Electro Swing: Resurrection, Recontextualisation, and Remix 2022046267, 2022046268, 9781032184296, 9781032184302, 9781003254485

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“In this important book, Inglis has documented a thorough exploration of the emergence of electro swing, a genre which often slips under the radar of scholarly discourse. Based on interviews with key stakeholders in the genre’s development, Inglis asks a number of important questions surrounding the resurrection, recontextulisation and appropriation of music. A must read.” Paul Carr, Professor of Popular Music Analysis, University of South Wales

Electro Swing

Electro swing is a relatively recent musical style and scene which combines the music of the swing era with that of the age of electronic dance music. Chris Inglis considers key questions about electro swing’s place in contemporary society, including what it may mean for a contemporary genre to be so reliant upon the influences of the past; the different ways in which jazz may be presented to a modern audience; how one may go about defining jazz in today’s postmodern world; and how this emergent genre may be analysed in terms of the wider issues of race and class consumption. Chris Inglis is a musicologist based in Cardiff, Wales, whose research primarily explores the emergence and development of the electro swing scene. In 2019, he received his doctorate from the University of South Wales. He is currently employed by the British and Irish Modern Music Institute in Bristol.

Ashgate Popular and Folk Music Series Series Editors: Lori Burns, Professor, University of Ottawa, Canada Justin Williams, Associate Professor of Music, University of Bristol, UK

Popular musicology embraces the field of musicological study that engages with popular forms of music, especially music associated with commerce, entertainment and leisure activities. The Ashgate Popular and Folk Music Series aims to present the best research in this field. Authors are concerned with criticism and analysis of the music itself, as well as locating musical practices, values and meanings in cultural context. The focus of the series is on popular music of the twentieth and twenty-​first centuries, with a remit to encompass the entirety of the world’s popular music. Critical and analytical tools employed in the study of popular music are being continually developed and refined in the twenty-​first century. Perspectives on the transcultural and intercultural uses of popular music have enriched understanding of social context, reception and subject position. Popular genres as distinct as reggae, township, bhangra and flamenco are features of a shrinking, transnational world. The series recognizes and addresses the emergence of mixed genres and new global fusions and utilizes a wide range of theoretical models drawn from anthropology, sociology, psychoanalysis, media studies, semiotics, postcolonial studies, feminism, gender studies and queer studies. Community-​Based Traditional Music in Scotland: A Pedagogy of Participation Josephine L. Miller Paul Weller and Popular Music: Identity, Idiolect and Image Andrew West Electro Swing: Resurrection, Recontextualisation, and Remix Chris Inglis Level Up: Live Performance and Creative Process in Grime Music Alex De Lacey For more information about this series, please visit: www.routle​dge.com/​ music/​ser​ies/​APFM

Electro Swing Resurrection, Recontextualisation, and Remix Chris Inglis

Cover image: © Charlie Davoine First published 2023 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2023 Chris Inglis The right of Chris Inglis to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-​in-​Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-​in-​Publication Data Names: Inglis, Chris, author. Title: Electro swing : resurrection, recontextualisation, and remix / Chris Inglis. Description: First edition. | New York, NY : Routledge, 2022. | Series: Ashgate popular and folk music | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2022046267 (print) | LCCN 2022046268 (ebook) | ISBN 9781032184296 (hardback) | ISBN 9781032184302 (paperback) | ISBN 9781003254485 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Electro swing (Music)–History and criticism. Classification: LCC ML3540.5 .I55 2022 (print) | LCC ML3540.5 (ebook) | DDC 781.648–dc23/eng/20221220 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022046267 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022046268 ISBN: 978-​1-​032-​18429-​6 (hbk) ISBN: 978-​1-​032-​18430-​2 (pbk) ISBN: 978-​1-​003-​25448-​5 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/​9781003254485 Typeset in Times New Roman by Newgen Publishing UK

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Contents

Introduction

1

1 Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative

13

2 Considering Measures of Authenticity

43

3 On Race and Nationality

82

4 On Class and the Art Spectrum

118

5 The Retrospective Tendencies of Music

155

Conclusion

184

References Index

187 206

Introduction

Despite being almost a quarter of the way through its duration, the 21st century still seems to be searching for its identity. This is in significant contrast to much of the preceding century, the popular music and culture of which comes off as so definitive in comparison. To take the 1950s for instance; when considering this era through the lens of popular culture, it is safe to assume that most in the West will immediately have the music of rock ‘n’ roll and the image of teddy boys spring to mind. The same goes for the psychedelia of the 1960s hippies or of the late 1970s punk movement. In contrast, since the turn of the century, popular culture has seemingly been defined by its patchwork appearance, a blended amalgamation of all that’s come before it. This isn’t to say that this era hasn’t produced any great art, but that much of what it has produced is very pointedly a response to and a reflection of something else. The music of the 21st century in particular is deeply imitative, of which performers and producers alike will proudly put their influences on display. And this is no more the case than in the musical phenomenon of electro swing. Electro swing –​as the name suggests –​presents a fusion of the music of the swing era, with that of the age of electronic dance music (EDM). Characterised by its upbeat and joyful nature, extensive use of vintage samples, and constant and overt references to the past –​whilst always placing its incentive to make people dance at the forefront –​the music has grown to become a dominating force across the underground dance circuit. As the genre has progressed, it has shown itself to hold an increasing influence upon the mainstream as well, with countless examples of prominent hit songs and trends displaying elements of the genre. Whilst originally developing across Europe –​primarily in countries such as France, Austria, and the UK –​the genre and resultant community that has emerged have expanded globally; and whilst electro swing does tend to resist stardom at least in the conventional sense (Inglis, 2021) –​artists such as Parov Stelar, Caravan Palace, and Caro Emerald have made considerable names for themselves. As I will go on to discuss, electro swing presents an important milestone in the lineage of jazz music, and throughout this book, discussions of jazz will play a major role when analysing the key components of the genre. From its early days as ragtime, having emerged out of the blues sound at the start of DOI: 10.4324/9781003254485-1

2 Introduction the 20th century –​through Dixieland, swing, bebop, free jazz, and beyond –​ jazz has remained a cornerstone of popular culture across the past 100 years. Electro swing, the latest in a long line of jazz fusion styles from the 1960s onwards, therefore carries many of the same aspects and continues many of the same trends that jazz has developed over the course of its lifespan. It is essential then to consider this genre within the context of its positioning both within and alongside jazz. And similarly, since the dawn of EDM –​arguably with the birth of disco in the mid-​1970s –​this other ingredient of electro swing has held onto a vital position within the popular music landscape. From the early experimentations of Kraftwerk in 1970s Düsseldorf, through the various American innovations of garage, house, and techno –​EDM has shown itself to be one of the most influential forces across the popular music climate, to the point that a clear majority of charting songs –​not just in the Western world, but across the globe –​demonstrate obvious elements of this style. With jazz and EDM each presenting such important instances of significance, it is little wonder that the two would eventually be placed alongside one another through a form of musical fusion. And whilst electro swing is not the first example of a genre to do this –​Chapter 1 presents a lengthy history to other examples of this fusion –​it is by far the most overt, with clear, undisguised demonstrations of the utilisation of both these styles simultaneously. Electro swing artists celebrate jazz and swing music –​along with various related styles –​presenting these influences directly alongside the elements of EDM that are also put on the forefront of their music. There is nothing subtle about this genre, and its roots are displayed proudly. From an academic perspective, little has been said thus far about electro swing. Therefore, this book stands as one of the first extensive studies into the emergence and development of the genre, asking key questions about its place in contemporary society, and what we may be able to learn from its characteristic features and enduring popularity. The bulk of the research was conducted between 2016 and 2019 whilst I was completing my doctorate –​ upon which the majority of the work is based –​although I have continued to delve deeper into the genre and accompanying scene since then, and the work will also contain references to various instances that have occurred since the completion of the original study. Any research of this kind will always include the potential for further study, and I hope that others will find the opportunity to build upon this work and explore the genre further in the future. One thing that will prove crucial initially will be to introduce the study by explaining precisely what is covered within the boundaries of electro swing. For what any participant will very quickly discover when familiarising themselves with this music, is that as the electro swing scene itself has expanded –​ like with all forms of jazz –​it has incorporated many influences from outside of simply swing alone. Alongside elements of swing, artists have introduced the sounds of soul, blues, funk, gospel, and various other styles within their

Introduction  3 new remixes. There are seemingly only two requirements for which genres may be included: the first is that it must pertain to a musical movement intended for the purposes of making people dance, and the second is that this movement must have some element of retro to it –​some sense that this music will remind people of the past. The window of influence seems to span from roughly 1900 to 1970; and whilst this period is cited based on my own observations rather than any fixed rule of the genre, one may speculate upon why this is the case. The earlier date of 1900 seems to correspond with the dawn of recorded music, whilst I would suggest that the latter date has been determined by the emergence of disco music in the 1970s. Disco –​as stated above –​was arguably the beginning of EDM as we know it today, and if we thus split the genre into its two key components, any influence of disco would seemingly fall under the electro side. And whilst there are a few electro swing tracks that seem to feature something of a disco influence –​such as Parov Stelar’s ‘Keep on Dancing’ (2013), the Electric Swing Circus’s ‘Mr Magpie’ (2017), and Emma Clair’s ‘Disco Swing’ (Swing Sisters, 2021) –​these are few and far between. In response to these expansions, during the 2010s, the scene came to be partially rebranded as vintage remix. Coined by DJ and promoter Chris Tofu, I interviewed Tofu in 2018, who spoke of how this was done in direct response to the term electro swing: […] And we were like, ‘no, it’s not really about that, it’s about all things old remixed, this is what it’s all about’–​what your thesis is about, in fact. And then, all things old remixed, for us is vintage remix, so we started calling everything vintage remix –​so now, we don’t concentrate just on swing, we’re about soul remix, gospel remix, blues remix. Tofu went on to found the Vintage Remix record label, and many other were to consequently jump upon this new term, favouring it above electro swing. For instance, prior to my interview with Tofu, I had also spoken to Nick Hollywood –​a DJ, label-​owner, and events-​organiser who is behind Brighton’s Freshly Squeezed label, arguably the most significant label for this genre –​who was to state his preference for this term, arguing that “the good thing about vintage remix as a term, is it’s much much broader”. Today, the terms are now used rather interchangeably, and the average electro swing fan will recognise the inclusion of influences beyond swing alone, regardless of which term they are using to refer to the scene. Tofu and Hollywood made up two of the 19 interviews that I conducted over the course of my research. In order to get as wide a scope of the varying opinions within the scene as possible, I sought out and arranged interviews with a variety of musicians, DJs, producers, label-​owners, events-​organisers, dancers, bloggers, and journalists who have all played some role in the development of the electro swing genre. Alongside Tofu and Hollywood, these were to include:

4 Introduction Mark Camps DJ and producer who performs under the name of Extra Medium. Oli Corse Rapper who performs under the name of Offbeat, both solo and as part of the (now defunct) Swinghoppers act. Kaptin Barrett DJ who performs both solo and as part of the Big Swing Soundsystem act; head of music at Boomtown Fair festival until 2022. Sacha Dieu DJ and events-​ organiser who runs London’s Stranger than Paradise club night. Tony Culverwell DJ who performs under the name of Mr Switch; four-​time DMC World Champion; first DJ to perform at the BBC Proms. Michael Rack DJ and producer; founding member of the Dutty Moonshine Big Band act; events-​organiser who runs Bristol’s Roaring 2.0s club night. Chad Sells DJ and producer who performs under the name of Duke Skellington, and as part of the VaudeVillainz act; part of the Ragtime Records team. Jim Burke Musician who performs under the name of Mr B the Gentleman Rhymer. David Bonnick Jr. Rapper who has performed with the Elle and the Pocket Belles, and Mista Trick Live actscunder the name of Gambit Ace. Alice Francis Singer signed to the Etage Noir label. George Browne Blogger who founded the Jack the Cad blog. Cat Foley Dancer who taught a ‘Solo Jazz for Electro Swing’ workshop at the Swingamajig festival in 2017. Angus Harrison Journalist who works for Vice magazine.

Introduction  5 Ashley Slater Musician who has performed with groups including Loose Tubes, Freak Power, and Kitten and the Hip. Richard Shawcross DJ and producer who performs under the name of C@ in the H@; part of the Ragtime Records team. Tom Hyland Musician who performs as part of the Electric Swing Circus, and the Big Band of Boom; part of the Ragtime Records team; founder of the Swingamajig festival. Tobias Kroschel DJ and producer who performs under the name of Sound Nomaden. These interviewees were chosen selectively, having contacted those who have had some of the most significant impact across the overall scene. Whilst the bulk of these were based in the UK, I also spoke to several from a number of other prominent countries, such as Germany and the USA. The study will investigate the genre as an international phenomenon then, but there will be a heavy lean towards the British scene. This of course also recognises that a large proportion of my field research was conducted through events attended in the UK. Having attended multiple festivals, gigs, and club nights over the course of this research, I have used a largely phenomenological approach to gather the majority of my findings. This approach has been chosen in recognition of the fact that there is much more to the scene than simply the audio output that might traditionally be considered to be the sole object under study. I find myself in agreement with Tagg, who argues that “it would be absurd to study music as ‘just music’, illogical to determine any aspect of musical structuration without considering its function or meanings” (2012: 138); and rather, I would consider the music to encompass everything that plays a part or contributes to the experience that makes up a musical performance, no matter how seemingly insignificant. To only focus attention on the audible parts of the music would be to overlook many of the essential factors that make electro swing what it is. Thus, we do not need to think of everything that accompanies this audio as strictly music in context –​but rather, we can consider external factors to make up fundamental parts of the music itself. This is not to say that the more traditional qualities of a musicological study are not to be considered important, but that they will be enriched by a wider inspection into further characteristics of the music. And there are several essential qualities I have highlighted which may be shown to encompass all of these considerations. Three of these qualities that I will be dissecting are those contained within the title of this publication: the notions of resurrection,

6 Introduction recontextualisation, and remix. I will devote some time here to introducing each of these concepts in turn.

Resurrection As noted, the essence of this music comes from its use of past styles and influences, and as such, it may be considered to be inescapably based around the notion of resurrection. It is through the rejuvenation of the music of the swing era that it has gained its reputation –​as one of the most notable depictions of this style throughout the present day. I will come to closely analyse and interpret electro swing’s relationship with the past in Chapter 5, but it will be worth briefly introducing the concept here, which will subsequently frame much of my discussion throughout the book. All music is inherently made up of its various collective influences, which of course may only represent those which have preceded it chronologically. Thus, all music –​to a degree –​can be described as a response to the past. But one may naturally recognise the existence of several movements that have been rather more flagrant with their use of their past; a category under which electro swing would certainly fall. Reynolds has suggested that this is a practice which has become more noticeably prevalent in recent years, referring to the timespan between 2000 and 2010 as the ‘Re’ Decade and arguing that “instead of being about itself, the 2000s has been about every other previous decade happening again all at once” (2011: x–​xi). This is the central theme of his 2011 book Retromania –​a theme which is then picked up by Fisher, who invites us to “imagine any record released in the past couple of years being beamed back in time to, say, 1995” –​suggesting that “it’s hard to think that it will produce any jolt in the listeners” (2014: 7–​8). Fisher culminates his point by claiming that “it doesn’t feel as if the 21st century has started yet. We remain trapped in the 20th century” (ibid.: 8). Notably, this is the era that would spawn electro swing. Yet despite Fisher’s pessimism, the use of the past to this extent has brought about several intriguing ramifications. As noted by Hersch, through one’s use of such influences, artists are “simultaneously evoking the past, commenting on it, and raising questions about the representation of the past” (2017). The resurrection of such eras is about much more than simply presenting a disparate time. Through their utilisation of the artefacts of such eras, these musicians are placing themselves into a lineage, as well as introducing serious questions about the degree to which this lineage may be assumed. Werner describes this phenomenon in particularly poetic fashion, writing that “when a jazz trumpeter incorporates a Louis Armstrong riff into her solo or a hip-​hop DJ samples James Brown, music transcends time” (1999: xii). This can be observed on all scales, from the simple stylistic nods to former musicians –​to which he refers –​to the full-​scale recreation of a distinct era one may experience when attending an electro swing club night or festival. There is a degree of nostalgia to this practice, which again will be explored

Introduction  7 throughout Chapter 5 –​and I will also explore the notion of restoration: the fact that through this nostalgia, these otherwise antiquated artists are experiencing a new rise in popularity; they are being metaphorically resurrected. As pointed out by Davis, “that art thrives on nostalgia and that, simultaneously, it does much to shape the form and provide the substance of our nostalgic experience is, perhaps, as evident as it is difficult to define” (1979: 73). We will see throughout this book the various ways in which the relics of the past are being brought back to the forefront of popular culture. A fine example of this comes through one of the key aesthetic influences for the electro swing movement, that being F. Scott Fitzgerald’s 1925 novel The Great Gatsby. The prominent nostalgia that we find here is represented both in and of itself, as highlighted by the following quote: ‘Can’t repeat the past?’ he cried incredulously. ‘Why of course you can!’. (1925: 70) Through taking influence from the world of Fitzgerald, electro swing is recreating the specified jazz age that typified his writing. Yet as we can see, this age itself was also characterised by its own overt nostalgia. The layers of nostalgia are multifaceted, and demonstrate just how important this idea of resurrection is for the genre. Through returning these styles to the present day, they are being made relevant once again, and participants are being given the chance to enjoy and experience them as they were originally intended.

Recontextualisation Whilst the practice of resurrecting past movements may often seek to present the original source material as authentically as possible –​a notion which will be explored at length in Chapter 2 –​one must recognise that it is impossible to accurately recreate every single aspect of a previous movement, for the one change that is entirely out of our control is the age in which we find ourselves. No matter what effort one brings to their recreation, one cannot escape the contemporary contexts and associations of the present day, and resultingly, any “performance heard in a historical context always creates a possibility for newness” (Loss, 2017: outside back cover). Therefore, we cannot only consider the practice of resurrection, for we must take into account the changing world around us, and the changing meanings and associations that such movements may bring into the present day. Thus, it is essential to consider the concept of recontextualisation, defined by Linell as “the dynamic transfer-​and-​transformation of something from one discourse/​text-​in-​context (the context being in reality a matrix or field of contexts) to another” (1998: 144–​145). As he continues: Recontextualization involves the extrication of some part or aspect from a text or discourse, or from a genre of texts or discourses, and the fitting

8 Introduction of this part or aspect into another context, i.e., another text or discourse (or discourse genre) and its use and environment. (ibid.: 145) The presentation of a past musical movement today will undoubtedly carry different connotations from the time of its origin, the most obvious being that it will now be viewed as something dated –​something from a previous era –​ when at first it would have been considered new and fresh. Looking deeper into the changes in how this music is consumed over time, one may recognise different ideas in society around race or class, which hold the potential to impact our understanding of the music. In the case of electro swing, these implications will be explored in Chapters 3 and 4, respectively. One example of how such changing times has influenced the presentation of past music is provided by Williams, in speaking of the pianist Brad Mehldau. As he notes, Mehldau originally felt “that being a young musician in the 1990s was particularly overwhelming because at first he felt he should absorb all of the earlier jazz styles”, yet “gave up on that approach when he realized it was creating ‘a sort of postmodern haze that turns [young musicians] into chameleons with no identity.’ ” (Friedwald et al., 2002: 21–​ 22). What we find is that previous approaches to jazz simply did not work as well in the context of the 1990s, and that Mehldau only seemed to hit his forte when he developed his own style which was relevant to the contemporary age. A similar account is provided by McGee, who quotes pianist Bugge Wesseltoft in suggesting that: the mid-​80s was really a bad time for jazz music. But then it started to gradually grow, a lot of it was based around this kind of rave culture and then acid jazz […] and people started to dance again and jazz suddenly became interesting again. (2020: 99) This was a practice that became increasingly common throughout this age, in that “musicians naturally sought to modernise jazz practice by connecting jazz performance aesthetics with contemporary popular music genres” (ibid.: 25). Jazz simply didn’t carry the same weight in the 1990s that it did throughout the first half of the 20th century, and it was by combining the music with the new emerging rave culture that artists managed to keep it relevant for a contemporary audience. The recontextualisation of the swing era is a key feature of electro swing, and the ways in which this new genre has updated this music for the present day will be thoroughly explored throughout the book. It is through recognising such cultural transformations that we may understand the subsequent musical transformations. And when it comes to musical transformations, there are various approaches one may choose to take.

Introduction  9

Remix The act of remixing is central to electro swing and stretches deeper than might be initially considered. For many music fans, the remix constitutes quite a specific practice, whereupon a producer takes a piece that already exists and creates a new “version using the recorded material that is an interpretation of the acknowledged song but is still markedly different” (Wilsmore, 2010: 13). It is the use of the recorded material that plays a central role in this definition of the remix, in which we may recognise the importance of the act of sampling: the direct lifting and quotation of audio from another track for use in one’s new creation. Yet this understanding is itself somewhat limited, in that it doesn’t recognise the full breadth of pieces that can be considered to constitute a remix. For instance, we may first acknowledge that this definition only encompasses samples that may be considered autosonic. As explained by Williams: Autosonic quotation is quotation of a recording by digitally sampling it (digital or analogue), as opposed to allosonic quotation, which quotes the previous material by way of rerecording or performing it live (like a quote in jazz performance), rather than sampling from the original recording. (2014: 3) This is related to the notion of live and disc culture that will be explored as the book progresses. As soon as one considers acts of allosonic quotation to fall within their definition of remixing, the number of recognisable remixes in this sense is boosted innumerably –​for, “as a form of musical borrowing, the roots of digital sampling reach back more than a millennium” (Katz, 2004: 139). To again quote Williams: artists have ‘stolen’ since times immemorial: Shakespeare from Ovid and Plutarch, Renaissance mass composers from Gregorian chant, Bartók from folk melodies, Bob Dylan from everyone, and blues singers from each other. (2014: 7) Acknowledging this, we may see that effectively every electro swing song can be considered a remix in some way, whether through direct, autosonic quotation, or the more indirect, allosonic means. And indeed, several authors have gone to great lengths to explore the variety of approaches one might take to create a new remix. For instance, Lacasse presents a variety of methods, divided into autosonic and allosonic approaches, and then further subdivided into syntagmatic and paradigmatic means, in which “the syntagmatic column display[s]‌practices dealing mostly with subject or content, and the paradigmatic column show[s] practices involving transformation or imitation of a style of system” (2000: 55–​56).

10 Introduction The conventional remix then would fall under the category of autosonic and paradigmatic, whereas acts of plunderphonics –​pioneered by the likes of John Oswald, in which altogether new songs are created out of existing recordings, “begin[ning] and end[ing] only with recordings, with the already played” (Cutler, 2000: 90) –​can be considered autosonic and syntagmatic. On the other hand, we may find cover versions or pastiches –​an “ ‘allusion’ to existing ‘style’, in the style of rather than borrowing obviously from individually recognizable works” (Wilsmore, 2010: 14) –​that would fall under the category of allosonic and paradigmatic, whilst an allosonic, syntagmatic remix may contain something as simple as an instrumental quotation or a lyrical reference to outside material. Thus, any song that draws on another in any way, no matter how subtle, can be considered a remix of some sort. Wilsmore later builds upon the work of Lacasse, suggesting several further approaches to the remix, such as –​amongst others –​the mash-​up: a “collage, combining more than one existing work with no ‘new’ material added”; the cantus firmus: “the use of a single line upon which new ‘lines’ are added”; and even extends the concept to “work built on existing chord progression[s]‌ (e.g. innumerable blues songs)” (ibid.: 13). I have previously gone through the work of Wilsmore, pointing to specific examples within electro swing for each of the nine forms of remix he identifies (Inglis, 2015: 12–​13) –​a list which he himself admits is “inconclusive, incomplete and highly questionable” (Wilsmore, 2010: 13). Indeed, the creative options available for remixing are seemingly endless. It is accurate to acknowledge that a significant proportion of the electro swing genre can be considered a remix in the conventional sense. Yet by expanding this definition to include acts of quotations, cover versions, or allusions to style, one may see that the idea of remix effectively encompasses the whole of the genre. This is the reason why the notion is so essential to electro swing; for it is through the consistent extraction and updating of existent works –​through such varied means –​that we have seen this music ultimately establish itself to the extent that it has. In studying each of these concepts in relation to electro swing, I have broken the book up into five distinct chapters, which together will present a thorough examination of electro swing through several analytical lenses. Chapter 1 introduces the book by investigating electro swing’s lineage, presenting a historical overview of the key movements which have influenced the genre’s emergence and development. I begin by assessing the innovations that led to some of the earliest fusions of jazz and dance music, from electric pioneers such as Charlie Christian and Miles Davis through to the styles of acid jazz, jazz dance, and the electro innovations of Herbie Hancock; and in each case, I analyse the impact of each new development and discuss the significance of such a phenomenon. I continue to draw upon some of the more recent genres that can be related to electro swing, such as trip hop, new jack swing, and particularly jazz rap –​and drawing parallels and presenting

Introduction  11 analogous discussions on the work of other authors writing in these particular fields, thereby placing the work into an ever-​ expanding dialogue. Subsequently, I provide an overview of electro swing’s evolution itself, from the work of the first pioneers in the mid-​1990s up to the current state of the genre today. Overall, this chapter presents an initial contextualisation of the genre, both historically and scholarly, and forms a backdrop upon which all the arguments of later chapters may be positioned. Chapter 2 then looks into the issue of authenticity, in which I investigate what it means for a style of music to be considered authentic –​whether that be to itself, to the music’s origins, to a particular culture, or to a whole host of different meanings. I investigate the extent to which these concerns play a role in electro swing, as well as presenting the question of whether electro swing could be said to be an “authentic style” –​or indeed, if this notion of authenticity can even be said to exist. A large part of this discussion will also revolve around jazz and to electro swing’s relationship with the jazz scene. Discussing the various ways in which jazz has been defined since its inception, I ask how electro swing may stand up to these oppositional definitions, and also attempt to come up with my own satisfactory definition of jazz. Finally, I make use of these various definitions in order to ask what it may mean for something to be jazz, and whether one might ever consider electro swing to be a true form of jazz. Following on from this, Chapter 3 presents a consideration which is central to any discussion of jazz: that of race and nationality. Indeed, despite its largely African American influences, electro swing is notable for its almost exclusive prominence in white Europe –​an issue which ultimately needs to be addressed. The chapter begins by investigating the differing representations of electro swing across various countries, asking why such discrepancies can be found in its sound and presentation. I then look to the USA directly, exploring the reasons behind why something that is so inspired by American sounds has taken such a long time to emerge back in America and is still significantly underrepresented. Following, I then look specifically into the question of cultural appropriation, examining the degree to which it may be considered acceptable for a white European practitioner to be utilising these influences. And I close the chapter by looking to the future and suggesting ways in which the scene may begin to address this disconnect, and create the potential for a genuinely multicultural movement. Chapter 4 then looks at another important social issue –​that of class. Electro swing is unusual in the sense that –​in terms of presentation, it has been known to showcase itself through somewhat upper-​class fashion, with participants dressing in Great Gatsby-​esque attire, despite whatever their actual social background may be. Beginning this chapter, I look specifically into the social background of electro swing’s participants, before assessing the particular image that the genre presents and asking what significance it holds and why such an image has emerged. Along with such associations comes the notion of politics, and I also examine the political associations present within electro swing, asking whether the genre can be said to be a particularly socially

12 Introduction engaged one. I will also touch upon that third pillar of intersectionality –​ along with race and class –​that of gender. As with any genre of popular music, there are certain issues around this area to have affected electro swing, and I will explore the significance of such issues here. And I will conclude with a discussion of the art spectrum, in which I look into the impact of this spectrum upon popular music, questioning if electro swing has a place –​and if so, where such a place might be. And then my final chapter explores the popular tendency throughout music and culture to look backwards, and considers those musicians and artists who take explicit influence and inspiration from bygone eras. Having established electro swing’s place as part of a wider historical narrative, I build upon several of the considerations presented throughout this book to question the ultimate function of what is arguably electro swing’s key feature. This chapter explores the contrasting ideas and opinions of various practitioners who choose to either embrace or reject the notion of nostalgia, and analyses the repercussions of such positions. As noted above, I will also examine the ways in which electro swing may be seen as a deliberate act of restoration, and explore the question of what this may mean in the modern day –​for such a movement to be built entirely upon one of a different age. And in considering these nostalgic tendencies, I assess the significance of playing such music to an audience who was not even alive during the original era it seeks to reproduce. Concluding both the chapter and the book, I assess the balance of past and present in electro swing and question what such practices may tell us about the present, and perhaps, even the future. Despite its overt taking of the majority of its influence from the early 20th century, electro swing has come to be one of the most compelling and intriguing genres of the 21st century. What follows is an explanation and exploration of the various elements that have contributed to this reputation.

1 Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative

In May 2022, the city of Birmingham held its annual Swingamajig festival, hosted in the city’s Botanical Gardens and featured such acts as the Electric Swing Circus, Mista Trick Live, Tuxedo Junction, and Tallulah Goodtimes –​ amongst others. This was the tenth year for the one-​day urban festival, which over the preceding decade had showcased practically every single act from the UK scene, along with many of the genre’s top international acts as well. Chinese Man; Jamie Berry; SwinGrowers; Smokey Joe and the Kid; the Correspondents –​whilst these may not be household names in the traditional sense –​they are some of the first acts one will come across when encountering this style –​and all of them have visited the festival at least once –​often multiple times. This festival is essentially the unofficial home for electro swing, and 2022’s edition was described by the organisers as “maybe the best Swingamajig ever” (Swingamajig, 2022). Over its ten years, the festival has undergone a lot of changes –​that I have detailed elsewhere (Inglis, 2020) –​which has been necessitated by the continuing evolution of the genre itself. For electro swing is a music which by its very nature continually strives to push forward, and adapts to the times in which it finds itself –​a point upon which I will elaborate in the next chapter. But the outcome of this constant need for development is that the genre has a particularly long and detailed history. Although by some ways of measuring it, it is still a fairly youthful style of music –​its roots can be shown to stretch back several decades. This chapter will provide an analysis into electro swing’s standing as part of an ongoing historical narrative. The tricky part however, is knowing where to begin. The various strands from which a music form may materialise are rarely clear-​cut, and it can often be easy to assign more historical weight to certain developments or to overlook other items of further significance when looking back retrospectively. On top of this, the point at which a new form can be said to have emerged is not something which one can definitively identify. As has been argued by Chang, “the act of determining a group of people by placing a beginning and ending date around them is a way to impose a narrative” (2007: 1) –​a narrative which may have little basis in reality. One must first acknowledge then that any history of a music style will be unavoidably DOI: 10.4324/9781003254485-2

14  Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative incomplete. Brocken has spoken of the numerous problems that can be found across such music histories, noting that “the illumination of disparate popular music discourses has been overshadowed by an over-​concentration on selected genres, idealized images, and the creation of a popular music ‘universal standpoint’ concerning meaning and value […] where no such universality actually exists” (2010: 10). Such is the problem with hindsight, which Brocken also points out, explaining that “more often than not we reinvent the world that has been lost and then invest in this reinvention a much greater significance than was actually the case at the time” (2010: 9). The simple passage of time will undoubtedly cause increasing difficulty for the historian then, a point which any researcher must continually remind themselves of. One must also take into account the inherent biases of the researcher themself, which again are somewhat unavoidable: “history books, like the people who write them, are products of their own times, and […] their authors bring particular ideas and ideologies to bear on the past” (Evans, 1997: 2). The disparate ways in which various people may absorb information is something which cannot be controlled, and “the relatively different speeds at which society absorbs, rearticulates and gives any artistic shape space and meaning allow for different readings: different epiphanies, acceptances and refusals” (Brocken, 2010: 10). Thus, whilst “the conscious motive or thought of the writer of a document might be quite irrelevant to the purposes for which we wish to use the document, […] we always have to take it into account” (Evans, 1997: 93). In this particular study, I am someone who is heavily involved in the electro swing scene, and have been since 2012. Although this has its own benefits –​ particularly in terms of my access to information, etc. –​I must also acknowledge the potential for personal bias. Additionally, one might accuse me of placing greater emphasis upon moments throughout the scene that I have been present for –​and admittedly, this would explain the strong focus on the UK scene above others. And whilst I have made efforts to minimise this bias, there will of course be aspects that have unavoidably seeped through. Thus, it is essential to highlight up front that this research will be grounded within the wider experiences of myself. In order to limit this bias, however, a great effort has been made to situate the work within the context of a broader body of research. Although few other authors have explored electro swing directly, I have built upon those who have investigated parallel genres to ensure for a wider scope. McGee’s Remixing European Jazz Culture (2020) is the closest related study, investigating the various jazz movements that have incorporated techniques traditionally reserved for electronic dance music (EDM) over the past 50 years –​and devoting the final two chapters of her book to the topic directly. Other studies that cover similar topics include Reynolds’ Retromania (2011), which thoroughly investigates the present trend for nostalgia throughout popular music; Brennan’s When Genres Collide (2017), which looks deeply into the fusion of

Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative  15 jazz and rock; and Williams’ Rhymin’ and Stealin’ (2014), which does the same for jazz and hip hop. It is through drawing upon these respective studies –​ and others –​that I will begin to approach some level of historical objectivity throughout this work. Electro swing’s beginnings are far from straightforward. Building on so many influences and earlier genres, any study must account for and investigate the great array of forerunners which preceded the movement. The best, and most obvious place to start then, is with jazz.

Early Innovators Whatever one may consider to be the dawn of jazz, whether that be the early blues of W. C. Handy, the ragtime of Scott Joplin, or the early Dixieland of Buddy Bolden and Jelly Roll Morton, what one cannot deny is the intended function of the music: that being to make people dance. As has been highlighted by Thomas, “jazz music began its life as dance music. Ragtime was used for cake-​walking, New Orleans jazz was for street parades and swing era jazz was for fox-​trots and jitterbugs” (2001: 166). Thus, we may recognise that –​at least up until the birth of bebop several decades later, when such attitudes began to change –​jazz has always provided the exact same function as electro swing does today. Indeed, this was particularly the case for the swing era itself, which gave rise to a whole new culture of dancing, which in many ways has continued to this day –​the significance of the Lindy Hop style will be examined at length later on. The upbeat and energetic nature of the music translated naturally to the dancefloor, and many composers were to make explicit reference to this dance connection. For instance, Jimmie Lunceford worked extensively alongside the Number One Chorus dance troupe (Hill, 2010: 109), composing the piece ‘For Dancers Only’ (1937) specifically for them to perform to. Lunceford is also notable for his recording of ‘T’ain’t What You Do (It’s the Way That You Do It)’ (1939), which to this day is regularly used as the music to a dance routine called the ‘Shim Sham’. When considering the importance of dance in this regard, it is unsurprising to see the extent to which contemporary electro swing producers have seized upon this music for their modern club remixes. This functional similarity between jazz and EDM has been commented upon by Marko Milićević, who DJs under the name of Gramophonedzie, and had a major hit in 2010 with ‘Why Don’t You’, a remix of Benny Goodman and Peggy Lee’s recording of ‘Why Don’t You Do Right?’ (1947). Discussing his initial decision to sample swing music, Milićević has spoken of his realisation that “swing was the club music of its time, similar in construction to modern dance music. There’s build-​ups, breakdowns, peak points, just put a beat and a groove underneath and it becomes familiar to today’s clubbers” (Green, 2010). Later on, he was to argue that:

16  Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative swing and jazz is really fast, it was made for clubs and dancing, the only difference is it was made many years ago. There are songs by Judy Garland and Louis Armstrong you can play in clubs today with a slight tweak. (Verma, 2011) Thus, we can see the extent to which swing and the jazz that came before it laid the groundwork for the stylistic direction that would eventually result in electro swing. The importance of such music to the genre is self-​evident, yet when assessing the roots of electro swing itself, a similarity based on the intention to dance is not enough to consider describing such pieces of music as early electro swing. To justify the electro prefix, one must consider at least some element of electronics within the music, and thus –​by the most loosely defined terms –​one could suggest that the very first example of electro swing occurred the very first time a jazz instrumentalist used electronics to help create their sound. We may then look somewhat further back than the recordings of Lunceford, to the first time a jazz band stepped foot in a studio. The invention of the recording studio was a monumental occasion for the world of music and forever changed the ways in which artists would approach composition. Indeed, it has been suggested that “the peculiar strengths and limitations of the technology thus not only influenced jazz performance practice, it also shaped how listeners –​some of whom were also performers or composers –​ understood jazz and expected it to sound” (2004: 83–​84). The first ever jazz recording was produced by the Original Dixieland Jass Band and comprised two songs: ‘Dixie Jass Band One Stop’ and ‘Livery Stable Blues’ (1917). Upon the release of this record, jazz entered into a new era, in which the use of electronics could not be overlooked. No longer could an artist sustain a successful career without incorporating electronic recording techniques, and many of the earliest jazz musicians such as Billie Holiday and Sidney Bechet benefitted greatly through the recording capabilities made available to them during their time: Billie Holiday’s art would have been impossible without a major technological advance of the early 1930s, the electric microphone. Sidney Bechet famously recorded clarinet, soprano, tenor sax, piano, bass, and drums on his ‘one man band’ recording of ‘The Sheik of Araby’ in April 1941, courtesy of the latest available technology. (Nicholson, 2005: 132) Similarly, it’s been said that “the career of cornetist Bix Beiderbecke is nearly inconceivable without the phonograph” (Katz, 2004: 73). Outside of the implementation of electronic techniques in jazz recording, the style also began to introduce musical elements that would later on show up within electro swing. The most notable of these was the vocal technique of scat singing, pioneered by the likes of Louis Armstrong and Cab

Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative  17 Calloway –​which many have argued constitute the first examples of rapping, to later characterise the hip hop genre. Louis Armstrong’s track ‘Heebie Jeebies’ (1926) is commonly cited as the first example of scat singing (Nugent, 2018), a technique which would later characterise his music. Resultingly, commentators have described the likes of Louis Armstrong and Fats Waller as rappers (Chang, 2007, 240), whilst several contemporary rappers have made the same claim. For instance, featured on Buckshot LeFonque’s ‘Music Evolution’ (1997), rapper 50 Styles: The Unknown Soldier declares: And so, I’m about to let the world know, That bebop and scattin’ was an old school flow, Calloway was a dope MC, you didn’t know? Now that the year’s gone by some will try, Try to make that hip hop and jazz thing die, When it was scat before it was rap, yo it was fly, Now it brings tears to the eye Similarly, Stewart and Duran have traced jazz rap back to this same era, describing how from the 1920s onwards, African American poets such as Langston Hughes would construct poetry with specific blues phrases and rhythms in mind (1999: 50). And this proto-​rap was also to show up within gospel music, the most notable act of which to mention is the Golden Gate Quartet. As one may note, in songs of theirs such as ‘Preacher and the Bear’ (1937) or ‘Noah’ (1939), the rap presence is undeniable. Returning to the use of electronics within jazz –​whilst the studio provided an opportunity for such musicians to make use of electrical innovation in terms of recording techniques, the music itself was to remain entirely acoustic, up until 1938. This year marked the first appearance of an electric instrument on a jazz record, that being the electric guitar. Indeed, the first electric guitar heard on any commercial recording was that of George Barnes, who at the age of 16 played on Big Bill Broonzy’s recordings of ‘Sweetheart Land’ and ‘It’s a Lowdown Dirty Shame’ (1938) –​Barnes is also alleged to have played on the first ever electric guitar (Phillips, 2013). Another of the earliest recordings from this same year was Eddie Durham’s guitarwork on the Kansas City Five’s ‘Good Mornin’ Blues’ (1938), recorded 15 days later (Broadbent, 1997: 59). Of the various electric jazz guitar pioneers that were to emerge around this time, the most notable was arguably Charlie Christian, known primarily for his work with the Benny Goodman Orchestra –​which he joined in 1939. Widely regarded as the ‘King of Swing’, Benny Goodman’s orchestra is perhaps the best-​known of all the swing orchestras, and Christian’s guitarwork on tracks such as ‘Rose Room’ (1939) played a big part in characterising Goodman’s distinctive sound. Commenting on the legacy of Christian, Gioia has stated that “to this presynthesizer generation, electricity was a practical

18  Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative matter, linked with street lamps and lightning rods, not musical performance” (2011: 144), and explains the change Christian would have upon this perception: “the first great electric guitarist in jazz, Christian also demands respect as the most influential” (ibid.). As with the previous discussion around Jimmie Lunceford, the music of Benny Goodman’s orchestra was characterised by its propensity to lead audiences to dance; and upon the rise of rock ‘n’ roll many were to draw parallels between these two forms. As an example of this, music critic Ralph Gleason was to write that “every parent remembers the hysteria attendant on the swing era and the Benny Goodman band whose fans danced in the aisles of the New York Paramount much as today’s fans dance to R&B” (1958: 278). Not only were these parallels drawn by the audience, but many of the musicians themselves would also contribute to them directly; for instance, in 1958, rock ‘n’ roll guitarist Chuck Berry was invited to perform alongside Count Basie’s rhythm section (Brennan, 2017: 164). This was in stark contrast to the emerging bebop of the day, which sought to turn away from jazz’s increasingly pop-​based associations. Brennan writes extensively about this, commenting on how “key critics in the mid-​1940s began to tip the discourse of jazz increasingly toward framing the music as serious art and away from concerns about the importance of jazz as a popular music” (2017: 57) –​a discussion which will be extended in Chapter 4. Yet, this philosophy of bebop’s was seemingly overturned upon the introduction of jazz fusion in the 1960s, in which musicians actively combined jazz influences with those of rock, funk, and pop. And these two movements were not always in outright opposition, for out of the very heart of bebop came a musician who would push jazz fusion further than any other previously had, incorporating new levels of electronic innovation along the way. That musician was Miles Davis. Miles Davis started his career very much in the bebop tradition, performing as a part of Charlie Parker’s quintet in 1945. Throughout the 1950s and early 1960s, Davis was to steadily evolve his style; and a large part of his subsequent success is often ascribed to his tendency to continually change his sound, and by extension, what one may consider jazz. Towards the end of the 1960s, Davis was to reach what was perhaps the best-​known stage of his career, which came to be known as his ‘electric period’. Marked by albums such as In a Silent Way (1969) and Bitches Brew (1970), Davis collaborated extensively with electric guitarist John McLaughlin, electric keyboardists Chick Corea and Joe Zawinul, and even “incorporat[ed] wah wah pedals to radicalise the available textures of the trumpet” (Carr, 2009: 92). Whilst many musicians had made use of electronic instruments and techniques prior to Davis, it was he who was arguably the first to use such innovations to a significantly artistic effect. This type of fusion that Davis pioneered was to have a substantial impact upon post-​1960s jazz, and as noted by Shipton, “because Davis himself was so influential, the majority of the most significant jazz-​rock bands of the period were associated with the trumpeter” (2007: 615). This has also

Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative  19 been highlighted by Gioia, who points out that “former members of Davis’s various bands were taking the lead in this area, with three ensembles proving especially influential: Chick Corea’s Return to Forever, John McLaughlin’s Mahavishnu Orchestra, and Weather Report, co-​led by Wayne Shorter and Joe Zawinul” (2011: 327). In the case of the latter, Gioia describes their approach as “the aesthetic of Ellington applied to the dominant electronic pop style of the 1970s” (2011: 330); this can be considered especially critical for the eventual development of electro swing, as the combination of jazz and electronic synth-​led pop was explored for the first time throughout the music that these acts would produce. The other significant movement that would begin to occur around this time was the evolution of the hip hop genre. In 1970, spoken word artist Gil Scott-​ Heron released his debut album, Small Talk at 125th and Lenox, which many considered the very first rap record. Featuring tracks such as the iconic ‘The Revolution Will Not Be Televised’, Scott-​Heron drew upon the influence of various jazz musicians, referencing John Coltrane, Billie Holiday, and Nina Simone in his acknowledgements, alongside others. Such releases signalled the start of a new movement in popular music, and Stewart and Duran have spoken of the extent to which this fusion of African American poetry and jazz –​through the work of artists such as Scott-​Heron, H. Rap Brown, Rudi Ray Moore, and the Last Poets –​would ultimately result in the jazz rap genre (1999: 51). The importance of jazz to hip hop is considerable, and as the hip hop genre began to flourish, jazz was to play a crucial role in its development. This connection was present from the earliest days of hip hop; as Chang notes, Kool Herc –​who is widely considered the founder of hip hop due to the house parties he famously hosted in the Bronx from 1973 –​was influenced growing up by the sounds of Nina Simone, Louis Armstrong, and Nat King Cole (2007: 68). Other iconic hip hop artists were also introduced to music through the world of jazz: rapper Rakim originally trained as a jazz saxophonist (ibid.: 258), whilst other rappers such as Digable Planets’ Butterfly had parents who were musicians and grew up listening to the jazz that they would play (Williams, 2014: 53). Butterfly comments on this directly in the lyrics to Digable Planets’ ‘Examination of What’ (1993): my father taught me jazz, all the people and the anthem, ate peanuts with the Dizz and vibe with Lionel Hampton. Inspired by the hip hop movement coming out of New York, not only would jazz inspire hip hop, but hip hop also began to inspire jazz in return. In the same ways in which fusion artists had previously mixed jazz with rock ‘n’ roll or funk, others would turn to the newly developed electro style, pioneered by the likes of Afrika Bambaataa and Grandmaster Flash. The most groundbreaking artist in this regard is Herbie Hancock, who in 1983 –​twenty years into his career as an accomplished jazz pianist –​released Future Shock, an

20  Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative album unlike anything he had produced before. Most notable for the single ‘Rockit’, as well as tracks such as ‘Autodrive’ –​from this album onwards, Hancock continued to produce music in the electro style –​to the point where it’s been suggested that “this is where Hancock’s restless creativity seems to find its main satisfaction –​pioneering new electronic music” (Carr et al., 2000: 320). Hancock was to incorporate DJs into his live set as well, breaking down further barriers, as highlighted by the introduction made at one of his live shows: “Well, I guess we have to call them ‘musicians’ now! DJ Disk on turntables!” (Nicholson, 2005: 133). This is the juncture at which we may begin to ask whether electro swing had first been realised, for not only was Hancock fusing jazz with electronic techniques –​he was fusing jazz with electro. Of course, as with any genre, the clarification of what may be considered within its boundaries is not an easy task, and many different definitions of what constitutes electro have been put forth. Prendergast explains how the term originally came about through tracks which “sampled the electronic pop of Kraftwerk” (2000: 368), whilst Collin argues that it encompasses “electronics-​based rap” (1998: 14). As Reynolds suggests, the term has now come to mean “any kind of danceable electronic pop that was deliberately dated […] electro now means yesterday’s futurism today” (2011: 176–​177); on the other hand, Fikentscher argues that electro is “at present a commonly used label to market a variety of EDM styles” (2013: 139). A similar debate has recently cropped up with EDM, with some claiming that the term EDM itself should refer only to a specific brand of mainstream American EDM. For instance, in my interview with DJ Chris Tofu, he spoke of how he saw this flavour of music as “running in another direction, to me […] the thing is with EDM is that, you know, it lacks humanity. It totally lacks soul”. In terms of my utilisation of the term electro in reference to electro swing, I would suggest that Fikentscher’s definition is the most useful one, and will be using it as such. This is in recognition of the vast amount of varying electronics dance styles which have had an influence upon the genre. But despite all these confusion around the name, what remains true is that with the release of Hancock’s Future Shock, the world of jazz had incorporated that of EDM in a way that could not be denied. Drawing on all the developments thus far discussed, Hancock had put out a work which paid tribute to both streams of music in equal measure. This was to set in motion an array of subsequent styles that were to build on Hancock’s innovations in their own unique and subversive ways.

