| 00:00 |
Hannah McGregor: |
Hi! Hannah McGregor here. Before we get into our episode today, I want to tell you about our new partner podcast [Start Music] , New Aural Cultures: The Podcast Studies Podcast. If you like the sound studies episodes of SpokenWeb, you’ll love this in-depth but accessible take on podcasting culture with hosts, Dr. Dario Linares, featuring interviews with internationally renowned podcast producers, academics, and critics, New Aural Cultures delves into the medium in all its complexity. New Aural Cultures is also a distribution network for one-off podcasts, ongoing series, and sound-based projects of all kinds. If you have a sound based project or idea that you think would lend itself to becoming a podcast, reach out on Twitter @NewAural, that’s aural as in A-U-R-A-L. To listen to the show, head over to anchor.fm/NewAuralCultures or subscribe wherever you get your podcasts. You’ll even hear episodes featuring SpokenWeb members like Stacey Copeland, Jason Camlot, and me! And now onto our episode. [End Music]
|
| 01:30 |
SpokenWeb Podcast Theme Music: |
[Instrumental Overlapped with High-Pitched Voice Begins] Can you hear me? I don’t know how much projection to do here.
|
| 01:30 |
Hannah McGregor: |
What does literature sound like? What stories will we hear if we listen to the archive? Welcome to the SpokenWord Podcast: stories about how literature sounds. My name is Hannah McGregor, and each month I’ll be bringing you different stories of Canadian literary history and our contemporary responses to it created by scholars, poets, students, and artists from across Canada. What does ethical mean to you? Perhaps you took an ethics course in school where they taught you about Aristotle or Kant, about ethics as a system of rules or theories concerned with what is good for individuals in society. O.r perhaps ethical is something tied more to the way you live each day, your interactions with loved ones and strangers, your choices in what food to buy or political cause to support. But how does ethics apply to the way we listen? And in particular, the way we listen to the spoken word? Poet Robert Duncan once described himself as a poet who “listens as his poetry pictures his listening”. A reminder that poetry is, in its first instance, a record of sonic performance, an artistic practice that takes place as much on the stage in front of a listening audience, as on the page. What’s more, poetic performance is at its heart about attunement and attention. About a response, or a responsibility, to the world enacted through sound. We can think of listening as ethics or “po-ethics”, as the composer John Cage often said. In this episode, we joined SpokenWeb contributors, Deanna Fong, and Mike O’Driscoll, as they step back to listen to the ethical practices of expert listeners. They’ll guide us through the production, collection, preservation, and reception of spoken word performances, as we hear from a performance artist, an oral historian, a curator, and a cultural analyst on what ethical listening means to them. Here is Deanna and Mike [Start Music: SpokenWeb Podcast Theme Music, Instrumental Overlapped With Feminine Vocals] with “Listening Ethically to the Spoken Word.” [End Music: SpokenWeb Podcast Theme Music, Instrumental Overlapped With Feminine Vocals]
|
| 04:01 |
Music: |
“Take Me to the Cabaret” by Billy Murray |
| 04:16 |
Deanna Fong: |
[Continue Music] Hi, I’m Deanna Fong.
|
| 04:16 |
Mike O’Driscoll: |
And I’m Mike O’Driscoll. In her book The Other Side of Language: A Philosophy of Listening, Gemma Corradi Fiumara remarks that genuine listening creates ever new spaces in the very place it is carried out. We’d add, it’s a site for the emergence of something radically new. [End Music] New forms of care, new ways of relating to our environments and to each other. Like her, we believe that listening is a revolutionary activity.
|
| 04:48 |
Deanna Fong: |
Over the next hour, we will introduce you to four speakers who cultivate that creative space of listening in their practice: T.L. Cowan, Mathieu Aubin, Treena Chambers, and Clint Burnham. Each introduces us to a sound recording that is important to their work and takes us through what attentive, ethical listening means to them. As you listen to this podcast, we invite you to be attuned to your own listening by considering the following questions. What are you listening for in the space of this podcast? At what points is your attention fixed and at what points does it wander? What is the material situation of your listening? Where does it take place? What else is going on? How does listening feel in your body?
|
| 05:30 |
Mike O’Driscoll: |
By giving special attention to these cues, we hope that this episode will prompt you to reflect on your own ethics of listening by considering how you listen and what is important to you when encountering the spoken word and other sounds.
|
| 05:47 |
Deanna Fong: |
I’m going to guess that when most of us imagine what listening sounds like, we imagine nothing at all. Silence. But for queer cabaret performer and professional spokeslady Trixie Cane, also known as Professor T.L. Cowan, it sounds a lot more like this.
|
| 06:02 |
Audio Recording, T.L. Cowan performance of Mrs. Trixie Cane at the Edgy Women Festival: |
It’s not too late. You can [Audience Laughter] eat me today. [Audience Applause]
|
| 06:28 |
Mike O’Driscoll: |
Hi T.L. Thanks for joining us today. Can you begin by telling us a bit more about that clip and why it’s important to you?
