Coyote Ugly?: Mexican Pop and the Department of Homeland Security

'The conscious and intelligent manipulation of the organised habits and opinions of the masses is an important element in democratic society.  Those who manipulate this unseen mechanism of society constitute an invisible government which is the true ruling power of our country.  We are governed, our minds moulded, our tastes formed, our ideas suggested, largely by men we have never heard of.'  (Bernays 37)

Edward Bernays, Propaganda

As Bernays implies in the opening paragraph, the subtle emplacement of ideas into the public consciousness is a vital tool in the governance of human societies.  The creation of positive reception to new ideas, either instead of, or in concert with, physical coercion allows for the transmission of  ideology by interested parties, be they commercial actors, cultural figures, or the political state. This  is achieved using a varied array of means, the mass media and popular culture not least among them.

In this essay we will examine a specific incident as a case study in state propaganda, with the intention of illustrating the means by which propagandist aims are achieved, and indeed, how and why such actions are necessarily propagandist.  We will examine the various actors, and their roles in shaping this particular instrument of propaganda.  The incident we will be examining is the relatively new phenomenon of the migracorridos, pop songs performed in the traditional Mexican folk-ballad style, warning of 'the hazards illegal immigrants [to the USA] face' (Surdin), and how they have been utilised by the American government as part of their anti-illegal immigration strategy. 

As with many uses of propaganda, this action has not been without controversy; the shaping of public opinion is not something that citizens living in ostensibly liberal democracies, and who consider themselves to be free, often take kindly to. However, Edward Bernays points out in his seminal work on public relations, Propaganda, that it is this very shaping of public opinion, this persuasion,  which is an essential component of the government of a 'free' society:

It might be better to have, instead of propaganda and special pleading, committees of wise men who would choose our rulers, dictate our conduct, private and public, and decide upon the best types of clothes for us to wear and the best kinds of food for us to eat.  But we have chosen the opposite method, that of open competition.  We must find a way to make free competition function with reasonable smoothness.  To achieve this society has consented to permit free competition to be organised by leadership and propaganda.  Some of the phenomena of these processes are criticised – the manipulation of news, the inflation of personality, and the general ballyhoo by which politicians and commercial products and social ideas are brought to the consciousness of the masses.  The instruments by which public opinion is organised and focused may be misused.  But such organisation and focusing are necessary to orderly life.  (Bernays 39)

It could be argued that Bernays makes a valid argument for the possible use of propaganda by government actors in their attempts to organise public opinion within their own state, but what of attempts by the same actors to influence the citizenry of a foreign state?  Surely, it must, on occasion, raise certain ethical questions.  It is these issues which are at the heart of our discussion of the Department of Homeland Security's actions in the events described in this essay.


'Migracorridos'

When the CD landed on the desk of La Zeta's Director of Operations Jose Luis Gasca, he had no idea where it had come from.  It had a glossy brown cover, and gold lettering spelled out the words 'Migra Corridos' (Surdin), but really, that was about it, aside from the track-listings on the reverse.  The 'corrido' style of song is popular with the listeners of his radio station in Morelia, Michoacan, as it is throughout the rest of Mexico, so he decided to put it on the airwaves.  Gasca was immediately struck by the messages contained in the upbeat, 'peppy, even cheerful' (Ibid.) ballads, with their tales of death and danger for the foolhardy soul who attempted to cross the troubled border with the United States of America, and it seemed they resonated with the people tuning into his show, because in his words 'they encourage people to become aware of the risks of crossing the border...something that often leads to disaster..' (qtd. In Ceresole).  This was a pattern that was repeated across northern Mexico in 2006, as the mysterious Migra Corridos CD began to be played on local and regional radio stations with increasing frequency as listeners requested the songs which so struck a chord with them, many perhaps knowing persons who had attempted to cross the border, and who had died or been injured in the attempt. 

Crossing the US/Mexico border is an incredibly dangerous affair.  The desert is excruciatingly hot and dry, to the point many people simply perish due to the extreme weather conditions, in summer temperatures that often reach 120ºF.  According to the US Border Patrol, 'on the Arizona border, just north of Sonora, Mexico, the summer desert proved fatal for 63 people during July alone' (US Customs and Border Patrol).  Not only that, but there are other dangers, in particular those posed by people-traffickers (colloquially known as 'coyotes' or 'polleros') – groups of individuals who agree to smuggle would-be migrants across the US border in exchange for sums of money. Once small-scale 'cottage industry'-type illegal people-smuggling operations, these have now evolved into increasingly organised, increasingly elaborate, and most importantly for vulnerable migrants, increasingly violent gangs, as older networks of individual smugglers have been muscled out of business by more sophisticated, but also more brutal, drug cartels.  As journalist Mary Jordan, writing for the Washington Post Foreign Service points out:

The equipment used by coyotes – a flashlight for a nighttime wade across the Rio Grande – has been replaced by encrypted radios, cell phones that are discarded and changed every few hours and the Internet. Smugglers communicate across the border by radio or e-mail, signaling movements of U.S. patrol agents or the arrival of a new batch of people preparing to cross.  (Jordan)

These organisations represent a significant risk to the lives and well-being, both of those who would seek to take advantage of the services they offer, and those government officials who's job it is to keep the border secure, as Jordan goes on to state:

Smugglers also are [now] more likely to be armed and violent. There have been many cases in Mexico of coyotes robbing and raping their customers or abandoning them before they ever reach the border. In the past year, on a stretch of the border near Tucson, 100 incidents of violence against the Border Patrol have been recorded.(Ibid.)

There is also the very real possibility of being kidnapped and sold into modern-day slavery, forced to work either as manual labour or sex-workers in order to pay off supposed 'debts' – A typical practice of human traffickers around the globe:

Of particular worry is a deeper smuggling network inside the United States, including drop houses where immigrants are kept, often against their will, until they pay off smuggling fees... U.S. officials say some human smuggling groups are starting to mirror the structure and methods of drug smugglers. Just as rival drug gangs often steal from each other..."gangs are ripping off aliens [from other smugglers] and holding aliens captive until they sell them to a buyer." The buyer is usually a relative or an employer. (Ibid.)

These are the types of issues raised in the migracorridos – narrative folks songs which weave cautionary tales from the perils and pitfalls awaiting potential border-jumpers.  The corrido is a form of traditional Mexican folk ballad, and functions largely in the same way as the English broadside ballad, in that, 'at one time it played the role of the press: the news used to spread all over the countryside in songs' (Studiolum).  They are simple compositions, to be sung by the 'man-in-the-street', indeed, perhaps even written by him – in any case, the corrido is a style of folk song which is ideal for transmission between people,  easily recalled and performed as a way of spreading messages, be they messages of Mexican nationalism (as was the case in the Mexican revolution) or current events.  In his thoroughly-researched blog on folk poetry and art, Poemas del Rio Wang (http://riowang.blogspot.com), blogger Studiolum provides a brief and comprehensive description of the corrido form, which helps to highlight it's usefulness as a means of ideological transmission:

The corrido is characterized by spontaneity, and by a simple language and melody. It uses few poetic tools, but it is very concise, and gives more importance to the rhythm than to the form. Its classical form is the quatrain 8a 8b 8a 8b which also permits more than one poem to be sung with the same melody. This is why they can also easily be modified and actualized, so that one corrido lives on in several versions. (Studiolum)

As earlier stated, this form is used in the migracorridos to describe the misfortunes that befall those that attempt to cross the US/Mexico border illegally, acting as warnings to those who may wish to undertake attempts to do the same.  In some instances, these warnings are explicitly made, as is the case with 'Veinte Años' ('Twenty Years'), in which the narrator sings the following lines (here translated into English), 'Before you cross the border, remember that you can be just as much a man by chickening out and staying, because it's better to keep your life than ending up dead' (qtd. in Surdin).    In other songs, the warnings take the shape of descriptions of horrific events, or incredibly arduous journeys, such as in 'El Más Grande Enemigo' ('The Greatest Enemy') which tells the tale of Abelardo, who 'watches his cousin die of dehydration in the desert heat' (LeBrón): After some hours, Abelardo opened his eyes, and in the middle of the cold night, discovered his dead cousin at his side. (qtd. in Surdin)'.  There are also accounts of brushes with 'coyotes', such as 'El Respeto' ('Respect'):
A young man who tries to reach America "to become someone" gives an account of his own death - and that of his friends. The... trafficker smuggling them across the border for a fee, runs away, leaving them locked inside the truck in which they were being transported to suffocate. (Ceresole)

Elevación

Elevation.  A state of mind... an attitude and belief shared by client and agency... that we will never settle.  Elevation.  A tenet that says together, we will reach new heights in brand awareness, advertising, creative and market share.  Elevation.  Raising the bar... into orbit! 