Complementary Genres and Dialogues In reflecting the musical developments that would occur in jazz from 1983 onwards, one must first acknowledge the distinction between what Thornton refers to as live culture and disc culture (1995: 31). This argument will be expanded upon in the following chapter, but as she notes, “between the

Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative  21 mid-​fifties and mid-​eighties, […] ‘liveness’ dominated notions of authenticity” (1995: 26); as a result, the electronic musicians who followed have therefore “felt pressure to live up to ‘live’ aesthetics for several decades” (1995: 83). This view is especially pertinent throughout the world of jazz, in which elements such as live improvisation remain central to the genre, and can be exemplified through the words of pianist Bugge Wesseltoft: to play live is the absolute best way to promote the music. As far as my own group is concerned, I really like to play live. In a studio situation you can play, but it’s more challenging to play live because we do a lot of improvisation. It feels more fresh when you do it live. (McGee, 2020: 101) This conflict between live and disc culture clearly holds relevance when considering the fusion of jazz and EDM, for the two may initially be considered to fall on entirely opposing sides of the divide. Resultingly, the various movements which I will subsequently discuss can be characterised by their respective placement upon this spectrum. Hancock’s experimentation with jazzy electro was surely the most publicly recognised example of such innovation in the contemporary music of the time, although it was far from the only one. Cotgrove explores this at length in his book From Jazz Funk & Fusion to Acid Jazz (2009), discussing the developing UK scenes in which DJs were to actively combine jazz and electronic influences on the dancefloor. And this discussion is extended by McGee, who highlights the: [long] trajectory of DJed jazz-​dance events throughout the UK since the late 1970s where jazz records, competitive dance crews, and the eruption of new fashions and lifestyles culminated around ‘rare jazz’ records, independent record shops, and post-​industrial or sometimes disused holiday locations for immersive jazz dance activities. (2020: 26) It’s been suggested that with regard to this movement, the release of Lonnie Liston Smith’s ‘Expansions’ in 1975 signalled “where it all began” (Cotgrove, 2009: 15). The abundance of synthesisers and electronic effects featured on this record provides a perfect example of the characteristics that were to infiltrate jazz over the next few decades. As the fusion of hip hop and jazz continued, the first outright example of this style occurred in 1985, not taking place in New York, or even in America, but in the UK. This year, the group Cargo –​centred around British musician Mike Carr –​were to release the appropriately titled ‘Jazz Rap’, which –​ although something of a gimmick –​set the idea of jazz rap into motion, and would trigger many further musicians to pursue the same ideas. The first jazz rap act to really make waves were New York’s Stetsasonic, who in 1988

22  Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative released the single ‘Talkin’ All That Jazz’ –​which interestingly enough was built around a sample of ‘Expansions’. Stetsasonic were also notable for being one of the first hip hop acts to incorporate live instrumentation; around this time, in the debate surrounding live culture, the stereotype of jazz being associated with ‘liveness’ was still seemingly dominant. Stetsasonic’s influence was substantial, and the years following this release saw many acts following in their footsteps; indeed, Williams has cited the following year, 1989, as the start of the identifiable jazz rap period (2014: 47). The most notable group to mention is the Native Tongues, a collective of New York-​based musicians that together were to comprise the Jungle Brothers, De La Soul, A Tribe Called Quest, Queen Latifah, Movie Love, and more. These acts regularly collaborated with one another, such as on De La Soul’s track ‘Buddy’ (1988), which was also produced by Stetsasonic’s Prince Paul. It’s certainly worth emphasising the extent to which such acts revolutionised the direction of hip hop, and in many people’s minds, the genre subsequently became tinged with jazz associations. This was expressed by Ali Shaheed Muhammed –​producer for A Tribe Called Quest –​who in 1992 stated that “I think it is beginning to be widely accepted, and that might be a problem, now every rap record coming out has some type of jazz groove to it” (McAdams & Nelson, 1992). In the early 1990s, several more acts were to emerge on the jazz rap circuit who had a substantial impact upon the genre. The first is the aforementioned Digable Planets, a trio best-​known for the single ‘Rebirth of Slick (Cool Like Dat)’ (1992). Elsewhere, the rapper Guru was to release the album Jazzmatazz (1993), arguably the most significant release to fuse these two styles. For although –​by its own admission–​this was not the first example of hip hop artists utilising jazz as source material, it was arguably the first to exclusively do so across an entire studio album. As described in the liner notes, “Jazzmatazz represents one of the very first full-​fledged attempts to fuse rap and jazz” (1993); and the release also featured multiple collaborations with established jazz artists such as Carlene Anderson, Roy Ayers, Donald Byrd, and N’Dea Davenport. Guru was to follow this record up with three more volumes (1995; 2000; 2007), and would also develop the jazz rap sound within the act Gang Starr, in which he worked alongside DJ Premier. What was arguably the most legitimising moment for the jazz rap genre came with the release of Miles Davis’s final album, Doo-​Bop (1992). Ever the innovator, Davis was to evolve his sound once again for this record, this time exploring the newfound sound of jazz rap by working alongside hip hop producer Easy Mo Bee. Due to his death in 1991, Davis was to never see this work fully completed, and the album was released posthumously. Partly stemming out of this movement, another significant innovator was Teddy Riley, known for establishing the genre of new jack swing. Combining elements of jazz and swing with techniques borrowed from hip hop and contemporary R&B, Riley –​in a play on Benny Goodman’s title as the ‘King of Swing’ –​came to be known as the ‘King of New Jack Swing’ (Hogan,

Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative  23 2016). With a sound that was first introduced throughout his production of Janet Jackson’s ‘Control’ (1986), Riley was to work with a number of hugely successful artists, such as Mary J. Blige and Michael Jackson, alongside his own act Blackstreet. New jack swing was to find itself heard extensively throughout the mainstream cinema of the day as well, heavily featured on a number of Hollywood soundtracks, including Ghostbusters II (1989) and The Mask (1994); the latter of which included tracks such as K7’s ‘Hi De Ho’ (1993), which through its lifting of Cab Calloway’s ‘Minnie the Moocher’ (1931) came very close to approaching what would later be considered the genuine electro swing sound. Back in the UK, the previously mentioned jazz dance scene was to evolve into the genre of acid jazz, a distinctive style combining the sounds of jazz and acid house, pioneered by the likes of Gilles Peterson and Chris Bangs. With the label of Acid Jazz Records having been founded by Peterson and Eddie Piller in 1987, Cotgrove describes a specific instance the following year that fully established this movement as its own independent genre: As usual Gilles Peterson was DJ-​ing with his unofficial partner Chris Bangs and was playing a rather heavy Art Blakey and Sabu track –​either Message From Kenya or The Feast. While the records was playing, the words ‘Acid’ kept flashing up on a screen behind him and he said to Chris: ‘What the hell’s all this about?’ and Chris replied, as quick as a flash: ‘It’s Acid Jazz, isn’t it’. (2009: 58) Acid jazz was somewhat unique in its fusion of jazz styles with EDM, having the majority of the focus being upon the jazz element, with not as much heavy weight being given to the electronics –​although the emphasis on dancing certainly remained. This was led by the fact that –​as described the DJ Adrian Gibson –​“the whole Acid Jazz scene came out of jazz musicians being inspired by DJs, not the other way around” (Nicholson, 2005: 141). As such, the genre’s practitioners were motivated by considerations of liveness, with DJs such as Geoff Wilkinson regularly bringing live musicians on stage with them (ibid.). And this particular scene was far from isolated. Alongside the UK movement, McGee speaks of “the German label Compost and their Future Sound of Jazz series, similarly promoting jazz and electronic beat projects. In the US, Blue Note’s The New Groove released an original collection of hip hop and classic jazz” (2020: 27); as well as various global musical projects, such as in “Jakarta (Maliq & D’Essentials), Rome (Jestofunk), and Kyoto (Kyoto Jazz Massive)” (ibid.: 26). Elsewhere, “Vienna’s electronic music scene had absorbed the ‘rare groove’ compilations, electronic break beats, and sampled jazz recordings into its many electronic jazz events” (ibid.: 28), whilst the “Amsterdam venture, Wicked Jazz Sounds […] [brought] together young jazz instrumentalists and vocalists with a variety of other cultural participants,

24  Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative eschewing the traditional boundaries to organise events which appeal to a younger, highly mobile, and dance-​oriented public” (ibid.: 38). Amsterdam was also to see similar activity through its iconic Blue Note Trip series. McGee’s extensive documentation of electronic jazz throughout Europe during this era reveals the degree to which such movements were playing a critical role in the evolution of both jazz and EDM. No longer were such developments considered merely peripheral to either movement, but it was gradually becoming visible just how much they were maintaining a presence in the continued progression of each. One instance which highlights this occurred in 1995, when “jazz tenor saxophonist Hans Dulfer appeared in Dam square with DJ Dmitri, a performance causing ripples in the jazz press and cultivating a whole new dance-​oriented public to live crossover performances” (ibid.: 43). Resultingly, “the trend for incorporating live jazz artists into established disco and dance circuits emerged during the 1990s in transnationally connected dance cities, especially Amsterdam, London, Paris, Vienna, and Berlin” (ibid.: 28). Unsurprisingly, these were all cities which would go on to play a major role in the evolution and development of electro swing. One city which McGee overlooks is Bristol –​for a long time considered home to many of the UK’s most distinctive styles. Perhaps the most distinctive of these, and certainly the most relevant for the purposes of this topic, was trip hop. Pioneered by the likes of Massive Attack, Tricky, and Portishead, trip hop can in several ways be considered the antithesis of acid jazz. For where acid jazz was concerned primarily with live culture, trip hop was motivated solely by disc culture. Discussing this distinction, Reynolds notes that: not ‘real rap’, not proper jazz, trip hop is in some ways a nineties update of fusion. But with a crucial difference; despite its fondness for jazzy flavours and blues keys, trip hop isn’t based around real-​time improvisation but home-​studio techniques like sampling and sequencing. (2013: 396–​397) Trip hop made it clear that jazz-​based music was not required to be performed live, or to contain improvisation, in order for the jazz associations to remain. The changes that this genre brought to the overall movement of jazz then cannot be ignored. Similar in its actual sonic qualities to trip hop, but with more on an emphasis on liveness, was the appropriately named trip jazz, established by British saxophonist Courtney Pine. Pine began his career in 1986 with the release of his debut album Journey to the Urge Within, but it wasn’t until the early 1990s that he started experimenting with and incorporating aspects of electronica; as noted by Prendergast, “his music expanded considerably after the excellent To The Eyes of Creation (1992)” (2000: 454). Regularly collaborating with both DJs and rappers, including the aforementioned Guru, Pine’s crowning achievement was arguably his 1997 release Underground, which has been described as “a mixture of black traditional music (blues, be-​bop,

Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative  25 soul, jazz, avant-​garde) and modern black forms (Hip-​Hop, Drum and Bass, Acid Jazz, Trip-​Hop)” (ibid., 2000: 453). Through records such as this, Pine commanded respect from both the jazz and EDM worlds, continuing to blur the boundaries of each. And of those genres which Pine was to explore, drum ‘n’ bass was another that would demonstrate comprehensive fusion between these two disciplines. This was particularly the case for the subgenre which came to be known as liquid drum ‘n’ bass –​or liquid funk. Liquid Funk was the name of a compilation album produced by the DJ Fabio in 2000, which kickstarted this new, softer, and more melodic style. Described by Hall, “ ‘liquid’ drum ‘n’ bass artists use vocals reminiscent of house and disco tracks alongside broken beats and jazz-​and funk influenced rhythms”, and she notes that “these stylistic musical differences have led to some variation in the composition of their respective clubbing communities” (2013: 108). The “ ‘lightness’ of liquid alongside the absence of a ‘blearing’ emcee” (ibid.) allowed for a lot more experimentation and innovation within this style, and indeed, Fabio himself has argued that “the versatility [of liquid] has brought back the dynamic that […] became lost as the styles of drum’n’bass became too sonically disparate” (Jenkins, 2020). The use of jazz allowed for this in a way that other components would not, providing yet another example of the successful fusion of these two styles. Towards the end of the 1990s, several songs began to surface which were to signal the absolute, bona fide introduction of the electro swing genre. But before I explore these, it will prove useful to analyse one more complementary genre that occurred throughout the 1990s. This was to emerge back in the USA, specifically in California, and concerned the movement known as neo-​swing, or swing revival. Centred around jazz clubs such as Club DeLuxe, located on San Francisco’s famous Haight-​Ashbury intersection, neo-​swing combined the sounds of the swing era with a more contemporary rock sound. The source of this revival is often credited to the band Royal Crown Revue (Vale & Wallace, 1998: 20), and other significant acts included Squirrel Nut Zippers, Cherry Poppin’ Daddies, and Big Bad Voodoo Daddy. Whilst this scene contained no element of EDM whatsoever –​the phenomenon therefore revolving entirely around live culture –​the level of mainstream success that it accumulated was considerable enough that there is no doubt of its subsequent influence. The most demonstrable instance of this occurred in 1999, when Big Bad Voodoo Daddy were invited to perform at the halftime show of America’s ‘Super Bowl XXXIII’. The movement was not particularly long-​lived, however, suffering an “inevitable backlash” around the turn of the century (Partridge, 2018), and eventually, “just kind of fizzled out, as these things do” (ibid.). But the impact that this brief movement had upon popular music must be recognised: as the 20th century gave way to the 21st, it was soundtracked by the unmistakable sounds of swing. As highlighted at the start of this chapter, jazz and swing have always included danceability as an essential characteristic, and up until the emergence of bebop, no one would have questioned this function. What I have

26  Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative shown so far is that throughout its history, and particularly since the late 1980s, there have been various movements within the genre that have forcefully put this aspect of music at the forefront, accentuating the extent to which there should be no distinction between jazz and dance. And the most effective way of doing this in recent times has been through the combination of jazz with numerous styles of EDM. Emerging from the fusion of Miles Davis and the electro innovations of Herbie Hancock, this would be demonstrated through the styles of jazz rap, new jack swing, acid jazz, trip hop, liquid drum ‘n’ bass, neo-​swing, and more. And as the new millennium approached, the seeds of electro swing would begin to spawn, culminating in this new style which was to push such aspects of electronica and danceability to a whole new level.

A History of Electro Swing In 2010, DJ, promotor, and label-​owner Nick Hollywood authored an article for Nude magazine, detailing the emerging electro swing movement; in which, he described “the earliest truly electro-​swing record” as ‘Lucas With The Lid Off’ (1994) –​in which Danish rapper Lucas raps over a sample of Benny Goodman’s ‘When Buddha Smiles’ (1935). In general, I consider this an accurate consideration and will often point to Lucas’s track myself when identifying the beginnings of the genre, although there are a few earlier tracks that have been claimed as the first true example of the style. The earliest track which is commonly cited was first released in 1989, being ‘Swing the Mood’, by Jive Bunny and the Mastermixers. As one might ascertain from the title, this song is a reworking of Glenn Miller’s ‘In The Mood’ (1939), which features additional samples from many classic rock ‘n’ roll artists, such as Bill Haley, Little Richard, Elvis Presley, and the Everly Brothers, amongst others. Whilst this song certainly featured many of the features that would go on to characterise electro swing, as with Cargo’s ‘Jazz Rap’, the piece was essentially a novelty record, and didn’t quite kick-​start a new trend in the way that ‘Lucas With The Lid Off’ or ‘Talkin’ All That Jazz’ would. In my search for early examples of the genre, I have found little else released prior to 1994, but the one track that could potentially pass for electro swing is the Cajmere’s Underground Goodies’ remix of Dajaé’s ‘U Got Me Up’ (1993). Although this remix would primarily fall under the house genre, it features many of the characteristic trumpet samples that would later distinguish the electro swing style and can therefore be considered one of its antecedents. And another track, which came out the same year as ‘Lucas With The Lid Off’ but several months beforehand, was ‘Doop’ (1994), by the Dutch act of the same name –​which primarily consisted of the word “doop” sang repeatedly over an accelerated swing sample. Again, like ‘Swing the Mood’, this was something of a novelty record and wasn’t to change the music scene in any particularly prominent way; but it undoubtedly signalled another step in electro swing’s evolution.

Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative  27 In contrast, the impact of ‘Lucas With The Lid Off’ was quite substantial, and the music video –​directed by Michel Gondry –​was even nominated for a Grammy. As noted, this track was to set off something of a trend for using swing-​based samples within EDM, and this was to be observed in the years approaching the new millennium. Whilst it would still be some years before the start of a recognisable electro swing scene, many one-​off tracks were to be released from –​in some cases –​already very established artists joining in with the movement. Whilst I will refrain from providing an exhaustive list of every notable track from this era, some of the more prominent examples include: Moby’s ‘Honey’ (1999); Mr Scruff’s ‘Get a Move On’ (1999); and Jurassic 5’s ‘Swing Set’ (2000). The consequence of such artists engaging with this genre was to bring it to a significantly wider audience, establishing the sound as a sincere variant of electronica, and ridding the genre of any connotation of novelty. Following on from this, the year 2001 saw the release of Shadow Kingdom by the Austrian producer Marcus Füreder, released under the name of Plasma. Whilst Shadow Kingdom was to have no recognisable impact upon the emergent electro swing genre –​being more in line with the acid jazz style –​it was noteworthy for the identity of the producer, as Füreder would go on to become Parov Stelar, arguably the most significant figure within the entirety of the genre, who has subsequently been referred to as “The Pioneer of Electro Swing” (Weinberger, 2012). In 2004, Füreder released his first full-​ length album as Stelar, entitled Rough Cuts, which featured such memorable tracks as ‘Psychedelic Jazz’ and ‘KissKiss’. The year 2004 also saw the release of Swing-​Swing from the French composer Nicolas Repac, also embracing this new sound. Whilst Repac was not to become an electro swing star in the way Stelar later would, this album was undoubtedly influential to the point where it’s been said that it was upon this release “that a new genre as such really began to coalesce” (Hollywood, 2010: 30). And indeed, in the years following 2004, many new acts began to emerge, a lot of whom have since become some of the biggest across the genre. Whilst most of the genre’s development was occurring across mainland Europe, it’s worth noting the formation of Goldfish, a South African duo who released their debut album, Caught in the Loop, in 2006. Back in Europe, the majority of the development was occurring in France –​in 2006, the turntablist group C2C won their fourth consecutive DMC team world champion title; the following year Chinese Man released their debut album, The Groove Sessions (2007); and in 2008, Caravan Palace released their self-​titled debut. As with Parov Stelar, Caravan Palace would also grow to become one of the most celebrated acts within the genre, and the two are widely acknowledged alongside each other as those who have established the sound throughout the mainstream. This has led reviewers to describe them as “one of the founding pioneers of 1920’s-​infused electro-​swing” (Grace, 2020). The following year, Stelar was to release Coco (2009), which is generally considered to be his most defining work in terms of the sound he was to

28  Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative create. Featuring such fan-​favourites as ‘The Mojo Radio Gang’, ‘Ragtime Cat’, ‘Libella Swing’, and ‘Catgroove’, reviews were to highlight that whilst “the expansion into and incorporation of jazz in the electronic scene is a concept far from new […] its impact is best felt on a disc like Coco” (Hampson, 2009). The track ‘Catgroove’ was particularly notable due to a fan-​made video released the following year, by YouTube user ‘takeSomeCrime’. Under the pseudonym of ‘Forsythe’, this individual performed a choreographed dance routine to the track in his basement (takeSomeCrime, 2010); and the video experienced a great deal of popularity, becoming one of the most iconic early representations of electro swing. Having amassed well over 50 million views, Forsythe would later work directly alongside Stelar, performing in the official video for his track ‘Beatbuddy Swing’ (takeSomeCrime, 2014). The success of Coco signalled without a doubt that electro swing was to be considered its own, independent genre, and it was upon this record that people started to take serious notice of this developing scene. It was to be around this time that the term electro swing first started to be used, although there is some degree of confusion as to precisely when this was. In an interview given in 2012, Marcus Füreder claimed that he invented the term “seven years ago when I spoke to a French journalist. He asked me how I would describe the genre of some of my tracks and I said ‘electro swing’ ” (Bondy, 2012). Taking Füreder’s word then, we can assume that the term began circulating around roughly 2005. Yet DJ Michael Rack of the Dutty Moonshine outfit suggests that it wasn’t until 2009 that the term was first heard, and that it was coined by the French label Wagram, for the first of their Electro Swing compilations (2009). To back this up, he has pointed to the promotional material for an event he organised in 2009, in which none of the artists performing had the term used to describe their sound: *HOST*-​Bass 6 -​beatbox extraodanaire *MUSIC* The Corrospondants -​Swing n Bass Mr B The Gentleman Rhymer -​Chap Hop Kitch -​Jazz Don Von Drop It -​Swing n Bass My Pet Sonic Monster-​Lindycore MisCreation +​Bass Instinct-​Spoken Electronica Toiletboy-​Pure Upbeat Swing [sic.]. (Browne, 2014) Rack’s point is supported by Chris Tofu, who told the same story of how: we were all calling it loads of things, and then this guy called Oliver, at Wagram […] decided to call it electro swing […] when he made that first compilation, and called it Electro Swing, we were like, ‘right, there’s no

Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative  29

Figure 1.1 Collection of posters and flyers for various electro swing nights held in 2010. From top left: © Nick Hollywood; © Aaron Delachaux; © Sacha Dieu; © Michael Rack.

30  Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative point us all calling this thing different genres –​or different subgenres, or names –​let’s just call it all electro swing’. It’s not entirely clear whether or not Wagram were the very first to use the term; however, what we can say for certain is that of the record labels to latch onto this new sound, they were the first to put out a dedicated compilation. 2009’s Electro Swing featured tracks by artists such as Caravan Palace and Parov Stelar, as well as some of the earlier pioneers such as Mr Scruff and Nicolas Repac. This was alongside various other artists who would go on to have long careers working with this sound, including Kormac, Club Des Belugas, and Lyre Le Temps. The label was to continue this series, working in partnership with the French duo Bart&Baker since the release of Electro Swing IV in 2011. In the UK, the label Freshly Squeezed –​run by the aforementioned Nick Hollywood –​first released White Mink: Black Cotton in 2010, which also tied in with the start of the regular ‘White Mink’ club night, whilst the German label Lola’s World first put out The Electro Swing Revolution Vol. 1 in 2011, which also signalled the introduction of the online ‘Electro Swing Revolution’ radio station. An artist whom I have yet to mention is Caro Emerald, the Dutch singer who released her debut album, Deleted Scenes from the Cutting Room Floor, in 2010. With Deleted Scenes came a landmark moment for the electro swing genre, as this album experienced a new level of mainstream success which no previous release had even come close to achieving. In her home country of the Netherlands, Deleted Scenes was to immediately enter the album charts at the number one spot, spending a total of 30 weeks in the top position and breaking the record previously held by Michael Jackson’s Thriller for the longest time spent at the top of the Dutch charts. And Emerald’s success was to continue in the UK as well through the release of her second album, The Shocking Miss Emerald (2013), which reached the number one position in the British album charts. Released on her own label, Grandmono Records was one of the various labels set up around this time which would focus exclusively on electro swing. Alongside Grandmono, one could find the previously mentioned Freshly Squeezed, as well as the Austrian label Etage Noir Recordings, founded by Parov Stelar. Austria was also home to Billybong Records, and other labels to emerge during this time included Green Queen Music, ChinChin Records, and Electro Swing Thing. One label of particular note is the UK’s Ragtime Records, founded in 2012 as a collaboration between two Birmingham-​based artists: the Electric Swing Circus and DJ C@ in the H@. The first full-​length release on Ragtime Records was the Electric Swing Circus’s self-​titled debut the following year (2013), a year which I argue was to kick-​start the electro swing movement in the UK like no other. Not only did 2013 see Caro Emerald reach the top of the British charts, but the release of the Electric Swing Circus’s debut helped to launch a string of events which firmly situated the genre in the minds of the British public. As

Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative  31 well as founding a record label and releasing their debut album, the Electric Swing Circus were to run the first installation of Swingamajig, the world’s first festival dedicated entirely to the genre of electro swing. McGee has highlighted the degree to which “since 2000, the vintage festival movement has manifest in smaller cities throughout Europe” (2020: 33), and Swingamajig was –​to some extent –​a continuation of this trend. The notion of vintage certainly played a major role for Swingamajig –​a feature which will be explored in much greater detail in Chapter 5 –​but what the festival added to this movement was the electronic element, signalling a desire to look to the future as much as to the past (see Figure 1.1). Swingamajig took place on the 5th of May, 2013, in Birmingham: headlined by the Correspondents and featuring other acts including Dutty Moonshine, Mr Switch, and Chris Tofu. And later on this year, electro swing would dominate at further festivals too. At the annual Boomtown Fair –​known for setting up a mock city in which various districts are dedicated to specific styles of music –​the district of Mayfair Avenue was established in 2013, dedicated exclusively to electro swing. Elsewhere this year, the first Maui Waui festival was held in Suffolk –​again, with a heavy emphasis on electro swing. Thus, in the space of one year, three festivals with an explicit focus on the genre had emerged in the UK. And in the following years, electro swing would feature prominently at further festivals such as Glastonbury –​which regularly presented electro swing artists across its Shangri-​La stages –​and Shambala, which was to introduce a stage programmed by the Swingamajig team. As the sound continued to expand, what quickly became evident was the impact that the genre was having upon the wider mainstream of popular music. Throughout the 2010s, various contemporary pop hits were to be released which featured a clear electro swing influence. Some of the most notable of these included Daft Punk’s ‘Get Lucky’ (2013) –​written with Nile Rodgers of Chic fame; Galantis’s ‘Peanut Butter Jelly’ (2015); and Icona Pop’s ‘Emergency’ (2015). On top of this, the 2010s were to see various mainstream pop artists incorporate the sound into their own distinctive style, with some of the more prominent being singers such as Meghan Trainor, Paloma Faith, and Lady Gaga. In the case of the latter, Gaga was to even release a full album of jazz covers with famed singer Tony Bennett (2014). Titled Cheek to Cheek, one of the tracks featured on this album –​‘I Can’t Give You Anything But Love’ –​was notably given an official remix by Parov Stelar. It seems that the peak for electro swing’s inclusion within the mainstream may have been from the period of 2013–​2015. When looking at the best-​ selling single of each of these years, it’s clear that each of them featured at least something of an electro swing influence in their attitude to remixing the sounds of the past. Respectively, these were: ‘Blurred Lines’ by Robin Thicke (2013), which is heavily based upon Marvin Gaye’s ‘Got to Give It Up’ (1977); ‘Happy’ by Pharrell Williams (2014), which fell under the neo soul subgenre; and ‘Uptown Funk’ by Mark Ronson and Bruno Mars (2015), which by its

32  Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative very title indicates a clear debt to the sounds of 1970s funk. This period also saw the release of Baz Luhrmann’s adaptation of The Great Gatsby (2013), in which he elected to include an electro swing soundtrack, with original songs from renowned artists such as will.i.am and Fergie. The importance of The Great Gatsby to the electro swing scene cannot be overstated, and the world that Fitzgerald documented has been a crucial point of reference for practitioners. Thus, it is no surprise that Luhrmann’s film was to harmonise so extensively with the movement. One more indicator of the influence electro swing was having on mainstream culture during this period can be seen by the fact that in 2015, the UK chose to send an electro swing act, Electro Velvet, to represent them in that year’s Eurovision. With its significant appeal across mainland Europe –​a point which will be explored further in Chapter 3 –​the UK hoped that Electro Velvet’s song, ‘Still in Love with You’ (2015), would help to win them success. And this process has repeated itself several times, most recently with Malta’s 2021 entry, ‘Je ma casse’, by singer Destiny. As stated, up until this point, electro swing was primarily a European phenomenon –​but it was around this time that the American audience first started to take note. The most distinctive example of this came with the act Postmodern Jukebox, who brought their own unique musical take to the scene. Rather than update swing music through techniques derived from EDM, Postmodern Jukebox –​the collective ensemble centred around pianist Scott Bradlee –​chose to take contemporary pop hits and perform then in a vintage swing style. Regularly uploading performances to YouTube, one of their earliest videos was a cover of ‘Thrift Shop’ (2013a), originally by hip hop duo Macklemore & Ryan Lewis (2012). Notably, this cover was subsequently picked up by the aforementioned Bart&Baker, who only three months later released an official electro swing remix of the track (PostmodernJukebox, 2013b). Various DJs and producers were also to crop up around this time across the states, including Mr Automatic; Vourteque; Atom Smith and Buck Down –​collectively known as The Gentlemen Callers of Los Angeles; and Duke Skellington –​who in 2017 joined the Ragtime Records team as part of their expansion into the US market. The sound of electro swing continued to rise throughout North America, culminating in the Roaring City festival held across two days in April 2019 in Chicago. Run by Mr Automatic and Vourteque –​as an extension of their ongoing club night Rouge! –​the festival featured headline performances from Defunk, Sepiatonic, and Slynk, all of whom were pushing the sound in their own new directions, alongside many other acts from across the continent. Roaring City was a significant milestone for electro swing, as it demonstrated that –​as with the original Swingamajig six years earlier –​electro swing held the potential to entertain crowds across a whole festival. This had already been demonstrated multiple times for the European audience, and now the same could be said for the Americans.

Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative  33 After about a decade in the spotlight, electro swing was ready to be pushed in new directions. Many acts started to recognise the limitations of disc culture, and began expanding their sound and incorporating additional musicians within their live performances. The Electric Swing Circus and Smokey Joe and the Kid both started bringing brass sections on tour with them, whilst Dutty Moonshine and Kormac managed to include an entire big band as part of their show. In the case of Dutty Moonshine, the big band was to effectively become the act itself, with leader Michael Rack commenting on how: I always knew Dutty Moonshine as a DJ act had a limitation, there was a limit as far as you could go. […] I still do the DJing, but I want it to be like, when I get booked as Dutty Moonshine, they’re gonna have to in brackets, put ‘DJ’ next to it, to highlight that it’s a DJ set, as opposed to the big band One act who has taken this even further is Mr Switch, who has come to regularly perform alongside an entire orchestra, going by the name of Symphonica. The addition of an orchestra has demonstrated the full extent to which the electro swing sound may develop and has also brought with it connotations of high art –​a notion that will be explored much further in Chapter 4. These various developments all signalled exciting new directions for electro swing, particularly with regard to the live opportunities available to present the style. The broader sounds texturally, the more expansive stage shows, as well as the widening spread into further festivals –​all set the tone for a new stage in the genre’s live development. Yet –​as with everything else –​these developments were halted in 2020 as a result of the worldwide Covid-​19 pandemic. In order for electro swing to continue progressing, it would need to find new ways to thrive and survive.

The Present and the Future Towards the end of the doctoral thesis upon which this book is based, I concluded that “whilst one can never be completely certain as to how a genre may progress with time, I do believe that there is still a vast amount of unexplored territory that this style has yet to conquer”. It remains true that there are many new avenues of development for electro swing to explore, but what I could not anticipate were the global circumstances to which such developments were to act in response. Despite reports announcing that the “value of UK’s live music scene hits record high” in 2019 (Sweney, 2019), the reality of the following year for musicians both in the UK and globally could not have been more different. On the 23rd of March, 2020, the UK was placed into lockdown measures as a result of the Covid-​19 pandemic. This lockdown came following a string of similar orders in other European countries: both France and Austria had entered lockdown a week previously on the 16th March, and many others

34  Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative were enacting the same procedures. Over in the United States –​whilst then-​ president Donald Trump was hesitant to introduce nationwide lockdown measures –​many individual states were to bring in similar restrictions to try and curb the spread of the virus. The consequences of this for the world of music were devastating, as countless musicians struggled to sustain their careers –​of which a significant proportion of their income came directly from live events: The live music scene, globally, has been all but shut down overnight. This situation has had unforeseen repercussions on the music industries which are already struggling to navigate unforeseen conditions in the wake of constant, and rapid, developments in telecommunications in recent decades. Many musicians have lost their primary income stream and source of livelihood. (Lee et al., 2020: 1) Almost no musical movement was immune to the misfortune that ensued as a result of the pandemic, and this of course included electro swing, of which all live developments were completely ground to a halt. Perhaps the first significant moment for the live music industry during this time came on the 18th of March, when the Glastonbury festival announced that the 2020 edition of the festival would not be going ahead. Easily the biggest music festival in the UK, this year was due to be Glastonbury’s 50th anniversary, and its cancellation sent shockwaves through the music industry – many accurately predicting that this development would represent the first domino to topple in a line of many. Whilst this early cancellation was somewhat predictable due to the large-​scale nature of Glastonbury, some smaller festivals thought at first that such cancellations might not be as necessary for themselves. For instance, Shindig Weekender initially put out an announcement saying that the event was only to be postponed from May until September. Later on, this was pushed back to May 2021, and was then cancelled again until finally returning the following year. And the Swingamajig festival for this year was also cancelled: a sad development for many electro swing enthusiasts who saw this event as something of a spiritual home for the genre. This was the first wave of events to be called off. But as these were all fairly early on in the festival calendar –​between May and June –​some of the events scheduled to run later in the year remained optimistic about their chances of going ahead. For instance, Boomtown Fair –​which generally runs in the second weekend of August –​held out for a little while longer, before eventually announcing their official cancellation on the 30th of April. Boomtown was amongst the last of 2020s major UK events to be called off, effectively confirming to all electro swing fans that they would not be getting the chance to experience any live music en masse this summer. This was of course devastating for the fans of the genre, but it was even more so for many of its practitioners who, as mentioned, lost a significant

Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative  35 proportion of their income. And whilst then British Chancellor Rishi Sunak announced a £350 billion package to support independent workers (BBC, 2020), the Musicians’ Union reported that 38% of British musicians were unable to access this support (Musicians’ Union, 2020). Of those that did qualify, 26% said that they would still struggle to survive financially in the interim period before initially beginning to receive payment (ibid.). Thus, musicians had to turn to different means to generate a sufficient income for themselves. In the age of the internet, the most popular method of choice came with the increase of livestreamed performances, which naturally extended to entire virtual festivals. As highlighted by Haven, “these events are positioned as the new frontier of the concert-​going experience as the promise of virtual reality immersion becomes increasingly accessible” (2020). One of the first events to utilise this technique in the electro swing world was the Swingamajig festival, who hosted their own virtual event on the day it was originally due to be held, called the ‘Swingamajig Quarantine Party’. The Swingamajig team have had previous experience hosting last-​minute replacement events, as the 2018 edition of the festival was also cancelled at short notice, resulting in them putting on the ‘Swingamajig Speakeasy Spectacular’ –​ a toned-​down version of the festival at an alternate location in Birmingham. Due to the nature of individual isolation, the quarantine party was largely limited to DJ performances –​with DJs such as Morphosis of Hong Kong Ping Pong, Tallulah Goodtimes, and C@ in the H@ providing sets. However, there was one live performance from the Rin Tins, an act who shared a house together; and the festival also took advantage of alternate means of entertainment, such as a Swingamajig quiz, and a panel discussion on “the future of electro swing”. One of the advantages of such virtual events was that no longer were line-​ups limited by the geographical location of their performers. In a completely globalised world, many of these online events took advantage of their newfound means to feature live performances from all around the world, with the only logistical issue being the difference in time zones. For example, in June 2020, the label Electro Swing Thing hosted a virtual event which featured performances from Mr Harvey Miller of Austria; Wolfgang Lohr and Justin Fidele of Germany; Tallulah Goodtimes and Emma Clair of the UK; and Kumiho and Duke Skellington of the United States. Such events were also to take advantage of the new developments in technology available to them. For instance, in early 2021, the newly established events company Gonna Be Quirk put on a series of virtual festivals which heavily featured electro swing performances and brought a whole new dimension to the experience. In their virtual events, each participant controlled an avatar on an online map, in which they could walk around a digital festival site, between different stages, and experience many different performances as they approached each one. On top of this, every attendee had their webcam on, and as they approached other attendees, they would be connected and could speak and interact with one another. As one of the regularly cited highlights of physical festivals

36  Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative is the intersocial interaction between various attendees, such technological advantages allowed one to come closer than had previously been experienced to the genuine festival experience. As venues slowly started to open up again, electro swing promoters began to hold numerous events that were permissible within the guidelines of governmental restrictions. Again, Swingamajig was amongst those to take full advantage of this. A very cautious event was first held in August 2020, to coincide with when they would usually be running a stage at the annual Shambala festival. This was another livestream, featuring the live Heavy Beat Brass Band, as well as DJ acts Mr Switch, C@ in the H@, and Catjam; however, all the performances came from the same venue, which also hosted a very limited live audience. In May 2021, Swingamajig put on a socially distanced ‘Garden Party’ at Birmingham’s Botanical Gardens, where attendees could pre-​book a pitch-​in groups of up to six and were required to remain seated throughout the performances. This approach was also modelled by DJ Father Funk, who held a series of ‘Super Nice Sit Down Parties’ in Bristol in 2021. Whilst many of the acts performing at Father Funk’s events were already a part of the electro swing scene, this connection was made even more evident at one event in May, which constituted a takeover from the Swing & Bass club night and label. As of 2022, live music venues across the UK have now reopened with no restrictions in place. The country’s largely successful vaccine rollout programme has ensured that many practitioners feel optimistic that further lockdown measures won’t be necessary, and similar developments are occurring across Europe and America. Whilst many of the major UK festivals such as Glastonbury and Boomtown had been forced to cancel for a second year in 2021, some of the smaller events were able to host toned-​down versions of their festivals later on in 2021. In September, Swingamajig held a two-​ stage ‘Swingamajig Spectacular’ event; whilst in October, Shindig put on their ‘Tutti Frutti Weekender’ in Somerset. And in 2022, all the major festivals that survived began to return as normal. The return of live music has unsurprisingly been fervently welcomed by the electro swing world, ready to pick up from where they were left off at the end of 2019. Outside of the Covid-​19 pandemic, the electro swing scene faced a similar tragedy in October of 2020, which was the sudden and unexpected death of Tim Cole of the Correspondents. Founded in 2007, the Correspondents were arguably the biggest name in British electro swing, helping to establish the sound in its infancy through tracks such as ‘What’s Happened To Soho?’ and ‘Washington Square’ (2011). This can be highlighted through the words of blogger George Browne, who explained to me how: it was the Correspondents really that made me think […] it was just a perfect blend of so many styles and attitudes, that I loved. I loved Mr Bruce’s delivery, and dancing, and yeah, I just thought it was amazing.

Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative  37 Their idiosyncratic sound helped to win them appeal with peers across the electro swing circuit, as demonstrated by Dutty Moonshine’s Michael Rack, who was to speak of how: Correspondents, I’ve got a lot of time for them actually –​I’ve had some great chats with Tim about his, his influences with boogaloo and stuff, which has been fascinating. The duo, made up of Tim Cole –​amicably known as Chucks –​and Ian Bruce, headlined the first ever Swingamajig in 2013, as well as acting as joint headline in 2015, and then headlining again in 2017. Later on in 2017, they played a ten-​year anniversary show at London’s Electric Brixton venue, featuring support from DJ Yoda, Krafty Kuts, Chris Tofu, and BBC1’s Rob Da Bank. These were amongst the biggest shows that a UK electro swing band would ever play; and whilst their live shows were largely memorable due to Bruce’s outlandish stage moves, Cole provided the strong backing force that held down the music and ultimately characterised their sound. In October, Cole suffered a pulmonary embolism, dying at the age of 35. As a still relatively young genre, this was the first significant death across the electro swing world, which created a real sense of mortality throughout the scene. Long seen as a purely happy and joyful genre –​a reputation which will be explored in Chapter 4 –​electro swing was now imbued with some real pain. Following these events, Mr Bruce was to go on to perform as a solo act, and whilst his lyrics had at times been dark before –​for instance in the Correspondents’ ‘Inexplicable’ (2017) –​they now strayed into altogether new territory. In 2021, Mr Bruce released his first solo single, ‘Race to Nowhere’. As it currently stands, electro swing has reached something of a new state of maturity. No longer in its adolescence, the movement has faced distinct obstacles in recent years that have forced it to respond in unfamiliar ways; and the directions the genre may take from this point onwards will undoubtedly be chosen in response to such challenges. Of course, the genre has already faced various challenges of a certain kind throughout its development. The majority of this book then will explore these areas that have created distinctive challenges for electro swing, and will assess the genre’s response to these challenges. But before jumping straight into these discussions, it will prove useful to conclude this chapter by providing –​to the unfamiliar reader –​ a short list of key artists who will be covered throughout the book.

Key Artists Whilst this list is far from exhaustive, it will indicate who some of the major players are across the global electro swing scene and give an initial background into some of the names that will emerge throughout the following chapters.

38  Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative Parov Stelar Having been described as the “The Pioneer of Electro Swing” as noted above, Austria’s Parov Stelar is without a doubt one of the first acts one will encounter when discovering electro swing. The album Rough Cuts, released in 2004, was his debut release under the name of Stelar and was arguably the world’s first full-​ length electro swing release. Gradually building a name for himself with songs like ‘Catgroove’, ‘Jimmy’s Gang’, and ‘Booty Swing’, Stelar demonstrated a consistent knack for producing catchy, upbeat songs in a style very emblematic of the archetypal early electro swing sound. Early on in his career, he founded the Etage Noir record label, responsible for releasing both his own music and that of various other prominent electro swing artists. Performing alongside a full band, as part of a trio, or as a solo DJ –​Stelar continues to release music and to tour, playing to thousands of fans around the world. Caravan Palace Alongside Stelar, the French act Caravan Palace together form something of a sacred duo within the electro swing genre. Formed in 2004, the band released their debut self-​titled album in 2008, the sound of which –​whilst similar to what Stelar was producing –​is characterised more by its gypsy jazz influences, reminiscent of the music of Django Reinhardt and Stéphane Grappelli. To date, Caravan Palace have released four full-​length albums, each one pushing their sound into new territory. Songs of theirs such as ‘Rock It For Me’, ‘Wonderland’, and ‘Lone Digger’ have accumulated millions of plays online, with the latter currently standing at over 350 million views on YouTube alone (2015). Caro Emerald Caro Emerald is a Dutch singer who has likely experienced more chart success than any other electro swing artist globally. As mentioned above, her debut album, Deleted Scenes from the Cutting Room Floor (2010), spent 30 weeks at the top of the Dutch album charts, breaking the record for the longest time a release has held this position; and her follow-​up release, The Shocking Miss Emerald (2013), would also reach the number one spot in the UK. Emerald’s music, which is built around its strong songwriting and lyrical hooks, is released on her own label, Grandmono Records; and her 2011 release Live at the Heineken Music Hall also stands as the first example of an official live electro swing album. C2C Made up of four world-​class scratch turntablists –​DJ Greem, 20syl, DJ Atom, and DJ pFel –​France’s C2C are largely responsible for popularising

Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative  39 the swing hop sound that began to emerge in the early 2010s. From 2003 through to 2006, the group won four DMC World Team Champions competitions in a row, mixing the sounds of swing and blues with classic hip hop turntablist techniques. Gradually building a prominent reputation, the group finally released their debut album, Tetr4, in 2012. Tetr4 was to enter the French album charts at the number one spot, with tracks such as ‘Down the Road’ and ‘Happy’ cementing their position as one of the fundamental acts within the genre. The band have been largely quiet since the release of Tetr4, although recent times have seen DJ Greem team up with Caravan Palace’s Mighty Mezz to form the Alligatorz duo. Goldfish As stated above, much of electro swing’s initial development was to occur across mainland Europe. However, one cannot overlook the importance of South Africa’s Goldfish, who have been releasing music in this style since 2006. The duo, who initially met whilst studying jazz together at the University of Cape Town (Francey, 2015), began their sonic experimentations as something fairly distinct from electro swing. Fusing jazz with EDM, as well as the occasional foray into traditional African music, the group are characterised by the fact that the electronic elements of their music are performed simultaneously alongside live instrumentation –​generally saxophone, flute, piano, and upright bass. In recent times, Goldfish have shifted their sound to be something a bit more purely house-​focused, but they have always retained the live jazz instrumentation. Postmodern Jukebox As will be discussed further in Chapter 3, it was to take some time before the United States fully latched onto the electro swing sound, but one of the earliest acts to take advantage of this trend –​albeit in their own way –​was Postmodern Jukebox, the collective of musicians centred around pianist Scott Bradlee. Postmodern Jukebox’s approach is to take contemporary pop songs, covering them and reworking them into arrangements that draw upon swing, jazz, and any genres with connotations of vintage. The bulk of Postmodern Jukebox’s success comes from their extensive YouTube videos, which at the time of writing have collectively accumulated close to two billion views. Chinese Man Whilst C2C may have experienced the most success of the various acts attached to the swing hop subgenre, those who have arguably forged its sound more than any other are Chinese Man, also from France. A production trio, working with a revolving line-​up of accompanying MCs –​including Youthstar, ASM, and Tumi –​Chinese Man’s sound is characterised by its

40  Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative influence of hip hop, trip hop, and dub-​influenced sounds. With tracks such as ‘I’ve Got That Tune’ (2007) remaining a staple of the genre since its release, Chinese Man are also notable for having founded their own label, Chinese Man Records, signing such notable artists as Deluxe –​another prominent act from the swing hop scene. Alice Francis Aside from Caro Emerald, the most prominent solo singer of the electro swing scene is undoubtedly Germany’s Alice Francis, known for such tracks as ‘Shoot Him Down’ and ‘Gangsterlove’ (2012). Originally from Romania, Alice Francis’s music, like Emerald’s, is centred around strong songwriting, with clear influences from contemporary pop throughout. With releases on Parov Stelar’s Etage Noir label, Francis’s back-​catalogue –​though not too extensive –​remains one of the genre’s most prominent, and she has resultingly been described as “the queen of the new swing era” (Penni, 2017). The Correspondents Arguably the most prominent act to have emerged out of the distinctive British scene, the Correspondents are a duo formed in 2007 in London. Whilst some of their earliest tracks such as ‘What’s Happened to Soho?’ and ‘Washington Square’ (2011) played a significant role in establishing the electro swing sound in the UK, they continued to push their sound with each new release, expanding the boundaries of the genre as they did so. With MC Mr Bruce’s energetic lyrical delivery and outlandish dance moves, the band gained a heavy reputation for their stage show, and subsequently headlined Birmingham’s Swingamajig festival three times. In October 2020, producer Tim Cole –​known as Chucks –​tragically died of a pulmonary embolism. Jamie Berry Another of the most prominent acts to come from the British scene, DJ/​producer Jamie Berry’s music –​like Parov Stelar’s –​is often amongst the first examples of the genre one will come across when exploring this style. With a distinctively bright and upbeat house-​based sound, Berry has put out dozens of songs that can be considered some of the genre’s most defining pieces. Tracks such as ‘Delight’, ‘Lost in the Rhythm’, and ‘Out of My Mind’ are some of his more significant releases, which have been featured across countless mixtapes and DJ sets since he first started producing this style in 2012. Smokey Joe and the Kid Another act to have come out of France’s swing hop scene, Smokey Joe and the Kid are a production duo from Bordeaux, who –​along with taking influence from

Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative  41 the world of hip hop –​are also known for incorporating genres of EDM such as dubstep and drum ‘n’ bass to help create their sound. Whilst not as commercially successful as C2C or Chinese Man, the act is considerably well-​respected within the genre, and have worked with many of the same MCs working within the scene –​as well as those from further afield, such as America’s R.A. the Rugged Man. Since 2016, the duo have begun bringing a live horn section with them on tour, along with MC and frequent collaborator MysDiggi. The Electric Swing Circus Formed in 2011, Birmingham’s the Electric Swing Circus have developed a reputation for being one of the genre’s most formidable live acts. Utilising influences from rock alongside those of swing and EDM, the Electric Swing Circus’s sound is characterised by its gypsy jazz guitarwork, heavy basslines, and dynamic vocal harmonies. The band –​led by guitarist Tom Hyland –​are widely known in the UK not just for their music but also for being the driving forces behind the Ragtime Records label, showcasing some of the UK’s most prominent acts; and the Swingamajig festival, the first electro swing festival of its kind anywhere in the world. Dutty Moonshine Led by DJ/​producer Michael Rack, the Dutty Moonshine act began in 2010 as a duo whose sound explored the various sounds of the British underground –​ drum ‘n’ bass; garage; dubstep; grime –​and fusing them with various styles of jazz. In 2015, Rack expanded the act to a become a full live band, rechristening it the Dutty Moonshine Big Band, and including two MCs, a keyboardist, and an 8-​piece horn section. Whilst still occasionally performing as a DJ, the full live band continue to make waves in the British electro swing scene. Upon its release, their second album, City of Sin (2020a) reached number one on the British dance charts. Nick Hollywood Commonly regarded as “the Godfather of Electro Swing” (Thompson, 2021), the role that Nick Hollywood has played in promoting the sounds of electro swing is undeniable. As already discussed, 2010s White Mink: Black Cotton release –​which Hollywood compiled –​represented one of the first examples of a full-​length electro swing compilation, and he was also to contribute his own track as a producer to the collection: ‘Deep Henderson’. Hollywood also launched the ‘White Mink’ club night in Brighton that same year and would regularly DJ the event himself. And on top of this, he has run the label Freshly Squeezed label since its inception in 2005 –​arguably the world’s most prominent electro swing label –​representing such artists as the Correspondents, SwinGrowers, and Swing Republic.

42  Electro Swing as Part of a Historical Narrative Chris Tofu The final artist I will introduce is Chris Tofu, another of the UK’s most prominent individuals within the genre, alongside Hollywood. Primarily an events-​ organiser, Tofu founded the ‘Electro Swing Club’ series of events in 2009, and has continued to represent the sound, programming stages at dozens of the biggest festivals across the UK, including at Glastonbury, Boomtown Fair –​as well as occasionally running his own festivals such as Grinagog and London Remixed. A DJ himself as well, Tofu’s approach to the sound incorporates influences from genres such as dub, reggae, and ska. In 2017, he was awarded an MBE for his services to the music industry. The electro swing movement continues to grow, and new artists continue to crop up on a regular basis. Although the aforementioned names represent some of the genre’s biggest successes, many of the smaller acts have been just as instrumental in shaping the sound and scene –​if not more so. Discussions of these assorted acts will play a major role in understanding the various issues that will be tackled throughout this book –​the first of which can certainly be shown to represent something of a point of contention: that being the issue of authenticity.

2 Considering Measures of Authenticity

Our understanding of the authentic is, itself, something that could perhaps be better understood. Far from being clearly defined, the notion of authenticity has been invoked across a whole manner of different scenarios, to the point where it has become something of a cliché. I will come to address the various models that have previously been used to lay claim to one’s authentic status, but the common ground that it will first prove necessary to identify lies in the fact that authenticity “is ascribed, not inscribed” (Moore, 2012: 266). This is an essential point when understanding the concept –​that authenticity is “not a property of, but something we ascribe to a performance” (Rubidge, 1996: 219). Thus, no genre can be said to be truly, objectively authentic –​ but we may learn a lot from studying the ways in which participants engage with the idea of authenticity in relation to said genre. In the case of electro swing, this is undoubtedly the case, and we may find several discussions to be had that are exclusive to this particular style of music. As demonstrated in the previous chapter, electro swing occupies a unique place when considering how one may judge its perceived levels of authenticity, as the genre is slotted neatly between Thornton’s ideas of live and disc culture. Particularly when considering its relationship with jazz, the technological elements that electro swing brings to the music may be considered to have diluted jazz to some extent, reducing the movement to something less worthy than so-​called true, authentic jazz. This is certainly the view shared by the likes of Wynton Marsalis, infamously known for “actively attempting to construct a jazz tradition that prioritized music created before the conflicting styles and cultural ideologies of the 1960s” (Brennan, 2017: 7–​8). Such considerations will be paramount to this chapter, and the discussion surrounding Marsalis will be extended later on. It’s certainly true that many of the jazz movements of recent years have been directly judged according to these considerations. For instance, McGee speaks of how one of the selling points of Amsterdam’s Wicked Jazz Sounds series was that it: Both stimulated and mediated a sense of liveness. The scene exhibited (and continues to exhibit) a return towards notions of ‘liveness’ in the DOI: 10.4324/9781003254485-3

44  Considering Measures of Authenticity social musical space, partly as a reaction to the non-​human quality of digital media, the overwhelming choice presented by internet sources, and music television’s promotion of a limited number of transnational pop music. (2020: 40) Even when the organisers of these events introduced recorded compilations, they were insistent that such recordings could not be a match for the actual live show: When asked about the impetus for the WJS compilations, DJ Horneman stated emphatically that the music on WJS compilations was intended to represent the total sound of Wicked Jazz Sounds, and not meant to re-​ enact the live events. According to Horneman, ‘the live thing you have to experience live, you can never put that on CD’. (ibid.: 45) On this notion, Barker and Taylor have highlighted that “as soon as technology was used to record music, some aspect of artificiality was introduced” (2007: 247). They speak at length about the German group Kraftwerk, who were no strangers to criticisms of inauthenticity, due to the comprehensively electronic nature of their work. Yet, in response to these sorts of remarks, Kraftwerk’s Ralf Hütter was to point out that: We always found that many people are robots without knowing it. The interpreters of classical music, Horowitz for example, they are like robots, making a reproduction of the music which is always the same. It’s automatic, and they do it as if it were natural, which is not true. (Barker & Taylor, 2007: 243) Hütter’s point is clear: if one is to criticise electronic musicians for not utilising a sufficient amount of freedom within their performance, one must extend that same criticism to those musicians who simply perform live in purely reproductive ways as well. The sole fact that one is playing live is not enough to suggest that there is any level of originality to their performance that would not also be present in a music that is based around electronic reproduction. Consequently, in today’s changing musical landscape, there can be found some examples of musical movements in which it is the disc culture that is considered more authentic. One may take the example of the hip hop genre, which is built around the practice of sampling. In live performances, some hip hop acts will occasionally try to recreate such samples live; as Williams discusses, “the live hip-​ hop gig involves creative alteration of preexisting recordings” (2014: 28). He goes on to discuss the Roots, an act whose drummer Questlove “aims for hip-​hop authenticity, but by different means: the timbre of his drum beat aims to sound sampled, as he attempts on

Considering Measures of Authenticity  45 his drum kit to recreate many of the ‘classic’ breakbeats of the late 1960s and 1970s” (ibid.: 36). However, in a scene in which liveness is not prioritised, acts like the Roots have been “criticized in the past for their decision to use live instruments over recorded samples” (ibid.: 36). Indeed, in quoting producer Jake One, Schloss brings to our attention the suggestion that the use of live instruments “just doesn’t sound authentic” (2004: 67). Our understanding of electro swing is then dependent upon the recognition that both live and disc culture have impacted the ways in which we may regard it in terms of authenticity. In Chapter 1, I discussed how this balance has presented itself across the various historic manifestations that have culminated in electro swing. Here, I will look at these considerations directly, assessing the degree to which we may subsequently evaluate their impact.

The Authenticity of Electro Swing In my interviews with various electro swing creators, a number of them were to speak openly about the notion of authenticity, commenting upon the extent to which the genre might be considered authentic when so much of it is based upon pre-​existing music. For instance, when speaking to Michael Rack of the Dutty Moonshine outfit, he explained the discrepancy between his work as a DJ, compared to what he does as part of the big band: Even our first thing –​the album –​I think, yeah, I think there is some legitimacy to that, there’s authenticity. And it’s difficult, because if you’re working with sample-​based, then no, because samples are samples, you just find the samples, you’ve gotta –​I think you have to write the music, if you’re not writing it, then I don’t think you’ve got a single bit of authenticity, you’re just, you’re just a –​you’re just a sampling DJ. And Rack wasn’t the only performer to make claims such as these either. In speaking with Ashley Slater, of the duo Kitten and the Hip, he was to speak of how “I don’t like sampling, because, just, as a musician myself, I’ve always found it really weird to take someone else’s record, and then kind of pass it off as your own. For me, that just sound like stealing”. This view was shared by Mark Camps too, the DJ and producer behind the Extra Medium act. Speaking on The Captain Flatcap Podcast, Camps was to note that, “for me, I respect it more if a song is original, and I’ve recorded it and written parts of it, rather than going, ‘here’s a sample that I’m essentially going to bastardise’ ” (Captain Flatcap, 2017: 52.45). This thought process has led a number of acts to completely neglect samples, choosing instead to compose their songs from entirely original sources. For instance, the singer Alice Francis spoke to me of how “our songs are all new songs, no covers or song samples”; and one of the unique selling points of the SwinGrowers album Remote (2014b) would too be the lack of any samples. As stated on the album’s Bandcamp page:

46  Considering Measures of Authenticity What marks this out is the departure from any use of vintage samples. Instead, every track, every sound is entirely original –​the influences have been fully absorbed. If there was ever any doubt that this genre had a future, then this is the rebuttal. ‘Remote’ is nothing less than a game-​changer. (SwinGrowers, 2014a) Such concerns suggest that many within the scene are judging the music through the lens of live culture. This is suggestive of an element of rockism within the scene, a position drawn attention to by Sanneh, who speaks of how this focus on live culture has ensured that many are prone to make judgements upon all styles of music through a limiting comparison to rock music: Ever wonder why OutKast and the Roots and Mos Def and the Beastie Boys get taken so much more seriously than other rappers? Maybe because rockist critics love it when hip-​hop acts impersonate rock ‘n’ roll bands. (2004) In assessing electro swing’s relationship with authenticity then, one must recognise the importance of avoiding any superfluous allusions to rockism, and to ensure that all considerations of authenticity act to assess the genre in an appropriate context –​whether that be in relation to a style or movement that has had a direct influence, or entirely in recognition of electro swing of its own accord. It is a difficult task to specify exactly what is meant when referring to the concept of authenticity, and this chapter will act in some way to establish an overarching interpretation, at least with regard to electro swing. But regardless of how the concept may be interpreted, there is an unmistakable role which it plays throughout the genre. Across my studies, I found several individuals from the electro swing scene who were to directly speak of their music in terms of authenticity. One of the most notable of these was Scott Bradlee, the pianist around whom the group Postmodern Jukebox assemble. Previously, Bradlee has spoken of his act in the following terms: The idea is, we just wanna capture that realness, that authenticity, and that’s something that, a lot of times is missing from music that you hear on the charts today. (OxfordUnion, 2017: 23.50) This concept of authenticity also extended to Bradlee’s view of his written publications; when discussing his book Outside the Jukebox (2018a) –​which chronicles the rise of Postmodern Jukebox –​he was to publicly state that “it was important to me to make [the book] as authentic as possible” (2018b). Another artist who I found was to discuss the idea of authenticity in relation to his act was Jim Burke, the man behind the Mr B the Gentleman

Considering Measures of Authenticity  47 Rhymer act. Speaking of the elements that make up Mr B, Burke was to tell me how: I guess it’s the hip hop bit, and the chap bit, that –​you’re both, if you do them, either of them wrong, you’re likely to be pulled up by, you know, whoever it is online about –​‘oh, you know, this-​’, either your flow being off or something like that, or –​in the chappy sense –​you know, if your tie’s not on straight, or something like that […] I just like to make sure that every bit that I do, every part of it, so that, you know –​the flow, and, you know, the beats, and the banjolele playing, and the chappy references, and the hip hop references, are all just as good as they can be, that’s the thing. Thus, the likes of Bradlee and Burke –​along with the testimony of Rack above –​indicate that several artists within the electro swing genre heavily prioritise the idea of authenticity and rate their musical output rather high when considering it in these terms. Such analyses of electro swing would initially seem to position it quite highly in the minds of its practitioners. And yet this is not always the case. Throughout my research, one of the things that very quickly became apparent to me was the degree to which electro swing has been criticised from those within the scene itself. Indeed, almost every artist I spoke to had something to say about the genre along these lines: a lot of people kind of say electro swing is shit, and to some, some degree I do agree with that. (Mark Camps) because a lot of this music is written by DJs, it’s not, you know –​music […] you do hear a lot of the songs that come out of that genre are pretty shit, just because people don’t –​it’s not made by people who write music, it’s made by people who make beats. (Ashley Slater) there’s a lot of very formulaic records coming out, which don’t –​which, to my mind, don’t contribute a lot to either the evolution of the genre, or to the sound […] there’s probably more bad copies than there are interesting, original works at this stage. (Nick Hollywood) the electro swing producers across the fucking planet created some of the shittest music that’s ever been made –​there’s literally like one in every thousand tracks that you can actually play, because of this kind of horrible house music version of it, you know. (Chris Tofu)

48  Considering Measures of Authenticity Such harsh criticism from those who are internally involved might initially seem surprising, seemingly indicating a desire to break away from the associations that electro swing brings with it. But as I will discuss, such desires arguably demonstrate a need to raise the reputation of electro swing –​to bring it further into the realms of genuine authenticity. Another act who have criticised the genre to a considerable extent is Tuxedo Junction, the duo formed of Will Williamson and Angus Malcolm –​both DJs in their own right as well –​Father Funk and Bear Twists, respectively. On separate occasions, both Williamson and Malcolm have spoken of how Tuxedo Junction was partly formed out of frustration with the electro swing scene at the time: so much jazz is just, like, amazing, and so much electro swing is wack –​it’s like, how can you get this, like, seven minute beautiful jazz escapade and turn it into, like, this little loop and then put a house beat behind it and be like, ‘it’s done now’? It’s like, fuck man, there’s like this whole fucking journey you could have, like, gone on. (Williamson, qtd. in Offbeat, 2016a: 13.55) that’s kind of why we started it –​it was, sort of, getting fed up with a lot of electro swing that you hear, that’s come out, that is just sort of a generic bassline, they take one, sort of, horn sample out of an electro swing tune, and then they, sort of, repeat that a lot throughout the tune, and it was just –​that started getting a bit dry, listening to new releases. (Malcolm, qtd. in Captain Flatcap, 2018: 40.40) There’s a lot to be broken down here. First, one may acknowledge Williamson’s direct reference to jazz in comparison to electro swing. The question of whether one may call electro swing authentic jazz is an important one, which I will turn to at length later on in this chapter. And secondly –​as with the comment from Chris Tofu above –​the Tuxedo Junction act seem highly critical of house-​based electro swing specifically. This critique of house music is one which I have seen again and again when having conversations around the negative aspects of the genre, and it is one which demands further attention. For evidence of why criticism of house is seemingly so widespread, one may find evidence by turning to disco. One of the most widely criticised genres of all time, it’s been said that “few forms of popular culture receive the kind of opprobrium that has been lavished on disco music since its emergence in the seventies” (Hughes, 1994: 147). Hughes provides us with some of the criticism that disco would endure, including suggestions that it was “mindless”, “repetitive”, “synthetic”, “technological”, and “commercial” (ibid.: 147); in fact, the genre was so hated that in 1979, Detroit-​based radio DJ Steve Dahl launched the “disco sucks!” campaign (Myers, 2009), eventually culminating in the infamous ‘Disco Demolition Night’ in which 59,000 rock fans came to the Comiskey baseball stadium to witness the explosion of a crate of disco

Considering Measures of Authenticity  49 records. Thornton has suggested that the “ ‘disco sucks’ discourse had evident homophobic and racist motivation” in America, whilst similar sentiments in Britain were “more directly derived from classist convictions” (1995: 44); and whilst prejudice of this sort is far less widespread today, much of the impressions that have stemmed from these ways of thinking have persisted, resulting in the type of animosity that we see directed towards genres like house, which –​as Rietveld explains –​emerged directly out of disco (1998: 99–​ 100). Indeed, Hughes has pointed out that the “music styles that suggest the vital continuity of disco into the present, such as house music, suffer from guilt by association” (1994: 147). I am not accusing any electro swing practitioners of the sort of homophobic, racist, or classist attitudes that caused such widespread hatred of disco –​but of simply falling victim to the collective associations of negativity that the genre has subsequently inherited. Despite his pride around the music being created by his big band, some of the most scathing reviews of electro swing have in fact come from Michael Rack, who has become almost infamous within the scene for his criticism of it from within. An archetypal statement of his can be shown in his remark that “the scene is dying a slow death due to people making mediocre house music and sticking token vintage samples over it” (May, 2016). One of Rack’s mixtapes explicitly demonstrated his opposition to the scene: 2016’s ‘Wanted For Crimes Against Electro Swing’, which begins with a short vocal clip in which a disembodied voice states: “Dutty Moonshine, you stand here accused of crimes against electro swing, how do you plead?” –​to which Rack replies: “guilty as shit mate” (Dutty Moonshine, 2016b). I questioned Rack about this position, and like the members of Tuxedo Junction, he explained how this was largely due to his dissatisfaction with much of the current scene: I like the idea of electro swing, I like what the idea can be –​what I don’t like is how it’s turned into, electro swing is identified as –​is now house, with [makes piano and saxophone sounds] –​that’s, I don’t like that that’s what it’s become recognised as, and I wish that early on, people would push the boundaries more, early, and been clever with it, rather than just like, ‘oh, I can get a cheap, cracked software, and make any old shit on my laptop’ –​I wish more talented musicians had attached to the project –​not the project, the idea. Rack explained to me how as someone who’s known for his involvement within the scene, he sees it as somewhat humiliating to be associated with those whom he considers to be making subpar music: I suppose I’m critical because, because it pains me, that the scene –​it’s almost embarrassing sometimes to be making this kind of music, because of what most of them are doing […] and, so yeah, I am critical because it embarrasses me, [laughs] basically, to be associated in the same circle as those –​some of those people.