|
| 06:38 |
T.L Cowan: |
Sure. Thanks. And thanks for having me. This is just fabulous. This was my performance at the final cabaret of the Edgy Women Festival, which was a festival of feminist performance –performance art that was organized and curated by a really awesome person named Miriam Zenith GA in Montreal from 1994 to 2016. So a 22 year run of this feminist performance festival. And so this was the very last show of that festival and it was called Left Fe and the cabaret was hosted by Edgy Women superstars, Dana McLeod and Natalie Clode, and the festival or the cabaret itself was a kind of funeral awake and a celebration of life of The Edgy Women Festival. And Natalie and Dana as the hosts took us through the stages of grief. So I was invited and commissioned –invited to perform, commissioned to make a piece.
|
| 07:35 |
T.L Cowan: |
And so I was performing as my alter ego, Mrs. Trixie Cane. And Mrs. Trixie Cane is –she’s a character who I perform in drag. And she is a professional spokeslady, and I was performing alongside my partner Jazz Rock, who is a very good cello player. And Jazz and I play together as a duo called Mrs. Trixie Cane and Her Handsome Cellist. And it was called the Edgy Women Memorial Institute for Long Feminist Performance Art Programming That Goes On and On Forever, Forever into Eternity. That was the title of the performance. But what you’re listening to now is the very end of that performance. And this was happening at the Leon D’or Cabaret in Montreal.
|
| 08:20 |
Audio Recording, T.L. Cowan performance of Mrs. Trixie Cane at the Edgy Women Festival: |
Hi. [Audience Laughter] I’m Trixie King. [Audience Laughter] I’m here tonight to talk to you about an exciting new fundraising initiative called the Edgy Women Memorial Institute for Long Feminist Performance Art Programming That Goes On and On Forever, Forever into Eternity. [Audience Laughter] Or, “EW-MILF-PAPT-GO-OFFE.” [Audience Laughter]
|
| 09:06 |
T.L Cowan: |
So that clip is important to me because I have been a performer for many, many years, and I’ve performed in lots of different kinds of venues, but, the thing that I have found the most remarkable about a performance life is when it feels like the audience is just really picking up what you’re putting down and that they’re like, they’re in it, they’re listening, they’re following along. They get all of the stuff that you’re trying to do with your look, with your gestures, with your texts, with your movement, with your sexy cellist – all of those kinds of things. And when you’re a feminist performance artist, it’s not that often in the world that you feel “gotten” that you feel like people really get what you’re doing. Usually, in my professional life, I always kind of joke that I feel like I’m the fire-breathing lesbian in every in every professional meeting, for example.
|
| 10:09 |
T.L Cowan: |
And so, usually the way –our ways of being in the world are kind of at a weird raw angle to a kind of mainstream straight non-feminists way of doing things. And so, when we bring our performance selves into these spaces and get that kind of applause, it’s like the best mental health medicine ever. Because it’s a moment where you feel seen and heard, understood and that you share a sense of set of references and that you share a set of aesthetics and understandings [Start Music: Take Me to the Cabaret] and that people get what you’re doing.
|
| 10:54 |
Deanna Fong: |
This reminds me of your recent article on the avidly channel of the LA Review of Books, which is a great series, right? It’s writing with intense eagerness [Laughs] and that essay, “Holding for Applause: On Queer Cabaret in Pandemic Times”, you wrote –there’s a quote here: “Applause is necessary. It makes us feel seen and arguably safe, loved. Applause is the audio equivalent of the sweaty crush upon crush, a bodily affirmation that you can hear. ” And I love that implication of like the sonic importance of applause there. So – how does applause and all of the other sort of like audio accoutrement of heckling and cheering and callback and all these sorts of things – how in your mind does that relate to an ethics of listening in the context of live cabaret performance?
|
| 11:43 |
T.L Cowan: |
Well kind of coming back to what I was saying earlier about the applause that I got for that – my Edgy Woman performance in 2016, I would say that that kind of applause indicates that the audience was paying attention. And that you have not been ignored. You’ve not been dismissed, you’ve not been overshadowed, you’ve not been written off as the kind of flamey queer in the room. Or as I said earlier, that like kind of fire-breathing lesbian in the room, or the angry feminist or whatever it is. But instead by bringing those elements to the stage, and bringing them into that trans feminist performance scene that you are –and telling your stories – that you’re taking a risk to a certain extent, right? That you are hoping that the audience will love what you’re doing, that they will pick up what you’re putting down.
|
| 12:41 |
T.L Cowan: |
But you never really know. So it’s always a risk. You’re always making yourself vulnerable. And trans, feminist, and queer people know the experience of vulnerability and risk so well because almost anytime that we are ourselves, that we’re not kind of a muted down version of ourselves, in the ways that we need to mute ourselves to generally survive in our everyday lives – that by bringing the kind of full self, the flamboyant self into the space, and then for the audience to be like, “Yeah, that was amazing. I see what you’re doing!” That means that you’re being paid attention to and that not only that, but that what you have to offer is needed, not just tolerated. And so that what you’re bringing into that space is something that people need and want. And that when people give you that kind of applause back, it’s a kind of building a relationship of that kind of intensity that kind of need that kind of caregiving. So a performer giving that kind of performance is a way of caring for her or their, or his community. And for audiences to give back with that amount of attention and love, I think is a kind of ethical engagement with not just the work, but in building these spaces where these stories can be told in a way where they’re going to be supported and appreciated and attended to, and not met with a kind of like cool indifference or or derision or anything like that. But that, that you really are going to feel like your work is needed and loved, and that you are not going to be judged in a way that leaves you feeling like shit – sorry – about yourself afterwards. That you’re going to end up feeling like, “Oh yeah, I can bring my – I can bring what I’ve got here. I don’t have to tone it down.” [Start Music: Take Me to the Cabaret] And so when audiences also don’t tone it down, then that produces a kind of reciprocity of a queer fabulousness and flamboyance and over-the-top-ness that many of us need to thrive and survive, but don’t get in our everyday lives.