(source: www.elevation-us.com)

The lyrics describing these often extremely harrowing incidents were written by Rodolfo Hernández, Creative Director of Washington-based Hispanic marketing company, Elevación.  The  company was founded by Peruvian-born marketing strategist Jim Learned and his Spanish partner  Pablo Izquierdo in 2001 after working on the New York mayoral campaign of then-candidate Michael Bloomberg.  It seems clear that billionaire businessman and financial mogul Bloomberg would encounter significant difficulty in inserting himself into the consciousness of a largely working-class New York Latino constituency, without a plan of action which would allow him to announce his presence with subtlety:
"Bloomberg wasn't looking for a political strategy," Learned said. "He was looking for a consumer strategy, in the Hispanic market they wouldn't know him walking down the street . . . we had to introduce him as a regular guy." (qtd. in Lazo)

The 'regular guy' approach was ultimately successful.  Bloomberg insisted on learning Spanish, the better to talk directly to potential Hispanic voters, but it was also arguably useful as a demonstration of humility, showing that he attached great importance to being able to make himself understood to the city's many Spanish-speakers without the need for a translator, or for his voice to be dubbed over in election TV spots.  He was elected mayor of New York, and retained the services of Learned and Izquierdo's, by now, fully formed company Elevación for his re-election campaign in 2005, during which he faced-off against Puerto-Rican-American politician Fernando Ferrer.
The duo had political experience prior to this, as they had worked on Al Gore's presidential election campaign in 2000 whilst at EMM Hispanic, the Spanish-language offshoot of marketing agency EMM Creative, which Sen. Gore had hired as a last minute (they were recruited a mere two months before the election was due to take place) attempt to capture a significant portion of the Latino voter-base (Author Unknown).  Gore's election bid was ultimately unsuccessful.
As we can see, in addition to private commercial clients, Elevación work closely and frequently with an American political class keen to engage with increasing numbers of Spanish-speaking voters.  Indeed, the company even played a part in the success of Barack Obama's presidential campaign:

Obama's campaign reported paying Elevación more than $700,000 through the primaries in January for producing ads and placing the media buys. Elevación and Obama's campaign parted ways in January. "Different perspectives as to the community," says Learned. (qtd. in Author Unknown)

Whatever those 'different perspectives' were, they certainly didn't stand in the way of what is possibly Elevación's most intriguing campaign to date, and the wider subject of this essay, a campaign entitled 'No Más Cruces en la Frontera'.

'La Migra'
'No Más Cruces en la Frontera' (No More Crosses on the Border) is the name of an advertising campaign designed and managed by Elevación on behalf of the United States Department of Homeland Security, as part of the Customs and Border Protection Agency's (CBP) 'Border Security Initiative' (BSI). According to the North American Congress on Latin America (NACLA), the campaign has primarily 'focused on purchasing airtime in Mexico for television and radio spots that provide cautionary tales for those thinking about heading to El Norte. The campaign marks the first time the Border Patrol has bought airtime for advertisements' (Lebron).  The adverts are an attempt to spell out the dangers of illegal immigration from Central America to the United States, with a specific and explicit accent upon the associated physical peril: '“We are doing everything possible to warn people against challenging the heat and the laws,” said Kristi Clemens, Assistant Commissioner for Public Affairs for CBP. “We’re not subtle about it. No one wants to see people die.”' (US Customs and Border Patrol)  It is worth noting that this statement by a CBP official seems to place equal emphasis upon upholding US immigration laws, and the preservation of the lives of attempted immigrants. However the illegality of attempting to surreptitiously cross the border is rarely, if ever, discussed in the 'No Más Cruces en la Frontera' advertisements; instead, preferential treatment is given to images of suffering, harsh conditions and inevitable mortality:

In one poster, men walk in a line, with some of their shadows showing as crosses rather than bodies. In another, someone has collapsed in a seemingly endless desert. "Before crossing to the other side," the poster advises, "remember that the burial plots are full of the valiant and the macho." (Surdin)

The message seems to be clear – don't attempt to cross the US/Mexico border, not because it is illegal, but because you will die.
The 'Migracorridos' CD is the latest propaganda tool employed by Elevación in their campaign on behalf of the CBP (colloquially known amongst illegal immigrants and 'coyotes' as La Migra).  By firmly establishing a pervasive media presence, the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) is potentially able to create an atmosphere in which there is the widely-accepted notion that in trying to cross the border with America, one is likely to meet a tragic end.  By furnishing radio DJs with 'Migracorridos', in regions from which large numbers of illegal migrants come, the DHS is also able to invade the cultural space of its intended targets.  This cultural invasion is taking place in relative secrecy, as the fact that 'Migracorridos' is financed by the US government is not widely publicised.  The DJs to which the music was submitted for consideration were not informed of this fact, and there is little indication of the DHS' involvement, though 'more discerning eyes might notice "bsi" (for Border Safety Initiative) at the bottom right-hand corner inside the cover' (Surdin).  Learned and company had decided, after lengthy and thorough research, that the album would be better-received if no mention were made of its source, as Elevación vice president Pablo Izquierdo states: 'When we approached the Mexican media, we approached it as a humanitarian campaign... We didn't tell them who was behind it because consumer research indicated that it wasn't going to be as well-received' (qtd. in Surdin).  Despite the avowed humanitarian motives of Izquierdo et al., NACLA has a very different perspective on the campaign:
Ultimately, the No Más Cruces campaign, contrary to statements by the Border Patrol, does not address issues of safety along the border. The television spots and the songs do not offer any safety recommendations beyond telling migrants not to cross.(Lebron)
As the songs grow in popularity, and Elevación head Jim Learned certainly seems to think that this is taking place ('I even think that one of the songs was nominated for an award in Mexico' (qtd. in Ceresole), perhaps their popularity will inspire other Mexican musicians to write material in a similar vein, ultimately doing the DHS's job for it, and pushing the message which is at the heart of the campaign: Don't come to the USA.