50  Considering Measures of Authenticity In fact, it has reached the point now where a significant number of practitioners will actively avoid the label of electro swing altogether. I found this in my own interviews, with Oli Corse commenting that “I don’t necessarily label myself as an electro swing artist”; and Alice Francis suggesting that “I think we actually never made a real Electroswing song”. Discussing several of the more hip hop–​based acts such as Chinese Man, and Smokey Joe and the Kid, Kaptin Barrett was to state that: I guarantee none of them class themselves as electro swing. But they all have a very swing influence, you know, and they’ve all had big tunes that cross over –​like Chinese Man definitely do not see themselves as a –​they see themselves as a dub, hip hop, thing, I would imagine. So yeah, it’s interesting –​but even Parov Stelar doesn’t see himself as electro swing any more, Caravan Palace don’t either. In the case of Parov Stelar, Sacha Dieu explained to me the degree to which Stelar didn’t want to be associated with the genre, through the fact that he refused to have a concert of his associated with another electro swing event happening that same night: Parov Stelar was playing live, in Berlin, when Electro Swing Revolution night was on, so they were playing –​the door was open, whatever, at 7 o’clock, and finished at 11 o’clock –​and we started at 11 o’clock, and went on until 5 in the morning. And, you know, I was going to the organiser of Electro Swing Revolution, ‘you know, are you aware that Parov Stelar’s playing, you know, have you tried making it an afterparty?’, and everything, and they were like ‘no –​Parov Stelar management don’t want it to be called the Parov Stelar afterparty’. And other artists were to remain completely adamant that their music did not belong in the electro swing category. I learnt this the hard way when approaching rapper MysDiggi for an interview, who –​despite having worked with Smokey Joe and the Kid for over a year –​rejected the offer, claiming that he’s “not too familiar with the electro swing scene”, and that he didn’t “think [he’d] have much to say”. Elsewhere, I continued to find examples of artists rejecting the label. The Correspondents’ Ian Bruce was to state in an interview that the act “spent a good three years trying to persuade people that we weren’t electro swing anymore” (Run Riot, 2017); and similar initiatives have been attempted by Caravan Palace –​leading journalists to write that “if you want to annoy Caravan Palace, call them electro-​swing”, as “although their music has moved on […] they have struggled to shake the tag” (Verrico, 2020). Similarly, Chris Rotherham of Captain Flatcap has previously argued that “we’ve never classed ourselves as electro swing anyway” (Captain Flatcap, 2017: 47.05); and returning to Dutty Moonshine, Rack was to explain to me how their

Considering Measures of Authenticity  51 mixtape ‘Kicked Out Of The Club’ was created in response to them feeling like they no longer belonged in the scene, after hearing from promoters that “you’re not electro swing –​I don’t know what you are, but you’re not electro swing”. Even more tellingly, Boomtown Fair’s Mayfair Avenue eventually lost the label of electro swing altogether, as demonstrated in Figure 2.1. In 2014, the poster proudly featured the genre label alongside others such as vintage remix and chap hop; 2015’s poster didn’t feature any genre labels; and when these returned in 2016, the words electro swing were nowhere to be found. The phrase has not featured on any of the posters since. In response to such developments, blogger George Browne was to pen an online post in which he attempted to persuade such musicians to remain tied to the scene. In this instance, it’s specifically directed at Caravan Palace, but the same could easily be said to any of these acts maintaining a degree of distance: don’t be tempted to stand outside the Vintage Remix scene and just take part when you have an album to promote. We’re a super-​friendly bunch and we won’t bite. Come and party with us, get involved with the debates on social media (and here), and above all, find out what new directions the scene is taking –​you started it –​come and check out the monster you birthed! (2015) Such overt attempts to separate oneself from the scene of which they are a part are firmly indicative of a desire to situate themselves as above their peers. There are several potential explanations for why an artist may wish to do this, of which considerations of authenticity undoubtedly play a part. Such judgements can certainly be shown to relate to the notion of whether or not one is being true to expectations of how they should engage with this music. And indeed –​as indicated above –​when considering the suggested need to raise the reputation of electro swing, several artists stressed the point that when they felt the music was performed to the standard that they felt it deserved, they hold it in a very high regard. This point was first made to me by DJ Sacha Dieu, who suggested that “I think if you dig hard enough you’ll find good electro swing music that would turn anyone to it”. And Rack has argued the same point, citing Smokey Joe and the Kid as an act he considers exceptional: as soon as you drop the word electro swing, it’s got a real marmite effect on some people –​some are like, ‘I love it!’, others are like, ‘oh my God, I literally –​shoot my brains out’, but that’s because they –​you know, I could take that person who’s like ‘shoot my brains out’, and go, ‘cool, come to a Smokey Joe and the Kid gig’, and they’ll be like, ‘wow, that was sick’, like you just, there’s just –​there’s no doubt.

52  Considering Measures of Authenticity This extends even to the music on the housier end of the spectrum. I spoke about this with Tobias Kroschel, who performs under the name of Sound Nomaden, and whose music is primarily built around house. Responding to such criticisms of this style, Kroschel was to argue that “in my opinion all of the different styles have the same validity. Of course some people prefer the one or the other but for me that’s just personal taste”. One of the more unexpected developments in electro swing in recent times is Parov Stelar’s renewed embracing of the genre. As shown above, Stelar has demonstrated his willingness to actively disassociate himself from others within the scene, and I have spoken before of how certain remixes of his can be seen as “a means of positioning himself at the top of the electro swing world, as an attempt to establish his authority over the other, presumably inferior variants” (Inglis, 2021: 173). Stelar’s success is such that many have questioned whether the genre has benefitted more from its association with him, than he with the genre; and consequently, he has reason to consider himself somewhat above and distinct from the rest of electro swing. This unusual relationship with the genre was highlighted in a 2019 post to Parov Stelar’s Instagram page, in which he wrote that “I really try to stop electro swing … and now I find myself at a great gatsby party [sic.]” (Jazz and Tea!, 2019: 11.06). Many fans were surprised to see such an overt rejection of the genre he helped to create, and yet this post also highlighted his ongoing engagement with the scene. Commentator Alexandra Demers was to make a video in partial response to this, in which –​like Browne above –​she expressed her desires for Stelar to remain tied to the scene (ibid.). Responding back to this –​as she later revealed –​Stelar was to contact Demers directly, writing to her that “i always will release electroswing tracks […] don’t believe the rumors [sic.]” (Jazz and Tea!, 2020: 2.02). This change of heart was later confirmed in an interview with DJ Emma Clair, who asked him outright about his current feelings around electro swing. His reply indicated a certain acceptance of his role within the genre: I was fighting with that for quite a long time, but it’s good now, because I understood that Parov Stelar is kind of a brand, and people expect something from that brand, so […] if you see Parov Stelar, you get Parov Stelar. Of course it’s not always easy because you don’t want to repeat yourself, so you always try to find new ways, but you keep your handwriting. (Electro Swing Thing, 2020: 23.26) Like many others within the scene then, Stelar’s complex relationship with the music is indicative of the ways in which the genre is being perceived. When practitioners feel that the music has reached a certain standard, they praise it considerably; this is of course why they became involved with the scene in the first place. It’s not then that they think poorly of electro swing –​it’s that they think so highly of what it can be that they are critical of those examples that give it a bad name. Those, they feel, are not true examples of the genre. Which

Considering Measures of Authenticity  53

Figure 2.1 Boomtown Fair’s Mayfair Avenue posters, 2014–​2016. © Boomtown Fair.

54  Considering Measures of Authenticity brings us to the next section; how does one determine exactly how one may assess truly authentic electro swing?

Standing up to the Various Models of Authenticity The primary reason behind why authenticity is such a tricky concept to measure lies in the fact that it is an equally tricky concept to define. One could pose the question to any electro swing enthusiast and find differing definitions of how each chooses to understand the concept, and it is therefore no surprise that there has never been a model by which all electro swing may be considered to be authentic. Throughout this section, I will address the contrasting ways that electro swing can and has been judged in this regard, assessing the validity of the various arguments that one might encounter. One of the most commonly found arguments for authenticity throughout popular music concerns the idea of not ‘selling out’ –​of refusing to allow one’s music to become adulterated or diminished in pursuit of commercial profits. This is referred to by Taylor as the Authenticity of Positionality, in which acts may be disparaged if they “1) appear on MTV, or appear on any other major television network; 2) sign with a major label” (1997: 22–​23), for example. The idea of pursuing stardom is something that the electro swing genre has a rather unique relationship with. I recently published a chapter on this phenomenon, in which I concluded that: the genre represents something of a breakaway from the underground EDM connotations of anti-​stardom. Despite sharing many other aspects with this movement, the attitude to stardom is distinct in that there is no expectation, nor common characteristic, of shying away from widespread acclaim. (Inglis, 2021: 176–​177) Thus, electro swing is seemingly largely unperturbed by accusations of selling out; and whilst some artists such as Parov Stelar have indeed faced such criticisms –​Chris Tofu was particularly scathing in his criticism (ibid.: 173) –​ this was due to his overall approach to stardom, constituting a lack of overall respect, rather than a desire for stardom itself. This recognition that success is not necessarily something to be avoided can be demonstrated by certain artists’ willingness to take part in televised talent competitions. There are two notable instances of this within electro swing: in 2017 when Elle and the Pocket Belles appeared on Sing: Ultimate A Cappella; and even more notably, in 2014 when Kitten and the Hip appeared on The X Factor. I asked Kitten and the Hip’s Ashley Slater how he would respond to accusations of selling out, who was to say in response that: well, again, like, going back to what I said about being a jazz musician, I don’t give a shit if somebody says that, [laughs] you know. I –​to me, success is not selling out, it’s just success, you know?.

Considering Measures of Authenticity  55 Discussing this further, he explained that “we had high ambitions, and we –​Scarlett still, you know, has quite an ambitious approach to the music industry, she wants to do well in it, and all that stuff ”. The allure of remaining a largely unknown, underground act did not appeal to him at all, stating that “I have no interest, at all, in remaining underground, never had”. Hence, it appears that commerciality is not something to be judged as harshly in electro swing as it can be in other genres, and as I explained in the aforementioned chapter, this has come as a result of the way in which such artists have based their careers off of those early stars of the swing era: “not only are they utilising the music and character of these icons, they are also utilising this anachronistic model of celebrity that may be considered preferable for their respective ambitions” (Inglis, 2021: 177). I was also to receive comments from a number of others, who were to happily admit that some of their endeavours were made in the interest of financial gain: [What do you look for when signing an act?] the very honest answer is commercial potential, because I am running a business. (Nick Hollywood) [The Roaring 2.0s is] partly a money-​earner […] the idea is that I’m just taking all my contacts, all my resources, and I’m pooling them into a thing, so when the 2020s hit in two years, I’m –​I’ve got nights set up all around the country, and I’m the monopoliser. (Michael Rack) As shown by both Hollywood and Rack’s comments, one of the fundamental motivators behind their artistic decisions is that of money. Thus, it is quite apparent that the idea of selling out is not a major concern for many electro swing acts at large. The general concern around selling out stems from another common fear around the authentic, that being the idea of one staying true to themself. The worry that is found comes down to one’s fears around a loss of autonomy –​if their creative decisions are seen to be being made by a major record label or similarly faceless other. To not be seen as representing a true version of oneself can often be the cause for accusations of inauthenticity. Yet this itself has the potential to cause further problems for genres such as electro swing, of which a large part of the style has been built not on genuine expressions of oneself in fact –​but rather on the supplemental creation of fictional personae. One may take as an example the musician Oli Corse –​who presents a clear instance of an electro swing musician with a distinct persona. Corse performs under the name of Offbeat –​his solo act –​as well as being the leader of the Swinghoppers group. I spoke to Corse about the distinction between the Offbeat character and his genuine self, who spoke of how he sees Offbeat as “a, slightly larger than life version of my actual self”, going on to reveal that “when I tell

56  Considering Measures of Authenticity people I do hip hop, quite often they’ll sort of look at me and be like, ‘really?’, and I’m like ‘yeah I know’, like, I wouldn’t have me down as a rapper either”. It’s quite clear that in the case of Corse, there is a separation between these two parts of his identity, and he explained how this applies to the rest of his band as well: the rest of the guys who are in the Swinghoppers –​we all love playing those like, roles, but it’s very very tongue in cheek, you know, it’s not like, we’re not kind of adopting a sort of –​like a persona like some artists do, where that’s actually sort of, almost their personality. In fact, there is an additional layer to this adoption of a character for Corse, for as he discussed –​within the Swinghoppers –​he portrays a further additional character through the guise of Offbeat: there’s a very very clear distinction between like, Offbeat, [and] the Swinghoppers stuff that I do –​which is like, proper proper like, caricature cartoon style gangster, like, I wouldn’t ever expect anyone to listen to the Swinghoppers and then think I was actually in the Mafia [laughs] –​it’s supposed to be like a sort of, cartoon almost. This further character, presented in a much more openly fictional manner, is affectionately known as “the Swingpin” and serves as a 1920s, Chicago gangster-​type persona. Through the clear fictionalisation of this character, Corse explained how he was therefore able to discuss ideas that would otherwise be out of his reach: growing up listening to hip hop, forever, like 90% of it is about gangsters and guns, but like, that’s not me, obviously. This is almost like –​gives me an excuse to talk about those things, it’s like ‘oh I can talk about guns now’ –​yeah, they’re tommy guns, and yeah, it’s gangsters with an ‘E-​R’ and not with an ‘A’, but I still get to, like, indulge that like, hip hop, kind of like, area that I love, but I’m not entitled to talk about. But when you transport it to the 1920s, and make it all sort of, romantic, like, Chicago gangster –​that’s acceptable. What we find then is that in the case of Corse, there are three distinct layers to the public personality that he puts forward. We have the Swingpin, the fictional character who serves as the protagonist within his songs; Offbeat, the persona that Corse embodies when performing this music; and Corse himself –​the actual individual. And this is a situation quite common to public performance; these three distinct layers to one’s identity have been extensively discussed by Frith, explaining how: there is, first of all, the character presented as the protagonist of the song, its singer and narrator, the implied person controlling the plot, with

Considering Measures of Authenticity  57 an attitude and tone of voice […] on top of this there is the character of the singer as star, what we know about them, or are led to believe about them through their packaging and publicity, and then, further, an understanding of the singer as a person, what we like to imagine they are really like, what is revealed, in the end, by their voice. (1996: 198–​199) Building on the work of Frith, Auslander has also referred to these three layers of performance, describing them (in reverse order) as “the real person (the performer as human being), the performance persona (the performer as social being) and the character (Frith’s song personality)” (2009: 305). And similarly, Moore names these the “performer, persona and protagonist” (2012: 181). And thus, in this particular example, we have Corse –​the performer, Offbeat –​the persona, and the Swingpin –​the protagonist. We may analyse each of these concepts in turn. Starting with that which would traditionally be considered the most authentic –​particularly when considering Moore’s model of first person authenticity, achieved when a performer can supposedly demonstrate “this is what it’s like to be me” (2002: 269) –​we will consider the performer, or real person. Those seeking to assess a performer in this way, believing that this is an efficient and achievable thing to do, would be considered advocates of personalism. This approach has been discussed by Godlovitch at length, who describes how “the personalist anticipates the individualistic in performance, the person-​centred particularities of performance and manner” (1998: 141), going on to argue that “an individualistic performance is not just unique, individual or idiosyncratic; it displays the signature of a person” (ibid.: 141). The view holds that one’s true self can indeed be found to be present within their performance, and that it is possible to subsequently analyse any respective performance in relation to the true identity of the performer. I would argue against the likes of Godlovitch however, and suggest that the personalists are mistaken to suggest that the real person can ever be truly found through one’s performance. It seems to me that any public performance –​by its very nature –​will contain a certain measure of constructed artificiality. The same argument has been put forth by Auslander, who thereby argues that we may only analyse one’s performance through the contrasting lens of their performance persona: Whereas Godlovitch is interested in musical performance as the expression of a personality, I am interested in seeing it as the performance of a persona that is defined through social interaction and not necessarily a direct representation of the individual musician’s personality […] whereas he posits musical performance as a form of self-​expression, I am suggesting it is a form of self-​presentation, again with the understanding that some presentations of self may be perceived as personally expressive while others may not. (2006: 103)

58  Considering Measures of Authenticity Auslander is keen to suggest that the persona one puts on in any kind of public performance will undoubtedly entail a degree of insincerity, and that an audience will expect and understand that what they are experiencing is not the whole truth. As argued by Frith, “one of pop’s pleasures has always been singers taking on other people’s voices […] in order to draw attention to its specific characteristics” (1996: 197–​198), and that “in taking on a singer’s vocal personality we are, in a sense, putting on a vocal costume, enacting the role that they are playing for ourselves” (ibid.: 198). This mutual understanding is one of the fundamental components of art: the expressive power of every art depends on the communication of a certain kind of experience […] each art in its own way projects the illusion of the existence of a personal subject through whose consciousness that experience is made known to the rest of us. (Cone, 1974: 3) And then we have the character, or protagonist. This relates to the fictional narrator of the particular song that is being performed. Moore illustrates this distinction through the example of David Bowie: Take David Bowie’s track ‘Five years’. We know this as the work of Bowie the performer […] However, we also know this track as the work of Bowie inhabiting the persona of Ziggy Stardust, a persona he would make explicit in performance situations, extending to some aspects of his own personal life. Who, though, is the protagonist of the song? We hear a rather didactic, despairing individual declaring that ‘the end of the world is nigh’ (we have only five years left…). This protagonist cannot easily be identified with either Bowie or Ziggy, although the identity of Ziggy provides a useful context for the song. Here, then, the three levels of identity are clearly distinguishable. (2012: 181) In this particular instance, one could argue that there is actually an additional further level too, through the fact that Davie Bowie himself is an additional persona, the creation of the actual real person, David Jones. And Moore recognises this himself, acknowledging the possibility for further subdivision (ibid.: 180). The Corse/​Offbeat/​Swingpin example is likely the best example of this particular distinction within electro swing, but it is far from the only one, and there are many other examples of artists presenting similarly constructed personae. For instance, Kaptin Barrett spoke to me of the various personae involved in his proto-​electro swing act, the Chaps: we had many many characters, and the Chaps were just one character, and after that we moved onto something else, you know, playing something

Considering Measures of Authenticity  59 completely different –​I think it was probably Stefan and Jörgan playing Apres ski party –​again, taking the mick. So yeah, it was just, you know, it was never really an idea of the scene, or a thing –​it was just an act that we had, it was just a –​you know, these crazy personas that we were acting out. Similarly, Cherie Gears –​the singer behind Little Violet –​has spoken of how “Little Violet is a different version of Cherie” (Prohibition Mcr, 2020a: 35.22). And it would be remiss to overlook the example of Mr B the Gentleman Rhymer as well, the persona created by Jim Burke. Mr B will be discussed in much further detail in Chapter 4, but as will be found –​like Offbeat –​Burke has alleged that through the adoption of this fictional persona, he has given himself more justifiability to discuss topics that otherwise would not seem authentic to his true self. This ultimately results through a slightly warped approach to authenticity. What we find is that through one’s admission that the character they play does not necessarily represent themself, the artist is not required to divert any attention to defending their authenticity, as they are being completely honest about their degree of fakery. Consequently, there are several examples throughout electro swing of artists proudly proclaiming their inauthenticity –​at least to some extent. Perhaps the best example comes with the duo Fischerspooner –​an act who have been known to feature on the sidelines of electro swing, particularly through their remix of the ‘Pink Panther Theme’ (2004) –​whose frontman Casey Spooner has publicly stated that “we’re completely, unabashedly and absolutely prepared to say that we’re pretentious and superficial” (Reynolds, 2013: 606). What we find then is that –​especially in relation to electro swing –​many of the traditional models of authenticity can be seen as somewhat unreliable. If we are to acknowledge that one cannot represent their true self beyond a persona, then it is not worth advocating for the type of first person authenticity that Moore discusses, as this represents something that is totally unattainable. In response to this reasoning, Fornäs has suggested that there are often “good reasons not be so reflexive/​authentic all the time, that is, to hold back the demands for honesty and self-​observation” (1995: 278). And indeed, the “quest for authenticity” has at times been shown to have had a negative impact: Barker and Taylor speak of how it “did tremendous damage to the blues by codifying certain traditions and limiting innovation” (2007: xi). This counterintuitive approach to authenticity is something that has been spoken about by Grossberg, who –​coining the term aesthetic authenticity –​subversively claims that “the only possible claim to authenticity is derived from the knowledge and admission of your inauthenticity” (1993: 206). Building on the work of Grossberg, and retitling the model as cultural or meta-​authenticity, Fornäs speaks of how this approach “plays with styles, well understanding that they are always artificially constructed, but through this very cynical self-​ knowledge shows a kind of realistic honesty” (1995: 276). Artists may only

60  Considering Measures of Authenticity then be considered authentic if they are entirely honest about their inauthenticity; they must learn to “fake it without faking the fact that [they] are faking it” (Grossberg, 1993: 206). And this undisguised fakery is consistently present throughout electro swing –​most notably through the degree of escapism that is an ever-​present force across the genre. I will expand upon this in Chapter 4 –​but for a majority of participants, it seems that reality is not what they are seeking when they engage with this genre. Rather, they are consciously wishing to enter into a fictional world, in which they can inhabit a fictional persona and escape their normal lives for a brief period of time. This is reflected in lyrics such as the Electric Swing Circus’s ‘Mellifluous’ (2013) or ‘The Penniless Optimist’ (ibid.) –​which respectively include the lines “throw away your worries and let’s go”, and “cast aside your worries, cast aside your problems, and dance”. Another example comes with Jamie Berry’s ‘Delight’ (2013), which posits that “it takes away your strain and stress and turns it into delight, just for tonight”. This is arguably an extension of the rave scene, which –​as Collin describes –​ “fulfill[ed] the role of fantasy theatre, a place where people could become the magical characters that their everyday lives would not allow” (1998: 250–​251). When considering this approach to authenticity however, there is a certain extent to which the genre has further questions to answer. For –​as will be discussed in Chapter 5 –​electro swing is built entirely around representations of the past. Yet these representations that the genre displays share this same approach to authenticity, in that they are not entirely genuine. As we will find, these images of the past are often just as fictional as the personae of those presenting them. Indeed, rather than present genuine reconstructions of the swing era, the practitioners of the electro swing scene generally tend to showcase artificially constructed images of the past to satisfy the nostalgic values of contemporary audiences. This creates a kind of discordance throughout the genre, in which there is a friction between what we know to be a supposed depiction of the swing era, and what we are actually observing. Discussing this type of musical culture, Cone explains the way in which such representations have only partly emerged through true attempts to reproduce and replicate those of the past: our contemporary musical culture is more interested in the preservation of the past than in the development of the present. But only a culture that takes a lively and genuine interest in the art of its own day can preserve in art of its past in more than ritualistic fashion. (1974: 117) Electro swing thus represents a break away from archival and preservationist ideals. Whilst there is of course a heavy focus on representing the past –​this is a vital part of the genre –​such elements of the music that do so are inherently synthetic, and the very fact that they are synthetic says just as much about the genre as the vintage elements themselves. Through the presentation

Considering Measures of Authenticity  61 of these elements in a distinct environment, the act of signification has a dual purpose –​in calling attention to the discrepancies of such environments. As put by Moore, “the environment sometimes suggests the listener occupy a subject position that disbelieves the persona, reminding us that all may not be as it seems” (2012: 202). Thus, the very act of signification is important for the sake of highlighting such an act itself. By pointing to its own practice of signification in such a distinct setting, the practitioners of electro swing are effectively declaring “look how well we can fake it”. Electro swing then, by its own admission, is not authentic to the standards one might initially expect. And this is something which is acknowledged by the genre’s participants. For instance, when discussing how one might dance to electro swing in comparison to the more traditional lindy hop style, professional swing dancer Cat Foley suggested to me that “there’s no sense of like, it has to be authentic –​because it’s new”. And following our interview, Kaptin Barrett also informally suggested to me that he didn’t think many electro swing artists would be especially concerned about appearing authentic. It is demonstrably clear that some construction of artificiality is a fundamental part of the genre –​whether that be through modified representations of the past, through the encouragement of escapism, or through the fictional personae of the genre’s practitioners. Particularly when considering electro swing’s common practice of signification, we may then ask what such personae are signifying, and how authentic we may consider its relation to these specific signified elements. As put by Auslander, “each persona exists in relation to a different musical genre, culture, and audience” (2006: 116), and “new genres involve the development of new personae” (2009: 306). But as we saw in the previous chapter, electro swing is not an entirely new genre, but an extension of jazz into the modern day –​the latest in a long line of electronic innovation found within jazz. The extent to which electro swing can be considered true to jazz then is another means by which the genre may be considered to be authentic; this is what Taylor refers to as the Authenticity as Primality (1997: 26). Building on the work of Bohlman, who has suggested that a degree of authenticity requires the “consistent representation of the origins of a […] style” (1988: 10), this idea concerns the requirement for an artist to stay true to the stylistic conventions and inherited associations of the genre that they are playing. As Moore has pointed out, “the commonest attribution of the term ‘authentic’ in relation to music refers to the maintenance of the origins of a performance practice –​an authentic musician is true to such a practice” (2012: 263). This may be considered particularly problematic for electro swing then –​especially when considering the music’s racial ancestry, a concern which is so broad that the entirety of the following chapter will be devoted to it. Resultingly, I won’t dwell on this for too long immediately, but it should suffice to say that effectively all of the genres from which electro swing draws have emerged out of the African American tradition, and this is a quality that electro swing itself does not share.

62  Considering Measures of Authenticity Outside of concerns of race, there are still elements of the music which one may consider when examining its authenticity through this model. Jazz is arguably the most exclusively guarded genre in terms of the musical aspects which fans may consider to be authentic. This is a point raised by Ake et al., who acknowledge that whilst “jazz is far from the only music concerned with this matter […] the authenticity question is perhaps most keenly felt in jazz due to its all-​too-​fluid and uneasy location somewhere between the popular and classical realms” (2012: 4). It is this concern of generic boundaries that seems to cause the most problems for jazz. As Ake et al. note, “hand in hand with genre boundaries goes the notion of authenticity, the cordoning off of the real (and therefore good, and therefore worthy of praise, study, and sales) from the ersatz” (ibid.: 4). And as we will see in Chapter 4, there is an eagerness from several jazz purists to place jazz as somehow outside the realms of popular music. Brennan points this out, suggesting that “it seemed to be common sense […] to recognize the interactions between folk, blues, country, and rock ‘n’ roll, but jazz was represented more often than not as the odd one out” (2017: 2). This is despite the fact that “jazz was the first music to raise many of the concerns now considered to be fundamental to studying popular music” (ibid.: 5). Thus, the question of whether or not electro swing constitutes authentic jazz is imperative in understanding its perceived levels of authenticity; the following two subsections then will be concentrated exclusively on it.

Electro Swing and Jazz I wish to break this section down into three further subsections. There are several different considerations one may make when assessing how any genre may stand in relation to jazz, and before turning to the question of whether or not electro swing does indeed constitute true jazz, it will prove useful to devote some further time to these considerations. First, I will highlight the contrasting views of two of the most celebrated jazz musicians of the second half of the 20th century –​Miles Davis and Wynton Marsalis; I will then turn to look at some of the most stereotypical characteristics that have been used to describe jazz –​swing and improvisation; and finally, I will look at the contemporary swing dance phenomenon, in order to analyse what we may learn from this complementary movement. The Davis-​Marsalis Conflict There is an infamous episode in the story of jazz, occurring in 1986 at the Vancouver Jazz Festival, in which the younger Wynton Marsalis joined Miles Davis on stage, only to be immediately kicked off. Davis tells the story in his autobiography: All of a sudden I feel this presence coming up on me, this body movement, and I see that the crowd is kind of wanting to cheer or gasp

Considering Measures of Authenticity  63 or something. Then Wynton whispers in my ear –​and I’m still trying to play –​‘They told me to come up here.’ I was so mad at him for doing that shit like that, I just said, ‘Man, get the fuck off the stage.’ He looked a little shocked when I said it to him like that. After I said that, I said, ‘Man, what the fuck are you doing up here on stage? Get the fuck off the stage!’. (1989: 364) For the record, Marsalis has somewhat disputed Davis’s account of what happened; describing it as an “inaccurate recounting”, he claims that “so far as him saying anything to me, it was too loud to hear whatever he said. When the band stopped, he said something, but ‘fuck’ was not one of the words” (Marsalis, 2015). What remains significant however is what is represented by this tale –​the meeting and confrontation of two completely opposite views of what it is and means to be jazz: On one side: an aging iconoclast whose career rested on his will to forsake the past and radically change directions. On the other: a burgeoning talent at the forefront of a crusade to restore jazz’s rightful lineage. (Boyles, 2011) Davis’s view –​as demonstrated in the previous chapter –​was that jazz should be open to exploration, and of pushing the boundaries of what could be achieved. Regularly changing his own sound, part of what made Davis so successful was his acclaim for breaking down the barriers of what many would consider jazz. Articles have been written about him with titles such as ‘How Miles Davis remade jazz over and over again’ (Wünsch, 2016), and he would himself say that “I always thought music had no boundaries, no limits to where it could grow and go, no restrictions on its creativity” (Davis, 1989: 205). This can be shown through the pioneering jazz fusion of In a Silent Way (1969) and Bitches Brew (1970); his experimentation with hip hop on Doo-​Bop (1992); as well as other releases such as On the Corner (1972), in which he made great use of the emerging sounds of funk. In contrast, it’s been stated of Marsalis: Marsalis is seen as the standard bearer for those who want to codify jazz as America’s classical music, and whose focus is on recreating the music of the past rather than innovating. Given that many feel that innovation is the very essence of jazz, that’s a controversial position. (Byrnes, 2003) Marsalis is certainly a subscriber to the view that jazz is “America’s classical music” –​as put by the likes of Grover Sales (1984) –​and sees the music he plays as preserving a tradition, as opposed to updating it. As such, he has drawn criticism from various other jazz musicians:

64  Considering Measures of Authenticity trumpeter Lester Bowie, interviewed in 1996, claimed ‘Wynton’s been given so much money, he’s trapped in some opinions that he had at age 21, and he has still got to stand by those at 35 because he has been paid to.’ And saxophonist David Murray believes Marsalis and his musicians ‘are conning the public into thinking they’re the guys who actually created this stuff, when actually they’re just playing a tired version of some music that had some real fire to it’. (Clark, 2015) Davis has criticised Marsalis for very much the same reasons, saying of him that “they got Wynton playing some dead old European music” (1989: 350), and that “I really liked Wynton when I first met him. He’s still a nice young man, only confused” (ibid.: 349). Of course, Marsalis was to criticise Davis too, arguing that Davis is “a genius who decided to go into rock, and was on the bandstand looking like, basically, a buffoon” (Byrnes, 2003). Whilst Marsalis and Davis provide the clearest example of disagreement between two outspoken jazz musicians, they are far from the only names to have entered into this debate. Indeed, Davis seems to be treading in the footsteps of Duke Ellington, who long before this episode also argued for a wider definition of jazz, going so far as to explicitly describe rock ‘n’ roll in jazz terms: rock ‘n’ roll is the most raucous form of jazz, beyond a doubt; it maintains a link with the folk origins, and I believe that no other form of jazz has ever been accepted so enthusiastically by so many. (1962: 324–​325) Ellington would express his support for the changing definition of jazz, arguing that “what is important is that it must live, and the only way it can live is with the existence of an even larger and more keenly interested audience” (ibid.: 324). Moving on to speak of the future of the style, he stated that “although it is impossible for me or anyone else to paint any accurate picture of things to come, I am sure that it will develop into something very big and beautiful” (ibid.: 326). Others would also argue for the expansion of the term, such as Louis Armstrong, who spoke directly of how developments in the sound needn’t require entirely new genre categorisations: To me as far as I could see it all my life –​Jazz and Swing is the same thing… In the good old days of Buddy Bolden… it was called Rag Time Music… Later on in the years it was called Jazz Music –​Hot Music –​Gut Bucket –​and now they’ve poured a little gravy over it, called it Swing Music… Haw Haw haw… No matter how you slice it –​it’s still the same music. (McNally, 2014: 246)

Considering Measures of Authenticity  65 And like Ellington, guitarist Larry Coryell was to also favourably compare rock ‘n’ roll to jazz, saying the following of Jimi Hendrix: Jimi Hendrix is the greatest musician who ever lived as far as I am concerned. The stuff I heard him do in jam sessions was some of the heaviest Jazz I ever heard. (Nicholson, 1998: 108) Davis is not alone in his widely accommodating views then, and if one is to follow his lead, one should accept a particularly wide view of what may be considered authentic jazz. However, there are of course others who would likely be more affiliated with Marsalis. One early example is Artie Shaw, who was critical of that which he considered to be “simplifying jazz and pandering to the ‘lowest common denominator’ of public taste […] and in the 1940s more than once he retired from bandleading in disgust” (Peretti, 2001: 186). Nat King Cole is another who shared this view; upon his posthumous induction to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2000, Cole’s daughter Natalie Cole reportedly stated that “I think he’d be slightly mortified” at the process (Strausbaugh, 2002: 176). And Nina Simone –​despite her reputation as the ‘High Priestess of Soul’ –​would regularly degrade all styles of popular music, often stating that “the world of popular music was nothing compared to the classical world” (Brun-​Lambert, 2009: 114). Considering the question from the perspective of Marsalis, Shaw, Cole, and Simone, then –​electro swing is defiantly not jazz. I do not know if Marsalis is aware of the genre, but I have no doubts as to what his take on it would be. However, from the perspective of Davis, Ellington, Armstrong, and Coryell –​we have a much more convincing case for the inclusion of electro swing within jazz’s boundaries. And over time, it’s even possible that Marsalis’s views on fusion have softened somewhat; notably, in 2011, Marsalis released a live album with Eric Clapton, entitled Play the Blues: Live from Jazz at Lincoln Center. There remains a lot more to be said on this matter, and the next section addresses some of the factors that may lead one to form an opinion on this matter. Swing and Improvisation As we will see below, some of my interview participants were hesitant to consider their music authentic jazz. When pressed on why they might hold these views, several were to point to some of the stereotypical tropes of what constitutes jazz, such as a swung rhythm –​the notion of swing referring here to the distinctive rhythmic pulse associated with jazz; or the use of improvisation. For instance, Ashley Slater spoke to me of how “for me, as an actual jazz musician, jazz is, is, largely improvised”, and Nick Hollywood similarly

66  Considering Measures of Authenticity argued that he considers jazz to be “a music based around improvisation, and personal expression”. In contrast, it is generally acknowledged that electro swing itself does not typically feature much improvisation; as noted by Michael Rack, “it’s very structurally based, it doesn’t have that freedom of jazz”. Whilst it is largely true that electro swing does not feature much improvisation, this is not exclusively the case. Indeed, in McGee’s study into various forms of jazz remix across Europe, she found that many of electro swing’s predecessors feature improvisation as an essential part of the music. For example, saxophonist Susanne Alt “sees her music reaching new audiences through the mixing of dance music with improvisation. This combination enabled new forms of sociability by participants, who became excited by the visceral spontaneity and physical stamina of live improvised solos” (2020: 54). Similarly, McGee speaks of pianist Bugge Wesseltoft’s “coupling of new computer and experimental, sound-​manipulating hardware with his commitment to jazz improvisation” (ibid.: 98). Resultingly, she argues that much of this practice has had an effect on the development of electro swing, and speaks of examples of improvisation within the music of both Parov Stelar (ibid.: 183) and Caravan Palace (ibid.: 202). There are a few more examples that one may point to. I have previously discussed the duo Goldfish, and their extensive approach to improvisation during live performances –​particularly with regard to their track ‘Deep of the Night’ (2016) (2019: 199); and one may also point to certain DJing practices, in which the live track selection based off of audience response can be seen as somewhat improvisatory. As we will see in the next section, Tony Culverwell –​the performer behind Mr Switch –​told me how he sees strong parallels been DJing practices and jazz; and McGee has again applied this to Caravan Palace, speaking of how “in order to accommodate more spontaneity and improvisation, rather than pre-​programmed sampled sequences, during concerts, midi-​samples of electronic sounds are incorporated in real time by the sound artist/​DJ” (2020: 206). Thus, there are several prominent examples of improvisation throughout electro swing. But for the most part, I would agree that this is an area in which electro swing differs from much stereotypical jazz. The other area, as highlighted, relates to the music having a swung rhythm. Despite the genre’s name, what may be considered quite ironic is that many of its best-​known songs don’t actually feature this quality, instead taking their rhythm from the “metronomic, four-​to-​the-​floor beat” of genres such as house (Reynolds, 2013: 17). And this is something that is widely acknowledged by its practitioners: Mark Camps spoke to me of how “you’ll often hear people say that electro swing doesn’t have any swing”; and McGee found this too in her interviews with the Electric Swing Circus: “Hyland and others understand vintage remix not as a particularly swinging genre, at least in their approach to the quaver and semi-​quaver” (2020: 192).

Considering Measures of Authenticity  67

Figure 2.2 Nina Simone, ‘Feeling Good’ (1965).

Figure 2.3 The Swinghoppers, ‘Feelin’ Good’ (2017).

In some instances, the swung rhythm that featured in the original sample is even actively modified and removed. Take for example the Swinghoppers’ ‘Feelin’ Good’ (2017), which is based around Nina Simone’s 1965 version. The main riff for the original is given in Figure 2.2. This version is in compound time, clearly allowing for a swung rhythm to naturally emerge. Figure 2.3 demonstrates the changes that have been made in the Swinghoppers reworking. In this version, the metre has been shifted to a standard four-​beat pattern. The most obvious reason for this is to create an opportunity for the emergent drum ‘n’ bass breakbeat to be positioned underneath –​hence, the song has been adapted to fit the conventions of an electronic dance style. One artist who has made a conscious decision to rectify this is C@ in the H@; in discussing his upcoming EP, Ragz, Riddimz & Rollerz (2019), Shawcross told me of how “there’s two tracks that are drum ‘n’ bass –​straight drum ‘n’ bass with, with vintage samples, and two tracks that are swung” (the EP ended up having 6 tracks, of which two –​‘Chicago’ and ‘Beer Baron’ –​are noticeably swung). Yet this is something of an exception, and in other cases, artists have openly admitted that they have no concern for this lack of swing; for instance, Parov Stelar has slightly ambiguously stated that “swing to me is less important than groove. It has to have a good groove” (Buhre, 2013). On initial consideration then, one can see the source of the implication that electro swing is not to be considered a form of true jazz. If one is to define jazz by its use of improvisation and swung rhythms, then there are few examples of electro swing that would constitute genuinely authentic jazz. But there has been something of an oversight here, in the suggestion that these are qualities that jazz must have. Indeed, this is far from the actual case. Take for example the notion of improvisation. Whilst this is arguably vital for a lot of live jazz, the truth is that the most significant area of engagement –​with any form of music –​is through recording. As described by Tackley, “recorded jazz performances are often considered to be analogous to the notion of the ‘work’ ” (2010: 167); and Elsdon notes this too, arguing that “the ways in which recordings were made and disseminated in fact shape

68  Considering Measures of Authenticity the musical practices of jazz” (2010: 157). And there is a strong argument to be made that as soon as any music is committed to recording, it ceases to be an improvised text; as put by Schuller, the recording creates a “ ‘definitive’ version of something that was never meant to be definitive” (1968: x). Expanding on this idea, McLuhan suggests that not a single jazz recording could ever be said to be truly improvisatory: Jazz is alive, like conversation; and like conversation it depends upon a repertory of available themes. But performance is composition. Such performance insures maximal participation among players and dancers alike. Put in this way, it becomes obvious at once that jazz belongs in that family of mosaic structures that reappeared in the Western world with the wire services. (1997: 280) Thus, we can plainly see that improvisation need not be an essential part of jazz. And similar arguments can be made in relation to swing. Ragtime didn’t swing, and this is the art form that birthed jazz more than any other. Much of free jazz doesn’t swing either, and neither does most jazz fusion –​at least not in the traditional sense. So whilst the use of this rhythm is a good identifier of jazz, it is certainly not conclusive. As pointed out by Harrison, it is close to impossible then to uncover an absolute definition of jazz: Attempts at a definition of jazz have always failed, and this reveals something about its mixed origins and later stylistic diversity. Efforts to separate it from other, even related, types of music result in a false primacy of certain aspects, such as improvisation. In fact improvisation is sometimes absent from jazz, lengthy pieces such as Tadd Dameron’s Fontainebleau having been fully composed on paper. Another supposed distinguishing feature is the type of rhythmic momentum known as ‘swing’ (resulting from small departures from the regular pulse). But this, too, is absent from some authentic jazz, early and late. (1986: 223) Such problematic descriptors have also been commented on by Tucker: “jazz is improvisation; it must swing; it is noncommercial; it is played on these instruments and not these, and so on –​all of which have been debunked at one time or another in both old and new jazz studies” (2012: 269). Hence, it is clear that if one is to exclude electro swing from the field of jazz, they must do more than simply rely on discussions of swing and improvisation. There is one more point I wish to address here, and that is the recognition that both the original music of swing –​and electro swing today –​is not just a genre but an entire movement, constituting much more than just the music itself. In both instances, a major part of the scene was the dance that came

Considering Measures of Authenticity  69 along with it, and just like in the swing era, we have seen a major resurgence in recent years of the lindy hop style. The Authenticity of Swing Dance Around the same time as electro swing was first maturing, the world of dance was seeing a similar retrospective movement –​in the swing dance revival that has over the past 20–​30 years seen the lindy hop dance form catapulted to a new level of popularity. This resurgence has been well documented by Cupit (2015), who speaks of how revivalists in the 1990s built the scene up again from scratch, unearthing some of the original dancers from the swing era –​ such as Frankie Manning and Norma Miller –​in the process. Cupit tells the story of how Manning, who had since taken up working for the New York postal service, was first contacted: Erin Stevens, one of a group of enthusiasts who enjoyed watching old swing clips, looked up Frankie Manning in the phone book. Erin was the co-​owner of the Pasadena Ballroom Dance Association in California and one of the organizers of the great Catalina Swing Dance Camp. She asked the person listed if he was Frankie Manning the dancer. The response was, ‘No, this is Frankie Manning the postal worker.’ It was, indeed, the same Frankie Manning. (ibid.: 130) As a result of their proximity to one another, it is unsurprising that both the electro swing and revived lindy hop movements would cross paths with one another –​and many electro swing practitioners were to work closely alongside dancers to bring a further dimension to their craft. For instance, the Swingamajig team have worked with Birmingham’s The Swing Era organisation since 2016, putting on the Stomp Stomp lindy hop festival which runs concurrently with the main event. Depending on the limitations of the venue of choice for each year as well, they have also regularly made efforts to feature a stage that caters exclusively to lindy hoppers too. In 2017, one of the professional dance teachers invited to run a workshop at Stomp Stomp was Cat Foley, whose course was entitled ‘Solo Jazz for Electro Swing’. During my research, I spoke at length with Foley about her experience at this event. One area that we discussed extensively was the problems that a lindy hopper may encounter when dancing to electro swing: when it comes to, like, the different kind of beats that electro swing DJs lay over the songs that we dance to […] it doesn’t swing in any way, and I found it quite difficult. because the phrasing doesn’t matter to them, it’s really hard to dance to it, because they repeat weird parts [laughs], so it’s like, it loses a little bit

70  Considering Measures of Authenticity of its –​I guess the swing, kind of, mentality in terms of, like, keeping the, the structure reasonably standard what electro swing does a lot, is –​basically, there’s two tempos, it’s either crazy fast, or crazy slow –​from a dancing perspective. So they’re either half-​timing the music, which means that you’re dancing, a little bit –​kind of, you’re dancing slowly, even though the beat is driving, so it feels like you’re kind of, like, slow-​motion –​or you’re dancing very very fast, even though the song doesn’t necessarily feel fast. you can’t dance to it for more than about five minutes, because you die –​ it’s just too fast, it’s too high-​energy. These issues –​lack of a swing beat, different ideas around phrasing, different concerns regarding tempo, and problems with the level of energy –​are indicative of the fact that for the most part, this music is not being made with swing dance considerations in mind. This is reflective of Ashley Slater’s previous statement that the music is “not made by people who write music, it’s made by people who make beats”, and is something that McGee would also find during her experience of an electro swing gig: “no one danced swing or Lindy, but a number of younger people were doing something like Charleston knee-​ swaps or more EDM-​inspired shuffles, bounces, and hand waves” (2020: 185). Foley isn’t the only lindy hopper who has brought these points to attention either. In 2012, blogger Morgan Day wrote a piece entitled ‘Why Swing Dancers Love and Hate Electro Swing’, expressing many of the same concerns. The three points he specifically raises in relation to the genre are that: “most of it is actually kind of boring”; “it’s high energy all the time”; and that “most of the dancing isn’t really amazing” (2012). The indication here is quite clear –​ that across the lindy hop community, there is something of a consensus in the suggestion that electro swing musicians don’t quite understand how best to cater to their demographic. As a result, there can be something of a lack of engagement: “the more dedicated swing dancers typically did not dance to the hybrid electronic mixes of electro swing or vintage remix, but rather preferred the more traditional preservationist acts of gitana swing, jazz hot or ‘trad’ (New Orleans) jazz” (McGee, 2020: 186). There is perhaps a need then for electro swing DJs to better inform themselves on how to cater to this market. Several have in fact argued that such DJs would actively benefit from their direct involvement in a lindy hop scene; as Maude puts it, “unless you’ve done a lot of dancing, the parallels of what people do in front of the decks and what DJs do behind them might not immediately jump out” (2018). Such a practice would undoubtedly help such DJs to directly understand more about how their audience may respond to what they are playing: “dancing is a skill which elevates and assists in swing music record-​collecting; as versatile and perceptive dancers, they are more knowledgeable and capable DJs” (McGee, 2020: 149).

Considering Measures of Authenticity  71 Cat Foley spoke to me of how, in recognition of these issues, she has worked directly alongside electro swing producers in order for both sides to be able to accurately represent the important aspects of their respective styles. Working with Chicken Brothers, a duo from Liverpool, she told me how her influence ensured that they remained “honouring our bit”. For instance, with regard to the issue of tempo, she spoke of how: the good thing about working with, with Matt and with Jamie, is that I could say to them, like, ‘here’s the different tempos, please don’t mess with the tempos’, and then they didn’t, and it was great [laughs], like, they laid over the beats, to the songs that we asked for, in a way that meant we could still dance, which was epic. And there was a few songs that they didn’t even put any beats over, they were like ‘this is too good, let’s just leave it’. Mark Camps has also made reference to this idea of occasionally just leaving the songs as they are; in discussing Nina Simone’s ‘My Baby Just Cares for Me’ (1959), he spoke of how, “I just love that song. I don’t need to sample –​ I don’t need to sample that, I don’t need to change it into something else, and make it a remix, I like the song, that’s fine, that’ll do”. From my own experience in the lindy hop community, ‘My Baby Just Cares for Me’ is one of the most commonly played songs on the dancefloor, and so this decision of Camps’ would likely be welcomed in this regard. Such work ensures that a satisfactory medium is found in terms of the music, but there still remains a lack of consensus in terms of the actual dance of electro swing. Whilst dancers are commonly found at electro swing events, Foley explained how: it’s always interesting at those gigs that you do, they always bring in a crew of hip hop dancers, and a crew of lindy hoppers, and then we normally have some kind of battle, and it’s almost like [laughs], we need to actually spend a week in the same room, like, trying to train each other, because that’s probably when the style would come out, is if you actually cross –​cross those two disciplines, instead of keeping them as like, the two separate things. This situation can be demonstrated by the video for the Swinghoppers’ ‘Swing Hop’ (2018), in which a crew of hip hop dancers face off with a group of lindy hoppers. In contrast to this, Foley’s take was that as opposed to representing two separate dance styles as distinct from one another, “we need to mash our skills together, and we need to make this into a –​a thing”. This was her aim in teaching the ‘Electro Swing for Solo Jazz’ dance class, and she spoke to me of her worries regarding the successful fusion of these styles: I was nervous about not representing electro swing correctly, because I’m very confident with swing music, and the type of music I wanna play, the era it comes from, how to move in, you know, the correct way to that.

72  Considering Measures of Authenticity When it comes to electro swing [laughs] I was like, ‘um…’ –​I’m a little bit in the weeds. And I guess, because it isn’t necessarily a defined form in terms of dance, I had to be quite brave and make my own decisions, and say ‘well this is the type of songs that I like, and this is how I choose to interpret them’. As to whether a unique style may eventually emerge authentically combining the dance styles of hip hop and lindy, Foley predicted that it certainly could, in that “it’s something that feels –​it feels legit, and it does feel different to lindy hop, for sure, and it probably feels different to hip hop”. The issue is in acquiring an audience of devotees whose number would be high enough to maintain the style. Foley explains how “I’ve been asked once, to teach this electro swing course, but I can’t develop the style of the dance in one course, but if I was being asked to do that monthly, then the style would develop”. As to whether this will actually happen remains uncertain. I know that certain local lindy hop scenes are already faltering –​particularly so after Covid-​19 –​ without bringing in something even more divergent. Whilst there is the feasibility of some kind of electro swing dance becoming an actual phenomenon, it would have to find a way to stay true to both hip hop and lindy hop dances, and not act in a way to position them against each other. The finest example I’ve found of this can be seen in Montreal’s Swing Riot festival, which has an annual ‘battle’ between these two groups. However, rather than simply presenting their own dance forms, the two groups are encouraged to embrace each other’s styles. The results are truly impressive, and absolutely encourage the idea that this could potentially be seen as an authentic electro swing dance style. A similar effort has been made by Caravan Palace, who regularly incorporate swing dance into their live performance, subsequently winning the approval of the lindy hop community: “equally important for Caravan Palace’s music performance and online mediated reception is its promotion of jazz-​era dancing with steps referencing the Charleston and the Lindy Hop. They are thus revered both by the electro swing and swing dance communities” (McGee, 2020: 202). A final point of Foley’s which I wish to raise is in comparing electro swing acts with the more traditional bands that would likely feature at a swing dance night. As she points out: electro swing DJs –​if they are expecting, or hoping for a dance crowd, they can be a little bit more sensitive as to what, what works, and what doesn’t work. And that’s actually the same, even with live jazz bands, is that if they’re not –​if they’re not used to working with dancers, we have to have the same set of briefings, where we say ‘the tempo is an issue, and the length of song is an issue’. What we can determine from this is that –​for all the criticism that electro swing may receive from swing dancers, much of the same criticisms could be

Considering Measures of Authenticity  73 applied to jazz bands. Thus, the fact that some –​and it is only some –​dancers do not approve of the style, does little for determining whether we may consider the genre to be a form of jazz. It would be unlikely, for example, to find lindy hoppers dancing to bebop. With regard to this then, I will now turn to the question of what does constitute authentic jazz, and if we may consider electro swing to fall within these boundaries.