|
| 14:47 |
Music: |
Take Me to the Cabaret by Billy Murray, Old phonograph “Cabaret”
|
| 15:16 |
Music: |
Night on the Docks by Kevin McLeod
|
| 15:16 |
Deanna Fong: |
T.L Cowan reminds us that an audience’s response, applause, cheering, and other forms of vocal affirmation are not only acts of listening, they’re also acts of care. But how does that care extend beyond the live space of the performance, into the collection and interpretation of participants’ memories of those events? To put it differently, how can historical listening also enact an ethics of care? To answer this question, we turn to our next guest, Mathieu Aubin.
|
| 15:43 |
Mike O’Driscoll: |
Mathieu Aubin is a scholar of print and performance cultures in Canada. He’s working towards recuperating queer people’s contributions to Canadian literary culture, and his work on queerness and literary communities in Vancouver has been published in the Journal Canadian Literature. Here’s Mathieu at work interviewing legendary poet, bill bissett.
|
| 16:11 |
Audio Recording, Mathieu Aubin interviews bill bissett, bill bissett: |
I was so grateful for Warren’s support of me. There was a television station then I think called CKVU.
|
| 16:22 |
Audio Recording, Mathieu Aubin interviews bill bissett, Mathieu Aubin: |
Okay.
|
| 16:22 |
Audio Recording, Mathieu Aubin interviews bill bissett, bill bissett:
|
I think –
|
| 16:22 |
Audio Recording, Mathieu Aubin interviews bill bissett, Mathieu Aubin: |
Was that a local Vancouver station?
|
| 16:22 |
Audio Recording, Mathieu Aubin interviews bill bissett, bill bissett:
|
Yeah.
|
| 16:22 |
Audio Recording, Mathieu Aubin interviews bill bissett, Mathieu Aubin: |
Ok.
|
| 16:22 |
Audio Recording, Mathieu Aubin interviews bill bissett, bill bissett: |
And I did a reading on it and Robin Blaser was there supporting me and saying wonderful things about me. And I lived in secret and I was, everything was kind of very bizarre and wonderful, the possibilities of things getting better. And then after that, like my phone number was listed. And after that I had death threats about five times a day –.
|
| 16:56 |
Audio Recording, Mathieu Aubin interviews bill bissett, Mathieu Aubin: |
Wow.
|
| 16:56 |
Audio Recording, Mathieu Aubin interviews bill bissett, bill bissett: |
– just from that TV appearance, I was only chanting. It’s like, people are, it’s like still, I mean, Trump mobilizes those kinds of people. They’re so addicted to everything being the same. And that’s not a judgment at them. They get that way probably because they haven’t read enough books. They’re not informed enough. They hadn’t had an education. Maybe they’ve been very frightened when their children, by something awful that happened to them. And now they can’t handle anything. And it was only musical chanting that I was doing. It was based on the honey chant. And maybe I read a couple of love poems, you know? [Music Begins: Night on the Docks – Sax] And everyone in the house I was living in, they all knew that I was living there secretly, they came down in the apartment, we all watched it together. They thought it was fine [Laughs] but not everyone. [Music: Night on the Docks by Kevin McLeod]
|
| 17:49 |
Mike O’Driscoll: |
Thanks for being here with us today, Mathieu. To begin, can you give us a bit of context about the clip that we just heard?
|
| 17:59 |
Mathieu Aubin: |
Yeah. So this clip is from an interview that I conducted with bill bissett in April, 2019 in Vancouver, British Columbia. And at the time I was really interested [Music Ends: Night on the Docks – Sax] in this reading series called The Writing and Our Time reading series that happened in 1979. And so I had the chance to meet with him in Kitsilano, a neighborhood of Vancouver. And we had met a few times beforehand, so we already had some rapport and we’ve been working together a few years. But the main interest was really about the series and thinking about perhaps its role as a form of queer cultural activism. The reason why I was thinking about that is because the series was started as a way of organizing people together and getting them to raise funds for bill bissett who’s press, blewointment press, Canada Council funding had been cut. And as you know, small presses definitely depend on that money to be able to survive. |
| 18:56 |
Mathieu Aubin: |
So the issue, in part, was a result of accusations in the House of Commons in the year prior and the year before that – so ’70, ’77, ’78 – that we’re calling poetry by bill bissett as well as that by Bertrand Lachance pornographic. So the issue really was that there was this huge debate that led to a lot of backlash. And when I was asking you about the role of homophobia in those events and the House of Commons, as well as the sort of galvanizing movement around challenging what I thought was homophobia with the reading series, he told me about a CKUTV reading, and that happened in ’78 –September ’78, – that was organized by Juan Tolman and attended by many other poets. And so, what you hear in the recording here is basically him describing what happened – [Start Music: Night on the Docks by Kevin McLeod] obviously the excitement of the event, but also the kind of negative backlash that happened afterwards.
