To bring it all together

The school bell rang loudly throughout the halls; students burst forth from the classroom doors, spewing into the hallway. Before long, the corridors were clogged and cliques of students grouped together to mingle by half-opened lockers. Within fifteen minutes, the hallways would clear: the athletes had their games, the mathletes had their problem sets, and, well, we had our music waiting for us.

This after school gathering is a student-led, student-run organization called AMOJI. It meets once a week, usually Wednesday afternoons. For me, a recent graduate of Boston Latin School, this club was the perfect case study: every club meeting I went to brought me into the company of fellow music enthusiasts – and not just “regular” music, either. We all had a very selective taste for foreign alternative “pretty boy” bands, particularly (but, not exclusively) those from Japan, Korea, and China. I enjoyed going to the club meetings when I was in high school, and wanted to know what the other club members got out of it. In addition to my prior experience in the club and its accessibility, I wanted to study AMOJI as a musical youth culture because of the efforts the club leaders put into discovering and spreading knowledge of bands in other countries; I wanted to explore how this one specific organization plays into recent trends of globalization.

Racially speaking (and I use the term “race” loosely, as I sincerely believe that it is nothing more than a social construction), the members of AMOJI represented almost every minority group in the school. In the years that I was an active participant, most were Chinese (as were most minorities at BLS), but there was also a black girl, a Hispanic girl, and a Middle Eastern girl. Recently, as of fall 2007, the club has expanded considerably, but still doesn’t have too many Caucasians; I don’t think there has ever been more than one.

Like several of the club members, I am a second generation Asian-American, culturally caught between the conservative traditions of my parents and the headstrong, individualistic, arguably rebellious mentality of the American youth. Everything I listened to growing up sounded like a medley of country tunes and yodeling, in a language I speak fluently, but can never understand in song. By the time I entered high school, it was natural for me to want to break away from my parents and find my own taste in music. It didn’t take me long to find (or fall in love with) rock – not the pop-like melodies with an electric guitar or two thrown in – real rock, music that was hard and pounding. I wanted more from the music – more feeling, more substance, even. I wanted something to connect to. By attending AMOJI, I found music that satisfied me.

Sophia, the founder of AMOJI, described her first exposure and reaction to Japanese rock as such:
“…But I was never truly satisfied with what I heard on mainstream radio. Eventually, I found better outlets that suited my tastes – through rock. I welcomed its unique sound, its ability express, and completely fell in love. It wasn't just any rock though; the first time I was swept away by music happened while I was listening to a song in Japanese. I didn't understand a word the vocalist said, but I could feel the emotions the whole band conveyed in the song. From then on, I was hooked.”

Many of the responses I got from AMOJI members were similar to that above when I asked them why they found foreign alternative rock appealing, even if there was a language barrier. It was the "feel" of the music, the image and persona the artists give off that was infinitely more important.

As Mark said, “The interesting thing about the bands that Sophia introduced to me is that the music speaks to you; the music has meaning beyond the words that are spoken. Despite not being able to understand Japanese, the music has a quality that allows it to be understood.”

Here's an example of such music. The song is "Taoin," by The GazettE.


There’s a pretty interesting article Arun Saldanha wrote about the youth culture in Bangalore, India. According to him, the rich kids in India love to listen to Western pop as they drive because it is a status symbol (Saldanha 2002). It follows the trends of globalization; it shows others that they are better because they have the money and the connections to buy Western music.

Likewise, being fans of D'EspairsRay, The GazettE, or Dir en grey (all Japanese rock, or jrock bands) doesn’t exactly make AMOJI members unique. In fact, jrock is getting so popular within the US that there are now choice awards for the bands. Yet, there’s a certain undeniable sense of pride in taking part of a music movement that is so different and separate from the “mainstream” that you’d have to put in real effort to enjoy the music. Everything that is jrock in America gets overshadowed by “mainstream” rock; little (“little” used in the relative sense) communities do not get the same sort of attention anywhere (Hollands 2002).