Is Electro Swing an Authentic Form of Jazz? Defining that which constitutes jazz has never been an easy task, not least because we don’t have any strong indication of the origins of the term itself. One theory suggests that the word “comes from the French jaser, to chatter” (McLuhan, 1997: 279), whilst McNally provides a different account detailing potential other roots of the term: Among music’s little mysteries is the origin of the word jazz. One source says it derives from the French phrase chasse beaux, or dandy. My personal favourite comes from musician Garvin Bushell, who noted that the French has brought perfume making to New Orleans, and that ‘They used jasmine –​oil of jasmine –​in all different odors to pep it up. It gave more force to the scent. So they would say, “let’s jass it up a bit,” when something was a little dead. When you started improvising, then, they said, “jazz it up,” meaning give your own concept of the melody… It caught on in the red light district, when a woman would approach a man and say, “Is jazz on your mind tonight, young fellow.” ’ (2014: 133) Urban myths such as this one are entertaining, and may indeed have some basis in truth, however it is a difficult task –​if not impossible –​to definitively confirm the legitimacy of such a story. Similarly difficult is finding a satisfactory definition of jazz itself. As demonstrated above, many supposed defining characteristics such as improvisation or a swung rhythm have been shown extensively to be insubstantial. Yet despite this, various jazz practitioners and aficionados have publicly criticised those that they don’t feel belong within jazz. Tremlett tells the amusing story of an incident at Spain’s Sigüenza festival in 2009, in which an attendee called the police complaining that the “Larry Ochs Sax and Drumming Core group was on the wrong side of a line dividing jazz from contemporary music”, claiming that “his doctor had warned it was ‘psychologically inadvisable’ for him to listen to anything that could be mistaken for mere contemporary music” (2009). To a less extreme degree, Wynton Marsalis –​alongside his criticisms of Miles Davis –​has said of Don Byron that “his music did not fit into the jazz tradition” (Porter, 2012: 19), also criticising Herbie Hancock for “incorporating elements from the excessively black, hypermasculine sphere of hip-​hop” (ibid.: 19). Similarly, Charles

74  Considering Measures of Authenticity Mingus would criticise Dave Brubeck “for not swinging adequately” (ibid.: 22). Due in part to the potency of these opinions, several artists with whom I spoke were very reluctant to refer to their music as jazz: I love jazz, but I wouldn’t say that’s what we’re doing necessarily, and even my own definition of jazz is quite narrow. (Nick Hollywood) No, I’d say it’s influenced by the music of the jazz age […] we’re not, we’re not a jazz band, we’re a rock band. (Tom Hyland) I would never call myself a Jazz musician because I am an electronic music producer. I really like and respect Jazz music and Jazz musicians a lot and I’m also influenced by Jazz music but that doesn’t make me a Jazz musician. (Tobias Kroschel) I wouldn’t say it was jazz, not really, no –​I mean, you know, if you sample something, that doesn’t mean you are what you’ve sampled, or you’re making what you’ve sampled. (Ashley Slater) An example of how these concerns could impact their careers occurred in 2018, when Michael Rack was invited to help put on an event celebrating ‘100 Years of Jazz in the UK’. As he described to me in the lead-​up to the event: we were thinking about what to do as a modern [representation of jazz], and my big band was put forward, and the idea of electro swing as well, artists, and I was just like, I’m looking at it, and I’m thinking about people who we’re gonna sell tickets to, and I’m like, ‘is that just fucking embarrassing?’, we’re gonna have a lot of credible jazz people, and I’m like, ‘can we do this? Is this justifiable?’ ”. Rack’s notion of “credible jazz people” is a clear indicator that he sees himself as not amongst that company. This is a common belief throughout all forms of jazz fusion, which is often “perceived to be ‘not jazz’ because it uses elements from rock and funk such as electric instruments and a different rhythmic basis” (Porter, 2012: 17). Yet I would argue that such criticisms miss the point entirely, for –​as put concisely by DeVeaux –​“the essence of jazz is the process of change itself ” (1998: 487). It has been argued that “no inherent qualities separate one musical category from another”, that “genres are historical and cultural constructs, and evolving ones at that” (Ake, 2002: 44); and in the case of jazz, this seems

Considering Measures of Authenticity  75 particularly true. As I have argued in the past, the common thread that unites the various styles of jazz: seems to be a level of experimentation, of pushing boundaries, and of breaking with tradition. Jazz musicians have regularly been at the forefront of cutting-​edge music, and this appears to be far more of an essential characteristic than any specific stylistic technique. (Inglis, 2019a: 200) Jazz is not to be defined through concrete, quantifiable factors; it is instead something more abstract, something that can be determined as more of a particular outlook or approach. As put by Carr, “musicological factors alone are not enough to classify the qualities of any musical work” (2009: 84), and “jazz can be considered more a process than a specific sound or entity” (ibid.: 90). This is far from a new debate within jazz, and such jazz purists who have berated new styles of jazz have historically been referred to as ‘moldy figs’ –​ “defenders of an outdated and artificially static notion of what jazz is and can be” (DeVeaux, 1998: 487). And these arguments have been repeated multiple times over the years: after ‘the moldy figs,’ who insisted that the only pure jazz was the ‘hot’ music of New Orleans in the 1920s, had done battle with the proponents of swing in the early years of the [1940s] decade, the same basic arguments were invoked a few years later when the beboppers were at war with the traditionalists. (Gabbard, 1995: 19) We can once again find this occurring through critics of electro swing: These tensions, connected to the artistic and often unorthodox use of technology, overlap with earlier artistic debates within jazz, such as those exchanged between the so-​called ‘moldy figs’ and modernists of the post-​ war era. (McGee, 2020: 7) However, such claims can be said to fall apart somewhat when considering Kallberg’s point that “to some degree, every work written alters the genre to which it belongs” (1988: 245–​246). By stepping outside of the genre’s boundaries, one does not cease to be a jazz musician –​but rather, the boundaries themselves have been altered. As Ake argues, “jazz never has been a pure domain, culturally or musically. To pretend otherwise is to engage in a sort of art-​envious wishful thinking” (2002: 61), making the claim that an “enduring hallmark of jazz musicians over the course of the twentieth century has been their desire to continually draw on and re-​shape the sounds, tunes, and genres around them” (ibid.: 164). Drawing on these various points, he concludes that

76  Considering Measures of Authenticity the 21st century will “bring equally vital –​though undoubtedly different –​jazz sounds, identities, and cultures” (ibid.: 176). As Gabbard puts, the study of jazz then, “now faces two significant choices: it may continue developing and protecting its canon, or it may take the consequences of letting in some fresh, if chilling, air” (1995: 22). Gabbard argues that this second option would be both truest, and most beneficial to the jazz world. And it’s certainly true that “jazz musicians have always looked to other genres for source material” (Ake, 2002: 148). We have already seen this with musicians such as Miles Davis and Herbie Hancock, as well as the likes of Charlie Parker who “used all the information around him, every scrap of it, from Stravinsky to pop” (Frisell, qtd. in Ake, 2002: 165). And many acts have been critical of those they consider to not be innovating in this way. For instance, in comparing so-​called ‘trad jazz’ acts with the jazz rap groups he was involved with, producer Hank Shocklee has stated the following: the new guys who are coming up only mimic what they’ve heard in the past. And jazz was never like that. It was always an exploration music. It explored new levels, new sounds, new things. There was never a formula for jazz. (Dery, 2004: 419) This is where we come to electro swing, which lends itself naturally to these debates; indeed, McGee speaks of: anticipat[ing] the frequent ‘but this isn’t jazz’ comment by arguing that electro swing engages meaningfully with past jazz cultures, even if the outcomes and forms of engagement dramatically depart from more orthodox understandings of jazz music recording aesthetics and performative spaces of prior decades. (2020: 173) The first act who I wish to mention in this regard are the South African duo Goldfish. Goldfish provided a memorable moment for the genre at Tennessee’s Bonnaroo festival in 2017; for up until this year, the festival had featured ‘The Other Tent’ stage –​traditionally reserved for jazz acts –​but this year, having had its name shortened to simply ‘The Other’, the stage was transformed into a space for electronic dance music. This transformation of one of Bonnaroo’s favourite stages provided a perfect metaphor for the current direction jazz is taking; and chosen to open the show, Goldfish were described as “an ideal act to make the transition” (Paulson, 2017). As self-​described jazz musicians, who trained at the University of Cape Town, the duo have said the following about their music: We loved jazz and the freeform spirit and expression it allowed us, but it’s not really something you can just walk into unless you’ve spent some

Considering Measures of Authenticity  77 time developing your musical palette. Sort of like wine. It takes a while to learn to appreciate the subtleties […] We wanted to combine those jazzy samples and sounds with the beats we also loved, because we felt like people were missing out on a whole vibe. (EggLondon, 2016) A similar approach has been described by Scott Bradlee, in speaking of how he first began making this style of music through the frustration created by his friends whom he felt didn’t understand jazz: I realised that, you know, I wasn’t gonna get them to like my kind of music if I just played them these old recordings that sound like they were recorded, like, through, like, a freaking tin can. So, I would take their songs and, kind of, you know, make them into jazz. (OxfordUnion, 2017: 5.40) Bradlee has argued adamantly that his music belongs within the jazz tradition, speaking in explicit terms of those who would consider otherwise: jazz seemed to have a lot of dogma around it, where there was, like, kind of an understanding of like, ‘oh, this is jazz, but this is not’, and it’s kind of dangerous to think in those ways […] so if somebody’s telling you, like, ‘don’t play that, because that’s not in jazz vocabulary’, then, you know, that’s –​tell them to, you know… anyway. (ibid.: 35.45) In terms of how this type of music may be considered to fall within the previously described jazz approach, the best electro swing productions will use jazz as a starting point, before pushing off in their own direction and attempting their own new ideas. Speaking of the current British jazz scene, the Guardian’s Kate Hutchinson has written that “perhaps what’s most exciting, though, is the sense that this generation is wrestling jazz from its gatekeepers and making it their own” (2018). This is reflected in keyboardist George Duke’s summation of what he considers jazz: As I said before, style of music is irrelevant! The important message is the freedom of creativity and thought. Building on what came before and taking that idea to new levels. That’s the only way the music will truly evolve and become an extension of what came before. (2007) From what I’ve seen, this is what much electro swing will often try to do. Nick Hollywood told me how he “like[s]‌to see something –​you know, people apply originality and creativity to things, and attempt to push the boundaries and see something evolve”; and Camps –​in speaking of his track ‘Stop the

78  Considering Measures of Authenticity Moon’ (Extra Medium, 2017), which features a sample of The Mighty Boosh’s Howard Moon saying “you fear jazz, don’t you –​you fear the lack of rules, the lack of boundaries” –​told me how this line was intended to reflect his own music. To give a few examples of the ways in which artists are attempting to push the boundaries of this music, one may point to Mista Trick, who has experimented with drum ‘n’ bass patterns in 6/​8; or Chinese Man, whose experimentations with time signature and tempo in their ‘Step Back’ (2017) are particularly advanced. Switching between measures of 4/​4 at 140 BPM and 6/​8 at 210BPM, the band manage to employ multiple rhythm changes, whilst always ensuring a steady underlying tempo of 70BPM throughout. A further example comes with Dutty Moonshine’s ‘Take A Little Time’ (2017) –​a reworking of Dave Brubeck’s classic ‘Take Five’ (1959). This version begins with a 4/​4 variation on Brubeck’s theme, switching to 6/​8 after about three-​and-​a-​half minutes, before reverting to the standard 5/​4 rhythm a minute later. Seven minutes in, it switches back to 4/​4 and begins to speed up significantly, staying like this for the remaining four minutes. Such experimentations with form are almost completely unheard of within electronic dance music, and are a clear indication of the jazz approach which has endured. And this has been picked up by fans too, for instance, blogger George Browne, who described ‘Take A Little Time’ to me as “mind-​ blowingly good”. Tuxedo Junction’s Will Williamson has also suggested that he sees his music as breaking away from the standard EDM mould: we’re making stuff that’s fun to play out, but is also trying to be different, and more, like, forward-​thinking than a lot of, like, dance music is –​well at least, remix-​y bass stuff –​and also, like, I don’t know, the way that jazz goes in, like, ten different directions –​trying to do that on a dance tune, rather than just, like, a loop, and then a drop, and then a breakdown, and then a drop, you know?. (Captain Flatcap, 2018: 41.55) And as alluded to earlier, Tony Culverwell –​who has won the DMC World DJ Championships four times –​told me of how he considers his scratching techniques as part of an explicitly jazz approach: scratching is very jazz-​esque, because it’s freestyle, you don’t know, like –​ it just comes to you out of your head, from your techniques and stuff […] scratching is very jazz, particularly in that –​that there are systems for writing scratching down, but generally it’s about jamming with other DJs, passing techniques on through like, videos, and word-​of-​mouth, and in the flesh, when you’ve got two DJs next to each other, and say ‘oh, that’s a cool technique’, and stuff. So yeah, I’d say there’s a strong basis for like, scratching being quite, jazz-​style.

Considering Measures of Authenticity  79 What we may gather from all of this is that electro swing artists do not simply create their music according to the conventions of EDM. The reason that such music is having the impact that it is comes from the innovation that has directly resulted from their embrace of the jazz tradition. I will clarify here that my argument is not that all electro swing should be considered jazz, as there are certainly some examples that have not been made with this approach in mind, instead sticking to quite a formulaic model. This is largely why the genre has been criticised so widely from those within –​ from those who disapprove of the subpar examples of the style. But rather, my argument is that electro swing should not be thought of as distinct from jazz, and that there are indeed many examples that do present the qualities necessary to be categorised in this way. As Hersch has suggested, “rather than having to choose between rigid exclusivity and complete openness, I would argue that whilst there are boundaries around the jazz tradition, those boundaries are moveable, depending on one’s purpose” (2008: 25). Another point that I wish to highlight relates to the presentation of jazz and the way in which the genre is interacted with. This will be covered further in Chapter 5, but one thing that is notable is that as jazz has grown older, so too has its audience. Subsequently, many of the youthful attributes present in early jazz that have been lost have since been identified in its descendants; McInnis speaks of how much contemporary music has “got the essence of jazz but with a lot of other contemporary music” (2018). And this is far from a new suggestion. In 1955, upon the emergence of R&B, journalist Les Elgart would write in DownBeat that: The average teenager isn’t emotionally moved by the modern sounds –​ progressive jazz, or whatever you want to call it. They have turned to rhythm & blues […] because that’s where they feel that driving excitement that was so much a part of the great bands of the swing era. (1955: 1) And DownBeat published similar words upon the rise of rock, when in 1969 Dan Morgenstern wrote that: jazz once was also a social force as well as a great music; because, at one time, it elicited similar (if less demonstrative) spontaneous participation from its audience. (Heineman & Morgenstern, 1969: 22) Today, I found the same argument in favour of grime, from Michael Rack who argued that “I kind of like to think of grime as a modern jazz […] it doesn’t have the talent of jazz, but it’s got the attitude of jazz”. Throughout the 20th century and beyond, several genres have utilised this attitude to create music which –​whilst differing from jazz sonically –​absolutely shares its ultimate approach to music making.

80  Considering Measures of Authenticity And this attitude is something which is very much present in electro swing. When speaking to Cat Foley, she told me how her experience of electro swing makes her “feel like I’m kind of witnessing the evolution of jazz, over 80 years”. And again, we find this suggestion that the genre is helping to restore attributes of jazz that have been lost with time: a lot of swing events, you end up in, like, a church hall [laughs], you know, and you’re like, ‘this doesn’t feel like a party. It feels like a school disco’. Whereas, with dancing at a festival like that, and everyone’s like, giving it loads, it really felt like you were in a party –​in a modern-​day party, which was probably as raucous as the parties in the ‘20s and ‘30s, in Harlem would feel. This point is especially pertinent, as she is essentially suggesting that electro swing can be considered more authentic to the original style than much of the more traditional acts. And there is a lot of truth to this statement. If one looks at Figure 2.4, which shows dancers at Harlem’s Savoy Ballroom during the swing era, the similarities to Figure 2.5 –​depicting an audience from the Swingamajig festival in 2017 –​should be quite apparent. Both images feature crowds of young people, packed closely together on the dancefloor, full of energy, and letting loose to the music. In contrast, in many of today’s more traditional jazz venues, one can often find an ageing, seated, and sparse audience –​of which even the most ardent jazz purist would have to admit demonstrates a great change in jazz’s presentation over time. And not only can electro swing be described as jazz-​like in its presentation, but some have even argued that the way in which the music is made is more authentic than much of modern jazz. Nick Hollywood made this suggestion to me when stating that: in some ways, bringing technology back to those kinds of sounds does, you know, for me, make it more interesting and more exciting again, and often, you know, I’m quite surprised that, you know, jazz-​heads don’t see

Figures 2.4 and 2.5 The Savoy Ballroom, Harlem (source: unknown); Swingamajig, Birmingham (© Swingamajig).

Considering Measures of Authenticity  81 that as such an opportunity […] I actually think, you know, it could be very interesting if more proper jazz musicians got into, kind of working with the technology. And Chris Tofu would make the same point even more explicitly, arguing that he sees much of modern jazz in a negative light, inferior to much electro swing: the jazz world has never took this on board, do you know what I mean, ever. They’re still coming out with like, versions of what they think is new, modern jazz, which is making people fall asleep, do you know what I mean? Tofu even went so far as to say that he thinks electro swing, recognised as a form of jazz, should play a role in university curriculums, in that “they should just be really looking at this genre as a way to teach the kids, you know?”. He added that the only music programme he currently thinks is of any worth is that of Leeds College of Music –​“Leeds is the only one in England that is exemplary” –​producing the likes of the After Hours Quintet, Father Funk, and Little Violet. In concluding this chapter, I will assert my claim that much electro swing can, and should, be recognised as an authentic form of jazz. I quoted Duke Ellington earlier with the suggestion that he would likely have been happy to support this view, and will now end with another quote from the same essay, in which he concludes: let’s not worry about whether the result is jazz or this or that type of performance. Let’s just say that what we’re all trying to create, in one way or another, is music. (1962: 326) Of course, this is a relevant point. This same essay also features his famous quote that “there are simply two kinds of music, good music and the other kind” (ibid.: 326), and thus one may decide that the question of whether or not electro swing constitutes jazz is irrelevant. There’s a part of me that wants to agree with this position, and yet ultimately, I value the preservation of jazz, and think that this is the finest way to keep it relevant for a young audience, and it should be recognised as such. By presenting the genre in this way, those involved in electro swing are keeping it fresh, exciting, and interesting. And more than anything else, that is exactly what jazz should be about.

3 On Race and Nationality

In Chapter 2, I spent a great deal of time analysing the concept of authenticity, determining what it may mean for something to be considered truly authentic. And as mentioned, one of the models upon which this may be judged comes through Taylor’s Authenticity as Primality, in which works are considered to be more authentic if they can be argued to genuinely represent the origins of the style at hand. For instance, when discussing jazz, DeVeaux has noted that “as jazz entered the 1960s, authenticity was more than ever associated with ethnicity” (1998: 503); as a movement that owes so much of existence to black America, many musicians from other ethnic backgrounds have had their inclusion within jazz questioned. The argument is that –​the contexts from which jazz was birthed are so distinct to that of, say, a white European, that such a musician could never legitimately embody jazz in the way that an African American could. Thus, this chapter will devote itself to discussions of race and of nationality –​the twin topics that can tell us so much about a music’s contextual background. In the case of electro swing, there is a lot which may be considered in relation to this, which will subsequently reveal more around our understanding of the genre. It is electro swing’s association with jazz which presents one of the more pressing issues in this regard. Jazz’s status as African American music is widely acknowledged and undisputed, but this is not to say that white practitioners have played no role in its evolution or development. The likes of Benny Goodman, Frank Sinatra, and Glenn Miller make up some of the most important figures throughout jazz’s history, and this association with whiteness is a characteristic which electro swing has largely inherited. As will come to be discussed, with a few exceptions, electro swing can broadly be considered a white genre for the most part, despite the overall roots of the main music from which it draws. And this same discrepancy can be found across its remaining influences too: electronic dance music (EDM) arguably has its roots in black culture, and hip hop certainly does. This brings about serious questions of cultural appropriation, in considering the expectations and associations present when reworking such styles. Yet this is not to say that such reworkings need necessarily be considered problematic. As pointed out by Peretti, “jazz has been closely tied to the DOI: 10.4324/9781003254485-4

On Race and Nationality  83 African-​ American struggle for equality” (2001: 188), and one can find many examples of genuine solidarity and allyship between disparate races throughout its history. In quoting trumpeter Louis Metcalf, McNally notes how various white musicians “didn’t care nothin’ about color, or that jazz had a bad stamp to it. Why, Bix [Beiderbecke] would come uptown and blow with us, eat with us, sleep with us. He was one of us” (2014: 176). And similarly, Westerlund discusses the dance communities of the era, speaking of how “it was an honest and respectful collaboration of black and white, of young and old, and of Harlem-​jazz-​era culture and contemporary trends” (Cupit, 2015: 129). In this regard, electro swing might be considered a continuation of these early attempts at unity. These are the discussions that this chapter will explore. The relationship between race and music is well-​established, and in many cases, presents an essential component. Indeed, across certain styles of music, to overlook such discussions would be to deem the work incomplete. As has been highlighted by Holt, “some forms of popular music accompany racism, while others have had unparalleled power in struggles against theses social problems and succeeded in overthrowing cultural hierarchies” (2007: 1); a statement which echoes Werner’s assertion that “since the barriers imposed by legal segregation began to come down after World War II, music has provided a unique forum for dialogue –​sometimes harmonious, sometimes angry –​between black and white voices” (1999: xii). The issues that I will present within electro swing are prominent enough to warrant substantial discussion, and this chapter will also go some way to suggesting how we may address these issues. Yet I am not naïve enough to suggest that I have all the answers, and there is always more work to be done. One final point to highlight comes with the recognition that the two topics of race and nationality are not to be conflated. Whilst they are closely linked, it can be dangerous to treat one’s racial identity as synonymous with their nationality, as the act of doing so can often paint a misleading picture. For instance, it is quite common for the term European to be used with a tacit implication of whiteness; yet, as was demonstrated by the United Kingdom census of 2011 –​in a city like London, fewer than 60% of the population identified as white (Office for National Statistics, 2012). The act of assuming one’s whiteness by virtue of their European identity then excludes a large proportion of the population –​and the same goes for any other conflation of race and nationality. This chapter will thus contain interlinked discussions of both race and nationality, but will recognise the need to treat them as the distinct areas of study that they are.

Geographic Variation within Electro Swing As discussed in Chapter 2, one of electro swing’s most illustrious features is the degree of experimentation that is utilised throughout the style. As a result, there is a substantial degree of variety within the various ways

84  On Race and Nationality that different producers have approached their respective sound. As put to me by Dutty Moonshine’s Michael Rack, “Caravan Palace doesn’t sound like Parov Stelar, Parov Stelar doesn’t sound like Smokey Joe and the Kid, Smokey Joe and the Kid doesn’t sound like Tape Five, Tape Five don’t sound like us, Correspondents don’t sound like Mr B”. This is such the case that several producers suggested to me that we shouldn’t really be thinking of electro swing in the conventional sense of a genre at all, and rather think of it as a kind of flavouring, a way of modifying already existing genres: my analogy I often use with electro swing, is that I, I consider it to be, like, a spice, or a thing, like –​you can add electro swing to drum ‘n’ bass, or to rock, or to house, or to funky breaks. It doesn’t –​in fact, actually, electro swing isn’t a genre –​it’s a collection of things that have had this spice, and it’s just a collection of other genres that have this spice in it. (Tom Hyland) the way I consider electro swing is not really as a genre, because it uses other –​it piggybacks on other genres. (Richard Shawcross) There are several factors that one may point to when analysing the respective causes of such variation, but one of the most notable comes through looking at geography. As Hyland went on to say, “electro swing reflects the music of the, of the place where it comes out of ”, and one thing that very quickly becomes apparent to anyone familiarising themselves with the electro swing scene is the extent to which this music demonstrates considerable differences throughout its presentation across the world. In speaking to DJ Sacha Dieu, he was to explain how the scene “in the UK, is very different from the rest of Europe for example. And again, for the electro swing in the US, is different, and the electro swing scene in Australia is different”. I will focus first on the version of the sound that has emerged in the UK, as this is where the bulk of my research was located. And one of the most common themes I was to find across my interviews was the significant difference between this British variant and the corresponding European sound: typically in France, or Germany […] they’re very house-​ orientated, whereas we aren’t. (Tom Hyland) particularly the European electro swing –​could sometimes be a bit kind of sparkly, and maybe a bit, sort of, sterilised maybe –​had some of that, kind of, filth removed. (George Browne)

On Race and Nationality  85 the electro swing scene in the UK is grittier, and it’s more grimier, it’s more grungier, it’s more festival-​like –​it’s more muddy –​because it was born in a muddy field, in a way. Where in Europe, you know, it’s much more like, you know, in a way sophisticated, or elegant, or you know –​and they much prefer their swing house to –​you know, glitchy, or drum ‘n’ bass-​y. (Sacha Dieu) I had to stop booking […] a lot of European DJs to play at Boomtown because, it’s just a totally different sound, it’s just a totally different vibe to what the crowd wanted over here. (Kaptin Barrett) Of course, it’s important to remember that individuals will often rate their own scene as much more individual and distinct than it actually is, and that these responses are coming from those based in the UK. Whilst Sacha Dieu is originally French, he lives and works in London –​but I was to find similar suggestions from outside the UK as well, such as from the German Tobias Kroschel, the man behind Sound Nomaden, who is based in Münster: I experienced some differences. In the UK scene a lot of Electro Swing artists use elements of heavy bass influenced music like dubstep and glitch hop whereas in Germany a lot of producers are more influenced by Techno and House. In France I experienced influences from French House and also Hip Hop. The general consensus seemed to be that British electro swing had a much harder or dirtier quality to it, drawing from characteristic genres such as dubstep or drum ‘n’ bass. Common terms such as ‘dirty’, ‘filthy’, and ‘gritty’ refer originally to the type of sounds featuring heavy basslines that are built around sawtooth waveforms. More generally, they have become kind of catch-​all terms for the timbres based upon such techniques which –​as Chris Rotherham of Captain Flatcap once put to me –​“make you screw up your face”. I also found the suggestion that a lot of British EDM was influenced by the chaotic punk movement of the late 1970s, and that this was to have an impact upon its subsequent sound. In his claim that his band “definitely sound[s]‌like we’re from the UK”, Tom Hyland went on to tell me that: I think that’s the punk element, it’s the rock element. So if you go to, listen to electro swing in France, or Spain, or Italy, you know, it’s a lot cleaner, it’s a lot tidier, and it has –​it’s not, it’s not as raw, and it’s more polished […] if you listen to UK dance music, there’s lots of variation in tempos, and styles, and it’s all –​it’s all a little bit crazy. Hyland is seemingly drawing upon British acts such as the Prodigy, who have been described as “punk rock for the rave generation” (Holmes, 2019), or

86  On Race and Nationality Fatboy Slim, whose ‘The Rockafeller Skank’ (1998) demonstrates the type of “crazy tempo variations” he refers to explicitly. And this has been recognised by listeners too –​for instance McGee, who notes that the Electric Swing Circus “favoured a dirtier and unpolished sound, hoping to achieve that raucous live energy of other UK punk bands from earlier decades” (2020: 191). The Prodigy have also had a significantly notable influence upon another act, Slamboree –​who exhibit an undeniable resemblance across their music. This is such the case that in 2019, following the death of the Prodigy’s Keith Flint, Slamboree’s Mike Freear was selected to perform an hour-​long tribute to Flint at both Glastonbury and Boomtown Fair, entitled ‘Music for the Prodigal Generation’. And a similar point to Hyland’s was made by Michael Rack, who spoke to me of how “I’m a through and through UK dance music guy, I really struggle with when music comes from other countries […] as a cultural thing, like, the UK dance scene is –​there’s something else about it”. The respective sound that has emerged out of the UK has then made a clear mark upon the identity of many British performers, demonstrating the extent to which it can be shown to differ to that of the rest of the world. Rack’s remarks are clearly indicative of this and demonstrate a view which will of course result in the continued fulfilment of its own described circumstances. In contrast, the type of electro swing found on the continent was much more influenced by genres like techno, or particularly house. Again, this has been recognised by practitioners and fans alike, with Mark Camps comparing his own, UK garage–​influenced sounds to acts like Parov Stelar, Caravan Palace, and Wolfgang Lohr, in speaking of “a very European sound […] which is very inherent, I guess, of where they’re from” (Captain Flatcap, 2017, 45.48). An example of this can be found in the swing hop subgenre, which has emerged in France directly out of their hip hop scene, being the second largest hip hop consuming country in the world (Meghelli, 2013). This subgenre was largely pioneered by acts like Chinese Man and C2C –​whose long-​awaited debut album Tetr4 (2012) reached the top of the French charts upon its release. Other significant artists who would follow in this regard include Smokey Joe and the Kid, Deluxe, and Scarecrow –​along with the rapper Youthstar. Alongside its considerable market for hip hop, France is arguably the country most associated with electro swing, due largely to Caravan Palace, as well as DJs such as Bart&Baker –​and of course all the above-​mentioned swing hop acts. McGee notes this, suggesting “that Paris would emerge as French electro swing’s cultural capital is unsurprising considering its central place both within popular imagination (filtered through Hollywood and European film culture) and academic historical accounts” (2020: 199). These associations are made present across electro swing’s various depictions; for instance, the video for Caravan Palace’s ‘Rock It for Me’ (2012), in which the “mise-​en-​scène reinforces the groups relation and remaking of French heritage” (McGee, 2020: 211). As McGee argues, this “intertextual knowledge of the musical aesthetics of these two cultures –​the architectural spaces of Paris’s pre-​war culture and of contemporary aesthetics for electronic music –​enabled

On Race and Nationality  87 Caravan Palace to connect with participants of both electronic and jazz culture” (ibid.: 212). Such depictions of France’s cultural history could of course only have emerged through an act thoroughly engrossed in this culture. In terms of some of electro swing’s predecessors, McGee also provides us with some specific examples of the ways in which other forms of European culture have influenced these respective forms of jazz as well. For instance, she notes that: By 2000 however, the Nordic tone had gathered cultural cachet, and was now broadly used to depict a variety of innovative Scandinavian musicians experimenting across genres in an expressive tone. Indeed, many of the younger generation of Norwegian jazz artists were reaching across the North Sea, connecting with their urban, rhythmic, and groovy electronic jazz peers, adapting more transnational and hardwire-​driven techniques such as sampling and digital sound manipulation. (ibid.: 94) She similarly discusses the Balkan beats genre, arguing that there is “a ‘Balkan cosmopolitanism’ positioned as alternative to a Western modernity” in jazz (ibid.: 177). Notably, Balkan beats is a genre which has long featured on the sidelines of electro swing, for reasons that will be discussed in the next section. The one instance in which –​for the most part –​European electro swing does not differ from the British variety, is in language. With a few exceptions –​ such as Smokey Joe and the Kid’s ‘Prohibition 2’ (2016), performed in French; Fabian Scheuerlein and Balduin’s ‘Nah Neh Nah’ (2019), performed in German; and SwinGrowers’ ‘Precipitiamo’ (2021), performed in Italian –​ electro swing tracks tend to be exclusively performed in English, regardless of their country of origin. One further example is Caravan Palace’s ‘Pluma’ (2019a), a Spanish version of their song ‘Plume’ (2019b) –​owing to singer Zoé Colotis’s dual nationality. But even here, half of the song’s lyrics remain in English, and there is none of the band’s native French. Whilst this is reflective of the global popular music landscape in general, it’s worth briefly commenting on its prevalence within this genre. For instance, in 2014, I saw Caro Emerald perform at the Manchester Arena, closing her set with a cover of ‘Dream a Little Dream of Me’, which she sang in English, despite announcing that she first learnt the song as a young girl in her native Dutch. Later on, I came across a clip of Emerald performing the same song upon accepting her award at De Gouden Notekraker (2012), still in English; hence, despite knowing the song in Dutch, and performing it in the Netherlands, she still chose to neglect her own language. She did however address the audience in Dutch when speaking –​but some artists are hesitant to even do this; at their performance at 2015’s Southside Festival in Tuttlingen, Germany, the Parov Stelar Band –​from German-​speaking Austria –​would bizarrely address the crowd in English (Roskin, 2015). We may relate this back to the previous chapter’s discussion on identity: whilst the band would be expected to speak

88  On Race and Nationality German when assuming the position of Moore’s performer –​when on stage, they adopt only the distinct, imitative persona. Extending this discussion to America, we can see that there is a degree of imitation in the electro swing coming out of the States as well. But rather than being in relation to language, this comes in the particular sound that the American producers have actively tried to achieve. Contrary to the diverse examples of style across Europe, it has been suggested that since emerging in the USA, many of the American electro swing producers have worked to replicate the British approach to electro swing. I will expand upon this in the next section, but it’s certainly notable that the European acts have historically worked in ways to distinguish themselves from what might be expected of their American counterparts: European DJs mixed genres in ways catering to European dance sensibilities. The mashup and genre-​clashing phenomena of the early 2000s often entailed juxtaposing contrasting musical tracks from distinct fields such as mainstream pop hits circulated through music television and commercial radio and the underground indie or electronic dance musics of European clubs and discos. (McGee, 2020: 43–​44) As McGee later explains, “such fascinations with musical and cultural hybridity have long preoccupied […] European jazz musicians” (2020: 111); and it seems that the American producers have since recognised these methods as ones that they may use within their own approaches. I brought this up with the California-​based Chad Sells –​the DJ behind Duke Skellington –​who told me how: I’ve been listening to garage, and drum ‘n’ bass since the ‘90s, you know what I mean, so –​and I’ve always been, I mean, England has always been huge, you know, in terms of influence, creatively for me, with electronic music […] in the ‘90s during the rave scene, we kind of felt like, that we were trying to get to where England was at in terms of, like, the sound. For Sells, it was specifically the British sound which he was attempting to mimic –​which he recognised as distinct from the rest of Europe, stating that “to some degree, I think I have more in common with the British production, the British producers, than I do with the rest of Europe”. I would agree with Sells, as I think that his music sounds very characteristically British. I am regularly drawn to his track ‘Evil’ (Vaude Villainz, 2017), which to my ear sounds like it has come directly out of the sounds of UK garage. And Sells commented upon this himself, discussing the relationship between British and American music: somebody when I was in England –​they were asking me […] ‘how did you come about, how did you come across, like, how did you-​’, like they felt

On Race and Nationality  89 like it was like, like we don’t really hear that many people doing that, you know, outside of, you know, this place. And I think that, I think it’s a hard thing to say, because I think –​because the US and England, we’ve been kind of influencing each other musically for, you know, like, 100 years or more, you know, going back and forth. Sells’ admission of his desire to emulate the British sound is particularly revealing of the transatlantic patterns which have emerged in recent decades; this is something which will be explored in the next section. And for quite some time, this seemed to be the trend across the majority of American electro swing. Yet in recent years, this is beginning to change. An album that seemed to signal this turning point was Atom Smith’s Bass Age Big Band (2020), which was decidedly marked by its undeniable American quality. The opening track, ‘Bring the Heat’, provides a typical example, with a kind of uncynical flashiness to the production that sets it apart from its predecessors. On top of this, the track features the sounds of an archetypal American marching band, as well as the very clear accent of the featured rapper. Atom Smith’s work showcases the type of identifying markers that we have found across European electro swing acts, respective to their own countries –​and is arguably one of the first to do so. Which brings us to an important point. When considering the genres that make up electro swing, they are all demonstrably American in origin. And yet, up until very recently, the American representation of the electro swing scene has been somewhat lacking.

Electro Swing in the USA The importance of the USA to jazz is something which, historically, one cannot deny. Since its emergence in New Orleans, through to its expansion into cities such as New York, Chicago, and Kansas City, it’s been said that “the Americanness embedded in the practice of jazz has been a touchstone for its authenticity” (Porter, 2012: 20). As stated by Ake, “geography is another significant factor that has helped to define ‘real’ jazz from what some aficionados see as inauthentic practices” (2012: 6), and it has thus been suggested that only the jazz from this particular continent may constitute ‘real’ jazz. One may hold similar discussions regarding the other genres which have proved influential to electro swing: EDM largely evolved through American cities such as New York, Chicago, and Detroit –​although we cannot overlook the importance of the German Kraftwerk –​whilst hip hop first emerged in New York as well and had significant developments along America’s West Coast too, in cities such as Los Angeles. It may be seen as quite ironic then that electro swing –​made up of all these American components –​would emerge in Europe instead of the States. However, when one considers the global development of jazz over the past 30 years, this is perhaps not so surprising; for as Nicholson argues, “today,

90  On Race and Nationality it is in countries outside the United States where the most profound changes in the music are occurring” (2005: xii). Continuing, he writes that “since the death of Miles Davis in 1991, there have been no significant developments in American jazz, while many glocalized styles of the music have become so strong they can no longer be ignored” (ibid.: xiii) –​a bold statement, but one which certainly has elements of truth to it. For instance, McGee quotes journalist Svein Andersen in suggesting that “in my view, it is first and foremost in Europe and not in the home country of America that the most exciting music is created today” (2020: 104); whilst in my own research, Ashley Slater spoke of his decision to move to the UK from California due to the better chances it would offer him as a jazz trombonist. And this also applies to the proliferation of jazz dance; McGee later goes on to describe Sweden’s Herräng Dance Camp as “the current centre of swing dance’s transnational dance community” (ibid.: 144). This pattern has certainly persisted for electro swing, which as discussed earlier was to emerge largely in European countries such as France, Austria, Germany, and the UK. And as with the previously discussed phenomenon of the music featuring signifiers to indicate its origins, McGee has noted the extent to which this would also apply to the genre’s primary influences: Both Gregory and Hyland [of the Electric Swing Circus] cited Fletcher Henderson, Sidney Bechet, and Django Reinhardt as the three most important early influences on their music, three musicians with strong ties to the European swing culture of the 1920s and 1930s. (ibid.: 191) Consequently, for a large part of its history, America was simply not a part of electro swing’s evolution or development. And this has been noted by practitioners from both sides of the Atlantic: Chris Tofu was to tell me how in the genre’s early days “all our eyes were on America, because we’re like, ‘well this is American folk music we’re remixing, to cut a long story short’, but America’s never really dropped for it, really –​weirdly, which is odd, odd, odd”; whilst Chad Sells spoke of how, in his experience, “I feel like the US –​and this is kind of known amongst people who are involved –​US is not quite there, like it’s not –​it’s not as popular here, as it is over there”, going on to comment that “I definitely know that there’s a lot that the US can learn from over there”. The reason behind this discrepancy, however, is unclear. Sells and I spoke about this at length –​him having vast experience performing and producing for the American market, as well as a close connection with the UK. One suggestion that came up was the idea that the genre hasn’t developed to the same extent due to the lack of proximity between those involved. Whilst acknowledging that there are “a core of really passionate enthusiasts”, who “pretty much are in almost every major city”, he explained how the lack of contact between these cities could serve as a hindrance in terms of developing a major scene:

On Race and Nationality  91 in Europe it seems, and in England, there’s so many, like, everything’s close, you know, everything’s so close, and in the US, everything gets spread out, just geographically. You know, there’s something about that, that creates innovation in smaller scenes, because, for things that catch on in the US, like, at least –​especially more recently –​it has to be, like, really really big, almost –​almost to be a strong enough wave, or current, to carry from one place to the next. This suggestion is reminiscent of Bennett and Rogers’ theory that remote cities can “[present] a palpable restriction to the genuine fulfilment of creative and artistic integrity” (2016: 169). And naturally, this is far more likely to occur in the US than the UK –​where people are generally found to be living much closer together. Making reference to British cities with high population densities such as Bristol and London, Sells suggested that this situation: helps innovation, you know, because people are, you know, hanging out with each other, you know, bringing over their new songs, inspiring one another, you know, in a physical way. You know, as much as the internet is cool, there’s still something about people being on the ground, near each other physically, and kind of growing scenes the old-​fashioned way. This notion of physical distance was to also come up when considering the matter not only from an inter-​city perspective, but intercontinentally. Alongside Sells, I brought up the questions with various British practitioners, and Nick Hollywood raised a valuable point when suggesting that Europeans were perhaps “glamourising [American culture] from a distance”: the American influence, you know, sometimes being separate from a culture, and being distant from it, means that you can see and appreciate it in a different way to people who are actually closer to it. As already discussed, there is a huge element of electro swing in which one can be said to be playing a character. Whether that be in the overt ways the likes of Offbeat and Mr B have demonstrated, or through the subtler methods that Hollywood and many others have themselves embodied –​the notion of persona is crucial for this genre. And what we find is that, when dressing up, the commonest choice of costume –​unsurprisingly –​comes with participants dressing as if they are from the jazz age. There is an essential element to this, which is the notion of escapism; and thus if the character being portrayed is one from a particular period of American history, it’s easy to see why this wouldn’t be as inherently exciting for an American themself. The closer one is to the source material, the fewer options there are available for dressing up if the purpose is to pretend to be something that you are not, and an American can’t exactly play the fictional character of ‘an American’. This also explains the popularity in America –​and relative lack of popularity in the UK –​of

92  On Race and Nationality the steampunk phenomenon. As this movement makes use of many Victorian influences, the resultant roles that emerge simply do not feel as escapist for a British audience. On the other hand however, one cannot claim that the entirety of the electro swing genre comes from American influences. It will prove important here to have a discussion around the origins of EDM. I stated earlier that the music largely emerged in the cities of New York, Chicago, and Detroit –​ which is true –​yet there were just as important developments occurring in Europe around this time, through the German group Kraftwerk. Founded in Düsseldorf, the influence of Kraftwerk upon EDM cannot be overlooked. This point is made explicitly by Reynolds, who argues that: the story of techno begins not in early-​eighties Detroit, as is so often claimed, but in early-​seventies Düsseldorf, where Kraftwerk built their KlingKlang sound factory and churned out pioneering synth-​ and-​ drum-​machine tracks like ‘Autobahn’, ‘Trans-​Europe Express’ and ‘The Man-​Machine’. (2013: 3) Continuing, he suggests that “Kraftwerk almost single-​handedly sired the electro movement” (ibid.: 4), a point echoed by Collin, pointing out that many of the earliest house records “were linked to European electronic traditions, but Kraftwerk’s impact was arguably the greatest” (1998: 13). The influence of Kraftwerk showcases the extent to which EDM’s origins are at least partly European –​and not only that, but also partly white. Rietveld points this out in noting that “African-​Americans have acknowledged a European influence, for instance, by sampling German band Kraftwerk” (1998: 158). The most notable example of this is Afrika Bambaataa’s ‘Planet Rock’ (1982), which ensured that the act “became hip with young black Americans” (Prendergast, 2000: 297), and would have “a real influence on black music culture” (ibid.: 300). Extending this theme, Chris Tofu was to suggest to me that the American audience is not as accustomed to EDM in general as the Europeans: I mean the story is, is that, you know, me and you grew up in a rave culture, but then America didn’t. While we were all, like, dancing around to early techno, and house, and whatever, and drum ‘n’ bass, the Americans were dancing around to Red Hot Chili Peppers. You know, rock, [puts on American accent], ‘rock, WFM Rock’. So, the electronic dance music promoters, and makers of America, were just so small, even up to like eight years ago, it was only a few people. I’m inclined to disagree with Tofu in this instance, however. Whilst one can make a strong case for Germany being the home of EDM, it is erroneous to overlook the consequent development from American pioneers such as

On Race and Nationality  93 Frankie Knuckles, Jesse Saunders, Larry Levan, and the Belleville Three. However, Tofu is correct with respect to certain subgenres of EDM, such as acid house, drum ‘n’ bass, and dubstep –​which have perhaps had more of an influence on electro swing than their more Americanised variants. His reference to ‘rave culture’ certainly suggests that these are the lines he is thinking along; indeed, the specific culture from which electro swing has emerged is much more akin to the European approach to EDM. Resultingly, we do find –​as discussed earlier –​that a lot of the music features strong sonic representations of its place of origin. Expanding upon this thought, it may be possible that there are some elements of the style that Americans are simply not privy to. I mentioned the Balkan beats genre earlier, which is something highlighted by Ashley Slater in terms of its proximity to electro swing –​speaking of how: a lot of electro swing is also kind of, Balkan, gypsy music, and all that, and that’s very European […] the harmonic sensibility of electro swing is that kind of minor, gypsy jazz sort of sound, and […] there’s a lot of that gypsy tonality in the music, so I think that’s why it works in Europe. There is certainly a large crossover between these two genres, with artists such as Sacha Dieu, Gypsy Hill, or the Woohoo Revue regularly fusing both influences within their own sound. In 2016, DJ C@ in the H@ released a mixtape entitled ‘Balkan Bass Mix’, the same year that the act Balkan Beat Box were invited to headline Swingamajig. In terms of why these genres have become so entwined, I believe it comes down to Tagg’s notion of the genre synecdoche: a set of musical structures imported into a musical ‘home’ style that refer to another (different, ‘foreign’, ‘alien’) musical style by citing one or more elements supposed to be typical of that ‘other’ style when heard in the context of the ‘home’ style. (2012: 524) This is reminiscent of Echard’s discussion of clichés: “clichés are strongly and exclusively correlated to their tradition in the sense that, even if the feature appears elsewhere, surrounded by elements coded as belonging to other traditions, it will still function as a reference to its own tradition” (2005: 45). One signifier of both swing and Balkan music is the inclusion of a big brass section; consequently, they share a strong genre synecdoche, a cliché. Thus, it is fairly unsurprising to see the extent to which these two styles have become merged. It’s also essential to again highlight the importance of the French guitarist Django Reinhardt. Reinhardt is considered one of the most influential artists to the electro swing genre, and distinct imitations of his gypsy jazz style can be heard in tracks such as Caravan Palace’s ‘Jolie Coquine’ and ‘Suzy’ (2008); Tallulah Goodtimes’ ‘Dark Eyes’ (2020); and SwinGrowers’ ‘Rose’ (2021).

94  On Race and Nationality The influence of Reinhardt’s music on electro swing –​as well as that of his frequent collaborator, violinist Stéphane Grappelli –​cannot be overstated, and the fact that it is a European musician who has had such an impact is particularly revealing of the types of sound that have lent themselves to the genre. One final suggestion I will give behind the European overrepresentation concerns the neo-​swing movement discussed in Chapter 1. As I highlighted, bands such as Squirrel Nut Zippers, Cherry Poppin’ Daddies, and Big Bad Voodoo Daddy were to re-​introduce America to the sounds of swing in the 1990s –​and yet despite its brief success, this was essentially a very isolated scene and had barely any impact in the UK or Europe. Thus, after the popularity of the movement began to decline –​whilst the swing influence would still sound fresh in Europe –​in America, “a swing band in 2000 was about as cool as a hair-​metal group in 1991” (Partridge, 2018). Resultingly, when European acts began experimenting with some of the first electro swing records throughout the 2000s, the American audience would have to wait for a new generation to emerge, unfamiliar with these sounds, and therefore fully able to appreciate the innovation. I don’t believe that any of these individual points gives a completely thorough explanation for the genre’s delayed emergence in America, however taken together, they paint a broad picture providing a comprehensive rationale behind the patterns of the genre’s global development. And as we saw with the rise of artists like Atom Smith, we have now reached a point where the American market has seemingly caught up with that of the Europeans: there’s definitely much more interest from America, and even –​I mean, on my YouTube channel for example, the highest views by country is America –​ I know it’s a large music-​consuming country, but it’s still, you know, we’ve got a lot of interest and that’s actually –​it wasn’t always that way. (Nick Hollywood) you look at the stats of electro swing artists, and over the last three years or so –​four years probably –​it’s definitely moved over to that side of the world. Like, at least for me, and a lot of the people I know, you look at the stats of SoundCloud, and way more plays are coming from the US and Canada, than ever before, compared to like, the likes of Europe. (Richard Shawcross) America’s definitely the emerging market for electro swing at the moment […] probably see as many, if not more electro swing nights happening [than in Europe]. (Tom Hyland) There are several significant instances one can point to that illustrate the success of the genre in America. I spoke earlier about the first Roaring City festival, held in Chicago in 2019. This is arguably one of the most meaningful

On Race and Nationality  95 moments in electro swing’s history, symbolising the outright return of this style to America’s shores. And I will also once again mention the achievements of Scott Bradlee’s act Postmodern Jukebox, who have without a doubt become one of the biggest names in the scene. The band have over five million subscribers on YouTube, and have performed huge shows all over the world, in venues as prestigious as London’s Palladium and New York’s Radio City Music Hall. One further indicator of this change in global representation came in 2017, when MixCloud issued the following infographic (see Figure 3.1), presenting the most searched for genres across each US state that year. As is demonstrated, the state of Wyoming placed electro swing higher than any other genre that year; thus, in at least one state, electro swing generated more interest than any other style of music. And as a brief aside, one may note that Wyoming was at one point the home of Alexandra DeMers, author of Threadbare: The

Figure 3.1 Mixcloud, 2017. ©Mixcloud.

96  On Race and Nationality Traveling Show (2016), the first piece of fiction to be published that was centred around the genre. As discussed earlier, Chad Sells was to join the Ragtime Records in 2017 team as the American representative behind the label. In speaking to Sells, he expressed his desires “to be able to grow both the presence of electro swing, but also Ragtime Records out here too”, and much of the same was repeated by Richard Shawcross, who further explained to me the decision to bring Sells in: we brought in Chad, from the VaudeVillainz –​Duke Skellington –​who lives in LA, to help out with the label, and also to, to form a bit of an American base, like a West Coast base […] see if we can kind of, you know, spread the good word of fusion, vintage remix, and swing-​based music out there, a little –​a little better, basically, sort of bridge the –​ bridge the gap, you know?. Since then, Sells has signed American artists such as Ninjula and Spekrfreks to the label, who have both released records to critical acclaim. And other labels have followed this trend too –​most notably Brighton’s Freshly Squeezed, who released not only Atom Smith’s debut, but also the debut release from Minnesota’s Riff Kitten (2020). From an audience perspective, it has been refreshing to watch America catch up with the European market. It is something which has been building for several years, to the point where I now feel confident saying that the two continental markets are equally matched. However, this is only half of the overall story. Historically, jazz is of course an American style, but it’s also a distinctly African American style; and undoubtedly, electro swing as a genre –​whether that be in either Europe or America –​is predominantly white.

The Issue of Appropriation Anyone who is in any way familiar with the electro swing scene will be unsurprised to find this point being raised. At any event, or throughout any playlist, the overwhelming number of artists practising this music are almost exclusively white. Indeed, across the entire genre, I am only aware of two black artists directly involved within the scene –​this being the singer Alice Francis and William Bejedi of Klischée. A few other artists have participated in more indirect ways, such as Gambit Ace, Tenisha Edwards, and Blackout JA –​all of whom have worked with Mista Trick; Mr FX, who has worked with C@ in the H@; Sakhile Moleshe and Soweto Kinch, who have worked with Goldfish; and MysDiggi, Waahli, NON Genetic, and Pigeon John –​all of whom have worked with Smokey Joe and the Kid. Yet these few individuals constitute more or less the full extent of the black artists involved within the style.