|
| 20:06 |
Deanna Fong: |
So I know a lot of your research and also your pedagogical interests revolve around something that you’ve called listening queerly or queer listening. And I was wondering if you could tell us a little bit about the techniques and practices of queer listening?
|
| 20:21 |
Mathieu Aubin: |
Yeah. So this is something that I’ve been working on for a few years now, even more closely as a postdoc at Concordia. And to me, queer listening entails basically attending to how LGBTQ+ people interpret or articulate their lives. And that means like friendships, family, intimacy, politics, artistic expression, really all different kinds of facets, but from a queer position. And so, what I’m often listening for and where I’m listening for is often audio recordings of literary events or conversations, but also in oral history interviews. But when I’m thinking about old recordings, I’m mostly interested in thinking about how they’re articulating queer codes, and how they’re connecting with other LGBTQ+ writers in the room, people who are presenting an audience members, or how they also introduced their works, discuss the works and even just the works themselves, obviously, it seems like the most obvious point, but it’s not just about the work itself, but also around it. And how is it actually shaping what we’re listening for? |
| 21:31 |
Mathieu Aubin: |
And with a quick reference to the clip that I shared with you just before we started recording, there’s one moment I – it makes me smile now listening back again, because – not the condition that he had to go through, but like when he says “living in secrecy” I know what that means, but somebody who might not quite understand the context would not be able to understand the resonances of that. And so for me, it’s thinking, okay, well, 1978-79, bill bissett gay poet, who is under the – has been targeted by the Canada parliament, excuse me, Canadian parliament – I wass going to say the Canada Council, but that wasn’t the case. And then, and also getting death threats. And so living in secrecy for him meant survival at a time when homophobia, wasn’t just something that people were like, “Oh, we’re homophobic, but we hide it.”
|
| 22:24 |
Mathieu Aubin: |
It’s like this was public and overt. And for him it meant survival. So living in secrecy – if he is mentioning something like that – is speaking much louder from a queer positionality, if you’re listening and attending to those concerns. Or another thing could be him reading a poem about RCMP surveillance. Sure, he was arrested for possession of cannabis, but he was also surveilled for other reasons. And part of that was his own sexual identity. So, when he reads a poem about queer surveillance and the RCMP, you know that means more than simply just police state. So, what does that mean about that time period? And what does it mean to be able to share that in that moment to a public audience?
|
| 23:13 |
Mathieu Aubin: |
But in an oral history interview, queer listing, for me entails something not quite the same, but quite similar at the same time. And it’s about how that person, how they –they would probably identify as LGBTQ+ – how they’re interpreting whatever facet of their lives from a queer positionality and how that might resonate differently for queer listeners. So it’s not just about listening to the past, but it’s thinking about how are they interpreting that time in their life today. And that’s why I think like that moment of secrecy – living in secret system. Okay. Well, what does it mean? And maybe along the person to unpack that a little bit, or even just keeping it at that. Not letting it just be a queer code. [Transition Music: Night on the Docks – Sax]
|
| 24:07 |
Deanna Fong: |
And so, what sort of ethical considerations have been important in your work – especially as you say that you’re listening for the articulation of these kinds of queer codes, connections between members of communities, perhaps intergenerationally, especially when queer subjects had been the target of so much censure and violence? And I guess maybe one more, very specific question is: in that case, do you feel that there is an ethical impetus to make those codes legible outside of a queer community? Is that part of your task as an oral historian or is there a different kind of ethics that those sorts of artifacts and conversations demand?
|
| 24:57 |
Mathieu Aubin: |
I think your questions are right on point. They’re important things that I’m thinking about at the moment. Some of my ways of thinking about this have been – two key ethical principles have been one – and we talked about this last week– which is non extractive listening where things like Dylan Robinsons work – but here more in the queer context because with the measure of the RCMP using tape recorders to literally record people who would be identified as queer today to incriminate them or blackmail them, how do you today listen to this from a position of white privilege and power at the institutions that we work with, and not reproduce that kind of violence? So how do you listen, not extractively but listen with or hopefully from a respectful position. And I think that part of that work – like you’re saying –is thinking about it for me through the queer context, through works that have been written about that period by people who are reflected by that time period.
|
| 26:07 |
Mathieu Aubin: |
But, “who is this for?” is a question that I keep asking myself. Am I writing this to inform the general public, or is this for the communities themselves? And I think it’s a bit of both, but always first and foremost, the queer community itself, because if you’re doing the work for others, how are they going to benefit whatsoever from listening and interpretation and oral history telling. But I think that the general public also needs to know when there’s a lack – like when they don’t understand what it is – the experiences of queer people over the last 50 years, let’s say.