Conclusion
The 'Migracorridos' incident is an almost text-book case of propaganda.  The Department of Homeland Security, identifying illegal immigration from Mexico as problematic, set about hiring a proxy, a 'face', to aid them in dealing with the situation over the border. They turned to an experienced group of propagandists, Elevación – a company which had managed propaganda campaigns for leading politicians and which they themselves had occasion to employ in 2003 on a prior terrorism vigilance campaign called 'Listo' ('Ready') which provided information on 'emergency preparedness and actions' (Bostic) in the event of terror attacks.  The campaign was specifically tailored to have cultural appeal to Latino citizens in terms of its imagery and aesthetic.  They saw in Elevación an organisation with the required expertise and credibility in being able to reach out to Hispanic audiences and connect with them.  For would-be Mexican border-jumpers, simply saying 'do not cross the US/Mexico border, it is illegal' would not do; the desire to cross is too great, the desperate longing for a new and more prosperous life, too pressing.  No, a more subtle and nuanced approach is required in order to ensure one's message is effective, as this passage by Edward Bernays illustrates:
One reason the public relations of a business are frequently placed in the hands of an outside expert, instead of being confided to an officer of the company, is the fact that the correct approach to a problem may be indirect.  For example, when the luggage industry attempted to solve some of its problems by a public relations policy, it was realised that the attitude of railroads, of steamship companies, and of foreign government-owned railroads was an important factor in the handling of the luggage.  If a railroad and a baggage man, for their own interest, can be educated to handle baggage with more facility and promptness, with less damage to the baggage, and less inconvenience to the passanger; if the steamship company lets down, in its own interests, its restrictions on luggage; if the foreign government eases up on its baggage costs and transportation in order to further tourist travel; then the luggage manufacturers will profit. (Bernays 91-92)
In other words, one must create an atmosphere of sympathy to one's ultimate aim.  In the case of the DHS, their ultimate aim was to stem the flow of migrants from Central America, and to create the required atmosphere of sympathy and acquiescence, they, in concert with Elevación, decided that the best way to achieve their aim was to persuade the Mexican public that attempting an illegal border crossing was a highly dangerous endeavour, and carried significant risk of rape, murder or robbery, not to mention death from exposure and exhaustion.  In order to carry out this objective, news stories would be placed within the media of Mexico and the southern USA, carrying gruesome stories of the misfortune and murder of hapless 'illegals'.  CBP officers tell stories of violent attacks and desiccated bodies retrieved from the harsh, unforgiving desert.  Posters and TV adverts implore people to consider the risks posed by 'coyotes' and 'polleros' to innocent victims attempting enter the USA illegally, and demand that no more crucifixes be hung from the border fence to signify dead loved-ones.  To cap it all off, turn on the radio and you will hear songs in the traditional Mexican style, telling the tragic tale of Abelardo and his dying cousin, or the forty people left by a pollero to suffocate to death in a sealed truck, as the US government attempts to plant its message within the folk consciousness of their southern neighbours.

List of References

Books
Bernays, E.  2005.  Propaganda. New York.  IG Publishing.

Online Sources
Author Unknown.  2008.  'A Special Report on Political Marketing in the Hispanic Market'.
    Source: http://www.masconsulting.net/pressroom_hispanic.html Accessed on: 8th May 2011

Bostic, T. M.  Date Unknown. 'Elevacion Does Anti-Terrorist PSA in Spanish'. 
    Source: http://www.adweek.com/news/advertising/elevacion-does-anti-terrorist-psa-spanish      68915  Accessed on: 8th May 2011

Ceresole, C.  2008.  'US Uses Songs to Deter Immigrants'.    
    Source: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/7879206.stm Accessed on: 8th May 2011

Jordan, M.  2001.  'People Smuggling Now Big Business in Mexico'. 
    Source: http://earthops.org/immigration/human-cargo1.html Accessed on: 8th May 2011

Lazo, A.  2008.  'La Plaza: At The Corner of Madison Ave. & K St.'. 
    Source: http://voices.washingtonpost.com/washbizblog/2008/10/la_plaza_3.html
    Accessed on: 8th May 2011

LeBron, M.  2009.  'Migracorridos': Another Failed Anti-Immigration Campaign'. 
    Source: https://nacla.org/node/5625  Accessed on: 8th May 2011

Studiolum.  2008.  'Mexican Corrido' 
    Source:http://riowang.blogspot.com/2008/07/mexican-corrido.html)
    Accessed on: 8th May 2011

Surdin, A.   2009.   'Crossover Appeal'.  Source: http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-    dyn/content/article/2009/03/13/AR2009031304234.html  Accessed on: 8th May 2011


US Customs and Border Patrol.  2005. 'Agents Fight Record Heat to Save Lives on Southern     Border'.
    Source: http://www.cbp.gov/xp/CustomsToday/2005/Jul_Aug/other/lk_heat_wave.xml
    Accessed on: 8th May 2011

Websites
http://www.elevation-us.com
http://riowang.blogspot.com

///LIVE REVIEW

The Shoks – Mad Ferrett, Preston, 11th February

The club looks like a council estate. That's my first thought upon entering Preston's intimate indie venue, Mad Ferrett (geddit? Mad-fer-it?) To be fair, it's not the fault of the venue itself. The moderately-sized pub/club is a shrine to britpop, decked out in mid-'90s regalia - I spot the collectible Oasis 'fag-packet' singles boxed sets in pride of place behind the bar, in addition to posters and pictures of the lad-rock luminaries liberally splashed around in various corners of this, frankly, charming little night-spot. One can understand why this is a favoured haunt of Preston's indie-rock great-and-good, as well as being a regular stop-off for touring bands. One thing in particular strikes me: It's unbelievably 'northern' – all Morrissey and Marr, Ryder and Brown, not forgetting the ubiquitous Brothers Gallagher. So with all the appropriate britpop dive-bar boxes ticked, why the gut reaction on my part? Well, it's largely down to tonight's clientele, who more closely resemble a mix of off-duty labourers and car-thieves than your typical immaculately-coiffered cheek-sucking hipster kids. Booze and bravado fill the air, and the bellowing morass of distinctly 'out-of-town' revellers appears to be making the locals a mite nervous. Is a fully-fledged wild west bar brawl about to explode? Am I going to get my head kicked in? Well, no. Or at least, not necessarily. These rough-looking chaps are (probably) not here to commit acts of wanton violence – they are here to see The Shoks, Chorley's latest, and perhaps greatest (given that few, if any, great bands come from Chorley) alternative rock exports. I will hold my hands up and admit that I didn't have high hopes for this gig. I'd heard one or two demo tracks prior to tonight, and had written The Shoks off as insipid 'lad-rock'-by-numbers. I mean, they have a song entitled 'I Wouldn't Piss On You If You Were On Fire', for fuck's sake! That, coupled with the scene that greeted me upon arrival at the Mad Ferrett , filled me with profound dread (to be honest, the names of both the club and the band didn't help much, either...), and that familiar sinking feeling you get when you're about to have a crap night, and are unable to stop it. I hate stuff like this. Why am I here? This is going to be awful.

How wrong I was.

The Shoks shuffle onto the stage to ragged cheers from the assembled 'lads', check their instruments and murmur a perfunctory greeting. They then launch into one of the most exciting shows I've seen for quite some time. It's not that they leap around the stage like mad men, because they don't. In fact, they hardly move at all. And it's not that they are musically deft, original, or even particularly creative, because they really, really aren't. What they are is bloody powerful. That's really the only adequate way to describe them. Sound familiar? It should, because watching The Shoks, you could be forgiven for thinking that you're watching Oasis in the very early stages of their career. Their music is bludgeon – punky blues-tinged rock, delivered at blistering volume and with a snarling, ferocious intensity that exudes menace. It's like being mugged. Don't get me wrong, when they miss, they miss by miles – but when they hit, they practically take your head off. Yes, the singer delivers his vocal in a kind of 'Diet Gallagher' sneer which occasionally grates, and the guitarist has a mastery of his craft which might generously be described as 'rudimentary' – however, the rhythm section of drummer and bassist are excellent, tight, brutal, and in all honesty, the driving force behind much of the material. They say a band is only as good as its foundations, and the old cliché is proven beyond a shadow of a doubt on this showing. The Shoks close their set with a song called 'Who R Ya' (seriously) – it's their anthem and clearly the song that the assembled cast of 'Shameless' came to see. They go bananas. In an instant, bodies are flying around the tiny dance-floor, glasses smash and young men sing a terrace refrain to the merciless back-beat. The aggression is seductive, an exhilarating experience.

The Rise and Fall of Factory Records

'“It was a nightmare”, sighs Wilson. What, I ask, is your biggest regret about it all?

He thinks for a moment. “I wish I'd gone to Barbados.”'

Tony Wilson on Factory Records (qtd. in O'Hagan)

'Factory' is a name well-known to fans of indie/alternative music across Britain, and perhaps even the world. In its relatively short life-span, Factory Records was responsible for the introduction of some of the most influential underground artists in British pop history, bands and individuals whose names continue to reverberate down the years, and whose influence can still be felt very keenly today. Not only that, but Factory can also be credited with playing significant roles in the development of both a bold design strategy, and an innovative style of musical production which became central to the image and aesthetic of a genre which was to become known as 'post-punk'.