On Race and Nationality  97 I raised this point in several of my interviews, and many were quick to agree that it’s an issue that they’ve noticed as well: that’s a good point. Really good point. A really, really good point. Why are we taking the music which has basically come from black people, from the black diaspora, and where are all those people now?. (Chris Tofu) with the wider scene, it is –​you’re completely right, it is […] this year we had Alice Francis [at Boomtown] –​fantastic singer –​and I think I’d struggle to name you anyone else, you know?. (Kaptin Barrett) I couldn’t name an electro swing band with more than two people of colour in it, like, you know, that’s –​that’s pretty mental. (Tom Hyland) one of the things that’s always puzzled me, is it does seem to be quite a largely white audience –​which given the origins of the music is slightly ironic I think, and I’ve never quite been able to put my finger on why that is the case. (George Browne) I do tend to find that there is way more white artists than should be representing the, the fact that it’s sampling largely black artists. (Richard Shawcross) it’s very interesting you say that as well, and I think that’s a marvellous question, because you do go into these events, and there are a small minority of black people at these events, which is not a problem, don’t get me wrong, but it’s just very interesting. It’s very interesting –​even I look at it, I look at the set and I’m like, ‘right, I’m the only black guy there’. (David Bonnick Jr.) And audiences seem to have noticed this discrepancy too. For instance, in the lead up to the ‘100 Years of Jazz in the UK’ event held in April 2018 –​in which electro swing acts such as Dutty Moonshine and the Puppini Sisters represented the genre’s recent developments –​one individual commented on the Facebook page: 100 years of Jazz and not a single Black image or person to be seen. Anywhere!!!!?????. (The Roaring 2.0s, 2018)

98  On Race and Nationality Considering jazz’s origins as the quintessential African American music, this situation seems highly peculiar. Indeed, the importance of race to jazz is arguably more so than any other genre. This is the argument made by Szwed, who states: Of all the chauvinisms this country has committed, that of the jazz musician is the most arrogant, the most racist, and probably the most accurate. It goes like this: only Americans can play jazz, and the best of these are black, the remainder more or less white. Oh, there are exceptions that prove the rule and some honorary mentions with heart, but who can really question what Albert Murray calls the black patrimony of jazz?. (2005: 195) On this same notion, the poet Langston Hughes once declared that “jazz to me is one of the inherent expressions of Negro Life in America” (1926: 694). And similarly, Ake recognises that “to ignore [the African roots of jazz] signals at the very least a gross injustice to historical accuracy” (2002: 14). It is for this reason that jazz forms such as bebop have developed as a response to white involvement within the music. As noted by DeVeaux, “bebop emerged against the background of the Swing Era, a time in which jazz-​ oriented white dance bands flooded the marketplace and Benny Goodman was crowned King of Swing” (1997: 18). This situation provided a unique kind of motivation for bebop’s pioneers: The individualism of the beboppers was fired further by their marginal status as black Americans at a critical juncture in U.S. history. In this last generation before the end of segregation and the passage of the Civil Rights Act, African Americans were intent on testing the limits as never before. The first generation of jazz players had succeeded as entertainers, and white America was content to celebrate them on that level. But the black jazz players of the 1940s wanted more. They demanded acceptance as artists, as esteemed practitioners of a serious musical form. (Gioia, 2011: 190) Resultingly: black musicians dominated bop in a way that they had not dominated other forms of jazz since the early days in New Orleans. Black musicians devised the music without any help from whites, and they were its stars for a considerable period thereafter. (Collier, qtd. in DeVeaux, 1997: 18) And thus, bebop has come to be “frequently cast in explicitly racial terms: as a movement by young African-​American musicians (Parker, Gillespie, Monk) seeking to create an idiom expressive of the black subculture, not the white

On Race and Nationality  99 mainstream” (DeVeaux, 1997: 4). The style allowed for black musicians to stay ahead of the curve and remain one step ahead of the white jazz musicians, a practice which many of its practitioners were keen to maintain. For such musicians to partake in bebop, or any other subsequent forms of jazz, a large part of the practice involves the notion of signifyin’, the concept introduced by Henry Louis Gates Jr. Signifyin’ relates to the idea of nostalgia –​which I will discuss more broadly in Chapter 5 –​but relates to a very specific form of nostalgia in which black communities may respond to their shared collective experiences. In recognition that “black writers to a remarkable extent have created texts that express the broad ‘concord of sensibilities’ shared by persons of African descent in the Western hemisphere” (Gates, 1988: 128), signifyin’ is a process which “is a mode of formal revision, it depends for its effects on troping, it is often characterized by pastiche, and, most crucially, it turns on repetition of formal structures and their differences” (ibid.: 52). For white musicians who do not share these experiences, the use of such practices can bring about accusations of cultural appropriation. Blatchford provides us with the following definition of cultural appropriation: the act of taking or using things from a culture that is not your own, especially without showing that you understand or respect this culture. (2017) And this is hardly a new phenomenon; it can be traced back to the historic practice of blackface, in which white performers known as minstrels used stage make-​up to darken their skin, and performed songs and routines in an exaggerated impression of an African American persona. Such issues continued into the days of jazz, in which problems of appropriation have persisted from the start. For instance, Nick LaRocca of the Original Dixieland Jass Band –​famously the first ever jazz act to be recorded –​was to once fraudulently claim that “jazz was invented by white men, and had no relationship to African American creativity” (Garrett, 2012: 59). The first extensive examination into appropriation was provided by Mailer, who in 1957 published an essay entitled ‘The White Negro’. Mailer discusses those he terms “hipsters”: whites raised on jazz and swing music, who chose to adopt black mannerisms. This phenomenon was likely influenced by the rise of Elvis Presley at the time, whose manager Sam Phillips was famously quoted as saying that “if I could find a white boy who could sing like a black man I’d make a million dollars” (Steyn, 2003). Since then, countless acts have emerged who have continued this practice in their own ways, such as the Beastie Boys, who would “strut around the stage in an exaggerated ‘black’ walk and chant a street dialect somewhere between an imitation of black speech and a bad translation of it” (Ledbetter, 1995: 540), or Transglobal Underground, who despite being white, “the pseudonyms they adopt [Count Dubulah, Hamid Mantu, Attiah Ahlan] carry strong suggestions that they are

100  On Race and Nationality black” (Hesmondhalgh, 2000: 295–​296). Perhaps the most blatant example of outright appropriation is the rap group Young Black Teenagers, who despite their name, were all white. Such acts can be said to relate to Turner’s discussions of “rituals of status elevation and status reversal” (1969: 166). As Turner demonstrates, in a vast number of societies throughout history, those in a position of relative power –​in this instance, whites –​have taken on the characteristics of those in a position of lesser power –​in this instance, blacks –​for the ultimate aim of acquiring even more power for themselves. Describing this scenario, he states that “the implication is that for an individual to go higher on the status ladder, he must go lower than the status ladder” (ibid.: 170). Relating this to the practice of blackface and minstrelsy, Roberts argues that “it allowed poor white American males to lift themselves up by punching down, striking at a powerless ethnic other with a host of dismissive and cruel stereotypes” (2017: 16). Turner discusses this hypothesis further: the liminality of those going up usually involves a putting down or humbling of the novice as its principal cultural constituent; at the same time, the liminality of the permanently structural inferior contains as its key social element a symbolic or make-​believe elevation of the ritual subjects to positions of eminent authority. The stronger are made weaker; the weak act as though they were strong. (1969: 168) From this new position of apparent weakness, the individual may now have the opportunity to act in ways that may have previously been perceived as unacceptable. Again making reference to blackface and minstrelsy, Roberts explains how “black characters, because they were understood to be poor and authentically unrefined, could say anything; they provided, in other words, the best cover for assaults on the politics and culture of the elite and the middle class” (2017: 16). This notion relates to Lipsitz’s strategic anti-​essentialism, in which one “seeks a particular disguise on the basis of its ability to highlight, underscore, and augment an aspect of one’s identity that one cannot express directly” (1994: 62). In relation to music then, displays of appropriation may emerge through white musicians’ desire to escape the associations that their own race may bring. Therefore, we have reached a point in which popular culture is overwhelmingly “criss-​crossed by relationships of longing, fantasy, projection” (Reynolds, 2013: 655). Particularly relevant for the purposes of this study, there is said to be “a grand tradition of British musical subcultures based on an intense projection towards black America” (ibid.: 210). This can be generalised not only to Britain, but for the most part to the whole of Europe –​ and electro swing can certainly be described as a continuation of this practice. Throughout the whole movement, it is almost exclusively white musicians of European heritage, who are found engaging with the musical traditions of

On Race and Nationality  101 black America. Regarding why this situation has become so prevalent, there are two issues to be discussed; the first is the overrepresentation of whites, and the second is the underrepresentation of blacks. Beginning with the first, several of those with whom I spoke suggested that one of the simplest reasons electro swing has had such a white audience is that it tends to be marketed as a subgenre of EDM, which itself is already oversaturated with whites: the majority of the scene was pushed forward with –​within the house music genre, and in Europe, that tends to be –​a lot of it, not including certain types of house music –​very, very white, Caucasian music. (Richard Shawcross) I think people, at least in America, they still see […] electro swing as a form of electronic music, and so the same people that would, kind of gravitate towards that genre, seem to be gravitating towards electro swing. So, for whatever the reason is that the numbers are somewhat disproportionate in electronic music in general, I would say that’s a similar reason as to why it’s like that in electro swing. (Chad Sells) There’s certainly some truth to this. Following EDM’s migration to Europe, “this musical form gradually lost its African-​American sensibilities”, and “became an institution in the mainly ‘white’ heterosexual club world in Europe” (Rietveld, 1998: 26). And by the 1990s, the suggestion began to surface that “British groups would export back to white America the black dance music they’d ignored, just as the Stones and Beatles had done in the sixties” (Reynolds, 2013: 95). Thus, on both sides of the Atlantic, EDM wound up becoming a primarily white genre. And since both electro swing and EDM in general have similar demographics, the pattern would follow for electro swing. And not only does a large part of the EDM influence seem to come from white representations of the music –​to a lesser extent, the same can also be said of jazz. Nick Hollywood shared this idea with me: it was also sort of filtered through, you know, mainstream white American culture like Benny Goodman, and you know, all the kind of, sort of bandleaders […] the music of New Orleans in its kind of undiluted form, actually came to, you know, mass-​market consciousness via the big white swing bands. Of the bandleaders who were to become the most well-​known, it’s certainly true that many of them –​Benny Goodman, Glenn Miller, Artie Shaw, Woody Herman, the Dorsey Brothers –​were those who were white. Indeed, one may even recognise something of an attempt to actively disassociate these white

102  On Race and Nationality performers from their black predecessors. This is despite the fact that those musicians had been playing the same style of music for many years: Even the invention of the genre label ‘swing’ (as opposed to ‘jazz’) was indicative of the tendency toward segregation. The music of bandleaders like Chick Webb, Duke Ellington, and Fletcher Henderson bore all the hallmarks of swing years before the ‘Swing Era,’ of course, but it was only when Benny Goodman, a talented white bandleader, began working with Henderson and performing the black bandleader’s arrangements under the advice of John Hammond that the potential market of that music to a mass white audience became evident, and as a consequence of its mass appeal, the popular press generated a new label to describe the phenomenon: just as ‘rhythm and blues’ tended to get categorized as ‘rock ‘n’ roll’ once Bill Haley and Elvis Presley began performing it, so too did much jazz become categorized as ‘swing’ through Goodman’s popularity. (Brennan, 2017: 47) Resultingly, whilst many white performers “gained recognition as they appropriated swing style, black performers were excluded from the mainstream market. Thus, the music industry only exacerbated the chasm between swing music and its roots” (Unruh, 2020: 45). There is a clear problem here, in that the contributions of black musicians have historically not received the equivalent recognition as that of their fellow white counterparts. This has resulted in an enforcement of the status quo in which only white musicians have been able to achieve a particular level of popularity and prominence. In recent times, it has even been suggested that jazz in general is moving towards a complete loss of its African American core; this has been argued by keyboardist George Duke, who writes: You see, there seems to be a moving away from swing and spontaneous improvisation. I recently spoke with [jazz pianist] Billy Childs about the issue and he feels, as I do, that it is a musical movement of players leaning towards European elements and not traditional African American elements. It seems that the feeling of the blues has been diminished and many of these young players in reality sound more like classical players. In listening to various solo piano performances, this is quite apparent. (2007) This has been noted in the electro swing world as well, with Michael Rack commenting to me that “if you talk about jazz-​trained now, most of the time it’s just a bunch of white guys”. Returning to Gates’ notion of signifyin’, one could say that this element of the jazz world has therefore been lost, in that the lineage of black artistry has become disrupted. As a result of this, many of today’s generation simply do not realise the racial associations of such a music style.

On Race and Nationality  103 For example, in the Swungover podcast, one black participant in the swing dance scene explained how “people in my community, or even the generation before me, just don’t seem to know” (2018: 4.45). Another discussed how not only do they not know, but that many are often actually mistaken about the style’s background: I’m sitting in the backyard, and I’m like –​me and my twins are, like –​ we’re all dancing, and I’m trying to teach them how to do this, and he was just like, ‘Dad –​why are we doing this white people dance?’, and I’m like, ‘son –​for the next two hours I’m about to go in on you [laughs] you gon’ learn today’. (ibid.: 37.45) The level of appropriation in this instance has become so widespread, that in some people’s eyes, swing dance is no longer considered a part of black culture. This is discussed by Hancock –​who examines various cinematic representations of the dance, noting that “with the exception of African American dancers in Hoodlum and Malcolm X, all of these representations featured exclusively white dancers” (2008: 787). As McGee describes, “such commodified mediascapes created a kind of ‘cultural amnesia’ of the Black cultural roots of the dance” (2020: 129). Discussed by Unruh, some of the first representations of lindy hop in film came with A Day at the Races (1937), which suffered these same problems to the extreme. For despite its inclusion of black dancers amongst the cast: the dance scenes were edited out of many distribution copies of this Marx Brothers’ film because ‘these scenes involved “racial mixing.” ’ If this dance scene, and perhaps other dance scenes with Whitey’s Lindy Hoppers, was not seen by a good portion of Americans, then many Americans probably did not see Lindy Hop performed on film until white dancers were featured. For these people, then, Lindy Hop would appear to be a white dance, and the history behind it erased. (2020: 46–​47) Upon the revival of the dance in the 1990s –​which was in part spurred by the rise of the adjacent neo-​swing genre –​these issues persisted. The influence of neo-​swing was largely responsible for this, for much of this genre was taken from white movements outside of swing and jazz –​much of its participant’s “focus was on a way of life which they had constructed from their understanding of rockabilly, punk, and ska. Because these forms were primarily white, most of the originators of the swing revival were white as well” (ibid.: 54). Subsequently, this led: the youth in the neo-​swing movement [to] revive the fashion, music, and dance, along with certain views about gender, while neglecting the racial

104  On Race and Nationality history behind the dance, which only reestablishes the whiteness of swing and all things that are considered ‘American culture’. (ibid.: 53) Indeed, the swing dance scene provides a very useful parallel to the electro swing scene. As Cat Foley was to tell me: it is predominantly white, and the scene is trying to address why that is […] it’s a massive thing to note, when you go to any social dance. In fact, it’s even been argued that the issue is even more problematic for lindy hop than in electro swing. As Tom Hyland suggested to me: I’ve never really thought about it for electro swing –​I’ve thought about it a lot for lindy hop, because, you know, that is –​it’s basically the dance of people from 1920s Harlem, right? […] it needs to be accurate, where you’re recreating the music of –​or the dance of people, then I think it’s important to be more respectful to the –​you know, they’re a product of their time, they’ve got children, they’ve got grandchildren, there’s a, there’s a legacy there. Hyland is suggesting that in contrast to the lindy hop movement –​in which “an appreciation for music from especially before 1960 predominates, and is even included in the guidelines for camp DJs [at Herräng]” (McGee, 2020: 149) –​ electro swing artists aren’t necessarily trying to recreate something, but rather to develop something new. This idea of remaining faithful to the past will be explored further in Chapter 5, but the important issue here is the incorporation of the style’s racial history. As a result, there have been some instances of fierce criticism from black participants in the scene. McGee tells the story of Norma Miller, who was “filmed in one of Herräng’s promotional videos cursing at some of the (white) dancers for ‘not getting it right god damnit’ ” (ibid.: 141). And the most extreme example of an attempt to stay true to the dance’s racial origins is exemplified by Ellie Koepplinger, a blogger and blues dancer, who in 2018 shared a blog post calling for white people to stop participating in the scene: I want you to stop blues dancing. It’s. Not. Yours. (2018) Koepplinger appears to be adhering to Taylor’s model of authenticity as primality as discussed in Chapter 2, in wishing for only the descendants of those who first established the style to be allowed to continue taking part. Yet the hypocrisy of such a position lies in the fact that Koepplinger is wishing to introduce a kind of racial segregation, not unlike those that antiracist

On Race and Nationality  105 activists were campaigning against in the 1960s. In response, various other black dancers would call out Koepplinger for her radical views: In Australia and Europe, the communities where blues and jazz vintage partner dances thrive today are urban, cosmopolitan, of majority European heritage. These are also my people. In my experience, these communities show great respect for the African origins of blues, jazz and other styles. To their credit, these communities explicitly welcome all kinds of diversity –​of age, gender, sexual orientation, ability, body type etc. As long as all are welcome, then what do we have to lose by learning and sharing this rich, diverse cultural heritage? (Molloy, 2018) Although I understand where Ellie is coming from, and I’ve had some of the same feelings, I believe her solution to the issue is unsustainable. I understand that that’s her point, but I find myself deeply hurt by the possible disappearance of something so dear to me. White folk aside, getting in touch with Blues, getting in touch with Lindy Hop, and now doing Obsidian [her blog] has made me feel so connected to being black. (Ruffin, 2018b) Instances like this have led many to argue that the concept of appropriation is an unnecessary and unhelpful one, and that in actual fact it can be detrimental to society. Indeed, it’s been suggested that white people have been placed in a position in which they will be criticised no matter how they act; if they engage with another culture, they’re accused of appropriation, and if they don’t, they’re accused of a lack of inclusivity –​headlines such as ‘White People Need to Learn How to Integrate’ are not uncommon at all (Noor, 2017). Thus, Barker and Taylor have claimed that “it’s probably a no-​win situation for any Western musicians who get involved in such collaborations –​they can be damned for trying too hard and seeming worthy yet condescending or they can be damned for not trying hard enough” (2007: 305). And such animosity arguably creates a further divide in society, the exact opposite of what many claim they’re striving toward. If different cultures did not make use of the creations of their neighbours, we would not see artistic progress; innovation simply would not occur if artists only ever stuck to their own traditions. As stated by Burke, “it is a very long time since most cultures were islands” (2009: 102), and he quotes cultural theorist Edward Said in arguing that “the history of all cultures is the history of cultural borrowing” (ibid.: 40–​41) –​and that “all cultures are involved in one another, none is single and pure, all are hybrid, heterogeneous” (ibid.: 51). This has been the case across all forms of art, and to deny music or dance that privilege would be to halt all future developments and invite only separation and discrimination.

106  On Race and Nationality I believe the solution to the appropriation problem then lies in the second half of Blatchford’s previous definition: “[…] without showing that you understand or respect this culture”. It’s unreasonable to expect that one group of people should not be allowed to engage with the culture of another, but it’s not unreasonable to expect that should they do so, they should maintain a degree of respect. This is the point made by Desmond and Emirbayer, who ask whether the act “belittle[s]‌or celebrate[s] the appropriated group’s music, style, or fashion?” (2015: 309). Continuing, they quote Henry Louis Gates Jr. in stating that “no human culture is inaccessible to someone who makes the effort to understand, to learn, to inhabit another world” (ibid.: 313), and suggest that appropriation can in fact “lead to a more liberated, multicultural democracy” (ibid.: 309), provided that it comes from a place of understanding and appreciation. And much the same point is made by Lacasse, who asks whether the point of a remix is “debasement or ennoblement” (2000: 43). As Pieterse suggests, “the critical variable is power” (2004: 122). One must ensure that they don’t appear to be holding any sort of power over any other; otherwise, they may risk their legitimate attempts at musical fusion as being “perceived as power plays rather than expressions of universal brotherhood” (Monson, 1996: 203). McNally continues this thought, asking: where does an interest in the culture of the Other cross from interest to exploitation, from admiration to a demeaning worship, from curiosity to the worship of the exotic, implicitly another form of domination? (McNally, 2014: 305) And as Desmond and Emirbayer also express, it “is not simply about who is doing the appropriating but how they are doing it. We can distinguish between cultural appropriation that denigrates and that which appreciates” (2015: 310). Taking all of this into consideration, we can see that electro swing clearly makes considerable use of historically black music. The question is, in doing so, are they acting only in their own interests, for reasons of control –​or are they coming from a background of genuine respect and admiration? This was certainly the case for some of the acts discussed in McGee’s study; indeed, she notes of the Jazzanova act that “each of these musicians shared a commitment to long-​term engagement and study of the recorded archive of soul, jazz, fusion, and now hip hop produced by community-​oriented Black music artists” (2020: 85). And the perspective I got when conducting my interviews was that electro swing artists are undoubtedly engaged in the process of recognising and respecting the origins of their music. In fact, a number of those to whom I spoke stressed the point that maintaining a degree of respect is an absolute necessity: we’ve got really high morals on all this, we don’t like to see a song destroyed –​if it’s destroyed and unrecognised, well we’re not in that, we don’t give a fuck, it’s shit. (Chris Tofu)

On Race and Nationality  107 our whole team are very socially conscious, and aware. (Kaptin Barrett) DJs generally have the mindset of, they’re paying tribute to the samples […] it’s not like you steal it and it’s yours, you know –​you sort of declare, I’m using it and I’m paying homage to the original artist and things. (Tony Culverwell) I heard a particularly notable point from Mark Camps, who when discussing which songs might be considered acceptable to remix, stated that “there’s certain things I won’t touch”. Speaking of the enormous difference between the lifestyle of himself, and the original jazz artists from whom he samples, he cited Billie Holiday’s ‘Strange Fruit’ (1939), about the lynching of African Americans, as a track he would never use. ‘Strange Fruit’ famously gives one of the most haunting accounts of the black experience, and even despite the fact that it was written by Abel Meeropol –​a white man –​Camps clearly sees it as something much too far removed from his own experiences for him to make use of. Despite the previously mentioned lack of black participants within the scene, I was keen to get the perspectives of those I could, to see if such opinions were shared. Having reached out to several, those who got back to me were Alice Francis and David Bonnick Jr. –​the rapper behind Gambit Ace. And as I found, many of these same points were repeated. Bonnick in particular made it very clear that “a lot of the time it’s just down to respect”: the only thing I’d say is that, just give them more recognition, that’s all. That’s it, really –​whatever’s gonna happen’s gonna happen […] but it’s just being appreciated, and recognising the reasons of what you’re using, and what you’re using it for. Don’t just use it lightly, and just be like, ‘oh yeah, duh-​duh-​duh-​duh’ –​know the history of what it’s coming from. Francis offered a slightly different perspective, suggesting that when one group of people incorporates elements of another’s culture into their own, there comes a point in which it must be accepted that it has become just as much a part of this culture as the original: when white people are making ‘black music’ like you say where comes the point where it isn’t black music any longer but something else or new? […] the world is constantly changing. This is a point which I would hear several times –​most notably in relation to swing dance. Cat Foley was to say to me that “it’s something that has ended up being part of white culture”, whilst McGee provides an in-​depth account of the degree to which it has infiltrated specifically Swedish culture: In Sweden, [dancer Rikard] Ekstrand and many other Lindy Hop dancers lay claim to a long history of swing dancing. In 2018, Ekstrand informed

108  On Race and Nationality me that he is ‘a third generation of [swing dancing] Swedes’ and further stated ‘my parents and their parents [did it], so I think it is quite a deep thing we have here… it is not just about the revival and remembering, but here the past is a living thing’ […]. Thus, Europe’s professional Lindy Hop dancers experience jazz dance as neither entirely foreign and temporally distant, nor exclusively Swedish. Instead, they recognise social dancing to jazz as embedded in Swedish culture, albeit dynamically responsive to encounters with jazz dancers, American films, and jazz-​oriented media within Europe in the early twentieth century. (2020: 118–​119) Perhaps then, we may reach a point in which the music is no longer thought of as a black style, or a white style, but simply a shared style. This wouldn’t be the first music to have this description attached to it; indeed, many have suggested this of rock ‘n’ roll: Although rock ‘n’ roll is often supposed to have originated directly from African-​American folk music, it is actually a hybrid between African-​ American folk and white American country and western music. (Bennett, 2000: 51) Similarly, the genre has been described as “a country man’s song with a black man’s rhythm” (Carl Perkins, qtd. in Werner, 1999: 59), and “blues with a country beat” (McNally, 2014: 277). And although electro swing features indisputable aspects of ‘blackness’, Ake suggests that we should reassess what it may mean for something to be thought of in this way: ‘Blackness,’ then, should be taken as a cultural category rather than a genetic one. And if we understand jazz this way, the labels ‘black music’ or ‘African-​American music’ are not biologically exclusionary but simply readily discernible historical realities. (2002: 14) Consequently, we can wholly accept the contributions of whites to the style, without paying any disservice to the achievements of the African American race. However, in order for the style to ever be thought of as genuinely shared, both and indeed all races would need to maintain a presence. In the case of electro swing, this has clearly not happened.

Creating a More Inclusive Scene My next question then was to address the scarcity of black participants throughout the genre. It’s not enough to simply question why whites might want in, but we must also ask why blacks might want out. The simplest explanation is that this type of music is just not one which this group is likely to

On Race and Nationality  109 encounter. Nick Hollywood was to suggest this to me, stating that it’s simply “some sort of circumstantial, kind of history thing”, and that it’s “probably much more to do with the fact that it’s European”. However, it is important here to recognise the distinction between race and nationality; Hollywood is right to point out that the genre is largely European, but this is not to say that there aren’t black Europeans –​simply that they make up a minority of the population. Thus, whilst this provides us with some explanation, it’s far from conclusive. If one compares to a genre such as grime, which has emerged from a similar background to electro swing geographically, and has shown considerable popularity in the black community, one cannot explain this discrepancy by relying on this hypothesis alone. Tom Hyland came a bit closer when suggesting that “I think the issue is not that it is black or white –​it’s the fact that black people tend to be poorer, in the UK”; and Shawcross repeated this point, acknowledging that “a lot of it’s seen as a scene, that’s quite aimed at middle-​class white society”. More will be discussed on the relation between class and electro swing in the following chapter, but for now, it will suffice to say that there is a strong correlation between being black and being from a lower-​class background. This was demonstrated by the Equality and Human Rights Commission, in showing that Black Caribbean men in the UK were on average paid £0.66 less by the hour than their white counterparts, and Black African men paid on average £1.69 less (Longhi and Brynin, 2017: 35). There are music scenes –​such as grime –​that cater to these groups, but the electro swing scene does not appear to be one of them. Kaptin Barrett drew my attention to BBC Radio 1Xtra, the country’s leading black radio station, of whose website states, “the remit of 1Xtra is to play the best in contemporary black music” (BBC, 2016). But the problem with 1Xtra is that, whilst focussing heavily on modern genres like grime, not much attention is given to the more established black sounds. As Barrett states, “on 1Xtra […] you don’t hear a lot of jazz, or you don’t hear a lot of that classic hip hop sound”. As a result, many of the younger black generation tend to overlook past styles, consequently affecting the audience of many of the genres traditionally thought of as black; Barrett points this out –​“most hip hop gigs I go to these days are 98% white. Most jazz gigs also”. Explanations do exist as to why this may be; black swing dancer Allison Jones has made the point that “sometimes you hear within the black community, ‘oh we create things, and then we move on, and move on, and move on’ ” (Alive and Kicking, 2016: 43.05), a point echoed by fellow dancer Sonny Allen, in suggesting that “Europeans discovered jazz, then Blacks moved on” (McGee, 2020: 138). Another dancer, Cierra Ruffin, backs this up further in explaining how she sees the differences in attitudes to the past by race: White American culture loves to preserve things. They love to create time capsules of the past and dig deep to find more material that creates a better picture of the thing they love so they can preserve it. While in Black Culture the ideal is the exact opposite. You learn the foundations of the

110  On Race and Nationality thing then you find your own style with in it. You take the original idea, dance, music and expand on it innovating and making it better as time goes on. (2018a) The reason for this is quite straightforward, in that “for Black Americans there is nothing in the past for us […] the only thing that is in the past is more pain, more racism, and being treated as less than human” (ibid.). Ruffin continues: I prefer to avoid nights that I know have a historical theme to them or are trying to be vintage. I don’t own vintage things. They don’t fit me. Nor do I have any desire to go back in time to the Jazz era, or any point in blues history. For me and I suspect other Black people it’s not a fun idea. Nor is it a fun theme. It just makes you more aware of your Blackness and how you don’t fit into this group of people. (ibid.) I will again relate the point back to escapism, and the desire to retreat into an earlier period of American history. Yet for a black person, such periods are of course not times to be celebrated. It’s completely understandable why a black individual wouldn’t want to recreate the era of The Great Gatsby, when The Great Gatsby included such characters as Tom Buchanan, of whose lines include: “the idea is if we don’t look out the white race will be –​will be utterly submerged. It’s all scientific stuff; it’s been proved” (Fitzgerald, 1925: 10). I will speak more about this in Chapter 5, but this is the type of harmful nostalgia that has characterised Donald Trump’s America. The infamous campaign slogan, “make America great again”, was memorably criticised for the fact that –​for those who are not white –​America was never great in the first place: these are periods in which America felt great to white, US-​born men. But think of it from the perspective of a black man in the South –​forced into violent, impoverished neighborhoods, unable to vote due to discriminatory laws, scared of a sudden death sentence carried out by a mob if he has just one bad interaction with a white person. How could America have possibly been great back then, when so many of its people lived like this? (Lopez, 2017) Viewed from this perspective, it is obvious why there is such a lack of black participants. The associations of the past are so negative that –​despite how important the music may be to these cultures –​such individuals simply do not want to take part in any kind of vintage-​themed movement. These are issues one must take into account when attempting to turn the scene into

On Race and Nationality  111 something more inclusive. In my interviews with both Bonnick and Francis, we continued discussing their respective negative experiences. Fortunately, neither of the two reported any major problems that they had experienced within the scene; however, they still both had a few examples to share. For instance, Bonnick described an instance in which he was collaborating with a producer, and “a few times the samples have been playing in songs, and I’m like ‘no, no, that’s racist’ ”. Building on this, he argued that “sometimes there’s not enough recognition, from where it comes from”, reflecting the earlier suggestion that the music has lost some of its black essence. And additionally, he spoke of how some of the racial connotations an artist may receive can be derived not only from one’s ethnicity, but from some of the semiotic features associated with that ethnicity as well: the fact that I might sometimes go in just wearing a hat –​just wearing a cap –​will make you think ‘okay, what’s he going to say?’. Because I’m black, you know, you do have the stigma, you do. And then you wear a hat –​stereotype. When speaking with Francis, she was to share similar stories. Although she expressed that she “didn’t care so much”, one situation was particularly shocking, in which: there is a German magazine that apparently didn’t want to print me on the cover because covers with dark skinned people don’t sell as good as covers with white people in Germany, since the majority of the readers are white and then have less identification points. In response to situations like these, many artists have historically used their music to highlight such discrimination and to act as a means of fighting back. However, both Bonnick and Francis were hesitant to suggest that this might ever be an act they would engage in. When asked about the matter, Bonnick responded that he would do so “only if it was necessary, and then, I don’t even know if I’d do it, because I’d think ‘well, where’s it going?’ ”. And Alice Francis took this even further, explaining how she didn’t consider her race a significant part of her identity at all, stating that “I always forget that I have a darker skin colour […] since I was born in Romania, speak the language fluently and visit my mom frequently I am much more connected to Europe […] so I simply forget that I look different”. Francis appeared completely opposed to the idea of race playing a role within her music, and almost frustrated with my suggestion that it does: I don’t see myself neither black nor white –​why are shades of grey not been considered? Honestly, why did you not consider that I have both roots and cultures in me? Lack of research, ignorance, different definition? Is being white or black really only about skin colour? Is it your nose,

112  On Race and Nationality hair or attitude? And is this really an issue that needs to be discussed in correlation with music where skin colour for musicians absolutely doesn’t matter? I really hope you don’t get it the wrong way, I might sound angry, I am not, I’m just really wondering. I feel that people often expect me to take an anti-​white side and want to hear how hard it is as a black woman in a white world. But it isn’t for me –​my mom is European and my dad is African, thus I am both. I feel like older Mr Spock having to put either the Vulcans or humans in the pillory. I don’t want that, I feel like the appropriation myself. Such comments seem to depict an idealised society, particularly her statement that “skin colour for musicians absolutely doesn’t matter”; however she was to also acknowledge that “I know that in the UK or the US it is more of a problem than in Germany”. As a country, Germany of course presents a one-​of-​a-​kind situation in which, resulting from its involvement in the Second World War, it has had a rather unique incentive to rid the country of racism, consequently placing a significantly high value upon the education surrounding this issue. Since the 1960s, the Kultusministerkonferenz has “regularly underscored the need to confront the Holocaust within German schools, with reference not only to an understanding of the nation’s historical responsibility, but also to the need to remember the victims” (Sharples, 2016: 161). This situation has likely had some effect on several of Germany’s neighbours as well; as Sacha Dieu explained to me, “in Copenhagen where I played for Party like Gatsby event, the crowd was mixed; it’s in the UK where there seems to be more of a social divide, race divide”. Francis does provide an interesting case however; as despite her claims to overlook issues of race, she does seem to present an image of blackness. It’s hard to ignore the racial overtones present in an image such as the one reproduced below, and these associations are made even more explicit elsewhere –​for instance, in Francis’s video for her track, ‘Too Damn Hot’ (2017b), where she performs an ode to Josephine Baker’s famous banana dance. In the case of an individual like Baker, whose blackness was so deeply entrenched in her identity, it is not unreasonable to assume that such an act was made with some element of racial connotation in mind. Indeed, Francis can be said to be clearly signifyin’ on Baker –​she is evidently aware of the black women who came before her and is paying tribute to them through all aspects of her music. Were there more black artists involved within the genre of electro swing, it is likely that we would see much more signifyin’ in this manner. Thus, we come to the final question, in asking how the scene might ultimately increase the proportion of black participants. Whilst all of my interviewees unanimously agreed that this is something they would like to see, it was not as clear how it might be achieved. For one thing, several were to point out that it would be problematic for a white individual to try and impose this music onto black people directly:

On Race and Nationality  113

Figure 3.2 Alice Francis, 2015. © Alice Francis.

it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to say ‘yeah, I want to do an electro swing act with just black people’ –​they have to be doing it themselves. (Chris Tofu) it has to come from the artists, and who gets involved with it. (Kaptin Barrett) I think also, you know, being white, I’ve got to be a little bit careful not to prescribe things on other people, I don’t wanna–​I don’t wanna tell anyone else how they should or shouldn’t be received. (Tom Hyland) One of the DJs who I mentioned earlier to have worked alongside black individuals was C@ in the H@, who has collaborated several times with the MC Mr FX. I posed the question therefore to Richard Shawcross –​of whether this was a deliberate attempt to bring more black people into the scene –​but he responded adamantly that it wasn’t: not at all, just he’s a fucking amazing rapper […] it’s not a token thing.

114  On Race and Nationality A common theme that I found from festival programmers in particular, was that they aren’t able to showcase as many black acts for the simple reason that such acts don’t exist: there’s not one black electro swing vintage remix act in the world that I know of, not one. (Chris Tofu) when it comes to people of colour, I think there’s just a lack of them in the, in the industry. (Tom Hyland) In terms of other styles, several would often recognise the importance of presenting a diverse line-​up, with Barrett explaining how he “definitely think[s]‌ about the line-​up [of Boomtown] as a whole”, and Hyland recognising that it would be problematic “if there were black people in the scene doing stuff, and I wasn’t booking them”. But one can’t present non-​existent acts, and one can’t control who buys tickets for the events –​so the real question is not about enforcing this representation, but instead ensuring that the scene is as open and welcoming as it can be, so that the black community will choose to engage themselves. Alice Francis continued to tell me of one way she has seen this done. Continuing to speak of the German magazine who refused to put her on the cover, Francis noted that “a counterexample is Blonde, another German magazine. They are frequently having black girls on their covers even though they know the issue. But they made it their task to make a difference, which is great”. Imagery is certainly a big thing to take into consideration when determining which groups of people may be attracted to a particular style, and it can be a very powerful tool in this regard. For instance, one may note the Electro Swing Revolution compilation series, of which the covers of the first six volumes exclusively featured white girls in the foreground. When a genre presents an image such as this, it’s not at all surprising to find that black people aren’t as drawn to it. However, it’s fair to say that the makers of the series seemed to realise their mistake, and they were later to place a black girl on the cover of volume 7 (see Figure 3.3). Electro swing could also learn from some of the attempts to tackle the same problems throughout the contemporary lindy hop movement. For instance, Herräng Dance Camp includes in their mission statement a stated goal of bringing in more black dancers, and specifically Africans (McGee, 2020: 163) –​an ambition that was perhaps best demonstrated by the recent introduction of: African dance courses at Herräng. In 2018, campers participated in courses in traditional African dances with African drummers. Such exchanges potentially push the limits of the camp’s ethos –​preserving the

On Race and Nationality  115

Figure 3.3  The Electro Swing Revolution Vol. 7 (2016). ©UfukKilic.

dance from Harlem in an unadulterated fashion. Yet this exchange not only revisited the roots of African dance, but also modernised them by encouraging the cross-​cultural pollination of styles. (ibid.) This move from Herräng excellently demonstrates the extent to which the camp organisers are attempting to engage with separate cultures, ensuring that the movement does not become too homogenised. They have also put great effort into education as well, in that the camp: not only teaches participants Lindy Hop, but also offers knowledge about jazz dance heritage, where participants can discover the unique culture of swing dance and this dance’s roots within Black American dance culture of the first half of the twentieth century. (ibid.: 121) Similar ventures have been put forth by the Frankie Manning Foundation, which has purportedly “led to a community of dancers far more aware of the history of the Lindy Hop and passionate about sharing the racial roots of the dance” (Unruh, 2020: 57). And this view seems to be shared by many dancers

116  On Race and Nationality throughout the scene; Unruh reports that “a group of Frankie Manning Ambassadors interviewed during the 2017 ILHC LED talk ‘Frankie’s Legacy’ all listed at least one activity that they are doing to bring more African Americans into the Lindy Hop scene” (ibid.: 58). In my research, I was to find this philosophy shared by Cat Foley as well; noting that she always tries to “make sure that people are abundantly aware of the history of the dance”, she explained her efforts to: make sure that my students are educated, and as much as possible, to try and include more black role-​models in the scene, and then invite more black teachers to, to offer classes, to make sure that we’re also, like, honouring the tradition, within their culture, of the dance and the music. Electro swing could benefit from a similar approach. If a larger effort was put into highlighting the black presence within the genre as black, then it’s likely that a more diverse collection of fans would emerge. Mista Trick’s single ‘About to Blow’ (2021) is a great example of how this may be done; by working alongside such diverse artists from closely related genres, he manages to showcase the potential that electro swing has for intercultural collaboration. And it seems that focussing on these related genres may be the key to attracting a blacker audience. Several of my interviewees made comments that seemed to lean in this direction: Chris Tofu suggested that the electro swing world could benefit from becoming involved with the likes of Jazz re:freshed, the London-​ based movement based around presenting contemporary jazz from an array of black musicians, whilst Michael Rack told me his thoughts upon watching a live show by musician Swindle, stating that “you are literally doing everything the electro swing scene should be doing”. Personally, I would like to see more of an emphasis on jazz rap. Indeed, many of the earliest artists such as De La Soul, Digable Planets, and DJ Premier still perform live –​and there are plenty of smaller, more contemporary acts around as well. And this wouldn’t be the first occasion in which these genres have been presented alongside each other. In 2018, the Jungle Brothers were invited to perform at Shindig festival for their 30th anniversary; the show was received extremely well and perfectly demonstrated the ways in which these styles may work together in potential future events. It would unquestionably benefit electro swing for further events to follow Shindig’s lead in this instance, and would help to see the genre progress into altogether new territory. By highlighting the similarities between these styles, fans of both would begin to appreciate that what they enjoy about each respective genre is not too dissimilar at all, and a crossover would gradually emerge. Bonnick summed up this suggestion quite elegantly, when describing his feelings upon becoming involved with electro swing:

On Race and Nationality  117 I’m learning something, like a new world. They’re learning a new element of my culture, of the hip hop world –​I’m learning what’s going on in your world. So it’s kinda like Aerosmith meets Run-​DMC, the fusion just works. It works, it’s organically perfect, and it doesn’t matter what race you are, what colour, you know, what your background, or how much money you’ve got –​when it comes to the music, let’s do this. The connections are there, and the possibilities are open. It’s not at all implausible that electro swing could become one of the most successfully diverse genres of the 21st century. Indeed, those of the original swing era arguably achieved it –​the genre has been described as “one of the twentieth century’s earliest and most successful activities for bringing disparate racial and cultural groups together, engendering new identities along the way” (Ake, 2002: 175). Today’s variant of the style could learn from this, and the sooner these efforts are widespread, the more advantageous it will be for all.

4 On Class and the Art Spectrum

Having spent the preceding Chapter 3 exploring the relationship between music and race, this chapter now turns to that other prominent barrier that so often divides a society: class. The significance of the class system with regard to its influence upon tastes and trends in music is something which is widely acknowledged. Indeed, some styles of music have become so intrinsically linked with a particular social class that it can be difficult to separate the two. A clear example of this comes with folk –​in that folk music takes its very name from the class of its practitioners: the common folk; the implication then is that this is the music of the people. In contrast, the various styles of Classical music that have emerged out of the western art canon have become so overly associated with the upper-​classes that to separate them from such a stereotype seems almost farcical. It is an unfortunate truth that on both sides of the class divide, many individuals are missing out on potentially wonderful musical experiences, for the simple reason that such experiences are seemingly outside of their station. However, we can point to examples that go against these expectations. To return to the example of folk, one may note that in recent times –​due in large part to the popularity of folk-​pop acts such as Mumford & Sons –​ contemporary folk audiences are becoming increasingly middle-​class. And in fact, this is the continuation of a trend that can be witnessed throughout popular music. From Louis Armstrong to Billie Holiday, from the Beatles to the Sex Pistols –​much of the greatest music of the past century has come from artists with a clear working-​class background. There’s much to be said on this –​in that the draw of escapism, the overwhelming desire to break free from one’s social background –​can create a unique breeding ground for true artistic expression. Yet what so often follows the success stories is a dearth in innovation, where better-​off artists who lack this same motivation will latch onto these new sounds, claiming them as their own. This has at times led to a situation in which, as put by Maconie, “the privileged are taking over the arts” (2015) –​a situation which may be starting to play out in folk. On the other hand, however, there have been some corresponding efforts to lower the supposed status of genres like Classical, perhaps the most notable of which has come with the composer Gabriel Prokofiev, of DOI: 10.4324/9781003254485-5

On Class and the Art Spectrum  119 whom I will talk about in due time. And similar instances have occurred in the world of electronic dance music (EDM) –​which in many ways can be said to contain its own microcosm of class divisions; one may look for instance at DJ Frankie Knuckles’ memorable response to the Warehouse nightclub’s “promoters doubl[ing] the entrance fee, prompting Knuckles to quit and set up his own Friday-​night club, The Power Plant” (Reynolds, 2013: 21). It is due to these concerns –​around the expectation of different genres to cater to different social classes –​that we may first consider the idea of the art spectrum. This will be a concept familiar to most, which encompasses the tacit belief that certain styles and genres are to be considered somehow above others, as if they inherently hold more artistic value and worth. And naturally, those that are placed at the top of this spectrum are the ones most associated with the upper-​classes, with the reverse holding true for those at the lower end. This is a trend which can be found across the art forms, from music to theatre, literature to film. A representative example of this playing out in the world of cinema came with the Academy Award’s controversial proposal to include a category for Best Popular Film in 2018 –​suggesting a clear distinction between the sort of films that would be represented by this award, and the supposed highbrow cinema that generally wins in the Best Picture category. After much backlash, this award was withdrawn a month after its initial announcement (Kilday, 2018). There are countless instances to be found of this sort of view having an impact upon music as well, and many arguments have been made either supporting or criticising the position. Whilst some have argued that such distinctions are only made in the interests of taste, representing an appreciation of superior art in terms of technical accomplishment and cultural value, the likes of Seabrook have argued –​and I’m inclined to agree –​that these distinctions are simply a way to differentiate the arts that are enjoyed by their respective classes (2000). Whilst the Adornian view is that these styles are inherently different and should be kept separate (Adorno, 2013), the postmodernist suggests that we should be breaking down these barriers and eradicating any elitist position that holds any style of art as superior to another. One strong argument against the art spectrum comes in recognising the lack of rigidity with which styles are placed upon this spectrum, and one of the finest examples of this comes with jazz, of which “the historical transformation of jazz from an entertainment music to an art music […] represents arguably one of the most significant cultural shifts of this century” (Gendron, 1995: 31). This phenomenon is one which will be explored extensively throughout this chapter. If certain styles were inherently superior to others, it would follow that this would not change with time. Yet jazz provides a clear example against this, and it is a pattern that we can see emerging with various other genres too. In a relatively recent study into the relationship between musical taste and class, Veenstra found:

120  On Class and the Art Spectrum a homology between class position and musical tastes that designates blues, choral, classical, jazz, musical theater, opera, pop, reggae, rock, and world/​international as relatively highbrow and country, disco, easy listening, golden oldies, heavy metal, and rap as relatively lowbrow. (2015: 134) Needless to say, these are not the findings that would have emerged 50 years ago, and this will likely have changed again in another 50 years. We have no confirmation that any style will forever be considered highbrow, and thus no confirmation of what may remain a penchant of the upper-​classes. There is much that may be derived then from how such genres have been historically positioned in this regard, with plenty of political implication too. When it comes to electro swing, the ways in which this genre is consumed reveals much about its social background and the extent to which the relative affluence of its participants has impacted its overall development.

Electro Swing’s Social Background My initial decision to write this chapter was partly inspired by an article published by the satirical news website The Daily Mash, which carried the headline: ‘Youth benefits cuts would cause electro-​swing’ (2013). The crux of the article was that: as public spending cuts increase, only the upper-​classes will have the luxury of being able to engage with music, and we will thus end up with a situation in which only those genres listened to by this select group will persevere; or as they put it, “Britain’s music scene will be limited to people with trust funds if youth benefits cuts go ahead” (ibid., 2013). In their portrayal of which styles of music would endure as a result of this, the author of this article evidently identifies electro swing as one of those genres belonging to the upper-​classes. What we see then, is that the electro swing genre has accumulated a stereotype about it, with the assumption that its participants are better off financially, or come from higher social classes than is perhaps the case for other genres. Many have already commented upon how different genres can carry contrasting class-​based associations, and it’s therefore not unreasonable to attempt to derive information from such aspects of the music. For instance, in Willis’s influential study into different youth cultures, he contrasts “the motor-​bike boys [who] were broadly from the working class, and the hippies [who were] broadly from the middle class” (1978: 8). The difference in the social class of these groups would extend to their music of choice, and Willis explains this, demonstrating that for the motor-​bike boys, “the antidote to boredom was always movement and their preferred music not only reflected this, but provided a concrete formative outlet. A good strong beat was the prerequisite for dancing” (ibid.: 68). Contrastingly, for the hippies, “beat was not a way of encouraging and reflecting physical action, but a way of demanding attention in the head” (ibid.: 157). As we are shown, factors that

On Class and the Art Spectrum  121 were determined by class had a clear influence upon the music that was subsequently listened to. Therefore, it may well be the case that those from the middle-​or upper-​ classes are more drawn to electro swing than their less well-​off peers. I was eager to see if there was a significant pattern across this genre’s audience within my own research, and sent out a questionnaire to various self-​described fans of the genre. As this style of music is quite the specialised interest, a significant problem I faced came in finding a large enough sample of respondents to this questionnaire, and in the end, I received 68 responses. I must stress then that my results are not statistically significant enough to be considered conclusive, but rather are simply indicative of a general trend. But what I found is that 57.34% of my respondents reported earning upwards of £20,000 per year, a number which increased to 63.33% when excluding students or the retired (Inglis, 2019b: 282). It is fair to say then, that the majority of electro swing enthusiasts cannot be described as struggling financially. And this is a notion that has been picked up on by many of those I interviewed as well. Indeed, several were to tell me that they have noticed this phenomenon themselves: I would say that it’s a pretty middle-​class scene –​it’s not exactly, massively gritty, it’s not got its roots in working-​class culture I think, it’s much more appealing to –​and I think that’s partly down to the kind of, the silly fancy dress, and that kind of Gatsby sparkliness about it. (George Browne) electro swing does tend to be a middle-​class thing. You know, if you looked at the people who, who listen to electro swing, it’s a certain subset of population. (Tom Hyland) in all fairness, like, festivals and all that –​what are the kind of festival goers that go there, you know, it is, kind of –​you know, you need a lot of money to go to a festival, festivals ain’t cheap. (Richard Shawcross) I too have noticed this occurrence. There is a certain type of participant one generally finds at electro swing events, and although this is not exclusively the case, it is more likely than not that they will tend to come from a comfortable background. The point raised by Shawcross is particularly pertinent, when looking at the type of festivals in which electro swing is prominent, as more often than not it is found at so-​called boutique festivals: events with a “general emphasis on creating a more rounded and […] pleasant festival-​going experience”, in which “part of the strategy […] has been to reconfigure events in a more family-​friendly fashion” (Chapple, 2015). Writing on such festivals, Whitehill

122  On Class and the Art Spectrum notes that “yes, middle class and pretentious they may often be, but there’s still a great deal of fun to be had” (2014). And St John discusses the social make-​up of these events, making specific reference to Boomtown Fair: reliant on a transformational architectonic, that these event-​industries are commercial operations catering for a select middle-​class and typically white event going market is inscribed in the idea of the ‘boutique’ festival, a term sometimes used, as with Schmidt, interchangeably with ‘transformational festival’. ‘Boutique festivals’, which have evolved rapidly in the United Kingdom in the last decade, involve substantial programming diversity, in which electronic dance music can be a minor element, although typically substantive, as in the BoomTown Fair. (2017: 11) One may also note that not only is it the case that more middle-​class crowds are more generally attracted to these festivals, but often, the festivals are specifically tailored to these audiences themselves. Will Lardner, one of the founders of Shindig, has subtly implied this in describing those whom this festival was actively designed to cater towards: Shindig generally brings in an older crowd of people who enjoy a good cocktail, but also like starting early and finishing early. We realised pretty early on that there was a massive gap in the market for a festival to actually cater for the demographic we like to call ‘old skool ravers with kids’. (Lewis, 2018) These same points have been raised regarding the lindy hop movement too, in that “Lindy hoppers, especially elites, tend to be middle-​class young adults (usually between 16 and 25) who have free time to practice and young bodies that lend themselves to physical athleticism.” (Wade, 2011: 228). As with the music, this is of course very much at odds with the roots of the dance; Unruh speaks of how contemporary depictions of the dance have “portrayed a vision of swing dancing, specifically the Lindy Hop, that greatly contrasted with the black, working-​class origins of the dance” (2020: 40). And these associations can be extended to other vintage movements as well; speaking on the notion of vintage fashion, Anderson illustrates a common occurrence, in which “a t-​shirt that probably cost less than £10 when it was originally sold, is suddenly marked up to £50” (2020). With such costs being as they are, working-​class individuals are effectively being priced out of participation in these movements. It is important to mention, however, that such depictions should not be taken entirely for granted, and that I have found some degree of opposition to this view. When asking about the general make-​up of their audiences, several of those to whom I spoke were to proudly comment upon the wide diversity they have experienced with respect to social class:

On Class and the Art Spectrum  123 across the board. It’s very, very diverse depending on where you are. (Kaptin Barrett) quite broad, actually […] there’s a very broad range of people. (Nick Hollywood) all sorts, really. All sorts. The class system itself –​because people who come to the clubs are really like all types […] I couldn’t really put it down to one particular class. (Chris Tofu) it’s really, really varied. (Jim Burke) I will speak later on the ways in which jazz in general has transformed itself from a movement with lower-​class connotations to the exact opposite, but some have suggested that this transformation is now being reversed once again. This is the view put forth by Hutchinson, who writes that the contemporary British jazz scene is “reaching far younger, more diverse audiences and doesn’t care for snootiness” (2018), additionally noting that many of the musicians themselves “come from diverse backgrounds” (ibid.). One thing I was to find in my interviews was that this was also the case for several electro swing musicians: to give a bit of history to me, is –​I was involved in the circus, and cabaret scene, since a young age. I’ve been a professional circus performer since I was 11 years old. (Michael Rack) we’re both [in Big Swing Soundsystem] very much from working-​class backgrounds, and the idea of wearing sort of, quite toffish outfits was just fun. (Kaptin Barrett) However, I would argue that instances such as these can be considered exceptions to the general rule. Within any movement, there are bound to be some outliers who do not seem to follow the overall trend. But if one takes a step back, the evidence does not seem to indicate that this is in any way the case at large. In fact, as reported by the New Statesman: in the arts generally […] it is clear that cuts to benefits, the disappearance of the art school (where many a luminous layabout found room to bloom) and the harsh cost of further and higher education are pricing the

124  On Class and the Art Spectrum working class out of careers in the arts and making it increasingly a playground for the comfortably off. (Maconie, 2015) Despite this, there have been several attempts throughout electro swing in which various artists have actively purported the genre to be a working-​class one. One may cite Nick Hollywood’s oft-​cited description of “the music of the first great depression meeting the technology of the second”, and I came across an even more blatant attempt to promote this narrative at the first Swingamajig in 2013, in which one band introduced a song by stating that “this one’s for anyone who doesn’t live in a house”. Another example comes with the Electric Swing Circus’s track ‘The Penniless Optimist’ –​the title of which clearly indicates the type of impression they are trying to give; although guitarist Tom Hyland’s earlier acknowledgement that the genre “does tend to be middle-​class thing” suggests that this song is at least somewhat tongue-​ in-​cheek –​at the very least, there’s a degree of self-​awareness involved. And to return to the earlier article from The Daily Mash, the author comically describes the genre as “mesh[ing] trumpets, storytelling, banging beats and pretending to live in a truck” (2013). Thus, even in an article highlighting the middle-​class nature of electro swing, there’s a reference to this misconception that suggests otherwise. It is because of instances like these that Burke has suggested that cultural appropriation may occur not only with race, but with class too (2009: 78). There are several historic examples of this, from Mick Jagger, who “faked a working class accent to gain credibility […] his view of what it was to be working class was that you should be thick and stupid” (Coon, qtd. in Barker and Taylor, 2007: 266); to the whole punk rock movement –​in which “many punk musicians hailed from middle-​class backgrounds and many had also attended art school” (Hogarty, 2017: 14). Hogarty also draws parallels with mod, arguing that “the representation of the mod subculture as a working-​class subcultural phenomenon was not strictly true […] it emerged partly from an art school milieu in the 1950s bohemian scene in London” (ibid.). There may well be working-​class practitioners throughout electro swing, or amongst the audience, but it would be dishonest to claim that it’s not primarily a middle-​class scene. This is not to make any kind of judgement in either direction regarding its clientele, but it is a simple assessment of the social make-​up of those who actively take part. This may be best demonstrated by the price of that involvement: despite Chris Tofu’s assertion to me that “there’s no way Boomtown’s a frigging gig for a posh nonce”, the above discussion on boutique festivals suggests that –​whilst “posh” may be a bit excessive –​it’s certainly a middle-​class event, and at over £250 a ticket, it’s hard to argue otherwise. The working-​class claims that have been made are likely only for the purposes of playing up to an image, which brings me to the next point I wish to address. Without a doubt, electro swing has an image which

On Class and the Art Spectrum  125 is regularly and consciously played upon, and as we will see, this image is entirely associated with class.

