Metal, Rock, and Jazz: Perception and the Phenomenology of Musical Experience (review)

Harris Berger's Metal, Rock, and Jazz is a lengthy and philosophical account of how ethnomusicology can be informed by phenomenological discourse. Through his fieldwork in the metal, rock, and jazz scenes of Cleveland and Akron, Berger's project is to understand the shared experiences of the players in musical formation within each musical tradition and within their respective socioeconomic and geographical contexts.

The book begins with an ethnographic consideration of each of the three, mutually exclusive musical contexts—three separate clubs, bands, and forms of popular music. Immediately one problem with the project emerges: Berger's choice of contrasts and comparisons is neither linked nor really justified. Clearly he is most interested in talking about one particular form of "heavy metal" rock music—so-called death metal; in these sections and chapters, the pace of the writing, the ethnographic detail, and the depth of interaction with his informants, particularly Dann Saladin, all pick up. In contrast, his other discussions of the Cleveland "hard rock" scene with the local band Max Panic and his comparison of two jazz contexts elsewhere in Ohio (one white and one African American jazz ensemble) are less successful and function awkwardly. In fact, one wonders why, in this era of "publish or perish," Berger did not break this work down into three separate books that could reference each other.

The sections on death metal are strong enough to warrant their own volume. What particularly fascinated me in these discussions was Berger's ethnographically informed exploration of the concept of "heaviness" in music. "Any element of the musical sound can be heavy," he states, "if it evokes power or any of the grimmer emotions, and the history of metal is commonly understood as the pursuit of greater and greater heaviness" (p. 59). Thus contextualizing the language of rock fans through its vernacular taxonomies, Berger gives insight into their world. He also gives perhaps the most intelligent analysis of "moshing" I've read (pp. 72-73).

On the other hand, Berger's ethnographic descriptions of the bars where he observed the live musical performances are much less successful and are written as if by rote. Here is one example:

Entering the mall's wide corridor, you see an array of darkened shops and hear music from speakers inset in the ceiling. Stepping inside Rizzi's, you are greeted by a hostess wearing black pants, a white shirt and a bow tie. On most nights the wait for a table is short. Immediately before you is a large rectangular space divided in half; tables for two and four fill the dining section, and a low wall and two small steps up mark the edge of the lounge. (p. 101)

Although there is nothing inherently wrong with this approach to ethnography, it is, to use a loaded phrase, boring. The uninspired inclusion of details like these is automatic and never queried. And in this case it should be.

Much of the book is given over to defending the author's position, of justifying his study, and these dimensions interrupt the work unnecessarily. It appears that Berger is trying to justify his study repeatedly: how is this ethnography? Why study death metal, when it is so obviously an unimportant fringe form of popular music? How is popular music a worthy/legitimate focus for our discipline? These repeated attempts to justify what he is doing bog the reader down. Berger needs to recognize that he is already preaching to the choir (who recognize the legitimacy of the ethnographic study of popular music, death metal, and the experience of going to nightclubs), and that his arguments are unlikely to make any new converts unless they are already on their own roads to Damascus.

Berger's real contribution to ethnomusicology in the book is...