|
| 26:47 |
Mathieu Aubin: |
What’s interesting to me is when I share these kinds of historical events with people who would identify as maybe an ally or who would try to not be homophobic [Begin Music: Night on the Docks by Kevin McLeod], they’re always – they’re often surprised by the stuff that I document for them, about this time period and share with them. So, I think that’s like – the ethics is like how do you do that in a way that’s not just meant to like reproduce the power structures? [End Music: Night on the Docks by Kevin McLeod]
|
| 27:26 |
Mike O’Driscoll: |
Listening, much like the language we listen to and for can be structured by uneven relations across social forms, such as race, gender, class, sexuality, and cultural background. Mathieu shows us how queer codes land differently for different listeners, depending on their position in relation to heteronormative power structures. For our next guest Métis writer, scholar, and organizer, Treena Chambers, language offers us a vantage to critique and dismantle structures of colonial power, and also to heal through storytelling and deep listening. [Music start: Blur the World] Thanks again, Treena, for agreeing to meet with us. You’ve worked extensively with the Hartmut Lutz’s collection of interviews with Indigenous writers, which has been made available on the People and the Text site, listening to them, cataloging them, digitizing them, and even traveling to Germany to work with the collection. It seems that so many stories about the archive begin by encountering a box of tapes. Can you tell us that story and what that encounter was like for you?
|
| 28:47 |
Treena Chambers: |
Yeah, I’m happy to. So, I was working with Dr. Deanna Reader and she had some money and was trying to go through Dr. Hartmut Lutz’s library. So, she found myself and Rachel Thomas and Thompson, and sent us to Germany [End Music: Blur the World by Tagirijus] to go through his archives because he was getting ready to retire. And, in going through all his books and all his paraphernalia, we came across this box of tapes and low and behold, open it up, and there are interviews with all sorts of people. Howard Adams, Maria Campbell, Thompson Highway, there was just so many. And so we looked at these and immediately tried to figure out how we can save them– because very quickly, looking at the box– when you pull out a box from the 1960s and 1970s, you’re like, “Uh-Oh!” [Laughs]. Technology has changed, tapes degrade, all of that.
|
| 29:46 |
Treena Chambers: |
So immediately we’re like, how do we, as quickly as possible get these into some sort of format that we can use? And the only thing we could do at that point was get them back to Canada and hopefully work with the library. So I packed them into a backpack and carried them through Germany and through Portugal because I was making a stop. And then back to Vancouver.
|
| 30:10 |
Mike O’Driscoll…: |
How did it feel, the first moment you got to start listening to them? What did – what was that like for you?
|
| 30:18 |
Treena Chambers: |
It was really interesting. I grew up outside of a strong Indigenous community. I had a very strong Indigenous family who understood its self as Indigenous inside those sort of walls of our home. But we grew up in a very white, small town in Canada that was proud of its mining roots and settler roots. And so there was always a conflict with how you understood being Indigenous within that context. And so sitting down and going through those tapes, was a really interesting exercise for me to think through who I was and the sort of dichotomy that I lived within. And so the tapes were really – yeah I just loved hearing [Begin Music: Blur the World by Tagirijus] these people, these thinkers that I had heard at the kitchen table being heard in a larger context. [End Music: Blur the World by Tagirijus]
|
| 31:23 |
Treena Chambers: |
Our goal was to bring them back to Canada. As soon as we saw what they were, we really wanted people to be able to hear the voice of Indigenous thinkers, Indigenous writers, and to hear them here on our shore and to give them the respect that a German scholar gave them, but nobody in Canada had given them in the past. So to bring them home, preserve what we could, document what we could, and make them available for Indigenous scholars, for settler scholars, and to bring them back to the land that they spoke of.
|
| 32:01 |
Deanna Fong: |
Yeah. And so I think you mentioned that you’ve listened to about 25% of this quite large collection of interviews is that right?
|
| 32:08 |
Treena Chambers: |
Yeah. Yeah. It’s been a really interesting project. I mean, we were really lucky that once we got them back to Canada, there were so many other people who were willing to help us digitize them, willing to help us work towards transcripts and that. So a lot of my job became, connecting all of those different groups. So I really got to listen to just the ones that drew me [Laughs] into everything.
|
| 32:37 |
Deanna Fong: |
Yeah, of course among those is Maria Campbell’s interview with Hartmut Lutz, which you’ve selected an excerpt for us to listen to today. So, would you mind giving us a little bit of context about that choice and why that tape spoke to you?
|
| 32:51 |
Treena Chambers: |
It was really interesting. So, I was lucky enough–doing the work of preserving them, that I was able to put them on my phone and listen to them as I was commuting back and forth back pre COVID days where we had to commute further than our bedroom to our living room. And so I was commuting from Burnaby to downtown Vancouver. I was doing my Master’s in –or am still doing my Master’s in public policy at SFU. And, there’s nothing quite as colonial as public policy school. And so having these – the Maria Campbell in particular interview in my ears as I was going to school was a really interesting experience, to hear her talk about her experiences in Canada, and to understand her as a strong Métis woman who really defined community for so many years for so many of us. Yeah, so it was a beautiful moment to think through what she was saying about how we tell stories, and the obligation of stories, and the work that stories do before I would go into a school that started to talk about, “Oh, we’re all neutral and we’re data driven” and I’d be like, [Laughs] I know you’re not! And I heard someone tell me that on the way to school!
|
| 34:13 |
Deanna Fong: |
No language is neutral. No data is neutral.
|
| 34:18 |
Treena Chambers: |
Exactly.
|
| 34:18 |
Deanna Fong: |
So why don’t I play? I’ll play the clip for us here. I’ll just share my screen.