This essay is an attempt to condense the sprawling, sometimes bewildering narrative of Factory Records into something of a brief history - from Genesis to Revelation. From rise, to fall.

Tony Wilson will feature heavily in this story. He isn't the story; many people's efforts combined to make Factory what it was. They played a part in its success, and they played a part in its subsequent failure, but Anthony H. Wilson (as he often liked to style himself, in his words: 'to wind up all the people in Manchester who think I'm a flash twat.' (O'Hagan) ) is, however, central to the story. The glue that holds it together - at least, this version of it. It was local Manchester TV personality Wilson who, together with his partner, out-of-work actor Alan Erasmus, was one of the founding members of the organisation that later became the fledgling Factory Records imprint, a company which was 'launched with the last of Wilson's savings' (O' Hagan).

Tony Wilson came from humble Irish Catholic beginnings in Salford, Greater Manchester. The young Wilson was a folk music enthusiast from an early age, and took lessons in folk guitar, though he claims that 'as a very young man, aged perhaps 11, that I couldn't sing... but I was so in love with the world of rock 'n' roll. So I found myself as a journalist, at Granada.' (Kennedy 34) The garrulous young Cambridge graduate started out as a TV producer before moving onto local news and topical programming such as 'World in Action', eventually managing to secure a late-night slot of his own for a music and arts program entitled 'So It Goes'.

Widely considered as the 'the first television program to champion new wave' (Harron), 'So It Goes' became the venue for The Sex Pistols first television appearance, after Tony Wilson was greatly impressed whilst seeing them perform at one of their now-mythical dates at Manchester's Lesser Free Trade Hall in June of 1976. Other new emerging talents such as Elvis Costello appeared on 'So It Goes', though the show was cancelled after only two series, as it was not generally well-received. The show did, however, create a profile for Wilson as a local 'face' on Manchester's underground music scene, and left him convinced of his ability and talent for spotting exciting new pop contenders, and this led to the creation of the first Factory club night at the Russell Club in Hulme, Manchester.

The Factory nights were significant for a number of reasons, chief amongst them the graphic design of the posters, which was designed by the now-iconic Peter Saville. Saville's stark, modernist artwork became synonymous with the Factory 'brand', it's neo-industrial feel perfectly complimenting both the name of the company and it's 'brave new world' ethos. The first Saville posters for Factory are also significant because they where the first vehicle for another marketing method intimately associated with the label – the 'FAC' numbers. These were the catalogue numbers assigned to label releases, a practice typical of record companies the world over; ' aside from records and VHS videos, the [Factory] catalogue included... lawsuits, dental records, model kits, badges, hair salons, bars and even a cat (resident at the Hacienda night club, FAC 191) (Kennedy 39). It was an interesting quirk, something to set the fledgling label apart. It would also prove to have the added benefit of making not only Factory music releases, but also Factory merchandise, eminently collectable.

Both Tony Wilson's TV show, and bookings for his and Erasmus' Factory night, brought the pair into contact with local punk label Rabid Records, and more importantly, producer Martin 'Zero' Hannett. Hannett had worked on releases for Rabid by the likes of Jilted John, Slaughter and the Dogs, and John Cooper Clarke. He was a respected figure on the local scene, where he was widely considered a talented, if unconventional producer. Another figure on the periphery of Rabid was Rob Gretton, manager of the aforementioned Joy Division. Gretton, together with Hannett (who was poached from his role as in-house producer at Rabid Records) and Saville, would eventually join forces with Tony Wilson and Alan Erasmus to create Factory Records in late 1978.

The first Factory record release was a label sampler album, A Factory Sample, which contained some of the earliest recorded music of Joy Division, as well as tracks by The Durutti Column (who were managed at this time by Tony Wilson himself) and Cabaret Voltaire. The financial arrangements were unconventional – 'there were no contracts for the acts on the record, nor anything so complex as a royalty rate. Instead Wilson had vowed that all the bands on the label would split profits equally with it, and that they were under no pressure to stay in his stable of artists' (Kennedy (37). Though this ethos undoubtedly endeared the new label to a local music scene still in thrall to the philosophy of punk 'movement', this level of financial irregularity later became endemic within the structure of the company, turning from eccentricity to plain mismanagement. It eventually proved fatal to the label.

A Factory Sample was the springboard for the careers of several acts on Factory, and Joy Division's Unknown Pleasures became the first LP released by the label, to critical acclaim. This was followed by Closer in 1980, prior to which, Joy Division's effective recording career was cut short by the suicide of lead vocalist Ian Curtis. Closer is widely considered to be Joy Division's master-work, and the posthumously-released single 'Love Will Tear Us Apart' is a regular fixture in 'Greatest Singles'-type lists. The band have a reach of influence which far excels the popularity they enjoyed during their short career.

Other releases followed A Factory Sample, with The Durutti Column, Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark, and A Certain Ratio variously releasing singles and LPs on Factory throughout the early 1980s, but it was New Order, the group that rose from the ashes of Joy Division, who became the label's most bankable artist for much of the decade. The group started out with a clutch of singles, culminating in 1981's Movement, a moderately successful LP which allowed them a solid platform upon which to build a career. Indeed, such was the band's and the label's success, that the two parties embarked upon upon a financial venture together that 'that helped put the city on the late-twentieth-century pop-cultural map' (O'Hagan), and that almost bankrupted Factory and New Order: The Haçienda nightclub.

The Haçienda, 'one of the most influential night-clubs in the world' (Robb), opened its doors in the summer of 1982 and immediately began making huge financial losses. The interior design (though widely trumpeted) was too expensive, and the drinks were too cheap. New Order found that keeping the club open was costing them a great deal of money per month, and only the release of the seminal club hit, 'Blue Monday' (which became the top-selling 12” in UK history) saved the band from complete financial ruin. That said, more expensive design decisions meant that they actually lost money on each copy sold, and in light of this seeming financial incompetence on the part Factory in general, and Wilson in particular, it is perhaps no surprise that New Order went on to leave the label after a lengthy legal dispute. With the emergence of 'acid house' and guitar music sympathetic to the genre such as Factory band Happy Mondays, the Haçienda went on to become a financial success (by Factory's standards), and a huge part of Britain's youth consciousness as the 80s gave way to the 90s. The club is still spoken about in hushed tones by those who were there to experience it in its heyday.

Things began to go awry in the early 90s, with leading artists (such as New Order and the Durutti Column) all but defunct, or else making huge financial losses (Happy Mondays, New Order again). In particular, the death of Martin Hannett in 1991 had been a huge blow, as the visionary producer had been at the vanguard of the most creative and critically successful periods of Factory's history. Hannett's problems with drink and drugs finally took its toll, and his loss was keenly felt by all at the label, particularly Tony Wilson.

The Factory Records story really ends in November 1992, when the company filed for bankruptcy with debts of 'more than £2 million'. One potential contributing factor was the fact that the label had few assets in terms of its roster, as some its most commercially successful acts were not properly under contract with the company and owned all publishing and copyright in their own material. This left artists such as New Order and Happy Mondays free to jump ship to London Records, a record company which considered buying out Factory before realising that, in effect, it didn't need to. At the insistence of New Order and their management, Tony Wilson was retained 'to handle key aspects of their career' (Sutcliffe), but though they still used the Factory moniker as a totem, in reality the company was no more.

Tony Wilson died of a heart attack on the 10^th of August 2007, after a short battle with cancer. He left behind a potent legend, the veracity of which is mostly dubious.

Bibliography

Books

Kennedy, J. 2006. Joy Division and the Making of Unknown Pleasures. London. Unanimous Ltd.

Sharp, C. 2007. Who Killed Martin Hannett? London. Aurum.

Articles

Dalton, S. 2002. 'Factory Records and 24 Hour Party People'. Uncut, April.

Harron, M. 1979. 'Factory Records: Food For Thought'. Melody Maker, 29^th September.

