to blow into a flute was considered a masculine type of energy. On the other hand, the flutes also had a range and melodic quality that compensated for men’s inability to sing the way women could. According to a reading about Bulgaria (see Chapter 5 of Tim Rice’s May It Fill Your Soul), prior to WWII, flutists here were also men, but it was because boys had their hands free while herding sheep whereas women’s hands were occupied with housework.
2. How is relative value and merit given to musical practice according to gender? If there were or are gender-based divisions within musical activity, how are they valued and respected in relation to each other?
3. What about bodily pleasure? In the society and culture in which I grew up, intellectual stimulation and pleasure are seen as morally superior to anything physical. (Do any of you know when that value system was established? Was it a Judeo-Christian invention, or does it come from something more ancient?) I see this value system as playing a role in the maintenance of the distinction between “art music,” for which you sit still and listen attentively (unless you are a highly trained and disciplined dancer), and pop/folk musics.

Economic Systems

1. How do changes in economic structures change which kinds of music receive which kinds of support? This question is a particularly interesting one to ask here in the former Eastern Bloc, where transitions into and out of communism have impacted the economy, social structures, and nationalist ideologies. These changes have both directly and indirectly had an effect on musical practice.
2. Who can work as a musician and how do they support themselves? In classical music, the training structures and costs of instruments are such that it is very difficult to gain competitive skills without familial economic support. Being a musician is also a financial risk that not everybody can take, since work is scarce and often underpaid.
3. Has capitalism changed notions of musical authorship? This guess could be completely off mark, but I wonder if capitalist notions of ownership (and ideas about having the right to sell and get individual prestige from intellectual “property”) have influenced how and by whom music is composed and whether a person’s name is attached to a song/piece. The latter could also be an aural vs. written issue (N.B. Bach came before Smith), or some combination, or even another explanation entirely.

Class

1. Who listens to or plays different kinds of music?
2. Are different musics seen as distinguishing factors between members of different socioeconomic classes? Regardless of whether there are actually statistically relevant differences in terms of the demographics of musical participation, there may be stereotypes and other assumptions about people who listen to or play different types of music.
3. Is there a distinction between amateur and professional musicians?

Colonialism/Cultural Imperialism

1. How is classical music perceived compared to other musical genres? This question is closely related to questions about class. In what ways (if at all) does the “high” art vs. “low” art distinction manifest itself? Is one category awarded more social capital and another seen as frivolous? It is also quite likely that different people have vastly different ideas about this.
2. Does a person’s genealogy, ethnicity, class, race, nation of origin, ancestral nation(s) of origin, religion, etc. give them ownership of or legitimacy to perform a particular genre of music and not another? I will write an entire post dedicated to the question of appropriation sometime in the next few weeks.

The academics in the audience are probably shaking their heads right now. And I know it’s a lot – each topic is ripe for a dissertation and then some. But even if I barely scratch the surface of increased understanding on just a few of these, and even if I end up with yet more questions, it’s all part of the adventure! For me, exploring these questions helps me better understand what music I want to play, how to present it, in what environments, and for which audiences. They are also fun and interesting to think about, discuss, and share with friends, colleagues, and other interested people. And now, off to do my Bulgarian homework… Чао чао[1]!