|
| 34:24 |
Audio Recording, Hartmut Lutz interviews Maria Campbell, Maria Campbell: |
So one of the things that’s very difficult for me is I don’t, I don’t think of myself as a writer. My work is in the community. Writing is just one of the moves that I use in my work as an organizer. If I think that something else will work better than I’ll, you know, so I’m, it’s multimedia kinds of things. I do video, I do film and I do oral storytelling. I do a lot of teaching. Well, I don’t like calling it teaching, but it’s facilitating. And, I work a lot with elders, so it’s not like I’m a writer and I’m bopping around all over reading and talking about the great literature or anything. I’m not a – I don’t think of myself as an authority on –in fact, I get quite embarrassed when I – if I have to speak from the point of view of a writer, because I really don’t know what that is. I know what a storyteller is. And a storyteller is a community healer and teacher. [Begin Music: Blur the World by Tagirijus]
|
| 35:40 |
Deanna Fong: |
Yeah. So fantastic recording and so much to talk about. Can we just start by asking you why this particular recording or this particular excerpt of this recording is important to you?
|
| 35:54 |
Treena Chambers: |
Well, I think –so in the work that I do, I’m trying to challenge the way we use language within public policy. We often talk about things like Crown land and stuff like that, but we don’t need interrogate what that means. And particularly in British Columbia, there’s no such thing as Crown land really. There’s unceded land and there’s treatied land, but the Crown [End [Music: Blur the World by Tagirijus] has not established a real legal claim to the land here. And so I think often about the work that the story that we tell ourselves both in how we envision the birth of what we call Canada, how we envision our obligations to each other and what story can do. And I think in particular, Maria Campbell has taken that very, very seriously and built story and done story work that has really worked to heal many people’s experiences on the land, but also challenge our assumptions about what words mean, what story does and, how we relate to each other. [Begin Music: Blur the World by Tagirijus]
|
| 37:13 |
Treena Chambers: |
So most of the listening that I do is done just to experience it. It’s not done with this end goal of, okay, this is my conception of this author, or of the speaker, of this process, or product. Therefore I need to listen specifically for things that relate to that. So when I’m listening, I listen just to listen. And that’s not to say that my own internal biases and my own processes and ideas don’t influence what I hear, but I don’t go into much of what I’m listening to with a specific question in mind. I don’t have a research question that I am exploring. I don’t have a specific understanding of the people that I’m listening to. That influences what I’m listening for. I try and listen just to hear what they have to say. And, for me, that allows me to experience what I’m hearing, but also to maybe hear things differently.
|
| 38:25 |
Treena Chambers: |
I think the interesting thing is when we were listening to the Maria Campbell interview, the types of quotes that people pick out and the moments like the moments that you picked out as important were ones that I’m like, nah, that’s kind of a throw away for me. Because it just wasn’t something I was listening for. The Canadian literature scene is not my scene, particularly. I have lots of friends who are in it and I love being there, but I wasn’t listening to hear Maria Campbell’s critique of, or experience of being in groups of other writers. I was just listening to see what she had to say. And in particular, I guess for me about what she had to say about community. And so that’s one of the beauties of just sort of promiscuous listening, I think, is that you don’t go into it with a preconceived agenda and you can enjoy it for –just for the sake of listening that you don’t have to be made better for it. [Begin Music: Blur the World by Tagirijus] You don’t have to learn from it. You can just listen and be.
|
| 39:44 |
Deanna Fong: |
We can listen attuned to the resonances of historical context and the dynamics of power as Mathieu Aubain asks us to do, or we can listen through response as T.L. Cowan invites us as a fundamental practice of careful relationships and community building, or we can listen simply to be fully present and enjoy as Treena Chambers reminds us. But it’s listening always unequivocally a good thing? To address that question. We turn to Clint Burnham, professor of English at Simon Fraser University, and a cultural theorist who brings the writings of psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan to our conversation on the ethics of listening. [Music: queer noise by isabel nogueira e luciano zanatta]
|
| 40:25 |
Clint Burnham: |
I want to do two things. First of all, I want to hold that up and think about, or add or critique. I still believe in the idea of critique, the notion, that listening is an unalloyed good. And then secondly, I want to say, listen, if listening is not great, it’s also not, not great. So part one, we’re told in the era of #MeToo that we should listen to women. We were told in the era of reconciliation that we should listen to residential school survivors’ stories. Let me be clear that what I am not saying is that we should not listen to survivors. Yes, should we should read and listen to testimony. You have the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. We should read and listen to their stories and songs and novels and poems about that horrible continued history of cultural genocide in our settler colonial past and present.
|
| 41:14 |
Clint Burnham: |
And yes, we should listen to our loved ones, our colleagues, our students, and our public figures when they talk about acts of sexual assault and improprieties. But, I also want us to think more about what listening means, what it entails. I want us to consider how listening is often the activity of the powerful. Think of the judge in a courtroom who listens to testimony, or a priest who listens confession, or a therapist who listens to a patient. The structure of listening actually bequeaths a kind of master position onto the listener, who then decides what to believe, what to do with this knowledge. We put too much trust in listening. We think the listener is a good person. It’s good to listen. We have an entire repertoire of neoliberal, therapeutic listening, active listening. “I hear what you are saying.” Blah, blah, blah.