The Image and Politics of Electro Swing At any electro swing event one may go to, they will undoubtedly encounter a multitude of attendees dressed immaculately, in expensive suits and outfits or at least in outfits designed to imitate those that would be expected to fetch a large price; the image that the electro swing genre presents is one of wealth, luxury, and affluence. This is best exemplified through Boomtown Fair’s Mayfair Avenue, which in 2017 carried the following description: Decadence, diamantes and Dom Perignon, the 1%-​ers of Mayfair have it all dhaaarlings. Saunter up to The Ballroom to find your own prince charming or sequin clad princess, with its eclectic soundtrack of vintage remix and lavish swing. Transcend the dizzying heights of The Sky Bar to mingle with sordid bankers and reap the benefits of knowing the right people in the right places. (Boomtown, 2017) This particular area of Boomtown is presented as a kind of playground for the elite, with venues built to resemble banks, ballrooms, and extravagant hotels. Waistcoats, top hats, and ballroom gowns are regularly worn by participants, both on stage and off; and this image seems to resonate across the entire scene. Despite the vast range of outfits one may choose to represent the swing era, that which has persisted seems to be one of wealth. From one perspective, it seems rather peculiar that this is the image that tends to accompany the genre, considering jazz’s roots as working-​class music. Tom Hyland raised this point with me, suggesting that “swing’s got nothing to do –​literally, nothing to do with being upper-​class whatsoever”. One could argue that Hyland is slightly mistaken in this claim however; it’s absolutely true to recognise that jazz was initially the music of the working-​class –​yet this image of upper-​classness is not strictly a new occurrence. For despite its roots, many of the original performers of jazz were eager to present an image that would suggest otherwise. Garrett discusses how performers such as Cab Calloway managed to help people through their financial troubles: “we can understand Calloway as reaching out to audiences during the Depression era and helping them to let go of their cares” (2012: 59). And Werner makes a similar point in relation to Duke Ellington: throughout his life, Ellington embodied class. An immaculate dresser in Jim Crow America, he quietly revealed the foolishness of stereotypes that implied blacks were incapable of meeting the most demanding standards of white society. (1999: 277–​278)

126  On Class and the Art Spectrum This brings us back to the notion of persona, of musicians presenting a particular image –​in this case, that of the higher classes –​to enhance their performance. A similar account has been given of the personae presented by the musicians of the bebop era: in the 1950s male jazz musicians (both black and white) frequently opted for Ivy League-​style suits as their stage wear (Miles Davis was one of the more prominent musicians to dress this way). This fashion, exemplified by the Brooks Brothers, carried with it culturally encoded connotations of conservative sophistication as well as upward mobility. Jazz musicians thus presented themselves not as members of a disreputable subculture, as they were often thought to be, but as respectable, middle-​class men (regardless of what their actual class status may have been). (Auslander, 2009: 311) I will expand on this transformation of jazz’s image upon the rise of bebop shortly. Thus, there may be some element of this attitude which has carried through to the present day. Continuing, Hyland acknowledged that this was likely the case: back in the day though, everyone did aspire to be upper-​class. There was a different attitude towards class then, than there was now, you know, people would dress up and try and pretend to be above their station, whereas now people dress down, and try and be below their station, in inverted commas […] people who were lower-​class generally, you know, often were aspiring to not be it. So, so maybe there’s that sort of hang-​ up from the styling, that you know, you –​sort of seeing all these people dressed up in, like, you know, starched white shirts, and black –​and black tailcoats, and stuff, and sort of –​well, the only people that do that nowadays are people who are upper-​class, so –​yeah, maybe it’s that. This has certainly been the case with the type of archival footage of the swing era that tends to accompany electro swing. Nick Hollywood was keen to get this point across to me, arguing that: if you’re putting on a club night in –​anywhere, and you know, you want to find some relevant footage, the places you’re gonna come across first of all, you know, you just type in –​type in the era, you’re gonna come across, you know, film footage of people in top hats and tails, which is just what was kind of represented. This can also be seen throughout many of the genre’s music videos, such as that for PiSk’s 2019 remix of Cab Calloway’s ‘Jumpin’ Jive’ (1939), which

On Class and the Art Spectrum  127 uses footage of Calloway’s performance of the track alongside the Nicholas Brothers from the film Stormy Weather (1943). Expanding the discussion further, Hyland was to also suggest that in some way, we simply associate the idea of the past with the idea of upper-​classness: I think we, we associate things that are old with things that are posh, because posh people talk how people used to talk in the past, and I think there’s a –​there’s a sort of association with that. Such a suggestion has also been made by Littler, in her discussion regarding the idea of heritage. Littler notes that: the St. George Cross, afternoon tea and stately homes have often been used as emblematic of ‘British heritage’: a process in which white (and often upper-​or middle-​class) Englishness is used to define the past. (2015: 1) This association is certainly evident in much public discourse, in which upper-​ class individuals are often castigated for holding ‘old-​fashioned values’. This phenomenon was depicted in a memorable cover of Britain’s Private Eye magazine (2018), in which politician Jacob Rees-​Mogg –​who has been referred to as “the poshest man in Westminster” (The Telegraph, 2014) –​is pictured, complete with top hat, announcing that “we must throw off the shackles of the EU and trade freely again with Persia, Mesopotamia and Cathay”. Here, a proudly upper-​class individual like Rees-​Mogg is being directly considered as if belonging to a past era. This type of image in relation to electro swing is particularly anachronistic, for not only does it represent a class status that does not fit with the genre’s origins, but it also represents the wrong country of origin –​being characteristic of the stereotypical upper-​class English gentleman. And yet, to some extent, this image has pervaded the electro swing style. As Kaptin Barrett was to inform me: it’s kind of a hybrid, that whole image of, A) a like, an American 1920s, prohibition kind of vibe –​but also, somehow that crosses with a more, English gentleman, you know –​so a lot of the, a lot of the early nights, for example White Mink, which was, you know, a hugely important night –​ everyone would dress up in vintage clothing. And so some people would take that as –​English kind of gentleman, rather than the American one, and that went with the music, so I think that’s a big part of it, you know? One of the main explanations behind this comes with recognising the importance of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby (1925), and Barrett was to reference this when discussing the inspiration behind Boomtown’s Mayfair Avenue:

128  On Class and the Art Spectrum again, Mayfair is the high-​class area –​but obviously done very tongue-​ in-​cheek, and the music just suited that, you know? […] It’s Great Gatsby, but very much mutated. This link between the dress of the jazz age and that of the upper-​class English gentleman can arguably be drawn back to The Great Gatsby. Gatsby, who was of course briefly educated at Oxford himself (Fitzgerald, 1925: 59), notes that many of his outfits come from England: “I’ve got a man in England who buys me clothes. He sends over a selection of things at the beginning of each season, spring and fall” (ibid.: 59). The narrator also notes this connection upon arriving at one of Gatsby’s iconic parties: “I was immediately struck by the number of young Englishmen dotted about, all well dressed” (ibid.: 28). Hence, as early as 1925, this link had between this particular image and the jazz age had already been made. The figure who epitomises this image more so than any other is Jim Burke, the performer behind Mr B the Gentleman Rhymer, who is seen in Figure 4.1. In 2007, Burke created the style of chap hop, which whilst distinct from electro swing is fairly closely related –​with Burke considering himself “a second cousin twice-​removed, or something like that”. Chap hop is defined by its hip hop influences, augmented by Burke’s playing of the banjolele, whilst rapping in an upper-​class accent about topics such as pipe-​smoking and cricket. A typical song can be found in his parody of NWA’s ‘Straight Outta Compton’ (1988), entitled ‘Straight Out of Surrey’ (2008). And whilst there is certainly a

Figure 4.1 Mr B the Gentleman Rhymer. © Jim Burke.

On Class and the Art Spectrum  129 comedic element to the performance, Burke stressed to me that “I always consider myself a musician first, before anything else”, and that the times he has performed at comedy clubs “tend[ed] to be a bit more tricky”. Explaining the incentive behind this character, Burke continued: I’ve always been, you know, fascinated with the general idea of Britishness, and especially that –​you know, the –​I think in a way it’s, partly that sort of old-​school Britishness, but not necessarily, entirely upper-​class, but just that sort of BBC Britishness. But also the fact, you know, I think I’ve always been obsessed with people like Tony Hancock, and that sort of suburban dreamer thing, that there’s a certain British archetype that’s always, perhaps pushing –​you know, I don’t think Mr B’s upper-​class, but I think he’s one of the –​you know, he’d like to think he is, slightly, which is, you know, a slightly pathetic thing. But yeah, sort of, that sort of suburban dreamer thing when you’re always, you know, you think you’re a great artist, and you want to be, you know, up there with the high echelons, yet you’re not, really. That sort of thing, but I think, you know, the whole notion of upper-​class Britishness is slightly ridiculous, there’s –​ it’s a question of turning it on its head slightly. There’s certainly a degree to which he is mocking this type of image –​and this is found throughout electro swing, with Barrett commenting that “it’s quite easy to take the piss out of rich people” –​yet Burke isn’t strictly rallying against the upper-​classes either: you’re taking the mickey out of it, but you’re also, you know, saying, you know, there are certain aspects of it that are great, and certain aspects of it that are clearly not great […] it’s a fine line that you sort of have to tread, between glorifying –​you know, things like glorifying the empire or something like that, which is not really my bag at all, and just, you know, paying a nod to the, sort of, age of chivalry and what have you, you know?. In the same way in which nostalgia can be said to offer us a “history without guilt” (Kammen, 1997: 157), scenes like electro swing may then provide a chance to celebrate upper-​class culture without guilt. As touched upon in Chapter 2, Burke’s adoption of this persona has allowed him to engage with topics that might otherwise seem off-​limits. We may again acknowledge Lipsitz’s notion of strategic anti-​essentialism, as discussed in the previous chapter –​an approach which allows participants to “[take] on disguises in order to express indirectly parts of their identity that might be too threatening to express directly” (1994: 62). And Burke has suggested this himself, noting that: if I was being very street, and very, you know –​you know, being more working-​class, it would –​people would get upset about it –​which is a

130  On Class and the Art Spectrum shame, but I think it’s just the fact that it’s, you know, there’s a certain old-​ school innocence to the whole thing, that I can deal with modern mores, and tricky subjects in that sort of slightly innocent fashion, and get away with it, generally. Burke’s character is therefore treading a fine line between respect and ridicule, a position which can be measured through the subtleties of his persona. In some cases, this position has been made somewhat unclear, and Burke explained to me how he has at times been misunderstood, in that “sometimes you get people asking you to play at odd dos, that you think, ‘right, you’ve clearly not got what this is about, have you?’ ”. He also discussed how: I’ll occasionally do some charity do that’s full of slightly upper-​class people, [laughs] you sort of think, ‘right, okay’, you know, even Mr B looks like a bit of an oik there. This misunderstanding was made quite publicly evident in 2014, when –​then Education Secretary –​Michael Gove cited Mr B as his favourite musician (Walters, 2014). I brought this up with Burke, who commented that “yeah, that was a tricky one”, in that “I could not possibly begin to suggest I was a fan of his work”. He remained unclear as to whether he thought Gove completely understood his music, stating that: I think maybe he does, I don’t really know, but –​yeah, I have a feeling he doesn’t quite understand it. Although that said, you know, I think part of his liking it was probably him wanting to thumb his nose at the sort of, you know, the Eton massive that were in power at the time. Thus, whilst Burke does intend on paying some degree of appreciation to the idea of the upper-​class English gentleman, it seems that he doesn’t want this image to be taken overly seriously, and certainly doesn’t expect any of his fans to identify with this image too much, concluding that “you can’t always choose your fans, but you can try and put them off ”. In fact, following this occurrence, Burke would write an article for the Guardian, criticising Gove: […] Either that or he’s just one of those people who never listens to lyrics. Perhaps Gove, in the words of dear old Kurt Cobain, ‘likes to sing along … but he knows not what it means’. (2014) In terms of how this relates to the wider electro swing scene, this demonstrates a particular level of awareness with how a participant is expected to engage with their respective social class. This can be said to form a part of a much broader conversation, in asking how an electro swing fan may engage with wider political issues in general.

On Class and the Art Spectrum  131 The relationship between music and politics is one which has been widely observed, and there have been some distinct approaches which can significantly affect the ways in which an artist may choose to work. In the words of Joan Baez: There are two approaches to music. One is, ‘Man, I’m a musician and I got nuthin’ to do with politics. Just let me do my own thing.’ And the other is that music’s going to save the world… . (Lynskey, 2010: xii) Genre plays a big part in this; genres such as punk and hip hop have famously been very politically engaged, whilst a lot of contemporary pop often deliberately disengages with these conversations. And politics also of course has obvious connections with class. When examining the way in which electro swing presents itself to the public, its political motivations may be considered to go hand-​in-​hand with its respective class consumption in the image that it puts forth. In consideration of the two distinct approaches as outlined by Joan Baez, several of those with whom I spoke suggested that they did not consider electro swing to be a politically engaged genre at all: I mean it’s not, you know, it’s not particularly a socially engaged genre, it’s not kind of shedding light on darker issues […] it’s not a political movement in the way that punk was, or you know, something [laughs], or that hip hop might be, or might have been, sometimes. (Nick Hollywood) it’s not –​not making a great social statement, or anything like that, particularly. (George Browne) [Do you think that politics is tied to the music at all, or is it solely just you?] more than likely just me to be honest. Ain’t anyone else doing it. (Chris Tofu) Chris Tofu in particular provided a very interesting case, as –​as an individual –​he is certainly quite the politically active character, classing himself as an anarchist and regularly making his thoughts known on various political issues. However, despite this political stance, in 2017, Tofu accepted an MBE for his services to the music industry. I questioned Tofu about this, who –​acknowledging that “that wasn’t very anarchist, was it” –​explained that his justification behind accepting the award was simply because he had told his mother: motivation for that was, I told my mum [laughs], which ranks above politics. And you know what –​fuck them, you know, you have to accept it

132  On Class and the Art Spectrum to be able to give it back. And it allows me to make really outrageous comments with an MBE, until they take it off me [laughs]. Idiots, which is what I’m doing today –​such bullshit, you know, fucking ton of bullshit. But anyway, once the mother knew, that was fucking it. It’s more like The Empire Strikes Back than the Member of the British Empire [laughs]. But yes, actually I’ll melt it down and shove it up the fucking Tories’arse, but not until I’ve used the motherfucker to actually, maybe make some change. This gives more of an insight into Tofu’s actual position and is quite reflective of the type of politics I’ve witnessed him engaging with on stage. And throughout the wider electro swing world, Tofu is not alone in expressing these sorts of sentiments –​suggesting that the genre may be more politically motivated than some of the above quotes suggest. I’ve witnessed both the Electric Swing Circus, and MysDiggi–​performing with Smokey Joe and the Kid –​commenting upon Brexit during performances. Similarly, Michael Rack told me that he was to do the same, speaking of how “after Brexit, on my first gig, walked on stage and I fucking didn’t start the music, I was like, ‘if any of you lot voted Brexit […] you can make like your vote and fuck off ’ ”. From what I’ve seen, statements like these tend

Figure 4.2 Chris Tofu. © Chris Tofu.

On Class and the Art Spectrum  133 to get a deal of applause, and an electro swing concert seems to be a safe environment for expressing left-​leaning views. This is of course reflective of the wider popular music landscape in general –​made most prominent by the appearance of Jeremy Corbyn on the main stage of the 2017 edition of Glastonbury –​but it is still worth noting in the context of this particular genre. Regarding the actual political content of the music itself, there are a few notable examples, the most obvious being ‘Boss’ by the Correspondents (2017) –​directed at then prime minister Theresa May –​the chorus of which is as follows: We didn’t ask for you to lead us; We didn’t want you to be boss; You have done nothing but deceive us; And it is us who pay the cost. Another example comes with Alice Francis’s ‘Beatptized’ (2017a), which presents prominent environmental messages. As Francis explained to me: We also wanted to make a video with a message for it. So we collected garbage from the river where we live, made clothes out of it and shot the video for ‘Beatptized’ with our friends […] The message in ‘Beatptized’ is something which I’d like people to take seriously but I also preferred when the teachers in school gave me space to think about an issue and gave me the chance to come to my own conclusion. One may also note Offbeat’s track ‘The Hipsters Are Coming’ (2018c), which addresses the issue of gentrification. However, Corse has been quite adamant in insisting that this track wasn’t intended to be taken as representing a political message: gentrification is a real issue, it’s something that gets talked about a lot in Bristol, but this song isn’t a political song. It’d be very easy to jump on that bandwagon, and say that it was, kind of retrospectively –​but it’d be wrong to do that, because it’s not. Basically, I wrote this song –​to kind of highlight that issue –​but mainly, just for a bit of fun (Offbeat, 2018a: 1.10). Similarly, Jim Burke noted that his track ‘They Don’t Allow Rappers in the Bullingdon Club’ (2012) –​which mocks Oxford University’s notorious society –​could be interpreted as political, although he did concede that such tracks do “tend to be, you know, slightly a bit more daft, politically”. There are a few other instances of political engagement that I wish to highlight. With regard to Boomtown Fair, Kaptin Barrett was to tell me how politics “definitely comes through, especially within the theatrical elements” –​to

134  On Class and the Art Spectrum the point where the festival staged a revolution in 2017, and in the Mayfair Avenue district, “the people rose up, and took it over, and smashed it up”. And alongside issues of Brexit, Rack was to tell me the extent to which Dutty Moonshine have also highlighted their support for the National Health Service: we’ve got our harp player, who’s part –​who’s a surgeon, and I always make a big point about the NHS, whenever she plays a gig, I make a point to the crowd, I say ‘old Chessi here who’s just smashed it out is a fucking surgeon for the NHS –​just wanna make sure you fucking, you know, vote to support it and all that sort of shit’. There is also an extent to which vintage fashion has been considered politically engaged, through the suggestion that its rejection of store-​bought, designer clothing carries “a certain anti-​capitalist cachet” (Le Zotte, 2017). And one can also find a degree of political engagement within the lindy hop world. For instance, Cat Foley explained to me how she finds it “heart-​breaking” that not everyone who would otherwise get involved in the scene is able to, for reasons of a lack of money, and told me how “her dream is that we get it on the curriculum in schools, and let everybody dance”. Additionally, one issue that does get raised frequently enough to merit its own subsection, is that of feminism. Electro Swing and Gender The relationship between popular music and gender is one which has been written about extensively, and there is little one can say on the topic of electro swing specifically that wouldn’t simply be reflective of the wider popular music landscape at large. However, a full intersectional analysis of any genre would be incomplete without reference to gender, and thus it is essential that I devote some space to a discussion of the ways in which the genre engages with issues of feminism. Indeed, of the two components that make up electro swing, both EDM and jazz have presented significant barriers to women’s participation. This has been highlighted by Hope in relation to jazz music, who –​asking why there is “so little space for women in jazz” –​suggests that the music “largely conforms to masculine stereotypes” (2017). And in their 2008 study in women in EDM, Farrugia and Swiss found that just 5–​15% of working DJs and only 2–​5% of sound engineers were women –​a problem that has only continued through to the present day (2008: 83). Part of the reasoning behind this has been attributed to the instrumentation on offer within both genres. Whilst jazz music is of course open to a whole host of instruments, Wehr points out how women have traditionally been restricted to the role of singer or pianist (2015: 1), whilst in EDM, it’s been suggested that “the constraints women face in getting started with music production […] are exacerbated […] because the music relies so heavily on

On Class and the Art Spectrum  135 non-​traditional instruments” (Farrugia and Swiss, 2008: 94). Another issue that both EDM and jazz share concerns the ways in which women can often struggle to break through the cultural barriers that generally surround each music. Farrugia and Swiss speak of how budding DJs need to “gain access to ‘insider’ knowledge and become ‘in the know’ by networking” (ibid.: 91) –​ which poses a problem for women when these “vital social networks […] consist of male DJs, label owners, and producers” (ibid.: 88). And in the world of jazz, attempts to actively include more women in the movement have at times been scoffed at by its veterans; for instance, Kavanaugh gives the following account concerning Wynton Marsalis: When asked what was being done to help young women learn the genre, Marsalis rolled his eyes and said that he didn’t have time for such political correctness. The unspoken answer was nothing. (1995: 10) In terms of how this all translates to electro swing, the biggest proponent for gender equality within the genre is almost certainly Emma Clair –​the Manchester-​based DJ who also runs the Prohibition label and club night. After acknowledging that “I think I can probably count on two fingers the number of female DJs that I’ve had play at Prohibition –​which is absolutely shameful” (Prohibition Mcr, 2021b: 40:35), Clair made it her mission to actively celebrate the respective women in the scene –​taking it upon herself to form the Swing Sisters project. In 2021, Prohibition released the first Swing Sisters compilation album –​showcasing several of the genre’s top female practitioners, including Tallulah Goodtimes, Alanna Lyes, and Rosantique amongst others. Discussing this project, Clair has spoken of how it is “an absolute joy and celebration of what, you know, we as female artists are capable of ” (Prohibition Mcr, 2021b: 39:40), and that she hopes that the project “will inspire the future generation [of women] to get involved” (ibid.: 41.42). Responding to Clair, Tallulah Goodtimes made reference to a “lovely […] feeling of solidarity that’s come about from the project” (ibid.: 39.50). Along with running the label and club night, Emma Clair also regularly hosts ‘The Prohibition Radio Show’, in which she routinely interviews many of the scene’s biggest players. As part of this, she has made a conscious effort to include more women, even putting out a special edition of the show for International Women’s Day 2021 (ibid.). When interviewing the female practitioners, Clair will generally make a point of asking about their experiences in this regard, and has encountered some telling responses. One point that has been raised in seemingly every interview is the criticism of so-​called “tokenistic feminism”, in which women are given a platform to perform for the simple reason that they are a woman, and not in recognition of their actual talent. This is noted by Clair, who speaks of how “none of us wanted [Swing Sisters] to be a kind of token or a gesture, you know, we didn’t want it to be gimmicky” (ibid.: 47.45) –​noting that

136  On Class and the Art Spectrum “I hate this story […] but the first gig I ever got was because I was a girl –​ because he was, like, short of a DJ, because he was doing this girls vs. boys night” (ibid.: 30.27). In other interviews, the same point has been made by numerous performers: I would always want to be there for value, not –​yeah, not for being token. And also, like, some people can kind of –​you know, they think ‘oh, I’ll put on one female night and then that’s kind of, you know, my work done, and I don’t have to worry about it anymore’–​it’s like, no –​well, no –​it should be a constant thing, it should be constant, you should be always looking for the best DJs whether they’re male, female, whatever –​or they’re the best artists, the best vocalists. (Alanna Lyes, qtd. in Prohibition Mcr, 2020b: 23.28) it’s not giving the job to the girl because it’s the girl, or the guy because it’s the guy –​it’s giving the job to the best person. (Little Violet, qtd. in Prohibition Mcr, 2020a: 42.32) I’ve been involved in quite a few all-​female DJ nights through the years, and I, you know –​I mean it’s a shame that we still have to highlight this as an issue. (Tallulah Goodtimes, qtd. in Prohibition Mcr, 2021a: 50.20) One performer who has been explicit in condemning this sort of approach is Kathika –​the vocalist for Slamboree, who in 2017 made a video for the BBC rallying against such nights, arguing that: I’ve been involved in the music industry as a vocalist for over ten years, and the one thing that grinds my gears is when my gender comes into play before my profession. The biggest example I see is when the word female gets put before DJ or before MC –​so automatically that becomes the focus. Not whether they’re good at what they do, it’s always about their gender. (BBC, 2017) Whilst Emma Clair has recognised that her Swing Sisters project could be accused of being tokenistic, she has always insisted that what she is doing is to celebrate women, rather than to single them out. And this celebration is no more obvious than in the lead single from the album, her reworking of the track ‘Sisters Are Doin’ It For Themselves’, made alongside Alanna Lyes. As well as being an outright celebration of women lyrically, the video for this track –​released on International Women’s Day 2021 –​featured numerous fan-​made clips of women lip-​syncing and dancing along to the track (Clair, 2021). By including women from her audience within the video, the message

On Class and the Art Spectrum  137 of sisterhood was made clear, and the resultant video thus presented a strong statement of unity. Coincidentally, another music video released on this same date was Dutty Moonshine’s fan-​made video for ‘Fever’ (2021c) –​which utilised this exact same approach. And this was in fact the second video produced for this track –​ the first of which also placed numerous women in the spotlight, with producer Michael Rack making just a brief cameo at the end (2020b). ‘Fever’ is also notable for its lyrics –​in which frontwoman Maria Laveau expresses her desire for women to reclaim their nights out. And Rack has also made further attempts to actively bring more women (as well as other underrepresented groups) into the scene –​through Rum Runners –​the club night he launched towards the end of 2021. When announcing this project online, Rack was to state that: The last couple of years it’s really bothered me that my nights over the last 15 years were mostly straight white males because I’m not racist, homophobic or sexist. […] So I’ve made a real big effort to follow and pin other artists’ social medias to the top of my feed, all you hustlers in lockdown, it was noticed and I’m following a lot of you now. My radar is much wider and more importantly much richer for it. (Dutty Moonshine Big Band, 2021) Women’s rights in particular seems to be something of considerable importance to the Dutty Moonshine act. The most palpable example of this comes with the track ‘Home By Nine’ (2021b), a spoken-​word poem in which Laveau directly addresses various feminist issues –​most notably that of sexual assault. I first saw this performed on the main stage at Boomtown in 2018, after which Rack commented “what’s the point in having a big stage like this if you’re not going to use it to say something?”. And similarly –​on the topic of sexual assault against women –​one can also find strong vocal commentary against this from Kathika and Slamboree. Detailing how this is something that she herself has experienced in the setting of live performances, Kathika has said that: I don’t know why it is that people, when they go to music concerts, feel that it’s acceptable to [grab and touch me]. I’ve just had enough, I don’t know if I wanted to be seen as a loose cannon by shouting about this kind of thing, but now –​there’ll be consequences now. Most definitely. (A Long Game, 2018: 15.59) I recall a Slamboree concert I attended in 2017, in which one audience member attempted to touch Kathika in this way, causing her to halt the performance to deliver a speech on the limits of acceptable behaviour. This interaction was captured on video, and is featured in the BBC documentary on the band, A Long Game:

138  On Class and the Art Spectrum Don’t fucking grope a woman when she’s at work. This is my fucking workplace. That’s fucking sexual assault. I don’t give a shit if you’re a fucking boy or girl, do not fucking do that while I’m up here. (ibid.: 16.30) Quite clearly, this is an issue which many in the community feel very passionate about. However, despite these few concerns, one point that has come up from various female practitioners –​particularly when discussing these issues on The Prohibition Radio Show –​was that many of them have not felt restricted by their gender within the electro swing scene. For instance, although stating that “if you do look at a list of DJs, producers, artists –​it is really male-​dominated”, Alanna Lyes was to follow this up by saying that “it is getting better” (Prohibition Mcr, 2020b: 25.20), and later on in the interview suggested that “I am really lucky […] and that’s never really been an issue” (ibid.: 28.43), and that “I’ve never actually been refused anything because of gender”(ibid.: 29.17). This same point was made by Tallulah Goodtimes, who argued that “if I have missed out on opportunities because I’m a woman, I’ve not been aware of them” (Prohibition Mcr, 2021a: 49.33). And again, we find the same situation with singer Little Violet, who suggested that we “can’t deny that […] it is a male-​dominated industry, but having said that […] there’s more talk now, we’re talking about it more, and we’re making it known” (Prohibition Mcr, 2020a: 23.58). She continues on from this to state that for “me personally, I love working with guys, so it’s never been an issue for me”, and that “sometimes, it’s us women that are harder to work with” (ibid.: 24.24). And once more, we find the suggestion that within the electro swing community, “I’ve never dealt with something that has made me feel really uncomfortable”, additionally pointing out that “I’ve always got my band members […] so I know that if I ever did feel like I was in a sticky situation or I felt uncomfortable or whatever, I would always have somebody to reach out to” (ibid.: 26.54). On the whole then, there are certainly elements of electro swing –​not least its relationship with women’s rights –​that carry with it implications of political engagement; and despite the earlier suggestions that the genre is not politically motivated, there is a reasonable amount of evidence to suggest the contrary. However, I will state that overall, I do not consider electro swing to be a genre that is politically engaged in any far-​reaching way. As with any style of music, some element of political activism will inescapably find its way in, but within electro swing, it is far from an essential component. One of the main reasons behind this is that electro swing is simply not a genre that takes itself seriously enough, and that just because it has the potential to, doesn’t mean that it strictly should. As noted by Reynolds: When a genre starts to think of itself as ‘intelligent’, this is usually a warning sign that it’s on the verge of losing its edge, or at least its sense of fun. (2013: 427)

On Class and the Art Spectrum  139 Several of my interviewees were to make this same point in relation to electro swing –​that if it became too involved in politics, it could potentially lose a big part of what makes it what it is. This was suggested by journalist Angus Harrison, who argued that “to try and shift it would be to kind of, like, take it away from what makes it important in the first place”, whilst blogger George Browne put it to me that “if it does, it will have lost something along the way. And something quite important actually”. And even Chris Tofu, as invested as he is in politics, was to suggest that “maybe it shouldn’t be taken seriously. Maybe that’s not what it’s there for, you know?”. This brings us to another significant consideration, for as noted by Ake, “issues of seriousness […] can play important roles for writers wishing to elevate a genre’s prestige” (2002: 48). The supposed seriousness of electro swing then will play a large part in determining where the genre may be considered to fall upon the high-​low art spectrum.

Situating Genres on the High–​Low Art Spectrum There is good reason for electro swing to not be considered too serious of a genre. As Mark Camps was to put to me, the genre is “all just a bit of fun, a bit silly, makes you just wanna –​makes you smile, there’s nothing too serious about it”. The same is true of lindy hop. As stated by Sommer Gentry in the film Alive and Kicking, “every dance has its own mood. And so, I think that tango is very dramatic, and West Coast swing can be sultry, and salsa’s sexy, but lindy hop is silly –​it’s ridiculous” (2016: 11.25). McGee also highlights this, noting how various events have stressed the importance of “dancing with a smile” (2020: 55). Yet again, the question of where electro swing has inherited these associations from is not necessarily an easy one to answer. The seriousness of jazz in particular is something which has undoubtedly played a part, but determining what this level of seriousness is not so clear. This is a topic which is explored thoroughly by Garrett in his article ‘The Humor of Jazz’ (2012). Opening with a quote from cornetist Bix Beiderbecke, who states that “jazz is musical humor” (ibid.: 49), Garrett argues that seriousness was never to be considered to be a vital element of early jazz. A fine example of this comes with Duke Ellington, whom Garrett quotes in stating that “you have to have a really good sense of humor before you’re a really great jazz musician” (ibid.: 49). This has been noted by Simon too, in commenting on Ellington’s “perennial ability never, but never, to take himself too, too seriously” (1971: 35). Yet today, this reputation seems to have shifted. As noted by pianist Cooper-​Moore in 2000: A lot of [today’s] music doesn’t have any humor. Monk was a funny cat. Dizzy and Monk and Satchmo, these were funny cats. And I don’t see it. I know guys. They are funny, but when they get on stage, they’ve got no humor. Like you can’t laugh and talk to people. (Garrett, 2012: 66)

140  On Class and the Art Spectrum This shift in jazz’s perception arguably began with the Harlem Renaissance movement, in which numerous African American artists throughout the 1920s made a conscious point of promoting racial uplift through the creation of serious art, in an attempt to honourably represent the strength and talent of their race. Later on, a similar motivation led to the rise of bebop, which was arguably the style most responsible for this change in the public’s perception of jazz. As argued by Brennan: any jazz-​oriented music after bebop that could be argued to fit the model of serious, complex art music would remain identified as jazz, but if it featured elements that did not easily fit the new model, such as humor, vocals, or a strong dance beat, it risked being marginalized from the emerging jazz tradition. (2017: 57) One of the prime reasons for this desire to be considered serious was to place jazz as distinct from popular music –​for as claimed by the likes of Gridley, “pop music by definition is not serious” (Ake, 2002: 46). Gridley is likely the most prominent proponent of this view, in which he argues at length within his article ‘Is Jazz Popular Music?’ (1987) –​that it is defiantly not. However, Gridley’s article is problematic for a variety of reasons. For instance, he begins by defining jazz as “improvised instrumental music that elicits what is regarded as jazz swing feeling” (ibid.: 1), which as we have already seen in Chapter 2 is a considerably limited and inaccurate description of the genre. Later, he goes on to suggest that jazz has “taken on a much narrower meaning” (ibid.: 8), which I would argue is the exact opposite of the truth. Again, as already discussed, the boundaries of jazz can and have been shown to have changed and expanded with time. Additionally, we may observe that a lot of Gridley’s views seem to come from flawed methods. For instance, one of his points relies on analysing record sales by genre (ibid.: 2), taking for granted the definitions given to each category of music by the industry. Yet, as this is a discussion of genre itself, one cannot use information such as this without resorting to circular reasoning. Another problematic approach is the way in which a large part of Gridley’s evidence seems to be things he has simply made up: sentences such as “I personally cannot believe […]” (ibid.: 3), and “I know this […] though it is difficult to prove” (ibid.: 4) are scattered throughout. Gridley also seems to fundamentally misunderstand a number of the artists he discusses, arguing for instance that “[Dave Brubeck’s] popularity was an accident” (ibid.: 7) –​failing to recognise the major influence Brubeck had on the use of experimental time signatures and polyrhythms. He additionally mentions that “only a portion of [Louis Armstrong’s] recorded output is jazz” (ibid.: 4), a statement many would argue to be false. All of Armstrong’s recordings can be described as jazz to some extent; and even some of his later, easy listening numbers such as ‘What a Wonderful World’ (1967) and ‘We Have All the Time in the World’ (1969) arguably have their roots in light jazz.

On Class and the Art Spectrum  141 As with the discussion around moldy figs in Chapter 2, Gridley has also been described as hypocritical in choosing to elevate jazz over other styles of music, when previously it would have faced this same criticism itself: ironically, Gridley’s policy for why jazz should not be considered popular –​ that it is complex and appreciated only through difficult study –​echoes the identical sentiments voiced by European-​oriented music critics in the early decades of the twentieth century as a way of relegating jazz to the ash heap of lowbrow culture. (Ake, 2002: 48) By observing the shifting views of jazz, we may remind ourselves that it never originally enjoyed the prestige that it holds today. The great irony is that, were Gridley around at the start of the 20th century, he would probably be using the same arguments against jazz as he is now using to defend it. Thus, we may acknowledge that a desire to be serious is not the ultimate purpose of jazz. In siding with this view, one may suggest that by not taking itself too seriously, electro swing is maintaining the original intentions of jazz –​and similar discussions can be had with regard to early EDM as well. When considering electro swing’s standing on the so-​called high–​low art spectrum then, this will be an important aspect to note. Discussing this spectrum, Seabrook has argued that “cultural hierarchy [is] not a hierarchy of taste at all, but a hierarchy of power that used taste to cloak its real agenda” (2000: 32). One may see an example of this in the views of critic Edward Rothstein, who has pompously claimed that “while the high provides tools and perspectives which can comprehend the low, the low is powerless to comprehend the high” (1992: 31). Responding to this, Walser was to write that “critics such as Rothstein work to naturalize a hierarchy that privileges themselves and the culture they care about at the expense of everyone else” (1994: 245) –​a continuation of the arguments made by Small, in stating that: The barrier between classical and vernacular music is opaque only when viewed from the point of view of the dominant group; when viewed from the other side it is often transparent, and to the vernacular musician there are not two musics but only one. (1987: 126) The fundamental way in which the art spectrum ties in with the notion of class comes with recognising that the only reason for such distinctions to be made is for the upper-​classes to establish a further layer of privilege for themselves –​one of cultural superiority as well as financial. As Seabrook later continues, “no one wanted to talk about social class –​it’s in poor taste, even among the rich –​so people used High-​Low distinctions instead” (2000: 46).

142  On Class and the Art Spectrum The way in which this mentality impacts music is famously summed up in Adorno’s iconic 1941 essay, ‘On Popular Music’ (2013: 63–​74). Adorno makes the argument that popular music is of a much lesser quality than “serious music” and is generally produced for the uneducated masses; in contrast, serious music is made for and consumed by a highbrow elite. In this instance, Adorno’s notion of ‘popular music’ essentially comes down to “all music traditionally excluded from conservatories, schools of music, university departments of musicology, in fact generally excluded from realms of public education and public financing in the capitalist world” (Tagg, 1985: 502). This essay was hugely influential, and its impact still continues today; for instance, Walser notes that “music historians are still writing textbooks of ‘Twentieth Century Music’ that omit popular musics entirely, without even explaining their exclusion” (1994: 235), and that “most musicologists continue to define ‘music’ implicitly in terms of the European concert tradition, ignoring non-​Western and popular musics” (ibid.: 244). What we are finding recently though, particularly in postmodernist movements such as pop art, is a conscious attempt to erode this distinction between high and low art forms. This discussion forms the basis of Seabrook’s book Nobrow (2000), and has been commented on by various other authors too; with Burke noting that “exchanges between these two cultures have become well known and even fashionable” (2009: 97), and Bennett in arguing that “such high culture/​low culture distinctions are increasingly unsustainable in a late modern context where aspects of ‘high’ culture and ‘low’ or ‘popular’ culture frequently merge” (2015: 19). In terms of music, the most obvious parallel again comes with jazz, of which –​as has been noted by Gendron –​“no form of mass culture seems to have crossed the boundary between ‘entertainment’ and ‘art’ as decisively or irreversibly as jazz”(1995: 31). In the early days of this music, jazz’s reputation was far from that afforded to it today: “jazz was originally brothel music, and was regarded by respectable black Americans of the upward-​ aspiring, by-​your-​own-​bootstraps, Booker T. Washington type as a disgrace to the race” (Reynolds, 2011: 207). Indeed, “in the 1920s, jazz was more or less synonymous with popular music” (Holt, 2007: 21), and was subsequently “scrutinized, criticized, and accused of not being worthy to be called ‘real’ art” (Thomas, 2001: 163). Brennan provides the most extreme example of the negative ways in which early jazz was viewed, citing a supposedly scientific experiment from 1921 which concluded that the genre acted as “an agent of moral corruption”: A number of scientific men who have been working on experiments in music-​therapy with the insane, declare that while regular rhythms and simple tones produce a quieting effect on the brain of even a violent patient, the effect of jazz on the normal brain produces an atrophied condition on the brain cells of conception, until very frequently those under

On Class and the Art Spectrum  143 the demoralizing influence of the persistent use of syncopation, combined with enharmonic partial tones, are actually incapable of distinguishing between good and evil, between right and wrong. (2017: 36) Yet today, this reputation could not be more different. The finest exploration of this cultural shift is provided by DeVeaux’s iconic article ‘Constructing the Jazz Tradition’ (1998), in which he states that: the official version of jazz history […] is both a symptom and cause of the gradual acceptance of jazz, within the academy and in the society at large, as an art music –​‘America’s classical music,’ in a frequently invoked phrase. (ibid.: 485) Something that many of jazz’s original pioneers would never have predicted is that today, “jazz is considered by many to be the greatest contribution made in the twentieth century (and the greatest contribution from the United States) to the world of art” (Thomas, 2001: 165). By analysing these changing associations, we may remind ourselves that such cultural judgements are not static and can change severely over time: Within a few short decades, then, jazz had gone from being a subversive form of dance-​floor filling popular music that was dismissed as commercially driven mass culture, an agent of moral corruption, and an aesthetically primitive form of music, and transformed itself into a genre vying for (and increasingly winning) status as an art music. (Brennan, 2017: 58) DeVeaux has suggested that –​like with the racial associations that were discussed in the previous chapter, this change in art status came somewhat deliberately through the movement of bebop. Described by Russell as “the music of revolt […] against commercialized music in general” (1980: 202), DeVeaux notes that bebop revolted not only “against the jazz tradition but against the circumstances that prevent jazz from following its natural course of development” (1998: 499). It therefore “allowed jazz to become […] an autonomous art, transcending its sometimes squalid social and economic setting, and taking its place in American culture as a creative discipline of intrinsic integrity” (ibid.: 499); as a result of this, “contemporary conceptions of the term jazz have been shaped in bebop’s image” (ibid.: 495). It is largely bebop then responsible for garnering jazz’s newfound reputation as a high-​art music, and it is from this reputation that the likes of Wynton Marsalis have showcased their elitist views, earning them the title of “latter-​day moldy figs” (ibid.: 486–​487). But in holding this view, Marsalis –​as we saw with Gridley –​ is demonstrating severe levels of hypocrisy:

144  On Class and the Art Spectrum In an interesting twist, [Standard Time, Vol. 2: Intimacy Calling (1991)] seems to tell a story of jazz not entirely unlike the whitewashed evolutionary narratives of the 1920s. In both cases, one recognizes an attempt to raise the genre from the ‘lower classes’ of its roots (African in the earlier version, popular or commercial in Marsalis’s) to a ‘higher’ manner of musicking. (Ake, 2002: 164) Regardless of how objectionable these cultural shifts can be considered to be, they were to have a clear impact upon the movements that jazz was to influence. Discussing hip hop, Williams has noted that “these meanings are brought to groups that sample jazz” (2014: 68–​70), and observes that “the process that established jazz rap as a formative rap subgenre saw the construction of an ‘alternative’ to other rap subgenres such as ‘gangsta’ and ‘pop rap’, creating, ideologically speaking, a unique type of high art within the rap world” (ibid.: 48). Gilbert and Pearson also recognise particular rappers who have “utilised techniques previously employed only within avant-​garde practice, outside the auspices of high art institutions” (1999: 126), whilst Krims notes that: the rhythmic style of many commercially successful MCs, since roughly the beginning of the 1990s, have progressively become […] more ‘complex’; even public statements by MCs such as Queen Latifah and Guru of Gangstarr (about changes in their own techniques) attest to this. (2000: 49) In recent times, there are countless examples to be found of hip hop following in jazz’s footsteps in this regard. For instance, in 2018 alone, A Tribe Called Quest’s Q-​Tip began teaching a course at New York University investigating the connections between jazz and hip hop (NYU, 2018); Big Freedia became the first ever rapper depicted on a poster for the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival (MacCash, 2018a); and Kendrick Lamar’s DAMN. (2017) was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Music –​the first non-​jazz or Classical work to achieve this (Britton, 2018). Such instances would have been considered unthinkable upon the birth of hip hop, yet today they are barely even surprising. Additionally, we may now find that even certain forms of EDM are being considered in this way. One may cite the tale of Berlin’s notorious Berghain nightclub, which in 2016 became caught up in a legal battle regarding tax regulations (Wilson, 2016). According to German law, ‘entertainment’ venues were to be taxed at 19%, in comparison to the 7% tax for venues classed as ‘culture’. The Berghain argued that the techno music they present should not be thought of in any way differently –​and thus not taxed any differently –​ from Classical music, and they were successful in winning the case. One may also cite the recent trend of touring orchestras performing dance classics, such

On Class and the Art Spectrum  145 as the Haçienda Classiçal act or Pete Tong’s ‘Ibiza Classics’ tour with the Heritage Orchestra. We have also seen the transition to DJs playing shows that may have been traditionally reserved for supposed high-​art acts: Dutch trance DJ Tiësto was hired to play during the opening ceremony of the 2004 Summer Olympics in Athens while on 31 December 2011, American house DJ Frankie Knuckles was booked into the world-​famous Opera House in Sydney, Australia, for a New Year’s Eve party […] these and similar events may signal the arrival of the DJ on the stage of ‘high culture’. (Fikentscher, 2013: 143) Since this performance of Tiësto’s, several DJs have repeated the act of playing at the Olympics. Most notably for the purposes of this study, several of these may loosely be considered to fall into the electro swing genre: Fatboy Slim –​whose ‘Praise You’ (1998) is famously based around a sample of Camille Yarbrough’s ‘Take Yo’ Praise’ (1975) –​played London’s closing ceremony in 2012, whilst Kygo –​of whom one of his best-​known releases is his 2015 remix of Marvin Gaye’s ‘Sexual Healing’ (1982) –​played Rio de Janeiro’s closing ceremony in 2016. We thus come to the issue of electro swing. Combining all of these genres as it does, my question is to determine the degree to which it may ever be considered a high art itself. Upon raising this topic, several of my interviewees shared their view that electro swing can be thought of –​or at least, one day might be thought of –​in this way: dance music and high art –​they totally can work together […] they can totally go together. (Tony Culverwell) it can be. I think, I mean –​but to do high art as electronic music you’ve got to be doing stuff that’s pretty far out, otherwise it’s not really high art. (Tom Hyland) some of it fits in the high art spectrum. The Real Tuesday Weld, some of Kormac, some of it’s high art. (Chris Tofu) I don’t think that dance music is a low art form, and I really don’t think that people will look at it as a low art form, you know, in the future. (Sacha Dieu) there will be a time when that’s something of a museum piece, type of thing, sure. (Ashley Slater)

146  On Class and the Art Spectrum Tobias Kroschel –​the DJ and producer behind Sound Nomaden –​expanded upon this point, speaking of how he is both seeing and wishing for his music to be appreciated in higher terms: I see a big change in the recognition of Dance Music. Nowadays I see more and more projects that try to fuse high art and electronic dance music. In Germany I saw a lot of collaborations between renowned Orchestras or Big Bands with DJ’s [sic.] and producers to reach a younger audience. So I hope that one day these different styles of music will be treated and respected in an equivalent way. It was unsurprising to find that Kroschel took this view of his art, for I was already aware that he had something of a preoccupation with Classical music. The first time I interviewed Kroschel in early 2014, he expressed his pleasure in seeing producers “open the genre to some other retro and vintage styles such as blues, rock’n’roll or even classic” (Inglis, 2014: 61), and he was to later experiment with this himself through his track ‘Für E-​Lise’ (Sound Nomaden, 2014), based around a sample of Beethoven’s Bagatelle No. 25. A similar instance can be found with German producer Balduin’s remix of the third movement of Mozart’s Piano Sonata No. 11: ‘Alla Turca’ (2018), whilst Captain Flatcap’s Chris Rotherham has expressed how part of his band’s sound comes from the fact that both himself and his brother Tom, who plays trumpet in the band, are classically trained (Captain Flatcap, 2016: 1.15). Rotherham’s more recent project, Chillbe (2020), demonstrates this to an even higher extent. One may also note Caravan Palace, of which violinist Hugues Payen has stated that “we were serious musicians at the beginning […] and we never forgot about this. It’s most important for us to focus on playing our instruments as much as putting energy into the show” (McGee, 2020: 209). An example of how Caravan Palace’s music lends itself to more Classical techniques came in 2018, when composer Siegmund Andraschek shared a video online of his arrangement of their ‘Lone Digger’ (2015), performed entirely by orchestra (Andraschek, 2018). Elsewhere, the act Deluxe have also had orchestras play their music, collaborating with one directly for their track ‘My World’ (2016). One of the most intriguing moments for the genre came in 2018, through the surprising medium of the Winter Olympics, held in South Korea. Four years prior, the event of figure skating introduced a new rule which allowed competitors to perform to songs with lyrics for the first time –​and this was the first Olympic event to recognise this development (Black, 2018). As a result of this, many routines began to include a soundtrack of popular music, as opposed to the Classical compositions that traditionally accompany the event, and in this particular competition, electro swing featured quite heavily. Australia’s Kailani Crane performed to the SwinGrowers’ remix of Caro Emerald’s ‘One Day’ (2014) in the women’s singles; and Emerald’s ‘That Man’ (2010) also featured in the pair skating routine of Germany’s Aliona

On Class and the Art Spectrum  147 Savchenko and Bruno Massot, who ended up winning the tournament –​ setting a new world record in the process. This same year, skaters Ashley Cain and Timothy LeDuc performed to the Electric Swing Circus’s ‘Bella Belle’ (2013) in the US Nationals –​such uses of the genre on this scale all signalling a change in its respective cultural associations. The finest example of this change can be seen through the work of Tony Culverwell, the DJ behind Mr Switch, and his groundbreaking work with composer Gabriel Prokofiev. The grandson of Sergei Prokofiev, Gabriel has long been involved in the eradication of such high–​low barriers, having set up the Nonclassical project in 2004, a London-​based record label and club night intended to present Classical music outside of the clichéd environments with which it tends to be associated, such as in pubs, clubs, or even warehouse parties. As is stated on the official website, “the success of the night partly stems from the fact that it presents classical as if it were rock or electronic music” (Nonclassical, 2018). In 2007, Prokofiev composed his Concerto for Turntables and Orchestra, which was subsequently performed in 2011 at the BBC Proms, with Culverwell being brought in as lead soloist, officially representing the first DJ to ever perform at this event. And whilst the piece in question was not an electro swing piece, it remains noteworthy that the DJ selected was one who had a background in this particular genre. I spoke to Culverwell about this performance, who explained to me that he considered it to be: really good for things like the Concerto to come in and sort of, actually analyse the techniques, and say ‘well, you don’t have to use them in a DJ battle in a hip hop scene, you know, they’re good techniques, and you can analyse them within the Classical tradition, they stand up to it’, and the fact that there are still more techniques to explore past that. Nick Hollywood raised a similar point with me, stating that “there was a debate a while ago whether turntablists were actual musicians –​I think that, we’re probably over that now, I think everyone’s kind of like, ‘actually there’s a lot of skill there, and it’s really difficult to do’ ”. This notion may be exemplified by the description given to turntablist JFB on the Ghetto Funk SoundCloud page, in stating that: In recent years the art of turntablism has spun off in myriad new directions, with techniques such as video scratching and instant sample creation representing a dramatic change for the discipline. Few artists have been further to the fore of these fresh developments than Brighton’s JFB, a scratch DJ and party rocker extraordinaire. (Ghetto Funk, 2015) It’s quite likely that the performance at the Proms played a role in this change of attitude; Culverwell himself noted this in suggesting that it “opened the

148  On Class and the Art Spectrum floodgates and said ‘okay, DJs can –​they can hold their own’ ”. He spoke to me of his thoughts prior to the performance, in that “it was a big risk because, it’s the first DJ on in 113 years”, but that afterwards, he “was actually quite surprised, it went down extremely well, it was one of the sort of highlights of the season”. And Culverwell would not be the last performer from this background to perform at the Proms either. In 2017, saxophonist Leo Pellegrino, who makes up one third of Too Many Zooz, was invited to perform as soloist during a tribute to Charles Mingus. Since this performance of Concerto for Turntables and Orchestra, both Culverwell and Prokofiev have continued working in this direction. Prokofiev has composed two more concertos for turntables, alongside various other pieces involving elements of turntablism, whilst Culverwell has subsequently toured alongside a full orchestra under the name Symphonica. I first encountered this act at their debut performance at Boomtown Fair in 2015, having been booked to open the Ballroom stage, the main stage of Mayfair Avenue. Received very favourably by the crowds, Symphonica fitted in easily amongst the rest of the electro swing acts, proving to be a highlight of that year’s festival –​at least for myself. And whilst Culverwell himself is slightly sceptical as to whether Symphonica should be considered amongst the electro swing genre –​telling me that “I don’t think Symphonica and electro swing is super related, but there are links, for sure” –​they have certainly been welcomed by the scene. Such fusions demonstrate a strikingly harmonious compatibility with one another, and fully display this process of cultural shift that is occurring throughout popular music. So if one does actively seek it, they will find plenty of justification for considering electro swing to be moving towards the realms of high art. Yet this is not to say that this is conclusively the case. And as I continued to find, there are some strong opinions that have argued the exact opposite to this suggestion.