Unlike “regular” alternative bands whose albums can easily be found in most retail stores, jrock albums have to be ordered online; you would never know that jrock bands play in the US unless someone who actively checks informational sources like this one or this one tells you. The information isn’t hidden or coded or anything; it’s just that people who don’t listen to jrock wouldn’t care to pass the information along, even if they come across it.

For example, Dir en grey participated in the Family Values Tour in 2006 with KoRn, Stone Sour, Flyleaf, 10 Years, etc, and returned in 2007 to headline their own tour in America. Here's a video of their performance in 2006::
WARNING: GRAPHIC!


Sophia, Shauna, Dan, and Kay (all members of AMOJI) actually attended the concert in 2006. In a word, they said the concert was “incredible,” “indescribable,” “breathless.” And, well, I’m sure you’d feel the same way if you see your favorite lead singer cut himself on stage with a fish hook. (I’m referring to the video above, for those who didn’t feel like waiting for youtube to load.) I, personally, don’t understand the appeal of that one, but apparently, it was something special.

AMOJI regularly organizes trips to shows at local vendors; at all these events, the girls who go (and it’s always been girls from the club who go to these shows; guys just don’t seem to care as much) love everything about the concerts. (Here is a picture of the girls at a Candy Spooky Theatre performance.) At these shows, they are no longer different individuals; they become like every other fan girl/boy out there the second they step into the vendor. They scream, they cry, they take in every little detail of the performance, and enjoy it collectively, as a community (Mitchell 1989, Auslander 2006). To quote what Auslander says about female fans of the Beatles, “By screaming and closing their eyes at the concert, the young women prevented the Beatles from materializing, so to speak. They forced the Beatles to retain their identities as the virtual poster boys who provided the girls with safe opportunities to express their sexuality and prohibited the Beatles from stepping out from behind the posters to reveal themselves as actual men.” I think this analysis applies to AMOJI members, too.

Not everyone thinks of the alternative artists as “virtual poster boys”; in fact, Kay said that the appeal was in knowing that “popular musicians are just normal people, too.” Yet, none of them could deny that they enjoy watching them perform because they were “pretty boys” (there are links a few paragraphs up that show these bands) – musically talented, with beautiful androgynous faces, and such intricate hair and makeup. To be able to watch them, even if it is only through a projector in a high school classroom, is to idolize their existence and lifestyle. This appreciation, if not, physical attraction, to the way these alternative rock musicians dress and present themselves is definitely something that everyone in AMOJI can relate to.

I would like to consider AMOJI a “regional scene” of alternative rock, in the sense that every member of the club contributes to the music that is shared and distributed. It is not the same as a citywide or statewide scene, where actual nightclubs and venues collaborate for events, that gives the regional scene of a genre or subgenre its distinct characteristics (O’Connor 2002). Yet, because of each individual’s personal taste in music and fashion, the music that gets played after school when AMOJI meets is unlike any other musical gathering at BLS. Since the members of the club actually get together for performances, they are unlike internet communities (like this one on facebook) that only discuss bands of interest. Being in Boston is important, too: if not for the metropolitan atmosphere, AMOJI members would not be able to see these concerts. It is a very small-scaled regional scene, but nevertheless qualifies as one.



Works cited:

Auslander, Philip. 2006. “Music as Performance: Living in the Immaterial World.” Theatre Survey, Vol. 47, No. 2, pp. 261-269.

Hollands, Robert. 2002. “Divisions in the Dark: Youth Cultures, Transitions and Segmented Consumption Spaces in the Night-Time Economy.” Journal of Youth Studies, Vol. 5, No. 2, pp. 153-171.

Mitchell, Tony. 1989. “Performance and the Postmodern in Pop Music.” Theatre Journal, Vol. 41, No. 3, pp. 273-293.

O’Connor, Alan. 2002. “Local Scenes and Dangerous Crossroads: Punks and Theories of Cultural Hybridity.” Popular Music, Vol. 21, No. 2, pp. 225-236.

Saldanha, Arun. (2002) “Music, Space, Identity: Geographies of Youth Culture in Bangalore,” Cultural Studies, 16:3, 337-350.