O'Hagan, S. 2002. 'It Was The Best Party...Ever'. The Observer, 3^rd March.

Robb, J. 1992. 'The Haçienda: Club It To Death'. Siren, May.

Sutcliffe, P. 1993. 'Factory Records: Haçienda That?'. Q, February.

Selling The Dream, Or Monetising Hope?: Britain's 'Unsigned' Music Industry

'Thanks for buying this book; if you're the kind of person I imagine you to be, you picked it up because you dream of playing at Wembley Stadium one day. I also reckon you're smart enough to realise you won't find any guarantee of superstardom printed on the pages inside...' (Smith 3)

Stuart James Smith, Author of How To Make It In Music

It is almost impossible to estimate the number of musical artists without a recording contract, (or, to use the standard term, 'unsigned' artists) currently active in the United Kingdom today. In hundreds of venues up and down the country, on any given night, you will find bands struggling to make it to 'square one'; that often all-too-elusive first step in an artist's career in the music industry: A recording contract. This is very much an industry in its own right, as promoters vie with their local competitors for a share of the gig-going populace and their disposable income, whilst collectives and other organisations produce material and offer advisory services geared towards aiding struggling bands. In addition to this, there are an array of on-line resources trumpeting their ability to help emerging artists break into a career in music, as well as competitions offering new bands the chance at playing international festivals, securing airtime on TV or radio, studio time – even recording contracts or development deals in some cases. One thing most, if not all, of these services have in common is the fact that they have managed to monetise their activities in some way. They provide goods and services for which they expect to be paid, and they have found unsigned artists and amateur musicians more than willing to part with their money for a shot at 'the big time'.

This essay will examine the various aspects of the unsigned industry, focusing on two of the most important arenas in which it operates and discussing some of the ways in which they do business. As part of this process, we will look at specific examples of unsigned music businesses, what they claim to offer to the emerging artist and how they profit from these offerings. Another important consideration is perhaps the nature of the 'producer-consumer' relationships at the heart of the different aspects of this hitherto-understudied 'shadow industry'; who is selling what to whom, for what reason, and to what end? Who benefits most from the business of these organisations, ostensibly devoted to aiding the emergence of fresh musical talent in the United Kingdom? To close, I will attempt to pinpoint two areas for further research, in the attempt to answer an important question which arises from study of this industry: Is the unsigned music business 'selling the dream' or merely monetising hope?

Print Media

Print media play an important role in the unsigned industry, whether in the form of self-help guides, underground fanzines or directories of useful information and contacts. The latter of these, the directories, in particular present themselves as invaluable resources for new artists looking to make it in the industry. They typically contain listings for venue promoters, record companies, radio stations, magazines for review submission, management companies and so on. Many of the more comprehensive directories list peripheral concerns, such as rehearsal space hire, instrument retailers, advisory services and legal advice. In the United Kingdom, mcr:music's The Unsigned Guide is generally seen as the industry standard, containing an exhaustive list of contacts for anything from major record labels to PR and publishing companies, in their words, 'researching the areas of the music industry which we feel are of particular use and interest to unsigned and emerging talent...'(Ed. Dodgson 6). The publication, which launched in 2003, has fairly humble origins, starting life as a photocopied list of contacts useful to artists that had not yet secured representation. This was distributed by Unsigned Guide publishers Stef Loukes and Lee Donnelly, then in charge of the day-to-day management of the rehearsal space attached to Manchester's Boardwalk club. Coming into regular contact with unsigned artists as a result of their occupation, Donnelly and Loukes often received enquiries for information about local and out-of-town promoters and labels from the bands who frequented their rehearsal rooms, and, as Loukes recalls ' as time went on, bands would come to us to see if we had an updated list or any more contacts we could put them in touch with' (Dodgson). Sensing a prospective business opportunity, the pair began development of the initial Unsigned Guide, a process which took around 4 years, and which was aided by a small team of volunteers, as well as assistance from the Musicians Union. At first, the early editions of the book only covered the North-West of England, followed in 2005 by a book dedicated to London and its surrounding areas. In 2006 an edition encompassing the whole of the United Kingdom was released, a format which persists today. New editions are released roughly every fifteen months, and at the time of writing in 2011, The Unsigned Guide is currently in its fourth UK edition.

Though the guide offers a range of useful hints and advice on pursuing a career in pop, indeed, claiming to shine 'a guiding light over the music industry'(Dodgson), much of that information can actually be sourced on-line free-of-charge. No, the thing that gives the publication the majority of its value is its exhaustive contact list, as Loukes admits: 'The unique selling point in our eyes was always the information in the contact listings... The aim was always to take the legwork out of the music industry for bands' (Dodgson). This is potentially problematic as, given the vicissitudes of grass-roots concert promotion and independent record companies in the UK, turnover in this field is often exceptionally high. A small local gig promotion company may conceivably find itself considered for inclusion in the guide, only to go out of business by the time the book goes to print, thereby rendering the relevant contact information contained therein obsolete. In addition to this, live music venues of the type suitable for emerging bands to secure gigs at are opening and closing with increasing rapidity up and down the country, with several venues administered by the Barfly live music venue chain closing at relatively short notice, and even iconic clubs such as London's 100 Club 'facing the threat of closure' (Unknown(ii)). This potential obsolescence of contact information takes on greater importance when one considers the cost of purchasing a copy of The Unsigned Guide - £36.99. The retail price is fairly reasonable for a hefty 864-page book of music industry contacts, but when one considers that the 'Yellow Pages' nature of the information on offer leads to 'in-built' obsolescence after a relatively short period of time, and that this means that one's copy of The Unsigned Guide will need to be replaced with each subsequent edition in order for the information to remain relatively up-to-date, it could be argued that it is perhaps a little expensive for the musician struggling to make ends meet.

Live Performance

Another vital aspect of the unsigned industry in Britain today is the 'thriving' (Smith 13) amateur gig circuit. Comprising hundreds of venues and a myriad of independent promoters in addition to several medium-sized promotion companies and venue chains, the unsigned band scene is, in essence, the life-blood of the industry. The overwhelming majority of emerging artists get valuable experience playing in front of audiences in venues ranging in size from pub back rooms, to larger venues able to hold several hundred people, every act carefully honing their craft in the hope of being spotted by the 'right people', and taking steps to build the beginnings of a small fan-base.

As with any entertainment venture, this has been monetised to a great extent; bodies through the door mean drinks sales for the venue, ticket sales and entry fees for the promoter (who, if they are separate from the venue ownership, will have to pay them for the hire of the room), and if the musicians are lucky, payment for the services of the artists on show. One important consideration when discussing this system of operation is the concept of 'pay-to-play; with unsigned concert promoters often receiving 'hundreds of emails from bands every week' (Smith 14), competition for slots on club-nights catering to unsigned bands and artists can be fierce, and the quality of the acts an unknown quantity. Many promoters try to insulate themselves against potential financial risk by making any booking contingent upon the ability of the band in question to sell a set number of tickets in advance, usually around 30-50 tickets at £5 or more. However, this brings with it certain potential problems, particularly in the area of credibility, as Cath Aubergine, one of Manchester's most influential online journalists points out:

'These nights are not about music, they're not for music fans, they're solely about making money for so-called promoters. It's the musical equivalent of vanity publishing; nobody will be there apart from your friends and family and those of the other bands on the bill who may not even have much in common with you, and it won't get you your big break. Most influential people in the music scene don't go near these nights, and just having your name on their listings sends out the message that you're not good enough - or not prepared to put in the effort - to get a proper gig.' (qtd. In Jones)

Another way in which the unsigned industry manifests itself in the UK's amateur live music scene is in the phenomenon of 'Battle of the Bands'-style competitions. These types of operation range from the small independent local 'one-off' competitive live music events, to lucrative multi-tiered extravaganzas, usually consisting of a set of local heats, followed by local, regional, national and in some cases international finals. This concept too, is not without controversy, as the case of Surface Unsigned shows.