|
| 42:12 |
Clint Burnham: |
So what am I proposing? So, I’m not proposing to get rid of listening, to stop listening, but I am proposing that listening is not, not great. Lacanian psychoanalysis proposes a different kind of listening. So it’s still based on the idea of the psychoanalyst, but it’s a different sort of modality, Lacan famously combined the words caritas, or love, and trash, or déchets in French, to characterize what the analyst does as decharite, or what was translated into English as “trashitas.” So not caritas, but trashitas, a kind of a sifting through, a listening to garbage. And part of this is because there’s a through line of Lacan talking about his work as garbage. He’ll pun on poubelle-lication – a publication and poubelle, meaning garbage. Or he’ll say his work is only fit for the wastebasket. So he is talking about his own writings as well as about what the analysand, the patient, is saying.
|
| 43:12 |
Clint Burnham: |
But trashitas comes from caritas, so it’s also the love of garbage. An example of listening as trashitas can be found in how I listened to the Radio Free Rainforest archive. So thinking about the archive, sifting through the archive, of looking for that nugget, that gold, the archival jolt, as I think actually Michael O’Driscoll first theorized it. So we’re looking for something in the archive and the rest is– the remainder, is dross, is garbage, is uninteresting to us. [Audio Recording: “Mayakovsky” by the Four Horseman] And so for me then finding the poem, “Mayakovsky” by the Four Horseman…
|
| 44:04 |
Audio Recording, “Mayakovsky” by the Four Horseman, courtesy of Radio Free Rainforest, Simon Fraser University, Special Collections and Rare Books: |
[Drumming] [Singing] [Drumming] [Singing] [Repeats] [Voices overlapping]. A moment ago, once I was like, this is an interesting thing. Once I was interested in [inaudible] everything. I was talking a moment ago. Everyone’s talking to someone. Nobody’s talking to noone. [Breathing sounds]. [Singing].
|
| 46:58 |
Clint Burnham: |
“Mayakovsky”, a sound poem by the sort of Canadian avant-garde sound poetry group, the Four Horsemen, active in the 70’s and the 80’s. This is actually a record that was from a record, their record, Live in the West from 1977, played on Jerry Gilbert’s radio show called Radio Free Rainforest in, I think November, 1990. And that was a show on community radio CFRO in Vancouver. That show ran for 15 or 20 years. And at a certain point after Jerry passed away, his fonds became – were collected by the contemporary literature collection at SFU. And the tapes –he taped all of his shows – I actually have cassettes of when I was on that show in the late 90’s. He would give a cassette to people when they were on the show. And he also kept tapes himself. Larry Bremner for a while was his technician as well, the Case W poet. And so all those tapes ended up at a SFU and through the SpokenWeb team of gremlins, [Begin Music: Queer Noise by isabel nogueira e luciano zanatta] they were digitized and archived and now it’s all up on the SFU library website, which is quite amazing.
|
| 48:20 |
Clint Burnham: |
And even then, as we just listened to the poem, sound poetry itself as a genre takes these, these kinds of – in this case, mostly with the body, but not necessarily, there’s a drum in there as well –these guttural or breathing or throat singing. There’s a bit of that Tuvan sort of thing going on there. The versions of sound that don’t quite seem to be language, that seemed to be something else that we might think of as being experimental or trashy or garbage, like in a certain kind of way. And of course, even listening for that extraneous stuff, the chatter, the car noises, the needle on the – in the grooves of the vinyl and the dust and the scratches and the vinyl that make for that kind of noise. And finally thinking about the mediation of that sound. We’re listening through a computer – it was a tape that had been digitized from a radio show. There was a record being played – what has to do with the affordances of how we listen, the ear buds, and so on. All of the ways I’ve been thinking about listening to “Mayakovsky” by the Four Horsemen via Radio Free Rainforest, for me, is a form of listening that embodies that kind of trashitas ethics.
|
| 49:40 |
Deanna Fong: |
That’s great. And you know what immediately comes to mind is, I remember Tony Power, who’s the contemporary literature collections librarian at SFU. When that collection came in, Gerry Gilbert’s fond , it was full of literal trash. It was full of cigarette butts and old birth control packages from the 1970s and paperclips and all sorts of things. So I think actually what you’re proposing here is a different reading of the archive itself too. Not as this elevated site of the arc-on, as we imagine it in other various theoretical texts, but literally the trash heap [Laughs] in many cases. And that’s a way to sort of unravel that archontic kind of power.
|
| 50:32 |
Clint Burnham: |
Yeah. I mean, both – so, I mean, it’s that trash heap, and something that Lacan rifts off from Joyce as well – a letter, a litter from Finnegan’s Wake probably –that materiality of it is trash, is the sublime is unsorted. But then also that the listening, I think, to talk about listening in terms of the trashitas means – and it’s not to, it’s not to say that what I mean, whether it’s a work of literature or a testimony or something else is trash in the sense that it doesn’t matter, it’s just that– because on the one hand, there’s this love for it, there’s this real desire to hear it– but it’s not treating it as this kind of, that that makes me a better person for having been the person who listens. That ethical call to listen is what I think really has to be, thought about because it puts the listener into this position of the master, of the beautiful soul.
|
| 51:33 |
Clint Burnham: |
And I’m using master very conscious of the ways in which, with Black Lives Matter over the past six months since the George Floyd uprisings, has really asked us to think about what the signifiers are. And that mastery itself – we can sanitize or cancel language in terms of when – you know, master bedroom or master files and so on. And some of that obviously is very important, but I think I want to retain that idea, that one is put into a master position by the ethics of listening for precisely, for the problem of being a master. That perhaps when we call on others to listen to us, we don’t want to acknowledge the fact that we’re putting them into that powerful position [Begin Music: Queer Noise by isabel nogueira e luciano zanatta] and we have to think about that.