The Rejection of High Art When discussing jazz with George Browne, he raised the point that “one of the reasons that jazz maybe lost its way a bit, is because people started trying to over-​intellectualise it”, and that he “would fear for electro swing, if it started […] thinking of itself in those terms”. I later saw a similar point raised by Too Many Zooz’ trumpeter Matt Doe –​in relation to hip hop –​who was to put out a statement online, arguing that: Jazz was destined for failure the minute it was brought into schools It began as something your parents didnt [sic.] want you to listen to And now it has become a vessel for academic bullshit And just for the record, hip hop is moving in the same direction. (2018)

On Class and the Art Spectrum  149 The worry is that –​as we saw with artists refusing to make their music more ‘serious’ –​an attempt to place these genres into a kind of high-​art category could ultimately damage them, by assessing them based on characteristics that should not really be considered beneficial. Artistic choices made with the intention of creating high art are not the same choices that would result in the best examples of the genre so far, and this has resulted in various participants actively avoiding the label of high art. For instance, when I posed this question to Nick Hollywood, he jokingly suggested that electro swing belonged “right down the bottom” of the spectrum. Later on, I continued to receive similar responses from others: maybe slightly snobbishly, I –​if you say high art, when I think about music, I think, I mean, kind of Classical music. (George Browne) what we’re doing, we’re unlikely for people to look at us like it’s high art. Not that it’s stupid, we’re not making shit pop music, but you know, it is what it is. (Tom Hyland) it kind of strikes me as one of those genres that’s probably never gonna be particularly critically adored. (Angus Harrison) I heard similar views from Michael Rack who, in comparing the genre to jazz, noted that “I always associate jazz as belonging to the same talent of, like, school as say, like a Classical-​trained musician”. This mention of talent is particularly intriguing, for it seemingly goes against Culverwell’s argument that DJs can stand up against other instrumentalists. The question of whether EDM can compare with some of the more traditional genres has been explored greatly, and raises pressing questions regarding how one may assess this genre in relation to high art. On this topic, journalist Michael Gelfand quotes DJ Fatboy Slim in suggesting that “there’s nothing to sit and listen to. It’s the soundtrack of your nights out rather than anything that’s supposed to be heard or discussed at home at great length” (1998: 18–​19) –​the implication being that there is nothing of true artistic merit within EDM. The point is made even more blatant when assessing particular subgenres such as hardcore techno, which “was a delinquent music […] it sounded like a giggle, a laugh. It was silly, quirky and off the wall. I think that’s why people could never appreciate it, because it never took itself too seriously” (Otchere, qtd. in Collin, 1998: 251). Reynolds continues this point, noting that fans of the style embraced its low-​art connotations, “turning the supposedly uneducated taste of the nutty raver into a badge of pride” (2013: 143). He also provides a particularly interesting account of the dubstep genre; contrasting the style with others

150  On Class and the Art Spectrum that tend to mature with age, he notes that “the total opposite happened with dubstep: instead of growing up, dubstep has grown down, age-​wise and in terms of sophistication” (ibid.: 700). Several of those with whom I spoke were to note that they didn’t consider themselves especially talented in their musicianship, implying that despite the inclusion of Mr Switch and a few other key musicians, electro swing does not require a colossal amount of talent. For instance, rapper Oli Corse spoke of his lack of musical knowledge with regard to some of the theory around production and composition: there’ve been countless times where I’m trying to explain something to like, one of the producers, and I can’t, because I don’t have the vocabulary, or I don’t understand how to express it. Similarly, Chris Tofu –​a DJ but not a producer –​argued that there was a particular level of skill required of this genre, but that he did not possess it; when asked whether he thought the genre required high levels of skill, he replied by saying that “yeah, otherwise I’d be making it”. And rapper David Bonnick Jr. also told me the tale of how he was initially hesitant to work with Elle and the Pocket Belles, as he didn’t consider himself to be on the same level as them in terms of talent. Describing them as “great, like, they’re vocally amazing, like, these girls are professional”, he told me how upon meeting them: I was like, ‘no way man, I can’t do that, I’m not good enough –​I’m not good enough to, you know, perform with these ladies, like, they’re great, like, no way, like, no –​I’m not, I’m not doing it, it’s not my thing, I’m more into the hip hop and rap –​I’m not doing that’. A similar point has been raised by McGee, who in discussing the Jazzanova outfit quotes producer Stefan Leisering in noting that “some less experienced DJs even boast their ability to produce remixes in mere hours, which often evidences the (lack of) quality and artfulness of these mixes” (2020: 63). Returning to Rack, he has several times made reference to what he would presumably consider his relative lack of musical skill –​stating once for instance that “I can’t play instruments for shit, hence being a DJ!” (May, 2016). One may also note a tweet he composed in 2017, in which he wrote: Any other DJ’s [sic.] out there that play live still walk up to the set up and have no idea what half the bloody buttons do? #confessions. (Dutty Moonshine, 2017) Rack once again repeated this point in 2021; in a tweet responding to the account representing Milton Keynes’s closed-​down Sanctuary venue –​in which it was written “all these nobs on mixers I don’t even know what they do

On Class and the Art Spectrum  151 I want to simplify the set up [sic.]” (Sanctuary Memories, 2021) –​Rack replied that “Im with you on not using most of the nobs on a mixer [sic.]” (Dutty Moonshine, 2021a). Having told me how “I think there’s a lot more talent behind, like, jazz or Classical”, the implication is that Rack’s concerns behind what may constitute high art largely come down to talent. This belief is somewhat shared by George Browne, who takes it one step further, even excluding jazz from the realms of high art: I was thinking about it as I was going on about it not being high art. I still think, if you went to a Classical musician, they would tell you that jazz is just people dicking around, and so it all depends on your perspective. Browne’s reference to “people dicking around” suggests that again, the perception of what may be considered high art is dependent upon levels of seriousness. And indeed, electro swing’s lack of seriousness has at times been one of its major criticisms. For instance, I spoke to journalist Angus Harrison, who in 2015 infamously penned an article entitled ‘Electro Swing is the Worst Genre of Music in the World, Ever’, and in discussing his reasons for disliking the genre so much, this is one of the main points that he alludes to: it’s just very, sort of, upbeat, in a way that I’m not always sure –​I think I like my music to be, yeah, sure, upbeat, but maybe diced with a bit more melancholy, or something slightly more sinister as well, whereas I feel like electro swing, largely, is pretty, like –​you know, happy stuff. As we have seen, this is very common view of the genre, and one which is embraced by many from within; Oli Corse was to notably tell me that it is “impossible to listen to electro swing and not, like, be happy”. But this is perhaps not an entirely fair characterisation. Indeed, several were to disagree, calling attention to aspects of electro swing that can be recognised as not entirely unserious at all: I would say our music is fun; we don’t want people to feel bad when they come to our concerts. But there are a lot of other emotions that I want to create too […] joy, anger, sadness, humour, wit, teasing, despair etc. all kinds of human emotions. (Alice Francis) there’s some very interesting kind of, downtempo stuff which is much more –​you know, if one kind of includes things like ProleteR, or you know, the sort of more hip hoppy end of things, there’s, you know it’s not at all kind of feel-​good music, it’s kind of quite –​a lot of that’s quite dark, you know. (Nick Hollywood)

152  On Class and the Art Spectrum Mr Woox–​makes that very dark, kind of, jazzy hip hop, that feels like it should be the soundtrack to a Raymond Chandler novel. (George Browne) acts like Chinese Man. You know, that’s not, that’s not all –​ha-​ha-​ha, jump around –​it’s pretty, pretty serious stuff. There’s plenty of electro swing in there. So, so yeah, so it doesn’t have to be, it doesn’t have to always be fun. (Tom Hyland) Thus, it’s not entirely accurate to suggest that electro swing is completely frivolous and fun, and there absolutely are examples to be found that demonstrate otherwise. I will state however that such examples should be taken with a grain of salt, as they make up what is certainly only a minority of the electro swing catalogue. One of the most seemingly honest responses I received in my interviews came from Kaptin Barrett, who in speaking of his reasons for getting involved in the genre, stated that “it was fun, that was the main thing throughout it all, we were just having a laugh”. This was reminiscent of a point raised by Rack the first time I interviewed him in 2015, who claimed that the role and function served by vintage music, for him, was simply “fun. Just straight fun” (Inglis, 2015: 21). One additional point may be raised when once again considering the changing face of jazz. As noted earlier, the first music to really challenge jazz’s status as low art was bebop; yet electro swing, as clearly demonstrated by its name, draws largely from the jazz produced before bebop, therefore carrying the resultant implications of jazz’s earlier forms. And whilst swing may have retrospectively inherited some of these high-​art connotations, it is not these connotations that are played upon by electro swing –​instead choosing to showcase the fun and excitement of Benny Goodman, Duke Ellington, and company. And such fun –​we may presume –​carries all the associations of low art. However, we may now acknowledge something of an oversight. Up until this point, we have assumed that supposed high-​art works should not aspire to hold any overt implications of fun and enjoyment –​yet this is in fact not the case. For instance, Joseph Haydn’s propensity for humour was such that one of his compositions, his String Quartet, Op. 33, No. 2 has been nicknamed The Joke. And whilst it’s not explicitly clear if it was intended to be comical, a great deal of humour has since been derived from the score for La Monte Young’s Composition 1960 #7, which simply places a B5 chord alongside the instruction “to be held for a long time”. Similarly, if one defines commercialism as a factor of low art, this too is a characteristic that is not entirely absent from many accepted examples of high art. Scott demonstrates this with references to several of history’s most revered composers: to choose examples from the careers of major figures in the classical canon, one can show that Mozart abandoned a flute concerto in

On Class and the Art Spectrum  153 mid-​composition because a commissioner failed to pay up; the same composer was persuaded by a concert promoter to a change a movement of his Paris Symphony; and it was a publisher who persuaded Beethoven to replace the finale of his late String Quartet in B flat with something more conventional (2005: 123) Thus, perhaps we should not be questioning electro swing’s potential positioning as high art, but rather, questioning the very situation in which art is placed upon this spectrum. It’s now more difficult than ever to determine where high art ends and low art begins, especially in terms of music. As a rhetorical example of this, let us look at Beethoven, arguably the pinnacle of high-​art musicians, whom Bachtrack identified as being the most performed composer of 2019 (2020, 1). One would surely have no dispute in agreeing that Beethoven represents the music of the upper-​classes. And if Beethoven is, then surely this status is shared by Wagner. One may begin to see where I am going with this. A similar status to Wagner is undoubtedly enjoyed by Debussy, and thus far, we have encountered little controversy. Yet Debussy was a strong influence upon the music of Stravinsky, which is where disagreement may first begin to be found. Whilst today, Stravinsky is often recognised as being amongst the most important composers of the 20th century, opinion during his own time was divided, and one is likely familiar with the story of the riots that broke out upon the premiere of The Rite of Spring in 1913 (Ross, 2008: 80–​82). Continuing along this route, if Stravinsky is considered high art today, then so too must John Cage, and hence, so too must Steve Reich. And if Reich is, then there’s no reason to say that Brian Eno isn’t. Of course, Eno’s extensive work with David Bowie ensures that the two of them must share a similar status. And whatever status Bowie holds, must surely be the same for Iggy Pop. Yet we’ve now somehow arrived at punk rock –​in many ways the antithesis of high art. What seems completely clear from this is that this way of viewing music is somewhat flawed. I would argue that this model is entirely unhelpful and outdated, and that we would do better to stop thinking of music in these terms. There is no inherent reason that an upper-​class individual can’t attend an electro swing event, just as there is no reason that a lower-​class individual can’t. I don’t wish to reject high art; I wish to reject the high–​low dichotomy which judges art on the social class of its attendants. As has been argued by Schiff, “the snobbery that mindlessly elevates some forms of music above others is morally offensive” (1993: 138), and in fact, such distinctions can be demonstrated to be rooted in outright racism: Nineteenth-​ century phrenologists correlated moral and intellectual characteristics with brain size and skull shape, creating a hierarchy that conveniently placed themselves, white men, at the top. Subsequently, as ‘highbrow,’ ‘lowbrow’ and ‘middlebrow’ came into common usage to

154  On Class and the Art Spectrum designate the relative worth of people and cultural activities, the social category of class was also mapped onto this hierarchy, and working-​class culture acquired the aura of primitivity that nineteenth-​century writers had projected onto non-​white races. (Walser, 1994: 235) Thus, we may consider these presumptions and attitudes that judge art on such merits to be ultimately detrimental to society, and we would be better off to do away with them. In which case, the question of where electro swing fits on this spectrum is ultimately irrelevant. And this was highlighted by a number of my interviewees, with Hollywood questioning “is there such a thing even as high art, and low art?”, and Browne expressing similar conclusions to me, arguing that the genre is “not really high art, it’s just art”. In Chapter 3, I spoke of Postmodern Jukebox, measuring their success by shows they’ve played in venues such as London’s Palladium, one of the city’s most prestigious theatres –​most famous for its association with the Royal Variety Performances, as well as numerous distinguished West End shows. I presented a similar example when first writing the thesis upon which this book is based, citing Caro Emerald’s show in Cardiff’s St David’s Hall, on the 24th of October 2018, which was held only one day after the same venue played host to the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra. In recognition that such performances are taking place within what is essentially the exact same context, one would not be far wrong in concluding that the boundaries that supposedly separate these art forms are in actuality fictitious. And it is through abandoning this way of thinking that one may begin to understand this genre –​or indeed, any genre –​for its own sake.

5 The Retrospective Tendencies of Music

The evolution of the electro swing sound, the extent to which it can be considered authentic, the influence of jazz, the racial and class-​based connotations, the genre’s place on the art spectrum –​these are all important considerations to make when analysing this movement. Yet if one were to ask what the most defining, most critical feature of the electro swing scene was, the answer would likely be none of these. For many of those involved, the most characteristic feature of electro swing is its use of the past, and the way in which it engages with and responds to the music and scenes that have come before it. This is the immediate first impression that the genre gives –​and resultingly, any analysis must take this into account and respond to electro swing’s preoccupation with history. Such tendencies can be described as nostalgic, and it is the use of nostalgia that this final chapter will ultimately focus on. Referring to nostalgia as “a painful yearning to return home”, Davis provides us with the following definition: Nostalgia is from the Greek nostos, to return home, and algia, a painful condition –​thus, a painful yearning to return home. Coined by the Swiss physician Johannes Hofer in the late seventeenth century, the term was meant to designate a familiar, if not especially frequent, condition of extreme homesickness among Swiss mercenaries fighting far from their native land in the legions of one or another European despot. (1979: 1) As the use of the term has evolved, it remains true that emotions of nostalgia are often accompanied by those of pain or distress; one may relate this to the complementary Welsh word hiraeth: “a pull on the heart that conveys a distinct feeling of missing something irretrievably lost” –​especially in the context of Wales or Welsh culture (Crossley-​Baxter, 2021). Yet this is not always the case, and in fact, a better way to describe the feeling might be bittersweet. Whilst the emotion can indeed have an element of gloom to it, it can also be extremely pleasurable and provoke positive reactions; Grainge notes this in relation to his discussion of the nostalgia mode, which “has no DOI: 10.4324/9781003254485-6

156  The Retrospective Tendencies of Music necessary relation to loss or longing” (2002: 21), and “borrows from the past without sentimentality, quotes from the past without longing, parodies the past without loss” (ibid.: 55). Grainge’s nostalgia mode is presented in contrast to his nostalgia mood, in separating genuine feelings of loss from one’s use of the past as an artistic construct. As he explains, the “nostalgia mood articulates a concept of experience […] this approximates the conventional sense of nostalgia as a yearning” (ibid.: 21), whereas the “nostalgia mode articulates a concept of style, a representational effect with implications for our cultural experience of the past” (ibid.). Hence, the mood concerns a feeling, whereas the mode concerns a style. Electro swing’s use of nostalgia undoubtedly falls within the category of the mode, which is acknowledged by Grainge, who notes that “in commercial and aesthetic terms, nostalgia has long been a ‘mode’ ” (ibid.: 27). Because of this, many have noticed a dichotomy between artistic representations and accurate portrayals of the past. Feintuch discusses this at length in relation to revivalist culture, arguing that “what they have actually done is create their own historically conditioned and socially maintained ‘artistic paradigm’, a transformation of the music –​and culture –​they think they have revived” (1993: 191–​192). Or, to put it more simply, they have “invented a tradition in order to revive it” (ibid.: 185). This suggestion was perhaps first explored within The Invention of Tradition (1983), in which Hobsbawm argues that “ ‘traditions’ which appear or claim to be old are often quite recent in origin and sometimes invented” (ibid.: 1). And whilst “many revivalist musicians assert that they’re bolstering a declining musical tradition” (Feintuch, 1993: 184), Feintuch suggests that “they are actually musical transformations, a kind of reinvention […], each revival achiev[ing] its own momentum with its own standard repertoire and styles and its own selective view of the past” (ibid.). Therefore, we may never have a fully accurate depiction of the past. Keightley and Pickering note this, discussing instead the idea of a continuum, with “history at one end, nostalgia at the other and memory as a bridge or transition between them” (2006b: 927). And whilst it’s been argued that “history and memory are by no means oppositional categories; they interact, overlap, and help construct each other” (Grainge, 2002: 125), Flinn has noted that “it’s important to recall, however, that these projections are produced solely through reading and that the radical sites they construct never actually existed” (1992: 154). The nostalgic feeling that one communicates then, does not necessarily represent a legitimate part of history, and the cause of the nostalgia itself may in fact be entirely fictional. Within music, Werner refers to this practice of referencing the past as syndesis, an approach which “allows descendants to respond to previous works of art by incorporating elements of those works into their ‘new’ creations” (1999: 334). Artists can therefore “[celebrate] the contributions of the past while also incurring prestige for themselves in the process” (Dowd, 2015: 182); this is described by Hersch as “a constantly evolving narrative in which past

The Retrospective Tendencies of Music  157 and present are continually being rewritten through a mutual engagement with each other” (2017). And as a result, we find that this practice is ubiquitous throughout the world of popular music –​not just within electro swing. This is humourously exemplified by the DJ JFB, who at one point within his mixtape ‘JFB MegaMix 2’, cuts the music, and we hear the following quote: 2012: the age of time where music producers take music that’s been sampled and sampled and sampled and sampled and sampled and sampled and sampled and sampled again, like this track by JFB and Mr Dero. (2012: 11.00) A similar example can be found through the track ‘Copy of a’ (2013) by Nine Inch Nails –​in which singer Trent Reznor announces: “I am just a copy of a copy of a copy; Everything I say has come before”. As has been put by Davis: “as one of art’s more enduring resources nostalgia need not merely feed upon or revel in the past; it can become the means for creatively using the past as well” (1979: 95). This is the direction that electro swing has taken, and its use of nostalgia remains a virtually essential part of the music, as well as of course the wider scene at large. I will thus proceed to explore the way such that tendencies have impacted our total understanding of the genre.

Looking Backwards in Electro Swing Every discussion that has been had so far in this book can be shown to feed into this issue of nostalgia. The entire genre of electro swing is fundamentally built around representations of the past, and all of the considerations that I have made thus far can be viewed through the lens of how such factors engage with the idea of this past. For instance, the notion of nostalgia plays a large role in determining levels of authenticity; this is especially evident across genres where arguments of which artists constitute the ‘real’ example of that genre can be found. For instance, in his analysis into ‘Real Hip Hop Vs. Fake Hip Hop’ (HipHopDX, 2017), rapper Murs questions the extent to which acts generally considered as authentic –​giving the example of New York’s 1990s duo Das EFX –​actually differ to those generally considered inauthentic –​ through the example of the more modern group Migos. Partway through the video, Murs exclaims that “let’s be honest. The only thing separating them two is nostalgia”. The suggestion is that when viewed through the lens of time, acts can often be given a value of authenticity based solely upon their place in history, that otherwise wouldn’t distinguish them from any other, present-​day act. Attitudes to nostalgia can also be shown to differ between contrasting nationalities and cultures. As demonstrated by Roediger and Wertsch, one’s cultural memory can be severely affected based on the contexts of where they were raised:

158  The Retrospective Tendencies of Music consider the striking differences in the history of the Second World War written by Russian, American, British, French, Japanese, Italian and Australian authors. What is central and heroic from one perspective is sometimes viewed as secondary and even morally questionable from another. For example, as Wertsch (in press) has noted, when Russians and Americans are asked to identify five critical turning points of the Second World War, they come up with quite different lists. In addition, the overall narratives of the Second World War as taught in school and as ingrained in the collective memory of the people often stand in stark opposition to one another. (2008: 12) Continuing on from this, they make the suggestion that “every modern state devotes massive resources to presenting an official national history, and this inevitably involves using a narrative that enhances some features and minimizes or ignores others” (ibid.: 14). The obvious conclusion we may take from this is the recognition that what some cultures may wish to remember –​ and thus feel nostalgic about –​others may not. Resultingly, there will be a considerable effect upon the ways in which different backwards-​looking art forms are made and represented. And similarly, nostalgia and memory can play a role in determining the musics that come to be categorised as high art. As we saw with jazz, it wasn’t until many years after the birth of this style that it came to be viewed in this way, with a new generation coming in who were able to look back and recognise the achievements that this art form was to make. Indeed, the positioning of different forms upon the art spectrum are not fixed, and countless ­examples –​ like jazz –​demonstrate the ways in which such considerations may change with time. And this even occurs with Classical music as well; as Flinn notes, “contemporary art music audiences get more opportunity to hear Beethoven performed than they do Steve Reich” (1992: 151). Such examples clearly demonstrate that the further back in the past something is, the more respect it will often be given today. It is for these reasons that I have saved this chapter for last; for as noted, essentially every aspect of electro swing can be understood through the idea of nostalgia. And this idea is overwhelmingly present throughout the genre; the role played by the notion of vintage is so present that it simply cannot be ignored. One may cite for example the video for Lyre Le Temps’ ‘Prohibition Swing’ (2016); this is a particularly characteristic music video for the genre, set in a 1920s speakeasy, complete with flappers, lindy hopping, gambling, and gangsters. These are all blatant signifiers of a particular era of history, and one which the producers of this video are resolutely determined to portray. Similar themes can be found in the videos for Smokey Joe and the Kid’s ‘Slow Drag’ (2014), Offbeat’s ‘Prohibition!’ (2016d), and Dutty Moonshine’s ‘Tommy & Loretta’ (2020a). On top of this, one can find electro swing club nights with names such as Prohibition –​held in Manchester –​or

The Retrospective Tendencies of Music  159

Figure 5.1 Poster for Swingamajig’s 2015 New Year celebrations. © Swingamajig.

The Speakeasy –​held in Sheffield. And other events have been just as overt with their branding, with tours such as Postmodern Jukebox’s Welcome to the Twenties 2.0, or a Swingamajig event which carried the tagline “party like it’s 1929!” (see Figure 5.1). In fact, the scene has become so associated with this idea of the past that some fans and practitioners seem to associate the genre primarily with the notion of vintage first, before any concerns of music. For instance, Kaptin Barrett spoke to me of how “in terms of electro swing, it’s more the vintage element of it [than the use of jazz], that drew me in”, whilst blogger George Browne explained how he too first discovered electro swing through his preoccupation with the notion of vintage: I’ve always enjoyed, particularly the fashion. I like a good suit, I like a good hat, and that was definitely a kind of –​a catalyst for the whole thing, if not a driver. As I said, I’d been going to a few of these kind

160  The Retrospective Tendencies of Music of vintage parties, like the Blitz Party, and that kind of thing, and just finding, kind of –​that kind of old-​school glamour very attractive, and sort of, almost bewitching actually –​it kind of made me feel a bit giddy […] the very notion that parties like that existed, and it was more than just a fancy dress party, was quite –​yeah, it was exciting. And so, that –​the movement was definitely –​my path was definitely much more from vintage fashion, into vintage music, into vintage remix –​rather than from dance music into, into it. I had a similar discussion with Richard Shawcross –​the DJ behind C@ in the H@ –​who explained to me how some of the attendees he’s found at his shows have been much more drawn to the idea of the past than with the music itself: that film, The Great Gatsby, you know? That whole side of things has, has [laughs], has brought in a different, a different crowd of people, but they don’t really –​they want the feel of the vintage, but they don’t really know the music at all. I’ve already mentioned Baz Luhrmann’s adaptation of The Great Gatsby several times, and with good reason, for one cannot overstate the importance of this film to the popularity of electro swing; it has helped to inspire an entirely new movement of revivalism, and an altogether new trend for reinventing the past. This notion of valuing the idea of the past more than the actual art being celebrated can also be shown to have extended to the contemporary lindy hop scene. As Cat Foley was to explain to me: 10, 15 years ago –​most workshops, when they had a taster class, would be in hip hop. Now that’s really changed –​people are, I think, more, kind of purist now, in terms of wanting to learn vintage-​style dancing. There’s a lot that can be extrapolated from this. As noted in Chapter 1 –​and explored extensively by various other authors (Conyers, 2001; Perchard, 2011; Stewart and Duran, 1999; Williams, 2014) –​a clear link can be drawn between the movements of jazz and hip hop, which is demonstrative of the persevering character of the music, present throughout several styles respective to their time. And yet, whilst this was initially recognised and acknowledged as an important aspect of the music, the suggestion has come through that there is something pure about this original era, of which it would be detrimental to have infused with more contemporary influences. This obsession with a past era can be demonstrated through the views of Lennart Westerlund, the founder of the Herräng swing dance camp, who has stated that “I was not only interested in the dance, the dance was priority number one, but I was interested in everything that kind of took place in Harlem at the time” (McGee,

The Retrospective Tendencies of Music  161 2020, 133). In contrast, a large part of what drew Foley to her experimentation with electro swing was a rejection of this approach –​instead desiring to present the dance as something more modern. As she continued, “particularly because the scene has gone so, so vintage –​it’s really fun to suddenly whack someone in the head with some different style”. Indeed, the problems with purist revivalism will be discussed shortly. During this research, I posed the question to various participants of what they considered the use of vintage music to bring to electro swing, receiving some rather telling answers. For instance, Chris Tofu was to respond by announcing that it simply “brings amazing music. Amazing, well made, brassed-​up music, based on that 1930s, 1920s-​’50s remixes […] it’s just the best fucking music, you know, sort of like, shits all over the fucking one-​ computer hip hop music, and stuff like that, you know, in terms of musical content”. The suggestion is clearly that Tofu feels the contemporary scene is lacking something that was once so present within the music of the past –​an implication which will be explored shortly. And similarly, producer Tobias Kroschel explained to me that his use of vintage stylings helps him create a mood that he doesn’t think would be available through more contemporary methods: “the idea of vintage plays a role for me. Old music or vintage elements can sometimes create those positive nostalgic feelings and I like to work with that”. Another appeal behind the use vintage influences within electro swing comes with the idea of bringing different generations together to listen to the same music. Kroschel has raised this point with me in the past, arguing that: if you give vintage music a modern twist or put it in the right context people will feel it, even if they’re born in a different generation. The great opportunity of using musical themes or samples from old decades is, that you can reach people from age of 16–​80 years. It is an amazing experience to see these different generations dancing together on the same music. (Inglis, 2017: 51) And again, I found this point being raised by several others. For instance, Jim Burke spoke of how his act “seems to go through generations, which is really nice” –​and that “people will come along and say ‘oh, my grandad introduced me to you’ or something like that, so it really does go, really through the generations”. And DJ Sacha Dieu tells a similar story: I used to have old guys come up to me and go “I love this, what is this, this is great”, and I could see it, you know, their face beamed up, and it was just, like –​I was talking to them because it was old music, but I was also talking to young people, because it was remixed. So I felt like it was hitting, you know, two generations at the same time, and I thought that was great fun.

162  The Retrospective Tendencies of Music What is also very apparent is the various ways in which different artists will play with this idea of nostalgia, presenting elements of the past through increasingly creative methods. The extent to which this may play out is described of Oli Corse, who –​in relation to his Swinghoppers act –​explained to me that “everything we do wants to be, like, a kind of remix or re-​imagining of something”. To show some examples of how this may extend beyond simply the music itself –​this may be something as simple as a name; for instance, one many cite Chad Sells, who as we have seen, performs under the name of Duke Skellington. This is an obvious play of words intended to reference Duke Ellington, and Sells was to discuss how he came up with this name, explaining how he views electro swing as: a juxtaposition of some of the oldest recorded, you know, dance music with the newest, most futuristic, you know, electronic, and dance music. And so, I really liked that hybrid, and so, I knew I wanted to come up with a name for myself that was a hybrid, of something old, and something kind of –​not necessarily new, but something that was like –​like, had like, a play on words of some sort. Sells is not alone in this decision to name himself after an iconic jazz artist. To look at the album Swing & Bass Vol. 1 (2019) alone –​this compilation features Duke Skellington, alongside artists such as Fizzy Gillespie, Count Bassy, and Skank Spinatra –​respectively references to Dizzy Gillespie, Count Basie, and Frank Sinatra. As one digs deeper throughout electro swing, the variety of ways in which artists may reference the past becomes more and more apparent. In terms of how this presents itself sonically, the most obvious example comes through direct references to past musics, through sampling, remixing, or covering, etc. But artists may also choose to use specific stylistic techniques to showcase their devotion to this era. For example, on top of their sampling of classic jazz, McGee notes how in relation to the Electric Swing Circus: Other jazz-​era references occurred mimetically as evidenced by the sometimes Django-​inspired hard-​hitting rhythmic comping style of guitarist Tom Hyland. Additionally, the full-​voiced musical theatre or cabaret style vocalising of Vicki Olivia and Fe Salomon also provided a link to the styles of the 1930s and 1940s. (2020: 185) McGee later continues, noting how “unlike some remix genres, where the extreme manipulation and de-​familiarisation of samples constitutes the aesthetic end, for many electro swing artists, the recognition of the unique timbral quality of particular players on these recordings remains critical” (ibid.: 192). What we find then is that the band have consciously utilised extensive audible

The Retrospective Tendencies of Music  163 methods by which they may replicate the idiosyncratic timbres of the past. An example of this can also be found with Caravan Palace, and McGee continues, noting their need to “remain conscientious about how they record acoustic instruments such as the piano and guitar in order to capture the correct timbre of these jazz instruments originally mixed with the limited frequency spectrum of vintage soundstages” (ibid.: 204). Such limitations of past recording techniques is of particular importance for electro swing, through the way in which apparent lower production values can clearly signify the presence of the past. For instance, Rietveld speaks of “the recycling of old vinyl as raw material” (1998: 27–​28), with Fisher pointing out that the inclusion of the sound of vinyl “crackle makes us aware that we are listening to a time that it is out of joint” (2014: 21), and that it “both invokes the past and marks our difference from it” (ibid.: 144). As highlighted by Reynolds, electro swing is not the first genre to make use of such techniques: Examples include 1968’s retreat from 1967’s psychedelic studio excesses to a more gritty, blues-​and-​country-​influenced sound; grunge’s rejection of eighties rock’s crystal-​clear production in favour of the muddy naturalism of early-​seventies heavy rock; lo-​fi ’s fetish for four-​track recording and distortion. As techno has become more self-​conscious about its own history, it has staged periodic returns to period sounds, like the Roland 303, or electro’s gauchely futuristic textures and stiff, geometric drum-​ machine beats. (2013: 463) As he notes, at various points in time, “the leading edge of music involves strategic retreat from the state-​of-​the-​art towards more limited technological setups” (ibid.: 463) –​and this is quite clearly no more the case than in electro swing. One may cite for example Alice Francis, who spoke to me of the production methods her band had previously utilised, in that “we used old radios and phonographs for the first production, which [band member Goldie] had reconstructed or repaired”. Resultingly, we may find a very strong sonic association with the past, beyond simply the music alone. References to the past then permeate all the way through the electro swing genre. Samples, remixes, and covers of the original music itself; production techniques designed to make the music sound older; references in both the names of acts and the names of events; the fashion and stage costumes worn; the décor of the venues –​it is clear that representations of a bygone era provide an essential component to the genre. As we have seen, all the discussions had thus far throughout the book may also lead into considerations of nostalgia. It was thus surprising for me then, to discover that not all of those whom I interviewed were to consider this notion as important as I initially expected.

164  The Retrospective Tendencies of Music

The Rejection of Nostalgia In Chapter 4, I discussed Angus Harrison, the Vice journalist made infamous for his article describing electro swing as the “Worst Genre of Music in the World, Ever” (2015). As noted, one of the reasons for his hostility towards electro swing related to the upbeat nature of the genre, in that he did not feel it held enough emotional depth or maturity for his liking. But as he also explained to me, the main reason behind his dislike resulted directly out of the genre’s obsession with nostalgia: if I had to, like, boil it down to one thing, it would basically be the kind of, extreme glorification of the past –​it’s kind of, it’s a type of nostalgia that I find quite sickly, I’m kind of –​I’m, I’m a sucker for nostalgia as every single person is, but I sort of find too high dosages of it can be unhealthy; and I think, possibly unfairly, I also attached to that sort of nostalgia, and to electro swing, a slight sort of –​perhaps a, an objectification of the past in such a way that is almost sneering at the present. Perhaps an idea that there is, you know, something that has been lost in music, which I sort of find a bit –​a bit reductive. This form of nostalgia is described by Howard as the “poverty of the present requirement” (2012: 643). This can be described as a belief “predicated on […] the assumption of an earlier time of cultural wholeness that is now at risk of fragmentation, if not dissolution” (Maira, 2005: 203); or put simply, “an evaluation that the past was preferable to the present” (Howard, 2012: 642). And Harrison is right to acknowledge the presence of this throughout electro swing; one need only return to Chris Tofu’s assertion that the music of the past “shits all over” that of today. It is understandable to see then, why one might choose to reject nostalgia; for indeed, in the eyes of many, “nostalgia [has become] associated with a defeatist attitude to present and future” (Keightley and Pickering, 2006b: 920). This view has been summed up accurately by the makers of the Cracked online series ‘People Watching’, who argue that not only is it counterproductive to view the past as superior to the present, but in fact, wholly inaccurate: we’re supposed to yearn for the good old days. We’re supposed to look around like we’re the end of history, and think that everything is fucked and it all gets gradually worse, but that’s bullshit, because I look back –​ and I can only speak for myself –​but I never had so much as I have now. (2017) And in terms of how this position may impact the production of the music itself, Nick Hollywood was to explain to me his view that a laser-​focused emphasis on nostalgia can indeed be detrimental to the genre, and that it

The Retrospective Tendencies of Music  165 should be considered just as necessary for electro swing to have its eye firmly set on the present: no, not really, I mean it, you know, I think –​I mean for me, it was always really important that it was forward looking and, you know, bringing the contemporary part in, is just as important as bringing in the old part. I mean, I never liked that thing of, you know –​you’re not trying to recreate a 1920s nightclub –​you’re trying to create a –​something that takes elements of that, and brings up some of the, you know, mystique and magic of that, but, you know, it’s not a sort of, you know –​you’re not trying to create the old thing, you’re trying to create something new, and different. So, it’s a fusion. Yeah, so it’s definitely not –​I wouldn’t say it’s nostalgic, yeah. There are some clear examples of the ways in which this nostalgic fixation can be shown to have negatively impacted the contemporary swing scene. For instance, McGee discusses: The jazz dance troupe, the Harlem Hot Shots from Stockholm, who rigorously studied older jazz films from the 1930s and 1940s, and recreated particular routines for short films which then circulate to the international Lindy Hop dance community through YouTube. (2020: 34). Featured on their official website, the Harlem Hot Shots have slogans such as “No modernizing. No compromising”. (ibid.: 166). The irony of such a position –​when the global lindy hop scene is doing as much as it can to progressively widen its overall representation –​is overwhelming, and such attitudes can only serve to hinder the spread of the dance movement at large. There has also been criticism within the lindy hop movement of the way in which competitions may be judged partially on the historic accuracy on one’s clothing, as opposed to their actual dancing prowess. Various commentators have noted this, pointing out that “you are being judged much sooner than you may realize” (Lynam, 2015), with online advice suggesting that “in a sport for which you are being judged on how you look and move, clothing and attire are very important” (West Coast Swing Online, 2019). In fact, in her analogous study into competitive ballroom dancing, Nurse suggests that “some dancers won competitions thanks to how they looked rather than by their competence and comportment in the dance” (2007: 101), telling the story of one dancer who: wore a tail suit with a dark brown jacket and light brown trousers, which matched his partner’s outfit. Bryn Allen, one of the top judges and ballroom dance experts rather liked it, but he commented in his column in Dancing News that he noted for the final round of the competition the

166  The Retrospective Tendencies of Music dancer changed back to the more conventional tails because he feared that the die-​hard traditionalists might show their objection in the markings. (ibid.) And one can view these problems of nostalgia play out in the world of music as well –​most notably through the example of Wynton Marsalis, as discussed in Chapter 2. Indeed, Marsalis has even been famously quoted as saying that “when people dress well, they play well” (Wall Street Journal, 2013) –​seemingly overlooking the socio-​economic origins from which jazz was birthed. A further criticism of the nostalgic outlook comes in the recognition that –​ as discussed above –​some of those engaging with the past do so only for the nostalgic feeling alone, without paying any interest to the actual specifics of what they are engaging with. In the case of music, one might then find old songs being stripped of their original meaning, instead being reduced to simply a vague representation of the past: we may point to a similar erosion of meaning when old phonograph records are played, from whatever new format, as loose background associated with a particular decade of the past century. The investment of personal meaning in a piece of music, or the sense in which it seemed to speak to a precise historical moment in the past, are then attenuated and in some cases lost completely. (Keightley and Pickering, 2006a: 158) As these authors continue, “the proliferation of mediated representations of the past, cut loose from their referential moorings, no longer represent temporal meaning but a generalized ‘pastness’ ” (ibid.: 158). And Samuel has highlighted these issues too, discussing how they play out in relation to the art of photography; as he states, “colour and tone […] seem to matter more than topic”, and therefore “a sepia-​tinted print of a 1906 football team […] is quite as serviceable as women demonstrating for the suffrage” (1994: 359). Such a widespread occurrence of nostalgia then can be said to be causing people to actually forget the past, in terms of its specific meaningful components. When it comes to electro swing, several of the artists with whom I spoke expressed their view that their music should not be considered in a nostalgic way: not really […] any time it’s been about me and my past, the music has been more about trying to capture that emotion of that thing I’m rapping about, as opposed to, like, a period that it’s from. (Oli Corse) I wouldn’t say it’s really so much nostalgia, it’s just like, a reminder of that whole existence of that amazing stuff. (Chris Tofu)

The Retrospective Tendencies of Music  167 I don’t think I choose to play vintage music. I think I choose to play music that I like, number one; number two, that kind of resonates in me. (Sacha Dieu) The artist perhaps most opposed to this idea of vintage was Ashley Slater, one half of the duo Kitten and the Hip. Upon my asking of whether the notion of vintage plays a role for his act, Slater’s response was an adamant “no. Not in the slightest”. Continuing, he went on to explain how, “I think that’s just a thing that a lot of youthful people go through […] I’m an old fucker, so I don’t care about any of that shit, I just wear what I wanna wear”. In fact, this lack of adherence to vintage culture was so distinct that he recalled a story in which “I remember playing one gig, and they were –​they didn’t like us, because we weren’t wearing vintage clothing, I was just like, ‘well, fuck you mate, I’m an artist, I wear what I want, regardless of genre’ ”. The response of this audience tells an interesting story, in that the idea of vintage has become so caught up with the genre, that there is seemingly an expectation thrust upon artists to play up to this image, even if they themselves may not wish to. I received similar responses from both Dutty Moonshine’s Michael Rack and the Electric Swing Circus’s Tom Hyland: we play upon it, for, for –​for fun I guess […] but that’s just a gimmick, that’s just fun to play with, the actual –​it’s not important to us, and when we’re writing the music, we’re writing stuff that we like. (Rack) [Is your influence the idea of the past, or just the sounds of the past?] sounds from the past. Very much so, very much so, yeah. We’re –​like, we never –​you’ll not catch us –​I mean basically, we’re on stage [laughs], we’re not wearing vintage clothes, we’re wearing black trousers –​I’m wearing black jeans, braces, and a white shirt. Like, it’s not –​you know, we’re not dressing up like we’re, we’re from the past, none of us do. The girls are all in headdresses, it’s all –​it’s a show, it’s not –​it’s a show using stylings that you might recognise from the ‘20s and ‘30s, but it’s definitely not, you know –​it’s something completely different. (Hyland) Both Rack and Hyland present useful case studies however, as along with being professional musicians, they are both responsible for managing distinct electro swing events: the Roaring 2.0s club night and the Swingamajig festival, respectively. What I have found is that in both cases, the idea of vintage is brought to the forefront much more significantly for their respective events than for each of their musical acts. Indeed, the Roaring 2.0s shows a clear indication of its vintage influence within its very name; and I have already discussed the extent to which this same influence has played a serious role in the aesthetic of the Swingamajig festival. Speaking with Rack, he

168  The Retrospective Tendencies of Music was to acknowledge this separation between approaches himself, stating that “they’re different projects, it’s why I run it”. I received a similar response from Mr B’s Jim Burke, who explained that whilst his act does play upon this notion of vintage to a certain extent, it’s of a lesser importance than one might initially assume: it’s both important, and not nearly as important as, you know, it’s –​it’s one of those things, that –​chap hop, you know, I always have to say to people, you know, especially people at vintage events –​say, sometimes, because I will sometimes wear, you know, Cazal glasses, and Adidas trainers and things like that with my suit, and you know, I do have to remind people that, you know, there is hop in chap hop, as in there is, you know, electro in electro swing and things like that, you know, it’s not –​some people are just very sort of, you know, staunchly vintage, and live their lives in the 1940s and that’s not me, really, at all. As with Nick Hollywood above, Burke considers the contemporary elements of his act to be just as essential a component to the overall impression he hopes to give, rather than simply that of a pure revivalist. In fact, as discussed earlier, it can be argued that pure revivalism is not possible to a full extent –​for any performance created within a contemporary framework will inherently bring with it associations of the present day. This argument forms the crux of Loss’s Nothing Has Been Done Before (2017), in which –​despite acknowledging the recent boom in popularity of backwards-​ looking genres –​he argues that any performance heard in a distinct context will inescapably bring a possibility for “newness”. For instance, discussing the rap genre, Loss puts forth that: rap, founded on the recombination of preexisting music, radically changed what could be said in music and American culture; as a recurrence, it reclaimed the original and too often obscured newness of Black music and the revolutionary potential of civil rights. In less than ten years, rap proved that recombination and recurrence can contribute to an event if they create new possibilities. (ibid.: 26) Responding to the likes of Reynolds –​whose book Retromania (2011) highlighted what is argued to be a lack of innovation in recent years –​Loss suggests that Reynolds “sees the anxiety of influence as a parallel to an increasing awareness of music, but Reynolds argues this knowledge has led to the end of anxiety, the end of artists trying to be original” (2017: 58). Countering this, Loss argues that such a position is based upon “not the anxiety of influence or belatedness, but an anxiety about the scale of newness” (ibid.: 70). And taking this argument further, he claims that “for all of Reynolds’ concern with time in Retromania, the irony is that his book is obsessed by form and

The Retrospective Tendencies of Music  169 genre, by material and discipline, without much accounting for historical or cultural context outside of music itself ” (ibid.: 71). The conclusion we may take is that originality –​like influence –​is to some extent inescapable, as a result of the ever-​changing context of the world around us. Artists may of course utilise elements of revivalism, but never to a truly revived extent. The balance comes in managing the extent to which nostalgia may be utilised. Tobias Kroschel expressed his love for vintage stylings as shown above, but he also highlighted that “I don’t think that old times were better times, by no means”. On top of this, many of the artists who seemed firmly opposed to the idea of nostalgia would seemingly not always stick completely to these views in practice. For instance, Nick Hollywood, despite firmly arguing for the importance of the modern aspect, suggested that the vintage outfits worn throughout electro swing held their own particular worth, admitting that “the whole sort of dressing up element is kind of –​ can be seen as nostalgic”. And Sacha Dieu, although claiming that the era of the music he plays holds no personal significance, went on to express his deep love for representations of the 1920s: the concept of the 1920s music, and the 1920s era, is always kind of –​ I think there’s some kind of romantic idea about it, that those times were great and people were having great fun, and it was quite, you know, hedonistic […] I just think there’s something elegant about that era. Even Ashley Slater, who seemed to completely rule out any suggestion of vintage influence within his work, would go on to concede that in terms of fashion, he “did tailor the look to be something that could almost be associated with electro swing”. It is tempting to conclude then that such artists will invariably draw influence from the past even when they are claiming not to, and that nostalgia is simply an inherent tendency of their character. This is an idea which will be examined later on in this chapter. And what we also find is that, regardless of the extent to which the artists may suggest nostalgia does or doesn’t play a role, for audiences –​it definitely does. We saw this with the testimony of George Browne above, and with the fact that events-​organisers tend to cater directly to this mindset through the way they theme such events. Even if the likes of Slater do not wish to be associated with vintage or retro implications, the vast majority of shows that such acts end up playing unavoidably have these associations already in place; as we’ve seen several times throughout this book, this comes from a desire for escapism, which electro swing provides. As Kaptin Barrett was to tell me, “people just like to dress up”, and electro swing patently allows its participants to dress up and to escape into an imagined world of the past. This is arguably the fundamental reason behind electro swing’s extensive utilisation of nostalgia. But it is not the only reason –​and arguably the one of least serious consequence. One further explanation which I would like to explore is the idea of restoration.

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The Restoration of Past Styles A perfect example of a way in which an act has used nostalgic influences for these purposes can be found with the track I cited earlier as one of the very first examples of the jazz rap genre –​Stetsasonic’s ‘Talkin’ All That Jazz’. Verse three of this track contains the following lyric: Tell the truth, James Brown was old; ‘til Eric and Ra came out with ‘I Got Soul’; Rap brings back old R&B; And if we would not, people could’ve forgot. (1988) Here, Stetsasonic are directly referencing Eric B. and Rakim’s hip hop classic, ‘I Know You Got Soul’ (1987), which as described by Huey, “single-​ handedly kicked off hip-​hop’s infatuation with James Brown samples” (2018). The extent to which hip hop draws directly from James Brown –​ as well as a few other artists such as Parliament-​Funkadelic –​is widely acknowledged, and indeed, in Lena’s study of sample origins within hip hop, she found that Brown was by far the most sampled artist, making up 115 of the 976 samples in her investigation (2004: 305). Noted by Perchard, “it was the funk of twenty years earlier that most helped define hip hop’s soundworld at the end of the [1980s] decade” (2011: 283), and as such, the music of James Brown was being kept very much alive for a new generation. The implication being made by Stetsasonic then is that if it weren’t for hip hop artists like Eric B. and Rakim, Brown’s popularity might have otherwise declined to a point of relative obscurity. Hip hop has therefore restored the notoriety of Brown, subsequently bringing him back into the spotlight. I will give a further example, this time through the medium of cinema, regarding the film O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000) –​the soundtrack of which featured a strong emphasis on the American folk revival, helping to repopularise this particular genre. As discussed by Loss, “O Brother and the new millennial folk revival it stimulated implied the return of something good, some ‘original newness’ worth saving from the remainder bin of history” (2017: 23). The vast majority of this film’s audience would have undoubtedly been largely unfamiliar with this style prior to their first viewing, and the film thus helped to introduce this audience to the vast swathes of American folk for the first time. This is noted by Holt, who argues that “the popularity of the film was conditioned by the fact that the majority of the audience was too young to have experienced its predecessors”, and that “like most revivals, the roots revival is fuelled by a strong sense of excitement about discovering a hitherto unknown past” (2007: 38). Extending this idea to jazz, Reynolds gives an insight from journalist Max Jones, who “refers to jazz-​revival bands playing songs ‘old enough to be

The Retrospective Tendencies of Music  171 new’ ” (2011: 213), and furthers this view himself by describing how musicians “could explore [the past] like an undiscovered land and bring back exotica to enrich the present” (ibid.: 229). And in speaking specifically of swing, Shipton has stated that “the music may be well worn in the jazz community, but performing swing-​era material for a young audience is introducing it to that listenership for the first time” (2007: 718). Again, we may observe the utilisation of past influences as a positive force in the overall preservation of the genre. If contemporary artists were not to use funk, folk, or jazz in these ways, then as Stesasonic put it so bluntly, they may well get forgotten about by the current generation. Jazz is certainly a genre that is at risk of falling victim to cultural dereliction, for it already holds one of the most threatening connotations in this sense –​that being music for a past generation. It is widely regarded that “in the minds of many members of the public at large, and even some musicians, jazz today has come to represent the past rather than the present” (Nicholson, 2005: x), and the evidence for this is not just anecdotal. For instance, Taylor points to the sales of jazz records, noting that record companies “overwhelmingly favor reissues of old records over new ones” (Friedwald et al., 2002: vii). One explanation for this is provided by Nicholson: When Louis Armstrong recorded ‘West End Blues’, Charlie Parker ‘Ko-​ ko’, and John Coltrane ‘Giant Steps’, these were, in the context of their time, stunning achievements. They went beyond the confines of what was thought possible. […] In jazz we [now] are knee-​deep in the litter of repeated triumphs. (Friedwald et al., 2002: 13) Jazz –​as discussed in Chapter 2 –​is a genre which proudly builds upon its own history; yet the greater its history becomes, the less opportunity there is for a newer artist to demonstrate truly revolutionary potential. In contrast, earlier musicians like Parker and Coltrane arguably had far more opportunity to delve into the unexplored. On top of this, by this very virtue, jazz will of course sound dated, for it inherently contains all the most influential elements of the past 100 years. This is noted by Porter, who speaks of how “ ‘jazz’ as a musical, cultural, and critical practice profoundly emphasizes its own history, and it has done so for many decades” –​a process he describes as “encod[ing] the past in symbol form to make a present”, and one which he states “remains a key component of the performative and relative aspects of music making” (2012: 16). Contemporary jazz needs then to be thought of as old, at least to some extent, in order for it to remain genuine jazz. Quoting critic Stanley Crouch, Hersch argues this very point: if you don’t remind somebody of the past, you’re not in the idiom you claim that you’re in. For somebody to say, “I’m a jazz musician but I don’t

172  The Retrospective Tendencies of Music sound like anything from the past”, well, if you don’t sound anything like the past, then you’re not a jazz musician. (2008: 19) Summarising this point, Hersch asserts that “the jazz tradition has historical weight, rooted in the practices of thousands of musicians, which cannot be theorized away” (ibid.: 19). By this argument then, a jazz musician is obligated to make efforts to evoke the past, in order to remain within the domain of jazz. In practice, one can find several clear examples of how this line of thought may present itself, with the potential for complications. For instance, upon the announcement of 2018’s New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival, the event was criticised –​perhaps rather ironically, considering its designation as a heritage festival –​for the advanced age of many of the musicians booked to perform; online comments included such remarks as “how many senior citizens can you have headlining a festival?” (MacCash, 2018b). As a result of these sorts of associations, some jazz festivals have made active attempts to turn this view around. Ciro Romano, founder of the UK’s Love Supreme jazz festival –​held annually in Sussex –​has spoken of his attempts to keep the music fresh, stating that “we’ve taken it out of the city, we’ve taken it out of the concert halls and we’ve taken it out of the grey hair basically” (McInnis, 2018). When it comes to electro swing, this consideration of jazz as something antiquated has persisted. We have clearly seen this through the vast references to the past as discussed above, and several artists were even more direct when it came to the importance of vintage stylings. When asked about the extent to which this notion was important to the genre, various artists were to tell me how they considered it essential in their representation of the jazz sound: if you wanna achieve a song which is swing, and jazz, than yeah, definitely. (Mark Camps) well, to electro swing –​massively. (Tom Hyland) Kaptin Barrett –​who of course noted earlier that it was the use of vintage that attracted him more than the use of jazz –​shared a similar thought with me, noting that “for me it was more about the vintage element –​I’m a massive jazz fan –​but I really equate the two, you know?”. What we can gather from all of this is that, in the eyes of the majority of electro swing practitioners, the twin notions of jazz and vintage are simply inseparable. It is for this reason that this practice of restoration has become so important for the genre. For, if jazz is something that is to be overwhelmingly associated with the past, then there is a recognised need for a genre like electro swing to make it accessible to a contemporary audience; as put by McGee, “electro swing makes the jazz past audible for today’s popular music youth culture” (2020: 172). The first time I observed this idea in direct relation to electro

The Retrospective Tendencies of Music  173 swing came via an interview I found with Alex Rizzo, one half of the duo Skeewiff: I also feel as if I am offering a service. An electro-​swing track is part restoration, not just another remix. A lot of those incredible tracks could have been forgotten or disappeared over time as the masters were recorded in mono with a very limited frequency and dynamic range on shellac that degraded after the first few plays […] By refreshing old masterpieces, it gets the tracks out there and being enjoyed by a whole new generation.. and that is precisely what Skeewiff is all about. (electro-​swing.com, 2012) A similar interpretation can be found with Mark Camps, the DJ behind Extra Medium. It has since changed, but when I first met Camps, his online Twitter biography read “Bristol based Upcycler of fine vintage music!”. I questioned Camps as to what he meant by the use of this word, and he explained how upcycling is a term that they use in, like, repurposing, so it’s taking a song which, I like to say it’s something that probably hasn’t had much, many plays, or much exposure in the last, however long […] and taking that and giving it a new lease of life. Drawing comparisons with how someone might build a modern bench out of a wooden pallet, Camps spoke of how they’ll pick up something that’s unused –​the pallet –​I pick up something that’s unused, which is a song that’s not getting listened to, and then I go, well let’s turn that on its head and make it into something that –​I really like the song, and turn it into something I like even more. Thus, he considers his work to be “repurposing something that might be forgotten”. There is then an element to which these artists seem to be feeling a certain degree of responsibility. Camps was also to describe his art as “a homage to the original writer and performer of the song”, and thus one might claim that these artists are doing jazz somewhat of a service, by reinvigorating it in this way. Throughout my interviews, this idea that such artists were committed to the notion of keeping jazz alive was to crop up again and again: certainly our generation, it’s dying out, the knowledge and stuff, so I guess it is quite nice to give people a little something, and if we do a cover of something, I always give –​I always like to give them a little tidbit about something […] just in the hope that maybe 1% might go google it, going “oh, what’s the original” or something. (Michael Rack)

174  The Retrospective Tendencies of Music it’s kind of forgotten, so the other mission for us is there –​we’re actually taking that back to the youth, and letting them know there is this style of music, because it’s not even –​hardly any of the youth know that sort of period existed. (Chris Tofu) in remixing genres like Swing, Blues, Jazz or Classical I have the opportunity to reach young people that are mainly listening to Electronic Dance Music and maybe never would listen to this “older” genres on their own. So, there is a big chance to reach and educate new generations of listeners in remixing these genres. (Tobias Kroschel) This is such the case that even artists who were somewhat hesitant to speak of electro swing in jazz terms would recognise this benefit. This was certainly the case with Ashley Slater, who acknowledged that –​even though electro swing was quite distinct from jazz in his mind –​“what things like this do tend to do –​is heighten people’s interest in something, so they’re like, ‘okay, what’s this?’. And then they might become a jazz fan […] in that sense, yeah, maybe it contributes to the life of jazz”. Such efforts have been described as “a sincere attempt to preserve the remnants of a fading culture, even if those remnants had to first be adulterated to sell them to the world” (Barker and Taylor, 2007: 301), and Chris Tofu has argued very strongly in favour of this approach, noting how: we’ve had loads of people giving us a hard time about destroying the original and all that, and I’m like, “yeah fuck you man, no one’s listening to the original, so we’re just –​you should be supporting us”. If given a choice between having jazz presented through contemporary means and having no jazz at all, the likes of Tofu have clearly made the choice that it must be preserved, even if it must therefore be altered to a sometimes quite severely distorted extent. Genres like electro swing then are consciously engaged in the act of restoration, by keeping the music of the past fresh, new, and relevant for an audience who might otherwise be completely oblivious. The question now, however, is whether it is accurate to refer to this practice as nostalgic. One can hardly call it nostalgic if the generation listening and engaging with this music are not even aware of its existence in the first place, let alone able to remember it. Yet, as we’ve seen, this idea of representing the past is clearly of the upmost importance for the movement. Perhaps there is something else at play here: a way of creating a sense of nostalgia through more subtle and less blatant ways than simply overloading one’s senses with continuous representations of the swing era.