Surface Unsigned was a large national 'battle-of-the-bands' competition which attracted criticism about a perceived lack of transparency, and that it was solely motivated by the desire to profit from its entrants, primarily young unsigned musicians. This was pointed out by blogger Danny Smith in the local arts scene blog www.createdinbirmingham.com, in which Smith pointed out the various perceived shortcomings of the Surface Unsigned Festival modus operandi. Smith noted that 'Surface don't really do any promotion, that they leave to the bands to do themselves, expecting each band to sell 25 tickets each' (Smith, D.), and opined that the venue was far from full as a result. He also went on to publish the details of a contract which all competition entrants are obliged to sign, which seemed to suggest that all bands entering must sell at least 25 tickets, and that if they don't they will not be allowed to progress no matter how many text votes (priced at £1 plus usual network rate) they received from the audience. On the subject of telephone text voting, Surface has this to say:

'The text vote was set up for fans who cannot make it to your gig(s) but still want to show their support for your band. When bands and artists get as far as the Regional and National Showcases, the venue capacity makes it impossible to keep an accurate track on audience votes. With the text vote the public can still contribute.'

(Source: http://www.surfacefestival.com/faqs.html)

According to Smith, the net result of all of this is that bands are circumstantially forced to pay for unsold tickets themselves if they want to succeed in the competition, a situation which leads to potentially great profits for Surface, as Danny Smith notes:

'...You... only get the money back from tickets sales if you sell all 25 which is even then only a pound a ticket. So for 25 £6 tickets, the bands get £25 and Surface gets £125 now there are a minimum of six bands at each gig so that means each gig they get a minimum of £750... now the first round of the Birmingham heats there are 38 gigs (sic), which adds up too £28,500!' (Smith, D.)

Danny Smith was promptly contacted by Surface's legal representation with a threat of civil action if he did not withdraw the contract excerpt he posted, citing breach of copyright as the grounds. However, this episode, and the controversy surrounding it (Surface found themselves subject to 'the Streisand Effect' (Arthur), as bloggers across the country decided to repost the excerpt in protest against the organisation's handling of the affair), seem to have affected the way that the newly-rebranded 'Surface Festival' currently do business. On their company website, Surface go to great pains to make the competition entrance process as transparent as possible, giving full details of ticket prices and artist gate share, how the text voting system works, also detailing the process by which artists must make a cash deposit in order to secure their place in the competition:

'At your meeting for the Festival there will be a one-off deposit of £50 per band in order to secure your first gig slot. Only bands and artists that get booked onto the Festival pay the deposit. You will receive the full deposit back on the day of your first gig if you sell 25 tickets. If you do not sell 25 tickets you can still play, there is no minimum amount of tickets you have to sell. Experience has shown that if we do not charge a deposit some bands and artists will drop out on the day of their gig, leaving us with an empty slot which could have been given to another band.' (Source: http://www.surfacefestival.com/faqs.html)

In addition to this, they address the issue of bands being compelled to purchase unsold tickets:

'Surface Festival will never ask bands and artists to pay for tickets in advance nor will you have to pay for any unsold tickets. Simply give any unsold tickets back to your area manager on the day of your gig.'

(Source: http://www.surfacefestival.com/faqs.html)

Whether or not artists must still sell a minimum number of tickets to progress further in the competition is unclear.

Further Research

This essay was an attempt to introduce the unsigned music industry in the UK. Of course, it is by no means an exhaustive examination; indeed, an acute lack of data makes such a task undoubtedly more arduous than would be the case with it's larger, more powerful, and less 'distributed' (i.e. more concentrated and centralised) parent industry, the record business. It is relatively simple to source record sales figures for a given year, or gate receipts for tours by notable artists. Perhaps this is due, in part, to the fact that many major record labels are publicly-listed companies, and as such are subject to greater stringencies in the area of transparency. The same can not be said of companies such as Surface Festival, which hosts very little company information on its web-page; no lists of directors, no sales figures – not even a company history. One possible area for future research might try to address this issue by attempting to source this kind of information, data which would form the bedrock of any serious study of the unsigned industry. It may be useful (though difficult) to compile attendance numbers and amounts of revenue generated by the unsigned band circuit in the United Kingdom, and sales figures of print resources such as The Unsigned Guide. Roughly, how much is the unsigned industry in this country worth? The honest answer is that we currently have no idea, and in truth, such a figure should be a starting point to work from before attempting to unpack the other myriad issues surrounding the industry.

Another area for research which unfortunately was beyond the scope of this short piece of writing, and which would likely prove invaluable, is an examination of online resources available to emerging artists, and the way in which they have monetised. The internet is an indispensable tool for musicians looking to promote their music; free social networking sites such as Myspace, Facebook and Twitter have become the first port-of-call for bands looking to expand their fan-base, but there are also organisations that benefit financially from assisting new artists in their attempts to break into the recording industry. One could examine the ways in which they profit from their activities, and how they aid the artists in question. It would also be worth looking into the practices of music download/streaming sites such as Apple's iTunes, Napster and Spotify, determining what (if anything) they charge for hosting and selling music, and whether this affects equality of access for artists not secured to a record label. There are also online publishing companies such as Sentric Music (www.sentricmusic.com) who collect PRS and MCPS royalties on behalf on unsigned acts, in addition to providing their stable of artists with synchronisation opportunities. Sentric is free to join, but it seems unlikely that they would offer such a service out of the goodness of their hearts alone. The unsigned industry, like any other industry, is based upon profit – however, the exact nature of how, and how much, individual organisations profit still remains in the shadows. Perhaps it is time to thrust the unsigned music industry into the light and discover, once and for all, whether it truly is 'selling the dream' or merely monetising hope.

List of References

Books

Ed. Smith, S. J. 2008. How to Make it in Music. London. Dennis Publishing.

Ed. Dodgson, L. 2010. The Unsigned Guide: UK Edition Four. Manchester. mcr:music Ltd.

Periodicals

Arthur, C. 2009. 'The Streisand Effect: Secrecy in the Digital Age'. The Guardian. 19^th March, pp. 6

On-Line Resources

Author Unknown (i). Surface Festival FAQs. Available at: http://www.surfacefestival.com/faqs.html (Accessed on April 25^th 2011)

Author Unknown (ii). Legendary Punk Venue 100 Club Facing Closure. Available at:

http://www.nme.com/news/oasis/53128 (Accessed on April 25^th 2011)

Dodgson, L. Life Before the Unsigned Guide. Available at: http://www.theunsignedguide.com/blog/5/life-before-the-unsigned-guide/

(Accessed on: April 25^th 2011)

Jones, M. Q&A: Cath Aubergine, ManchesterMusic.co.uk. Available at:

http://www.theunsignedguide.com/blog/74/qa-cath-aubergine-manchestermusiccouk-/

(Accessed on: April 25^th 2011)

Smith, D. Surface Unsigned. Available at: http://www.createdinbirmingham.com/2008/03/18/surface-unsigned/

(Accessed on: April 25^th 2011)

Websites

http://www.sentricmusic.com (Accessed on April 25^th 2011)