|
| 52:28 |
Mike O’Driscoll: |
So Clint, I’d like to ask you about modalities or methods of listening then in terms of recognizing that the listener assumes a master position, even while purporting to conduct a kind of ethics of listening. So how can that position of mastery be subject to disruption or to intervention? Is – are there ways that one might imagine listening or not listening, or not assuming that position of mastery that you might imagine?
|
| 53:06 |
Clint Burnham: |
That’s the hard part. I was saying to Deanna earlier, I hadn’t got to the the conclusion. I hadn’t got to the, “what do we do now?” part of the evening. And I think it’s in part what I’m calling for. First of all – what I’m saying and what I’m asking, but also what I’m saying is that we have to think about that power position itself. And being aware of it – of that problem is the first thing. And being aware that when I’m listening to somebody tell me of – give this testimony or talking about their trauma. Let’s just say, let’s just put it in that kind of way, right. That I can’t make the mistake of thinking, or I should be really critical of thinking that this makes me a better person because I’m the one who’s listening. And in a certain kind of way, the problem with the ethics of listening is that it depends on the speaker having this trauma to bring to me. You know, I can only be a good listener if you’re going to tell me about the horrible day you had you know, at the level of an analyst or, you know, about your sin, if I’m a priest or about your crime, if I’m a judge. I can only do those – all those positions depend on that person, bringing that trash to them, bringing those horrible things to them. So my beautiful soul, as Hegel put it, as a listener, depends on the trash in the other person’s soul. And so it’s a very disavowed relation, I think, it’s something that –or a repressed relation perhaps to put it more strongly, that the listener has with what is being brought to them. That what is being brought to them, makes them into a good person. [Begin Music: Queer Noise by isabel nogueira e luciano zanatta]And just to flip it around as well, when we are saying, “listen to me”, we are elevating that person into a position of power, and do we want to do that? [End Music: Queer Noise by isabel nogueira e luciano zanatta]
|
| 55:19 |
Deanna Fong: |
Like the great variety of sounds that move us in our practices as makers and researchers, so too, are there many modalities of listening each with their own ethical demands. Sometimes listening demands an embodied response where we offer our voices as gifts freely given to a community-based and reciprocal trust. Other times, listening is about generating space. For thoughts, for reflections, for emotions, as they play out in the improvised performance between an interviewer and an interviewee. Sometimes voices ask us to listen otherwise, without the impulse to place demands upon that which we are hearing or to extract what we want to hear toward our own ends. And sometimes, listening asks that we turn the acoustic mirror back on ourselves as listeners to examine our own implications in a social and political forces that structure our listening.
|
| 56:10 |
Mike O’Driscoll: |
For us, the creation of this podcast has been an extended exercise in listening. One that in many ways has placed our own definition of ethics in tension with demands of the podcast genre. That is, what you have heard today represents only a small portion of the conversations we’ve had with friends, colleagues, and interviewees recorded and unrecorded, that themselves comprise a larger scope of listening activities around this final product.
|
| 56:44 |
Deanna Fong: |
In the spirit of imagining an ethics of listening that is multiple, nuanced, and context-specific, we invite you to listen to the full recordings of these interviews, which have been made available for streaming on the Archive of the Present, ArchiveOfThePresent.SpokenWeb.ca. We also invite questions, comments, and further dialogue by email to Deanna.Fong@Mail.Concordia.ca and MO@ualberta.ca.
|
| 57:11 |
Mike O’Driscoll: |
Thank you for listening.
|
| 57:19 |
Music: |
Take Me To the Cabaret by Billy Murray, Old phonograph “Cabaret”
|
| 57:28 |
Hannah McGregor: |
[Start Music: SpokenWeb Podcast Theme Music, Instrumental Overlapped with Feminine Vocals] SpokenWeb is a monthly podcast produced by the SpokenWeb team as part of distributing the audio collected from and created using Canadian literary archival recordings found at universities across Canada. Our producers this month are SpokenWeb team members Deanna Fong of Concordia University, and Michael O’Driscoll from the University of Alberta. Our podcast project manager and supervising producer is Stacey Copeland, and our assistant producer and outreach manager is Judith Burr. Thank you to Mathieu Aubin, Clint Burnham, Treena Chambers, and T.L Cohen for their generous contributions to this episode. Special thanks also to Deanna Reader and Alex Shield of the People and the Text project, and to Hartmut Lutz and Maria Campbell for giving their permission to share the audio from their interview here on the show. To find out more about SpokenWeb visit SpokenWeb.ca and subscribe to the SpokenWeb Podcast on Apple podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you prefer to listen. If you love us, let us know. Rate us and leave a comment on Apple podcasts or say hi on our social media @SpokenWebCanada. From all of us at SpokenWeb, be kind to yourself and one another out there, and we’ll see you back here next month for another episode of the SpokenWeb Podcast, stories about how literature sounds. [End Music: SpokenWeb Podcast Theme Music, Instrumental Overlapped with Feminine Vocals] |