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Historical and Ersatz Nostalgia The notion of historical nostalgia is first introduced by Stern in her paper ‘Historical and Personal Nostalgia in Advertising Text: The Fin de siècle Effect’ (1992). Stern defines the feeling of historical nostalgia as one which “expresses the desire to retreat from contemporary life by returning to a time in the distant past viewed as superior to the present” specifying that “historical nostalgia’s most important temporal element is presentation of the past as the time before the audience was born” (ibid.: 13). In contrast, she also puts forth the idea of a personal nostalgia, by which “just as historical nostalgia idealizes the imaginatively recreated past, so too does personal nostalgia idealize the personally remembered past” (ibid.: 16). Personal nostalgia would of course provide a way for one to express a yearning for their own, lived-​through memories, yet historical nostalgia concerns only what Hogarty has termed vicarious memories: “secondhand memories such as those mediated through mass culture and adopted by people for whom they have no lived experience” (2017: 83–​84). Stern’s ideas were later built upon by Appadurai, who describes the phenomenon as ersatz nostalgia, or armchair nostalgia: “nostalgia without lived experience or collective historical memory” (1996: 78). In such instances, the nostalgic phenomenon appears to have “passe[d]‌ beyond the personal level of nostalgic reverie into a collective memory framework, where the nostalgic ‘affect’ is not contingent upon direct experience” (Leonard and Knifton, 2015: 164) –​to the point where a “multigenerational, multi-​ownership of these songs” has been described (Forbes, 2015: 143). Discussing this idea, Keightley and Pickering note that “the representation associated with the image or music has now entered into a much wider network of relations through which the past is remembered and reconstructed” (2006a: 153). Continuing, they describe a “network of relations around which experiences are shared and stored as resources, along with the knowledge gained from previous interactions” (ibid.: 153–​154). Resultingly, we may find “a type of nostalgia with no physical or experiential reference point” (Wu, 2010: 64–​65), and Wu provides a direct example of this, noting that in her study in the Californian rave scene of the early 2000s, various participants expressed nostalgia for a “past [that] was often in direct contradiction with their own lived experience; self-​admittedly in reference to a past they had not taken part in” (ibid.: 66). Others have provided similar analyses too, such as Fisher, who suggests that “hearing T-​Rex now doesn’t remind you of 73, it reminds you of nostalgia programmes about 1973” (2014: 77), and Leonard and Knifton –​who in discussing an exhibition of the Beatles at the Museum of Liverpool –​note that “audiences respond emotionally to displayed material despite their not having personally experienced the conditions in which the object was initially spatially and temporally situated” (2015: 164). Within electro swing, this is clearly happening with regard to its audience’s collective feelings towards the swing era. With an average age of between 25

176  The Retrospective Tendencies of Music and 34 (Inglis, 2019b: 758), electro swing’s audience is clearly far too young to feel anything resembling genuine nostalgia for this era; indeed, many of their grandparents are likely too young to feel any degree of genuine, personal nostalgia. It is not strictly the past that this audience is feeling nostalgic for then, but rather, fictional representations of the past. Thus, we find a looming question here, which asks how one might construct such feelings of nostalgia for this audience –​creating an unconcealed sense of longing for an era that occurred roughly half a century before they were even born? When first considering this question, my initial hypothesis was that it is perhaps not the swing era itself that these fans are feeling nostalgic for, but rather some other age, using the façade of the swing era as a kind of disguise. Inspired by Reynolds’ suggestion of the “Twenty-​Year Rule of Revivalism” (2011: xii), I proposed that there could be an element of nostalgia for the 1990s found within electro swing’s aesthetic. Writing in 2011, Reynolds illustrated his idea by making reference to “the noughties’ endless eighties revival” (ibid.: 173), additionally pointing out that “nineties nostalgia is already showing up: rock reunions and nostalgia tours” (ibid.: 31). And indeed, since Reynolds wrote these words –​and over the course of electro swing’s development –​nostalgia for the 1990s has become ever-​ present throughout popular culture. To cite a clear example of this, one could consider the film T2 Trainspotting (2017), released 21 years after the iconic original (1996), and described by the Telegraph as “littered with callbacks to the first film” (Collin, 2017). Containing vastly extensive references to the 1990s, one of the film’s most poignant lines comes when the character Sick Boy proclaims to Mark Renton: “nostalgia –​ that’s why you’re here. You’re a tourist in your own youth”. Accompanying the popularity of this film, the theatre production of the original Trainspotting was also to experience a new surge in popularity –​of which director Adam Spreadbury-​Maher stated that “the nineties are enjoying a nostalgia revival right now so it feels like a great time for Trainspotting to return to the spotlight” (Tobacco Factory Theatres, 2016). The nostalgia for this film can even be applied to the soundtrack; Trainspotting famously propelled to fame the track ‘Born Slippy’ by Underworld (1995), of which I encountered the following comment on its respective YouTube video: A bittersweet song for me, but amazing. Brings back some amazing memories but also makes me sad because it reminds me of times that will never return. What i’d give to be transported back sometimes, bag o’ pills, care free, girls etc. :) i’m still rather young so it gives me the kick to go back and enjoy life to the maximum again, but it would never be quite the same without the same old mates;). [sic.] (HD Creative Communications, 2007) Quite tellingly, the YouTube comment following this one simply read, “you can copy paste that comment to every single house tune b4 2000 [sic.]”.

The Retrospective Tendencies of Music  177 Perhaps the best example of 1990s nostalgia throughout the 2010s came with the release of Pokémon Go, the virtual reality game launched in 2016 based upon the Japanese franchise created in 1995. The mobile application was a global phenomenon, becoming the most downloaded game of 2016 (Landi, 2016) and breaking five world records related to mobile gaming in the process (Swatman, 2016). Nostalgia for the 1990s was also to show up in fashion, with articles proclaiming that “grunge fashions are back in vogue this season” (Vivinetto, 2016); club-​culture, such as in the not-​too-​subtly named Retro nightclub in Cardiff; and social media, in which individuals throughout the 2010s were commonly found sharing articles with titles such as ‘48 Reasons ‘90s Kids Had The Best Childhood’ (Rhoades, 2014). In this new decade, we are now starting to see examples of nostalgia for the early 2000s creeping in. One of the earliest examples of this came with Anne-​ Marie’s chart-​topping hit ‘2002’ (2018), in which the chorus employs various lyrics from songs that were popularised around the time of its titular year. The year 2018 also saw the release of Ariana Grande’s ‘Thank U, Next’, the video of which features parodies of various early 2000s films, including Bring It On (2000), Legally Blonde (2001), 13 Going on 30 (2004), and Mean Girls (2004). Since this, the early 2020s has also seen various emergent teenage pop stars release songs with a clear influence from the early 2000s emo scene, such as Olivia Rodrigo’s ‘Good 4 U’ (2021), Willow Smith’s ‘Transparent Soul’ (2021), and Yungblud’s ‘Cotton Candy’ (2020). And this emo revival was made even more blatant through the band As It Is, who in 2021 released the brazenly titled ‘I Miss 2003’. Reynolds’ 20-​year rule clearly has some weight to it then, which can indeed be observed through the apparent presence of 1990s influences within electro swing. Take for instance one of the most explicit examples of 1990s nostalgia within contemporary music: the curious genre of chiptune, or 8-​bit music as it’s sometimes called. Defined as “electronic music that uses the micro-​ chip based audio hardware of early home computers and gaming consoles and repurposes it for artistic expression” (Márquez, 2014: 68), this style is “centered around a specific era in the history of video games” (ibid.: 78) –​and “since the early days of chip music a whole subculture scene has been created around it” (ibid.: 70). Interestingly, the chiptune subculture has somewhat infiltrated the electro swing scene. The best example of this is Mista Trick’s ‘Hit The Road Jack’ (2016), a chiptune remix of the Ray Charles track (1961). The remix makes full use of the stereotypical Game Boy sounds associated with the genre, and even feature visuals from the Ridge Racer game in its respective video –​released in 1993. Mista Trick has also released a mixtape entirely composed of chiptune music (2018), which was recorded live at Boomtown Fair on the Dubtendo stage, a stage dedicated to this style and built to resemble a giant retro Nintendo gaming console. What we find here then are two layers of nostalgia occurring simultaneously. One’s full knowledge of the fact that Ray Charles’s song comes from an era with vintage connotations is situated against the stylistic devices that

178  The Retrospective Tendencies of Music

Figure 5.2 Captain Flatcap. © Chris Rotherham.

we associate with the sounds of the 1990s. And Mista Trick’s experiments with chiptune aren’t the only examples of this within electro swing: similar motifs are also present in the music of Goldfish, most notably in the video for their track ‘We Come Together’ (2011), and elements of the genre can too be found in Crash Party’s remix of Captain Flatcap’s ‘Boom Bap Boxing’ (Crash Party, 2018). The influence of the 1990s is especially evident for Captain Flatcap, who regularly perform in matching tie-​dye t-​shirts (see Figure 5.2), which seems like a clear callback to this era; as described by Attwood: back in the Eighties and Nineties, part of the official uniform of the acid-​ house raver was a tie-​dyed T-​shirt, the kind that a holiday to Goa, trip round Ibiza hippy markets or, failing that, a visit to Camden town in north London could gladly provide. (2013) Elsewhere, Dutty Moonshine’s mixtape ‘Kicked Out Of The Club’ (2013) features tracks from artists with clear semiotic implications alerting the listener to this particular era, such as the Spice Girls, and DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince. And Dutty Moonshine were also to release a reworking of DJ Zinc’s ‘Super Sharp Shooter’ (The Ganja Kru, 1996) 20 years after the original, entitled ‘Super Sharp Swinger’ (2016a). This song seems to hold particular prominence in fact, for I have also come across remixes of it from both Mista Trick (2015) and Father Funk (2018).

The Retrospective Tendencies of Music  179 Some producers have made this connection even more explicit. In 2018, scratch DJs Mr Switch and Jimi Needles teamed up to release the short mixtape, ‘9 Minutes Of The 90’s’, featuring not only a number of 1990s songs mixed together but also samples from various TV shows, documentaries, and films, as well as beginning with the iconic sounds of dial-​up internet (Jimi Needles VIP Page, 2018). In such an instance, there is no room for any nuance whatsoever –​these artists are directly showcasing their 1990s influences and presenting them as such. Similarly explicit examples can be found in tracks such as Kormac’s ‘Saturday Morning TV’ (2010), and Offbeat’s ‘90s Kid’ (2015), both of which feature lyrics about their childhood growing up in this decade; and Offbeat’s ‘Inbetweener’ (2016c), and parts of his ‘Long Way to Go’ (2016b) explore similar themes too. I brought up this idea with Offbeat’s Oli Corse, asking him whether his extensive referencing of the 1990s was an attempt to complement the nostalgia already prevalent throughout electro swing. It seems likely that such overt displays of nostalgia would go hand in hand with one another, yet I was surprised to find that this wasn’t Corse’s intention at all. As he responded: not at all. The reason I rap about my past is because I have a lot of it, [laughs] so there’s like a rich, like, you know, bank of things to talk about –​I’d be doing that over whatever genre of music that I was rapping to, so –​it’s not like I listen to swing music and it makes me think of, like, the olden-​days, and then that triggers, like, my memory of my past. I’ll have an idea for a tune where I’m like, “oh, I’m gonna rap about this thing”, and I love swing, so let’s find a beat that matches that, put them together. If they go well together in that sense, that is definitely a coincidence, I would say. I posed a similar question to Dutty Moonshine’s Michael Rack about his reworking of ‘Super Sharp Shooter’, and again, he rejected this suggestion, informing me that this was simply “a coincidence, that ‘Super Sharp Swinger’, that it was the 20th anniversary –​we were already working on it. I’d had that ‘Super Sharp Swinger’ idea for 4–​5 years […] yeah, that was just a really good coincidence, basically, 20 years on”. It appears then that the formation of this nostalgic fallout is not the deliberate result of any producer’s conscious intention. This poses a problem then. If these artists aren’t utilising influences of the swing era through conscious attempts to create a sense of nostalgia, and they aren’t trying to deliberately produce nostalgia for the 1990s either –​the era that seemingly makes up the other half of their music –​then where is this nostalgia coming from? My suggestion is that the influence of nostalgia is just coming through naturally in one’s artistic process, as an automatic tendency and without one overthinking the matter. Indeed, sticking with the examples of Corse and Rack, when asked what their major influences were outside of swing and jazz, both were to reference the music of the 1990s. In Corse’s case,

180  The Retrospective Tendencies of Music he noted that his favourite era of hip hop was “early ‘90s, well basically, like the ‘90s. Maybe like, early ‘00s […] it’s kind of anything between, like, 1990, and 2002 or ‘3, probably” –​even going on to directly suggest that certain songs of this era, such as Dr Dre’s ‘Still D.R.E.’ (1999), could be thought of in a nostalgic way today: “even though I consider ‘Still D.R.E.’ to be a relatively modern song, you know, it’s like, probably 20 years now, and so it is kind of old school hip hop”. Comparatively, Rack explained to me that he “just grew up on all the early rave stuff ”, and that the era’s “free party scene” was his main influence in terms of the EDM side of his productions. In both cases, we may observe a habitual tendency to reminisce upon the 1990s, and so even if this is not an intentional approach, such feelings of nostalgia have been habitually bestowed upon their respective art. So perhaps there is something about music –​all music –​that is just inherently nostalgic. It’s possible that the referencing of the swing era, or of other eras with vintage connotations simply serves to maximise the nostalgic tendencies already present within music. To give an anecdotal example of this, I know that in my own experience, every time I hear MGMT’s ‘Kids’ (2008), I am instantly transported back to my time as a teenager in the summer of 2008. This particular song isn’t intrinsically nostalgic for this era whatsoever –​ if anything it owes much more to the synthpop sounds of the 1980s –​and yet I can’t help but feel nostalgic for it. This would then partly explain the curious situation in which the length of time required for one to develop a sense of nostalgia for something appears to be speeding up; this has been indicated by Grainge in stating that “the lapse of time between an item entering the cultural terrain and returning as ‘retro’ has become a matter of years rather than of decades” (2002: 54). For instance, in discussing the development of hip hop, Chang suggests that by 1979, people were already talking about “how it used to be back in the day” of the mid-​1970s (2007: 136). The same can be said of the rave scene, with Wu presenting a flyer from 1994 which states that “the socalled ravers today only show some sense of community… the house movement is not the latest trend and it’s not supposed to be like this” (2010: 64), as well as pointing to events held in 2004, entitled ‘1998’ and ‘1999’ (ibid.: 72). From this, she determines that “the life span of a raver [is] far less than five years” (ibid.: 73). This has also been concluded by Reynolds, who recalls that “around 1996, you started to hear talk about ‘old skool hardcore’: veterans waxing wistfully for a golden age of rave only four years earlier” (2011: 234). Elsewhere, Reynolds gives an even more drastic example of this phenomenon, quoting a flyer he was given at a rave in 1993, which contained the following description of a supposed golden age of techno –​a golden age which occurred only nine months earlier: WHY ARE YOU AT THIS EVENT? THE RAVE SCENE IS NOT JUST ABOUT TECHNO. THIS SCENE IS NOT JUST ABOUT DRUGS. THIS SCENE IS NOT JUST ABOUT FASHION. IT IS SOMETHING

The Retrospective Tendencies of Music  181 SPECIAL ABOUT UNITY AND HAPPINESS. IT IS ABOUT BEING YOURSELF AND BEING LOVED FOR IT. IT SHOULD BE A HARBOR FROM OUR SOCIETY. BUT OUR SCENE RIGHT NOW IS DISINTEGRATING! OLD STYLE RAVERS –​REMEMBER WHEN EVERYBODY HUGGED ALL THE TIME –​NOT JUST TO SAY HELLO AND GOODBYE? REMEMBER WHEN PEOPLE JUST SAID HI FOR NO REASON EXCEPT TO BE YOUR FRIEND? REMEMBER HOW GOOD IT FELT? WHY DON’T WE DO IT ANYMORE? NEWCOMERS –​YOU ARE WANTED AND YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT THIS SCENE IS ABOUT OPENNESS. WE ALL SHARE A BOND –​THE DESIRE TO GROOVE TO A GOOD BEAT ALL NIGHT LONG. AND NO MAN IS AN ISLAND. EVERYONE NEEDS FRIENDS AND THE OUTSIDE WORLD IS TOUGH ENOUGH. WE DON’T NEED FRONTS AND ATTITUDES IN OUR SCENE. OPEN YOUR HEARTS AND LET THE GOOD FEELINGS FLOW… RAVERS UNITE AND KEEP OUR SCENE ALIVE.. (2013: 371) Taking this point further still, Guffey quotes architect Frank Heath, stating in 1971 that “we’ll soon be nostalgic for 1965, then 1969, and soon we’ll be saying, ‘You think that was something? You should have been alive ten minutes ago!’ ” (2006: 115). Similarly, Grainge quotes the owner of a nostalgia-​based shop, stating that “no sooner is an item introduced to the market than it shows up at a shop like mine” (2002: 54). And as Kirshenblatt-​Gimblett has noted, “as the retro clock speeds up, life becomes heritage almost before it has a chance to be lived” (2012: 2000). When it comes to electro swing, we may observe the phenomenon occurring here as well; since conducting this research, I’ve come across several instances of individuals expressing nostalgia for the early days of this genre. For instance, I recall an informal conversation I had with Michael Rack who made reference to “the good old days” of the genre; and elsewhere, Postmodern Jukebox’s Tim Kubart has publicly stated that reading about the formation of the band in Scott Bradlee’s memoir Outside the Jukebox (2018a) made him “feel so much nostalgia for those exciting times” (Kubart, 2018). One suggestion which I have come across, is that as inherently nostalgic individuals –​through electro swing –​participants are being reminded of their first experiences encountering the music of swing itself, and that this level of nostalgia has therefore resulted from a subconscious nostalgia for childhood. This isn’t perhaps as far-​fetched as it may seem; Bennett and Rogers have found that most individual’s earliest memories of popular music are strongly associated with the family home (2016: 72), and that many different producers have consequently created music that draws directly upon this influence. In a rather dramatic fashion, Davis has suggested that “what follows adolescence

182  The Retrospective Tendencies of Music [is pictured] as damaged irretrievably by compromise, hypocrisy, corruption, and neglect, that is, spiritual death” (1979: 60). This influence is particularly prevalent within EDM. For instance, Reynolds speaks of “locat[ing] a sense of jouissance in prepubescent childhood”, which is reflected in “the garish colours and baggy clothing, the backpacks and satchels, the lollipops and dummies and teddy bears –​even the fairground sideshows at raves” (2013: 511). He gives a quote from DJ DB, who describes attendees at a rave as “very kiddy-​innocent-​looking –​nineteen-​year-​olds trying to look like they were five-​year-​olds” (ibid.: 354). Similarly, Prendergast, speaks of “clubbers return[ing] to the childishness of early Acid House” (2000: 465), stating that “the new music and the happiness and touchy-​feely glow of E seemed to transport clubbers back to their childhood, where lollipops, teddy bears and pastel shades reigned supreme” (ibid.: 390). This point is echoed by journalist Abigail King, in suggesting that “the best clubs are packed with people enjoying childhood regression to the full. I mean, baby’s dummies on the dancefloor?! Draw your own conclusions” (1992: 4). And Collin provides an account from a raver at Shoom, one of the UK’s first acid house clubs, who states that “we had a teddy bear club in the Shoom–​everyone had teddy bears. There’s no way of explaining it really, it was like going back to childhood. You used to do all sorts of silly things down there” (1998: 62). Exploring this idea in relation to electro swing, it’s not unreasonable to assume that a lot of this generation would have had early childhood exposure to the styles of swing and jazz through the movies made by the Walt Disney Company. For example, one of the most memorable parts of The Jungle Book (1967) came with the cameo of Louis Prima, who was hired to perform the role of King Louie, and jazz music famously played a major part in The Aristocats (1970) as well. Thus, continuing upon these themes of childhood, one might predict that the music of Disney would form something of an influence for electro swing. And indeed, this can be found to be the case. One of the earliest tracks by the Correspondents is their remix of ‘I Wanna Be Like You’ (2008), whilst the Electric Swing Circus included a cover of ‘Everybody Wants To Be A Cat’ on their eponymous debut (2013). Elsewhere, I’ve seen live performances from Little Violet and Lunatrix respectively, covering ‘Friend Like Me’ from Aladdin (1992) and ‘Hukuna Matata’ from The Lion King (1994). And Offbeat has even spoken of how “one of the main inspirations” behind the vocal stylings on his track ‘Tis The Season’ (2018c) was “Disney villains” (2018b). In fact, this relation to classic cartoons has been discussed directly in one edition of the Prohibition Radio Show, in which Tallulah Goodtimes notes how the genre takes her “right back to her childhood, and all those joyful memories of cartoons and vintage movies” (Prohibition Mcr, 2021a: 23.05) –​with Emma Clair stating in response that “I always think that classic cartoons and electro swing, they just –​they go hand-​in-​hand” (ibid.: 23.27). Again, what we find is that these artists are drawing upon their nostalgic memories for inspiration, though perhaps not with the explicit intention of

The Retrospective Tendencies of Music  183 creating a sense of nostalgia. To assume that electro swing is being created intentionally for this purpose is to approach it from the wrong angle. Such artists are not creating swing music with the intent of being nostalgic, but rather it is because they are so nostalgic –​inescapably so –​that they come to play swing music. As nostalgia-​prone individuals, the influence of the past within their music is therefore unavoidable –​purposefully or otherwise. We have seen that all music is rooted in what has come before. Electro swing differs in just being that little bit more shameless about it.

Conclusion

Throughout this study, I have demonstrated the impact of electro swing upon popular culture, and have explored and evaluated the connotations and key features of the genre. There is plenty that we may learn from this contemporary style, and a lot of that which I have presented may be translated across to other genres and art forms, ultimately explaining much about the current state of popular society. The themes of this book reach further than electro swing alone, and one may extend many of the arguments presented within to various other topics. Additionally, there is still much more to be explored relating to the specific domain of electro swing itself, and I hope to see future authors building upon my analysis of the genre to determine more about this emergent style. I wish to conclude by returning to one of the first concepts that was introduced in this book, that being Thornton’s notion of live and disc culture. For it is through the combination and merging of these two approaches that electro swing has developed its idiosyncratic appeal. Yet this fusion has not necessarily been an easy one; in her study into early jazz/EDM fusion, McGee references several musicians who struggled with this combination (2020: 50). I too found this specifically in relation to electro swing, with a number of artists such as Ashley Slater, Mark Camps, and Michael Rack noting their slight distaste for sampling –​as detailed in Chapter 2. It became quite apparent to me that the use of samples, in some cases, was seen as an inauthentic practice. Thus, some electro swing was arguably looking to live culture for legitimisation, a trait which it has inherited from its status as a descendent of jazz. Yet as I have shown, when determining what it truly means to be jazz, there is no reason why practices from disc culture should be discouraged; and in fact, it is through bringing in these sorts of ideas that the true essence of jazz may persist. It is partly through this fusion of live and disc culture that electro swing has managed to cultivate a similar fusion of racial and international cultures. It’s been suggested that the notion of “liveness is symbolically connected to […] Black music cultures” (ibid.: 40); yet through the advent of disc culture, the practice of sampling: DOI: 10.4324/9781003254485-7

Conclusion  185 began to scramble the ability to assign identity and thereby racialize music. Familiar processes of racial recognition were becoming unreliable. Listeners could no longer assume musicians were racially identical to their samples. (Eshun, 2003: 296) Whilst this has undoubtedly brought about problems of ownership –​which I have explored in Chapter 3 –​what it does tell us is that modern audiences are showing less concern around the racial identities of the artists they listen to. In a genre in which a French DJ may sample an African American singer and have the resulting music consumed and enjoyed by a Japanese audience (for there is undoubtedly a market there – SwinGrowers’ album OutsideIn (2018) reached number one on the Japanese jazz charts, and the band have played two sold out shows at Blue Note Tokyo) –​it is quite clear that one’s race and nationality is not considered a barrier. And whilst electro swing is not completely free of problems when it comes to issues of representation, I have shown that it has the potential to be a distinctly diverse scene. An equally diverse prospect for electro swing comes with regard to its relationship with class. As discussed, the genre presents a unique and unusual image in that its participants will directly seek to affect a façade of upper-​ classness, despite their supposedly disparate background. And yet, the majority of electro swing’s participants are in fact not so far from this culture as they might wish for one to believe. Whilst it emerged from jazz –​which was of course originally working-​class music –​and from various forms of underground EDM also associated with the working-​class, electro swing has a primarily middle-​class clientele. And this has led to similar complications when considering the genre’s standing on the art spectrum too. To the extent that such concepts exist, electro swing manages to showcase aspects of both high and low culture, thus conflating these contradictory and independent perspectives. Yet by breaking down such barriers between the supposed high and low, the genre has again shown versatility to be one of its key components. As with its stance on race and nationality, the genre proudly presents itself as accessible to those from all classes and cultural backgrounds. And of course, when turning to the music itself, one can plainly note that electro swing’s most defining characteristic is another attribute of fusion –​the fusion of the music of the past with that of the present. As noted in Chapter 5, the feature that makes electro swing what it is over anything else is its overwhelming fascination with history. Electro swing presents itself as something that can permeate throughout generations; and as was noted earlier, artists such as Tobias Kroschel, Jim Burke, and Sacha Dieu have suggested that one of their greatest comforts comes from knowing that their music is bringing different generations together. This is –​to some extent –​ the reason that they use such techniques and approaches in their production. There is much that can be learnt from one’s investigation into the past. And through the medium of music, the practitioners of electro swing are inviting

186 Conclusion their audience to share in these explorations, to join both past and present together, and to experience the individuality of each. By looking to the past, electro swing reveals much about the present. And through looking over the trends that I have described throughout this book, it may also predict the various directions that music will take in the future. More than anything else then –​perhaps even more than its nostalgic aspects –​what characterises electro swing is the overall component of fusion. Whether that be the fusion of live and disc culture, the fusion of white and black, the fusion of high and low, or the fusion of old and young –​electro swing demonstrates that through every part of its being, influences are being taken from all possible sources, no matter how disparate they may seem. And this is where I expect the music of the future will take us too. Previous musical barriers are being knocked down and abandoned as each new generation sees the futility in separating potential sources for influence and enjoyment. And as we continue to make headway into the 21st century, it is reasonable to expect to see more movements like electro swing that refuse to draw from conventional or predictable origins. This, ultimately, is the essence of jazz. And I will suggest –​citing electro swing as evidence –​that there will always be some form of music that keeps this essence of jazz alive, along with its various other qualities. What we will too find is that much of this music will also do what music does best –​which is encourage people to dance. As long as future scenes are both pushing the boundaries of the genre forward, and keeping people moving, then their respective artists will be maintaining their purpose. And presently, it is those practitioners of electro swing who are doing this today.

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202 References Dutty Moonshine. (2016b). ‘Dutty Moonshine –​Wanted For Crimes Against Electro Swing Mixtape (Free Download)’. SoundCloud. https://​sou​ndcl​oud.com/​dut​tymo​ onsh​ine/​dutty-​moonsh​ine-​wan​ted-​for-​crimes​agai​nst-​elec​tro-​swing-​mixt​ape-​free-​ downl​oad Dutty Moonshine. (2020a). City of Sin. Rum Runner. Dutty Moonshine. (2020b). ‘ “Fever” Music Video –​Dutty Moonshine Big Band feat. Crash Party’. YouTube. www.yout​ube.com/​watch?v=​j2Cb​Y8H5​gOc Dutty Moonshine. (2021b). Facebook. www.faceb​ook.com/​1000​4422​5266​539/​vid​eos/​ 2024​2297​0849​418 Dutty Moonshine. (2021c). ‘International Women’s Day –​‘Fever’ Fan Music Video –​Dutty Moonshine Big Band’. YouTube. www.yout​ube.com/​watch?v=​d27U​Au8Z​ hH4 Dutty Moonshine Big Band. (2017). Most Wanted. Self-​released. Electric Swing Circus, The. (2013). The Electric Swing Circus. Ragtime Records. Electric Swing Circus, The. (2017). It Flew By. Ragtime Records. Electro Swing. (2009). Wagram Music. Electro Swing IV. (2011). Wagram Music. Electro Swing Revolution Vol. 1, The. (2011). Lola’s World. Electro Swing Revolution Vol. 2, The. (2011). Lola’s World. Electro Swing Revolution Vol. 3, The. (2012). Lola’s World. Electro Swing Revolution Vol. 4, The. (2013). Lola’s World. Electro Swing Revolution Vol. 5, The. (2014). Lola’s World. Electro Swing Revolution Vol. 6, The. (2015). Lola’s World. Electro Swing Revolution Vol. 7, The. (2016). Lola’s World. Electro Velvet. (2015). ‘Still in Love with You’. Right Track Records. Emerald, C. (2010). Deleted Scenes from the Cutting Room Floor.Grandmono Records. Emerald, C. (2013). The Shocking Miss Emerald.Grandmono Records. Emerald, C. (2014). ‘One Day –​Swingrowers Remix’ SoundCloud. https://​sou​ndcl​oud. com/​caro​emer​ald/​one-​day-​swin​grow​ers-​remix-​1 Eric, B., & Rakim. (1987). ‘I Know You Got Soul’. 4th & B’way. Extra Medium. (2017). Size Matters EP. Scour Records. Fabio. (2000). Liquid Funk. Creative Source. Fatboy Slim. (1998). You’ve Come a Long Way, Baby. Skint Records. Father Funk. (2018). Bootlegs & B-​Sides Vol. 4. Self-​released. Fischerspooner. (2004). ‘Pink Panther Theme (Fischerspooner Mix)’ in: Pink Panther’s Penthouse Party. Virgin. Francis, A. (2017a). ‘Alice Francis –​Beatptized (Garbage Project)’. YouTube. www. yout​ube.com/​watch?v=​2T-​Lzgsh​BtI Francis, A. (2017b). ‘Alice Francis –​TOO DAMN HOT (Official video)’. YouTube. www.yout​ube.com/​watch?v=​Nao_​S9cm​E3E Francis, A. (2012). St. James Ballroom. Boutique. Gaga, L., & Bennett, T. (2014). Cheek to Cheek. Interscope Records. Galantis. (2015). ‘Peanut Butter Jelly’. Big Beat Records. Ganja Kru, The. (1996). Super Sharp Shooter EP. Parousia. Gaye, M. (1982). Midnight Love. Columbia Records. Golden Gate Quartet, The. (1937). ‘Jonah in the Whale’/​‘Preacher and the Bear’. Victor. Golden Gate Quartet, The. (1939). ‘Noah’/​‘Job’. Victor. Goldfish. (2006). Caught in the Loop. Black Mango Music.

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204 References Moby. (1999). Play. EMI. Mr B the Gentleman Rhymer. (2008). Flattery Not Included. Grot Music. Mr B the Gentleman Rhymer. (2012). The Tweed Album. The Chap-​Hop Business Concern. Mr Bruce. (2021). ‘Race to Nowhere’. Deep Blue. Mr Scruff. (1999). Keep It Unreal. Ninja Tune. Nine Inch Nails. (2013). Hesitation Marks. Columbia Records. NWA. (1988). Straight Outta Compton. Ruthless Records. Offbeat. (2015). Peoplewatching 2. Offbeat Music. Offbeat. (2016b). King of the Swingers. Offbeat Music. Offbeat. (2016c). King of the Swingers 2. Offbeat Music. Offbeat. (2016d). ‘Offbeat –​“Prohibition! Ft Zorana”–​Animated Comic Book Music Video [FREE DOWNLOAD]’. YouTube. www.yout​ube.com/​watch?v=​nVQA​ dERn​ig8 Offbeat. (2018c). I Don’t Normally Like Hip Hop But This Is Alright. Self-​released. Original Dixieland Jass Band. (1917). ‘Livery Stable Blues’/​‘Dixie Jass Band One Step’. Victor Talking Machine Company. Pine, C. (1986). Journey to the Urge Within. Verve. Pine, C. (1992). To The Eyes Of Creation. 4th & B’way. Pine, C. (1997). Underground. Verve. PiSk. (2019). ‘Hummin’ to Myself’/​‘Jumpin’ Jive’. Freshly Squeezed. Plasma. (2001). Shadow Kingdom. Bushido Recordings. PostmodernJukebox. (2013a). ‘Thrift Shop (Vintage “Grandpa Style” Macklemore Cover)’. YouTube. www.yout​ube.com/​watch?v=​4Cnm​0tdk​JEU PostmodernJukebox. (2013b). ‘Thrift Shop (Bart & Baker Electro Swing Remix) –​ Postmodern Jukebox’. YouTube. www.yout​ube.com/​watch?v=​bDlC​9m1F​Do4 Repac, N. (2004). Swing-​Swing. No Format! Riff Kitten. (2020). Kitty Litter. Freshly Squeezed. Rodrigo, O. (2021). Sour. Geffen Ronson, M. (2014). ‘Uptown Funk’. RCA Records. Scheuerlein, F., & Balduin. (2019). ‘Nah Neh Nah’. Balduin Music. Scott-​Heron, G. (1970). Small Talk at 125th and Lenox. RCA Records. Simone, N. (1959). Little Girl Blue. Bethlehem Records. Simone, N. (1965). I Put a Spell on You. Philips Records. Smith, A. (2020). Bass Age Big Band. Freshly Squeezed. Smith, L. L. (1975). ‘Expansions’. RCA Records. Smith, W. (2021). Lately I Feel Everything. Polydor. Smokey Joe and the Kid. (2014). ‘SMOKEY JOE & THE KID –​Slow Drag [Official Video Clip]’. YouTube. www.yout​ube.com/​watch?v=​xLlk​2C_​O​rak Smokey Joe and The Kid. (2016). Running To The Moon. Banzaï Lab. Sound Nomaden. (2014). ‘Sound Nomaden–​Für E-​Lise (feat. Das.Schliep& MSP)’. SoundCloud. https://​sou​ndcl​oud.com/​sound​noma​den/​sound-​noma​den-​fur-​e-​lise-​ feat-​das​schl​iep-​msp Stelar, P. (2004). Rough Cuts. Etage Noir Recordings. Stelar, P. (2009). Coco. Etage Noir Recordings. Stelar, P. (2013). The Art Of Sampling. Etage Noir Recordings. Stetsasonic. (1988). ‘Talkin’ All That Jazz’. Tommy Boy Records. Swing & Bass Vol. 1. (2019). Swing & Bass. Swing Sisters. (2021). Prohibition.

References 205 Swinghoppers, The. (2017). Welcome to the Family. Self-​released. Swinghoppers, The. (2018). ‘The Swinghoppers–​Swing Hop (Bigger Than)’YouTube. www.yout​ube.com/​watch?v=​XFFq​3aWo​hRU SwinGrowers. (2014b). Remote. Freshly Squeezed. SwinGrowers. (2018). OutsideIn. Freshly Squeezed. SwinGrowers. (2021). Hybrid. Freshly Squeezed. Thicke, R. (2013). ‘Blurred Lines’. Interscope Records. Underworld. (1995). ‘Born Slippy’. Junior Boy’s Own. VaudeVillainz, The. (2017). Voodoo Swing. Ragtime Records. White Mink: Black Cotton (Electro Swing versus Speakeasy Jazz). (2010). Freshly Squeezed Music. Williams, P. (2014). ‘Happy’. Columbia Records. Yarbrough, C. (1975). The Iron Pot Cooker. Vanguard. Yungblud. (2020). Weird! Interscope Records.

Filmography 13 Going on 30. (2004). Directed by Gary Winick. USA: Sony Pictures Motion Picture Group. A Day at the Races. (1937). Directed by Sam Wood. USA: Metro-​Goldwyn-​Mayer. A Long Game: The Story of Slamboree. (2018). Directed by Leora BerMeister& Lucas Sinclair. BBC. Aladdin. (1992). Directed by John Musker & Ron Clements. USA: Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures. Alive and Kicking. (2016). Directed by Susan Glatzer. USA: Magnolia Pictures. The Aristocats. (1970). Directed by Wolfgang Reitherman. USA: Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures. Bring It On. (2000). Directed by Peyton Reed. USA: Universal Pictures. Ghostbusters II. (1989). Directed by Ivan Reitman. USA: Columbia Pictures. The Great Gatsby. (2013). Directed by Baz Luhrmann. USA: Warnes Bros. Pictures. The Jungle Book. (1967). Directed by Wolfgang Reitherman. USA: Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures. Legally Blonde. (2001). Directed by Robert Luketic. USA: Metro-​Goldwyn-​Mayer. The Lion King. (1994). Directed by Roger Allers& Rob Minkoff. USA: Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures. The Mask. (1994). Directed by Chuck Russell. USA: New Line Cinema. Mean Girls. (2004). Director by Mark Waters. USA: Paramount Pictures. O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000). Directed by the Coen Brothers. USA: Buena Vista Pictures. Stormy Weather. (1943). Directed by Andrew L. Stone. USA: Twentieth Century-​Fox Film Corporation. Trainspotting. (1996). Directed by Danny Boyle. UK: PolyGram Filmed Entertainment. T2 Trainspotting. (2017). Directed by Danny Boyle. UK: TriStar Pictures.

Index

Acid Jazz Records 23 Adorno, Theodor 119, 142 After Hours Quintet, the 81 Armstrong, Louis 6, 16–​17, 19, 64–​5, 118, 139, 140, 171 art spectrum 12, 119, 139–​54, 155, 158, 185 A Tribe Called Quest 22, 144; see also Native Tongues Baez, Joan 131 Baker, Josephine 112 Balduin 87, 146 Balkan Beat Box 93 Balkan beats 87, 93 Bambaataa, Afrika 19 Bangs, Chris see Acid Jazz Records Barrett, Kaptin 4, 123, 152, 159, 172; general views on electro swing 50, 61, 85, 169; personae 59; relationship with class 123, 127–​8, 133–​4, 169; relationship with race 97, 107, 109, 113–​14; see also Big Swing Soundsystem; Boomtown Fair Bart&Baker 29, 32, 86 Basie, Count 18, 162 Bassy, Count 162 BBC 37, 109, 129, 136, 137–​8; BBC Proms 4, 147–​8 Bear Twists 48; see also Tuxedo Junction Beastie Boys, the 46, 99 Beatles, the 101, 118 Bechet, Sidney 16, 90 Beiderbecke, Bix 16, 83, 139 Belleville Three 93 Bennett, Tony 30 Berghain, the 144 B., Eric 170; see also Rakim Berry, Chuck 18

Berry, Jamie 13, 40, 60 Bid Bad Voodoo Daddy 25, 94; see also neo-​swing Big Band of Boom 5; see also Electric Swing Circus, the Big Freedia 144 Big Swing Soundsystem 4, 123; see also Barrett, Kaptin Bolden, Buddy 15, 64 Bonnaroo 76 Bonnick, David Jr. see Gambit Ace Boomtown Fair 4, 42, 86, 137, 148, 177; diversity of line-​up 114; history of 30, 34–​6, 51; relationship with class 122, 124, 125, 127–​8, 133–​4; see also Barrett, Kaptin boutique festivals 121–​2, 124 Bowie, David 58, 153 Bradlee, Scott see Postmodern Jukebox Brexit 127, 132–​4 Brown, James 6, 170 Browne, George 4, 159–​60, 169; general views on electro swing 84, 97, 121, 131, 139, 154; referencing of specific artists 36, 51–​2, 78, 152; views on other genres 148–​9, 151 Brubeck, Dave 74, 78, 140 Buckshot LeFonque 17 Burke, Jim see Mr B the Gentleman Rhymer C@ in the H@ 5, 67, 93, 96, 113; general views on electro swing 94, 160; various ventures 29, 35–​6; see also Mr FX; Ragtime Records; Swingamajig Calloway, Cab 16–​17, 23, 125–​7 Camps, Mark see Extra Medium Captain Flatcap 45, 50, 85, 146, 178

Index  207 Caravan Palace 1, 38–​9, 93; classification of sound 50–​1, 84, 86–​7; 146; history of 27–​9; relationship with jazz 66, 72, 86–​7, 163 Catjam 36 chap hop see Mr B the Gentleman Rhymer Charles, Ray 177 Cherry Poppin’ Daddies 25, 94; see also neo-​swing Chicken Brothers, the 71 Chinese Man 13, 27, 39–​41, 50, 78, 86, 152; see also Youthstar chiptune 177–​8 Christian, Charlie 10, 17–​18 Clair, Emma 3, 35, 52, 135–​8, 182 Club Des Belugas 29 Cobain, Kurt 130 Cole, Nat King 19, 65 Coltrane, John 19, 171 Corbyn, Jeremy 133 Correspondents, the 13, 28, 30, 40–​1, 182; classification of sound 50, 84; history of 36–​7; politics of 133 Corse, Oli see Offbeat Coryell, Larry 65 Covid-​19, 33–​6 C2C 27, 38–​9, 41, 86 cultural appropriation 11, 82, 96–​108, 124 Culverwell, Tony see Mr Switch Daft Punk 30 Dameron, Tadd 68 Davis, Miles 10, 90, 126; history of 18–​19, 22, 26, 76; relationship with Marsalis, Wynton 62–​5, 73 De La Soul 22, 116; see also Native Tongues Defunk 32 Deluxe 40, 86, 146 Demers, Alexandra 52, 95–​6 Dieu, Sacha 4, 50, 93, 145; general views on electro swing 51, 161, 167, 169, 185; on geographic variation within electro swing 84–​5, 112 Digable Planets 19, 22, 116 Disco sucks! 48–​9 Disney 182 DJ Premier 22, 116; see also Guru DJ Zinc 178 DMC World DJ Championships 4, 27, 39, 78

Doop 26 Dorsey Brothers 101 Down, Buck 32; see also Smith, Atom Dr Dre 180; see also NWA Dutty Moonshine 4, 30, 41, 97, 152, 158; general views on electro swing 28, 37, 49–​51, 84; history of 33; musicality 45, 150–​1; politics of 132–​4, 137; relationship with jazz 74, 78, 173; relationship with the past 167–​8, 178–​80; see also Roaring 2.0s, the Dylan, Bob 9 8-​bit music see Chiptune Electric Swing Circus, the 5, 13, 41, 147, 182; classification of sound 3, 74, 85–​6, 149; escapism 60; history of 29–​30, 33; politics of 124, 132; relationship with jazz 66, 90; relationship with the past 162, 167, 172; see also Big Band of Boom; Ragtime Records; Swingamajig Electro Swing Club 42; see also Tofu, Chris Electro Swing Revolution 29, 50, 114; see also Fidele, Justin Electro Swing Thing 29, 35; see also Lohr, Wolfgang Elle and the Pocket Belles 4, 54, 150; see also Gambit Ace; Mista Trick Ellington, Duke 64–​5, 81, 102, 125, 139, 152, 162 Emerald, Caro 1, 29, 38, 40, 87, 146–​7, 154 Eno, Brian 153 Etage Noir 4, 38, 40; see also Stelar, Parov Eurovision 32 Everly Brothers 26 Extra Medium 4, 45, 71, 77–​8, 86, 107, 172, 173 Fabio 25 Faith, Paloma 30 Fatboy Slim 86, 145, 149; see also Freak Power Father Funk 36, 48, 81, 178; see also Tuxedo Junction Fidele, Justin 35; see also Electro Swing Revolution Fischerspooner 59 Fitzgerald, F. Scott see Great Gatsby, the Flash, Grandmaster 19

208 Index Foley, Cat 4, 61, 69–​72, 80, 107, 116, 134, 160–​1; see also swing dance Forsythe see takeSomeCrime Francis, Alice 4, 40; classification of sound 50, 151; musicality 45, 163; politics of 133; relationship with race 96–​7, 107, 111–​14 Freak Power 5; see also Fatboy Slim; Kitten and the Hip; Loose Tubes Freshly Squeezed 3, 29, 41, 96; see also Hollywood, Nick; White Mink Gaga, Lady 30 Gambit Ace 4, 96–​7, 107, 111, 116–​17, 150; see also Elle and the Pocket Belles; Mista Trick Gang Starr see Guru Gaye, Marvin 145 gentrification 133 Ghetto Funk 147; see also Shindig Weekender Gillespie, Dizzy 98, 139, 162 Gillespie, Fizzy 162; see also Swing & Bass Glastonbury 30, 34–​6, 42, 86, 133 Goldfish 27, 39, 66, 76–​7, 96, 178 Goodman, Benny 15, 22, 26, 152; history of 17, 18, 82; relationship with race 98, 101–​2 Goodtimes, Tallulah 13, 35, 93, 135–​6, 138, 182 Gove, Michael 130 Gramophonedzie 15 Grandmono Records see Emerald, Caro Grappelli, Stéphane 38, 94; see also Reinhardt, Django; gypsy jazz Great Gatsby, the 7, 11, 32, 110, 121, 127–​8, 160; see also Party like Gatsby Grinagog 42; see also Tofu, Chris Guru 22, 24, 144; see also DJ Premier Gypsy Hill 93 gypsy jazz 38, 41, 93; see also Grappelli, Stéphane; Reinhardt, Django Haçienda Classiçal 144–​5 Haley, Bill 26, 102 Hancock, Herbie 10, 19–​20, 26, 73, 76 Handy, W. C. 15 Harlem Renaissance 140 Harrison, Angus 4, 139, 149, 151, 164 Heavy Beat Brass Band 36 Henderson, Fletcher 90, 102 Hendrix, Jimi 65

Herc, Kool 19 Herman, Woody 101 Herräng Dance Camp 90, 104, 114–​15, 160; see also swing dance hiraeth 155 Holiday, Billie 1, 19, 107, 118 Hollywood, Nick 3, 41–​2; general views on electro swing 26–​7, 47, 131, 149, 151, 154; musicality 147; on geographic variation within electro swing 91, 94; relationship with class 123–​4, 126; relationship with jazz 65–​6, 74, 77, 80–​1; relationship with race 101, 109; relationship with the past 164–​5, 168–​9; various ventures 29, 55; see also Freshly Squeezed; White Mink Hong Kong Ping Pong 35 Hughes, Langston 17, 98 Hyland, Tom see Electric Swing Circus improvisation 65–​9 International Women’s Day 135–​7 Jack the Cad see Browne, George JFB 147, 157 Jive Bunny and the Mastermixers 26 Joplin, Scott 15 Jungle Brothers, the 22, 116; see also Native Tongues Jurassic 5 27 Kathika see Slamboree Kitten and the Hip 5, 45, 54–​5, 65, 90, 167, 169; see also Freak Power; Loose Tubes Klischée 96 Knuckles, Frankie 93, 119, 145 Kormac 29, 33, 145, 179 Kraftwerk 2, 20, 44, 89, 92 Kroschel, Tobias see Sound Nomaden Kumiho 35 Kygo 145 Lamar, Kendrick 144 Latifah, Queen 22, 144; see also Native Tongues Laveau, Maria see Dutty Moonshine Lee, Peggy 15 Levan, Larry 93 lindy hop see swing dance Little Richard 26 Little Violet 59, 81, 136, 138, 182

Index  209 Lohr, Wolfgang 35, 86; see also Electro Swing Thing London Remixed 42; see also Tofu, Chris Loose Tubes 5; see also Freak Power; Kitten and the Hip Love, Monie 22; see also Native Tongues Love Supreme 172 Lucas 26–​7 Lunatrix 182 Lunceford, Jimmie 15–​16 Lyes, Alanna 135–​6, 138 Lyre Le Temps 29, 158 Manning, Frankie 69, 115–​16; see also swing dance Marsalis, Wynton 43, 62–​5, 73, 135, 143–​4, 166; see also moldy figs Massive Attack 24 Maui Waui 30 May, Theresa 133 Mayfair Avenue see Boomtown Fair Metcalf, Louis 83 MGMT 180 Miller, Glenn 26, 82, 101 Miller, Norma 69, 104; see also swing dance Mingus, Charles 73–​4, 148 minstrelsy 99–​100 Mista Trick 4, 13, 78, 96, 116, 177–​8; see also Elle and the Pocket Belles; Gambit Ace Moby 27 moldy figs 75, 141, 143; see also Marsalis, Wynton Monk, Thelonious 98, 139 Morton, Jelly Roll 15 Mr Automatic 32; see also Roaring City; Rouge! Mr B the Gentleman Rhymer 4, 28, 84; on authenticity 46–​47; personae 59, 91, 129–​30; politics of 133; relationship with class 123, 128–​30; relationship with the past 161, 168, 185 Mr Bruce see Correspondents, the Mr FX 96, 113; see also C@ in the H@ Mr Harvey Miller 35 Mr Scruff 27, 29 Mr Switch 4, 30, 36; history of 33, 147–​8; musicality 150; relationship with jazz 66, 78; relationship with the past 107, 179; see also Prokofiev, Gabriel; Symphonica

Mr Woox 152 Musicians’ Union 35 MysDiggi 41, 50, 96, 132; see also Smokey Joe and the Kid Native Tongues 22; see also A Tribe Called Quest; De La Soul; Jungle Brothers, the; Latifah, Queen; Love, Monie Needles, Jimi 179 neo-​swing 25–​6, 94, 103–​4; see also Big Bad Voodoo Daddy; Cherry Poppin’ Daddies; Squirrel Nut Zippers; Royal Crown Revue New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival 172 NHS (National Health Service) 134 Nicholas Brothers 126–​7 Nine Inch Nails 157 Ninjula 96 Nonclassical see Prokofiev, Gabriel NWA 128; see also Dr Dre O Brother, Where Art Thou? 170 Offbeat 4, 158; general views on electro swing 50; influences 182; musicality 150; personae 55–​9, 91; politics of 133; relationship with the past 166, 179; see also Swinghoppers, the Olympics 145, 146–​7 Original Dixieland Jass Band 16, 99 Oswald, John 10 Parker, Charlie 18, 76, 98, 171 Parliament-​Funkadelic 170 Party like Gatsby 52, 112; see also Great Gatsby, the personalism 57 Peterson, Gilles see Acid Jazz Records Pine, Courtney 24–​5 PiSk 126–​7; see also SwinGrowers Pokémon Go 177 pop art 142 Portishead 24 Postmodern Jukebox 32, 39, 46–​7, 95, 154, 159, 181 Presley, Elvis 26, 99, 102 Prima, Louis 182 Prodigy, the 85–​6 Prokofiev, Gabriel 118–​19, 147–​48; see also Mr Switch ProleteR 151 Puppini Sisters, the 97

210 Index Q-​Tip see A Tribe Called Quest Rack, Michael see Dutty Moonshine Ragtime Records 4–​5, 29, 32, 41, 96; see also C@ in the H@; Electric Swing Circus, the; Skellington, Duke; Swingamajig Rakim 19, 170; see also B., Eric Real Tuesday Weld, the 145 Rees-​Mogg, Jacob 127 Reinhardt, Django 38, 90, 93–​4, 162; see also Grappelli, Stéphane; gypsy jazz Repac, Nicolas 27, 29 Riff Kitten 96 Riley, Teddy 22–​3 Rin Tins, the 35 Roaring 2.0s 4, 55, 167–​8; see also Dutty Moonshine Roaring City 32, 94–​5; see also Mr Automatic; Rouge!; Vourteque rockism 46 Rolling Stones, the 101, 124 Roots, the 44–​6 Rosantique 135 Rouge! 32; see also Mr Automatic; Roaring City; Vourteque Royal Crown Revue 25; see also neo-​swing Run-​DMC 117 Satchmo see Armstrong, Louis Saunders, Jesse 93 Savoy Ballroom 80 Scarecrow 86 Scott-​Heron, Gil 19 Sells, Chad see Skellington, Duke Sepiatonic 32 Shambala 30, 36 Shaw, Artie 65, 101 Shawcross, Richard see C@ in the H@ Shindig Weekender 34–​6, 116, 122; see also Ghetto Funk signifyin’ 99, 102, 112 Simone, Nina 19, 65, 67, 71 Sinatra, Frank 82, 162 Skeewiff 173 Skellington, Duke 4, 32, 35, 88–​91, 96, 162; see also Ragtime Records Slamboree 86, 136–​8 Slater, Ashley see Kitten and the Hip

Slynk 32 Smith, Atom 32, 89, 94, 96; see also Down, Buck Smith, Lonnie Liston 21–​2 Smokey Joe and the Kid 13, 40–​1, 51, 158; classification of sound 50, 84, 86–​7; history of 33; politics of 132; relationship with race 96; see also MysDiggi Sound Nomaden 5; classification of sound 52, 85, 146; relationship with jazz 74; relationship with the past 161, 169, 174, 185 Spekrfreks 96 Spinatra, Skank 162 Squirrel Nut Zippers 25, 94; see also neo-​swing steampunk 92 Stelar, Parov 1, 38, 40, 86–​7; classification of sound 3, 50, 52, 84; criticism of 54; history of 27–​30; relationship with jazz 66–​7; see also Etage Noir Stesasonic 21–​2, 26, 170–​1 Stormy Weather see Nicholas Brothers Stranger than Paradise 4 strategic anti-​essentialism 100, 129–​30 Sunak, Rishi 35 Super Bowl 25 Swindle 116 Swing & Bass 36, 162; see also Gillespie, Fizzy swing dance 15, 139; authenticity of 61; 69–​73; politics of 134; relationship with class 122; relationship with race 90, 103–​5, 107–​10, 114–​16; relationship with the past 160, 165–​6; see also Foley, Cat; Herräng Dance Camp; Manning, Frankie; Miller, Norma Swing Republic 41 swing revival see neo-​swing Swingamajig 4–​5, 40–​1; history of 13, 30, 32, 34–​7, 93; relationship with class 124; relationship with swing dance 69, 80; relationship with the past 159, 167; see also C in the H; Electric Swing Circus, the; Ragtime Records Swinghoppers, the 4, 55–​7, 66–​7, 71, 162; see also Offbeat

Index  211 SwinGrowers 13, 41, 45, 87, 93, 146, 185; see also PiSk Symphonica 148; see also Mr Switch takeSomeCrime 28 Tape Five 84 Tiësto 145 Tofu, Chris 3, 30, 37, 42; general views on electro swing 28–​9, 47–​8, 54, 106, 139, 145; musicality 20, 150; on geographic variation within electro swing 90, 92–​3; politics of 131–​2; relationship with class 123–​4; relationship with jazz 81; relationship with race 97, 113–​14, 116; relationship with the past 161, 164, 166, 174; see also Electro Swing Club; Grinagog; London Remixed; Vintage Remix Tong, Pete 144–​5 Too Many Zooz 148 Trainor, Meghan 30 Trainspotting 176 Tricky 24

Trump, Donald 34, 110 Tuxedo Junction 13, 48–​9, 78; see also Bear Twists; Father Funk twenty-​year rule of revivalism 176–​80 Underworld 176–​7 Vaude Villainz, the see Skellington, Duke Vice see Harrison, Angus Vintage Remix 3; see also Tofu, Chris Vourteque 32; see also Roaring City; Rouge! Wagram 28–​9 Waller, Fats 17 Webb, Chick 102 White Mink 29, 41, 127; see also Freshly Squeezed; Hollywood, Nick Woohoo Revue, the 93 World War II 83, 112, 158 Yarbrough, Camille 145 Youthstar 39, 86; see also Chinese Man