ALBUM REVIEW///

Poomse

☼☼☼☼

Tomorrow Will Come And It Will Be Fine

Outside of the stereotypical 'Club 18-30' lager-soaked holiday hooligan millieu, the Balearic islands are known for their soporific charm and sunny disposition; ask a Catalan how they are, and the most likely answer one will receive is the ubiquitous 'tranquilo'. 'Peaceful'. It is then, perhaps, no mere coincidence that this, the first long-play offering from Mallorcan native sons Poomse, positively radiates Balearic idyll. Nowhere is this more evident than on second track 'Anhedonia', an exquisitely-crafted slice of psychedelic slacker-pop in the mould of American indie heroes Flaming Lips, whose 'Do You Realize?' it bears a passing resemblance to. Blissed-out and Beatles-esque, this song encapsulates the Poomse 'sound' better than any other, it's laconic groove and starry-eyed melancholia a perfect advert for the rest of the material contained herein. Singer and songwriter Lorenç Rossello delivers his songs in a warm hispanic drawl which creates an atmosphere of fragility and naiveté, almost putting one in mind of Bjork and the affecting feel of her halting English, though it must be pointed out that Rossello's command of the language is largely flawless here. Rossello's plaintive delivery and the warmly sentimental (though never cloying) nature of his song-writing give Tomorrow Will Come... much of its charm, but another key component of the album is the sheer creativity brought to bear on some of the arrangements, which border on the fearless. Several tracks are positively labyrinthine, leaving the traditional 'verse, chorus, verse' pop structure in the dust, instead typically focussing on structures which more closely resemble a 'beginning, middle, end' narrative form; one section opens the piece which then meanders off on a seeming tangent, until the final section brings proceedings to close. When it works (which is, in fairness, often) the results are magnificent; on the rare occasions that it doesn't, the listener may be left feeling a little lost, though may permit him/herself a sly chuckle at the bare-faced effrontery of it all. It is telling that the more concise pieces such as the aforementioned 'Anhedonia' and the achingly tender 'The Lost Years' are the most immediately memorable of those on offer here, but some of the more challenging pieces reward repeated listens, such as in the case of the sandblasted desert mania of 'Dillanesca' or the woozy (think: 'drunk trying to find the right key to his front-door') 'Mathematic Light'. There is much for the patient listener to uncover. With that in mind, it's worth pointing out that this is in no way a 'Saturday night' record. What it is, is a perfect Sunday morning come-down record, trippy without being hectic. Analgesic. And, in fact, an excellent debut album from a band who clearly have a lot to offer. On this evidence, Poomse deserve a much wider audience – whether they will achieve it or not is debatable. But perhaps that's as it should be. A comforting secret, best enjoyed the morning after a heartbreak the night before.

'Mr Fahrenheit': Reading Freddie Mercury

'I know that all through his life Fred didn't think that whether he was gay or not was important...He loved music, he loved his work, and he didn't want anything to get in the way.'

Brian May (qtd. In Luersson)

Every pop-star is a 'text', a created cultural item made up of a series of gestures and symbols, all of which carry various connotations. This creation is not necessarily a conscious process; a 'star text' can be sometimes created via means of sub-conscious reaction to societal and cultural norms, either adopting a stance of opposition to them, or else acceptance and adherence. The public persona (or personae) of a recording artist can be utilised to target discrete generic groups; 'different genres of music have become associated with and signify different images, which in turn connote particular attitudes, values and beliefs' (Negus 66). Certain behaviours, modes of dress, speech or demeanour help to delineate particular audiences, yes, and this is an extremely useful commercial marketing tool, but in some cases it is also a form of artistic expression, a mask worn, a persona performed. Some artists' public personae can differ wildly from their private personalities; there is also a great deal of difficulty in determining where the mask ends and where the person begins. There are even some recording artists who change their names, adopting characters which allow them the freedom to project whatever public image they see fit. These artists are, in effect, a store of symbols, a text which can be consumed and interpreted in various different ways, and it is this that I will examine here.

In this essay, I will discuss the public persona of one Farrokh Bulsara, also known as Freddie Mercury, lead vocalist with British rock band Queen. I will focus on Mercury's portrayal of sexuality in his public life and performance, and the differing ways in which this portrayal can be read. I want to look at why there was such confusion surrounding his sexuality in the 1970s and 1980s, and the part his various outward symbolic gestures played in that.

It seems difficult to believe now, but once upon a time, people were unaware of Freddie Mercury's sexuality. To modern eyes, his demeanour, dress, behaviour and performance style would seem to be virtuoso performances in 'high camp'. What makes such gestures difficult to read? What causes this confusion? The outward symbolic behavioural gesture often has an indexical relationship to that which is being symbolised; for example, the offer of a hand-shake to symbolise welcome, or fellowship. However, as is the case with many forms of cultural expression, this relationship is entirely arbitrary; it is agreed upon within the parent culture. A hand, held out, is simply a hand if one is not in possession of the necessary cultural competency needed to decode the gesture. The same ideas can be applied to seemingly more abstract signifiers; a moustache is rarely 'just a moustache'. Much depends on the context in which it is worn, who it is worn by and for what ostensible purpose.

This creation, transmission, reception and decoding is a form of 'semiosis'; 'the actions and processes by which signs are constructed and transformed' (Tagg 6). This is a theoretically complex model used to explain something which we see as simple, something we almost take for granted: the construction and transmission of meaning. Think of it this way – you have a message you want to send (consciously or not), you transmit that message via means of a medium (in this sense used to mean any mediating factor in the transmission of meaning, artificial or organic), be it speech, dress, or behaviour. This message is received by the receiver, but during the process of transmission it is subject to cultural 'interference'; the receiver may not be familiar with the symbols that you are using to transmit your message. They may be a member of a different cultural group, of which you are not a member, and the symbol might mean something completely different to them. In this way, signifiers can be 'polysemic, 'signifying many things at the same time' (Tagg 7). It is this polysemy which causes confusion and difficulty in the reading of Freddie Mercury as a 'star text'.

I would like to examine some key components of Freddie Mercury's outward persona and discuss their polysemic natures. I would like to make it clear that, in this essay, when I refer to 'Freddie Mercury' it is as the performative persona, the character; by the same token I will refer to the artist himself, the man, as Farrokh Bulsara for ease of distinction.

Killer/Queen

Mercury was flamboyant, there can be no secret about that. After all, how could there be? His on-stage antics were theatrical, 'over-the-top' – outrageous even. He was no stranger to lycra jump-suits, PVC biker outfits – even going so far as to close concert shows by parading out onto the stage in an ermine cape and jewelled crown to the strains of 'God Save The Queen' reworked on electric guitar by Queen lead guitarist Brian May. Mercury was a lover of opera, and the operatic aesthetic. This manifested itself in his song-writing, but also his personal bearing on-stage, his every gesture and raised eyebrow exaggerated so that no-one could miss a single move he made. He almost over-enunciated every word he uttered in between songs, using perfect 'cut-glass' English (no doubt a result of his studies at an exclusive English school whilst living in India), creating what, for the time, was an anachronistic-sounding verbal style which recalled music-hall performance, Noel Coward and perhaps even the work of Oscar Wilde. In addition, there was always something of the 'dandy' about Freddie Mercury in the performance style, and in his 'private' life as a performer. I use parentheses here because the 'private' life of Freddie Mercury, chameleonic pop-star, is a completely different consideration to the (actually) private life of Farrokh Bulsara, British-Asian, bisexual recording artist and former art-student. Farrokh Bulsara was, by all accounts, a very sensitive, private individual, a man who became increasingly reluctant to give personal interviews as his life drew to a close. Indeed, he continued to deny that he was HIV positive right up until the day before his death from AIDS on the 24^th of November 1991. Yet, when he was being Freddie, which included any and every time he was out in public, he was the life and soul of the party, sexually aggressive, mischievous, puckish and pugnacious. He was every inch the 'diva of rock and roll' (Freestone 82). He wore ostentatious clothing and make-up for most of his life and had a love of glamour which probably dated back to his pre-Queen days selling second-clothes on London's Kensington Market in the late '60s. Even back then, he was identified as being someone who already looked like a rock-star, even before he was famous, as his former personal assistant and biographer Peter Freestone attests:

'Freddie's charisma took over the place he occupied...Freddie ensconced in his seat with his long black hair and dressed in the short fox-fur jacket really turned heads.' (Freestone 15)

He was gay, in other words. He was, at least, definitely bisexual, having had numerous relationships with both men and women. But without any intimate knowledge of Bulsara's life, how do we conclude this from the outward behaviour and mannerisms of Freddy Mercury? Is it because 'homosexuals are simply supposed to be histrionic, flamboyant' (Sinfield 43)? This is problematic, not least because, plainly, not all gay men are flamboyant. There is a certain amount of association of 'dandyism' with 'camp', and of 'camp' with 'gay' in the popular consciousness, yet in the 1970s hard-rock scene, such androgyny, 'irresponsible wit, affectation and high spirits' (Sinfield 52) was common, de rigueur, perhaps. Even such supposed paragons of heterosexual male virility as Robert Plant could be seen bare-chested and bejewelled, in skin-tight trousers, capering limp-wristedly to the monolithic sounds of Led Zeppelin. Long hair, for example, was not always seen as a symbol of untamed masculinity, and was interpreted as 'gay' in the earlier days of rock and roll. The aspects of Freddie Mercury's personality and performance style which could have been read as displaying homosexual indicators were also present in the personae of other leading performers of the time; 'his campy (sic) demeanor and flashy outfits did not seem to raise many eyebrows. "Ambiguous sexuality was par for the course then," recalled one former band-mate.' (Highleyman) Even Brian May, Queen's guitarist, and arguably Mercury's closest working colleague, claims to have been unaware that the lead vocalist in the band was interested in men:

'No, I didn't know. I don't think even he was fully cognizant in the beginning," May told British newspaper The Daily Express. "You're talking to someone who shared rooms with Fred on the first couple of tours, so I knew him pretty well...I knew a lot of his girlfriends and he certainly didn't have boyfriends, that's for sure...I think there was a slight suspicion, but it never occurred to me that he was gay.' (qtd. In Luerssen)

There was an abundance of camp connotations not just in the personal text, but also in the musical texts that Freddie Mercury created. A lover of innuendo (to the extend that he named an album after it), it has been suggested that Mercury very often performed gender substitutions on the subjects of his songs, one notable example being promoter Eric Hall's claim that an infatuated Freddy Mercury wrote 'Killer Queen' (1974) about him. Mercury, however, claimed that:

'It's about a high class call girl. I'm trying to say that classy people can be whores as well. That's what the song is about, though I'd prefer people to put their interpretation upon it – to read into it what they like.'

(qtd in www.queenarchives.com)

And of course, they did. The song can either be read as a self-portrait or as a paean to another gay man ('queen' being a gay slang term used to refer to effeminate gay men). However, many people readily accepted the explicit meaning of the text, either having no knowledge or interest in gay culture, or else being unwilling to acknowledge the possibility of such implications within the text. A slightly more problematic text in this regard would be 'Don't Stop Me Now', taken from the 1978's Jazz album, which is fairly widely considered to contain references to gay sex. The song itself certainly presents a strong likelihood that sexual activity is the main topic of discussion, with lines such as 'I'm a sex-machine ready to reload, like an atom-bomb about to oh-oh-oh-oh EXPLODE!' leaving the listener in little doubt as to the implicit meaning. That this is coupled with 'I wanna make a supersonic man out of you' presents the possibility that the object of Mercury's amorousness is, in fact, a man. Or woman. In 'Don't Stop Me Now' the same line is repeated in the song several times, twice using the word 'man', and once with the word 'woman'.

Another aspect of Freddie Mercury's character is that of machismo. He exuded the air of the strutting peacock onstage, and many of his performative gestures were implicitly aggressive or phallo-centric; for example, punching the air to punctuate certain passages of songs, or his use of his specially modified microphone stand as a surrogate penis, alternately fondled, stroked, or else thrust at the audience emphatically. This all combined to create an image of sexual power and bravado, of 'hyper-masculinity'. As the 1970s gave way to the 1980s, Mercury appropriated a sartorial style which was, at the time, en vogue throughout the American gay clubs of New York City and San Francisco: The 'Clone' look. He began to crop his hair short and took to wearing a moustache, as was the 'clone' style, so called because the rugged, hyper-masculine, working class-aesthetic took on an aspect of uniformity as the fashion spread. Another related stylistic characteristic was a particular style of dress, tight denim jeans and tight t-shirts or muscle-vests, which Freddy can be seen wearing in Queen's famous performance at Live Aid in 1985. It is, perhaps, unsurprising that people attempting to decode Mercury's outward gestural symbols would run into slight confusion, as regards Freddie Mercury's overtly masculine dress; the clone aesthetic was partly intended to make the subject look 'manly' – something which at that time was not traditionally associated with gay culture by a largely homophobic, or else homo-ignorant, mainstream culture. The wearer's outward sexuality was supposed to be ambiguous as a result of the clone 'look'. It was meant to look 'butch', which it did. It is only later, and with increased openness and acceptance of LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Trans-gender) culture that people began to decode 'butch' as gay.

In Conclusion

As we can see, ambiguity is key to the construction of Freddie Mercury's identity as a performer, and as a possibly bisexual man. Some cultural commentators suggest that this ambiguity is a firmly-embedded aspect of the wider gay identity, historically as a matter of necessity in the face of an world which did not tolerate homosexuality; 'The closet (as discreet homosexuality was named when it came under scrutiny in the 1960s) did not obscure homosexuality...it created it.' (Sinfield 48) The argument is that, for so long, it was not possible to 'come out of the closet', meaning that 'the closet' comes to define and shape gay experience and gay culture. Instead of being expressed, homosexuality was implied, through modes of speech and behavioural aesthetic. For the gay performer, 'homosexuality might emerge through the veil of discretion into misty visibility as the alternative that must, for the conventional... audience, be held at the boundary of thought.' (Sinfield 57) The emergence of Queen in the early 1970s meant that, despite greater visibility of androgyny in the hard rock scene of the time, Farrokh Bulsara would be targeting his band's music at a largely conventional rock audience. It would have been difficult for him to ascertain whether or not it was worth the risk of openly displaying his sexuality, even if, as noted earlier, he was aware of it. For Bulsara, the creation of Freddy Mercury provided a possibility to express himself and his sexuality, but to do so in such a way that it would not alienate the wider audience; for the public 'there is a frisson of naughtiness, but because it is only that, and is placed as that, the customary boundaries are confirmed.' (Sinfield 58) In a more modern context, it would, perhaps be easy to judge Farrokh Bulsara – in modern western culture 'being yourself' is everything. Anything else is seen as dishonest, or somehow inauthentic. But let us remember: Bulsara had no choice. He had to 'pass for' most of his adult life in order to succeed. Farrokh Bulsara was an Indian emigrè of Persian descent, and bisexual. He was an outsider. However, 'a feature of subordinated cultures often is inventiveness in negotiating the conditions of their subordination – it is forced upon them.' (Sinfield 60) In order to fulfil his destiny as one of the greatest rock stars in musical history, Farrokh Balsara had to wear that most elaborate of masks; the one which allowed him to both exhibit and obscure his true sexuality - Freddie Mercury.

Bibliography

Books

Freestone, P. 2001. Freddie Mercury. London. Omnibus.

Negus, K. 1992. Producing Pop: Culture and Conflict in the Popular Music Industry. London. Edward-Arnold.

Journals

Amico, S. 2001. ''I Want Muscles': House Music, Homosexuality and Masculine Signification'. Popular Music. Vol. 20: (3) Gender and Sexuality, pp.359-378

Glick, E. 2001. 'The Dialectics of Dandyism'. Cultural Critique. No. 48: (Spring), pp.129-163

Sinfield, A. 1991. 'Private Lives/Public Theatre: Noel Coward and the Politics of Homosexual Representation. Representations. No. 36:(Autumn), pp.43-63

Online Resources

Author Unknown. 1974. NME Archived Queen Interview. Available at:http://www.queenarchives.com/index.php?title=Freddie_Mercury_-_11-02-1974_-_NME

(Accessed on 7^th January 2011)

Highleyman, L. 2005. Who Was Freddie Mercury? Available at: http://www.gmax.co.za/think/history/2005/050905-freddymercury.html

(Accessed on 7^th January 2011)

Luerssen, J. D. 2008. Queen Guitarist Didn't Know Freddie Mercury Was Gay. Available at:

http://www.spinnermusic.co.uk/2008/12/22/queen-guitarist-didnt-know-freddie-mercury-was-gay/

(Accessed on 7^th January 2011)