Experimental writing on popular music Of liminality and repetition, the real and the unreal, Of festival and noise, time and perception. Vol. 3 Issue 2 November 2019 Birmingham Centre for Media and Cultural Research (BCMCR), Birmingham City University, 5 Cardigan Street, Birmingham, B4 7BD, UK Managing Editors Craig Hamilton Sarah Raine Editors Emily Bettison Asya Draganova Matt Grimes Dave Kane Chris Mapp Ed McKeon Richard Stenson Sebastian Svegaard Iain Taylor Designers Ian Davies Iain Taylor Cover design by Adam Kelly-Williams - Bread PR Riffs is published twice a year. Copyright information Contributors hold the copyright to their submitted piece. They may distribute their work in the journal format as they see fit. Contributors also have the right to republish content without permission from the journal. Riffs: Experimental writing on popular music (online & print) ISSN 2513-8537 Funded by the Birmingham Centre for Media and Cultural Research (BCMCR). NTS NTE CO Editorial - Sarah Raine & Craig Hamilton A Festival of Human Crisis - Patrycja Rozbicka, Gemma Bird and Amanda Beattie 4 6 Ship ‘Fam’, Festival ‘Virgins’ and a Cruise to Nowhere: Liminality and 27 cruise ship festivals - David Cashman Psychedelic Aesthetics and Territorial Agency-ing 45 - Ana Ramos ‘The Undiluted Squash of UK Math Rock’: The Performer’s View of 58 ArcTanGent Festival - Joe O’Connell A Journey in the World of Queer and Feminist Punk Festivals 70 - Louise Barrière Ritual Sacrifice in the Music and Noise of a Metal Festival 85 - Owen Coggins EDITORIAL IN DEFENCE OF FESTIVALS Sarah Raine and Craig Hamilton The fiesta was really started. It kept up day and night for seven days. The dancing kept up, the drinking kept up, the noise went on. The things that happened could only have happened during a fiesta. Everything became quite unreal finally and it seemed as though nothing could have any consequences. It seemed out of place to think of consequences during the fiesta. All during the fiesta you had the feeling, even when it was quiet, that you had to shout any remark to make it heard. It was the same feeling about any action. It was a fiesta and it went on for seven days. 2 EUSSI 3 LOV The fiesta of Ernest Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises (1926) set the scene for this issue of Riffs. The pages that follow consider the liminal and the repetitive, the real and the unreal, time and perception, noise, and the experience of the festival. In a journal dedicated to experimental engagements with music, this theme is apt. The festival experience is a strange one; real and unreal. Forced into tents and muddy fields, tins of beans and all-day drinking (if not something stronger) become a strange and liberating normality; unwashed bodies and eclectic 'festival clothes' (brought out just for the occasion) can transform even the most placid soul into a demon dancer. And the music. Forced up against another disparate set, of sharing that experience in the sun, rain, snow, wind, with those that won't remember and those for whom this moment will be indelibly etched, to be recalled in claims of belonging; that "I was there". The cornerstone of musical histories. To study music festivals in their myriad forms is to study music culture in its most transient but iconic state. The boundaries of pleasure and work meet, and are fraught with peril. 'Festival ethnography' a sitting duck to those bemoaning the flippant excesses of academics wont to spend taxpayers money on good-times and naval-gazing. Yet as these pages will attest, much can be learnt from the seemingly consumerist and escapist nature of festival attendance. Hemingway's fiesta offers the increasingly nihilistic characters seven days of the inconsequential and the unreal, a brief respite from the realities of their entangled and emotionally complicated lives. The blur of the fiesta brings a pause to their problems. And so it must do for some festival (or fiesta) goers. Yet, in his iconic study of carnival in Brazil, anthropologist Roberto DeMatta (1979) lifts away the veil of chaos and disruption and demonstrates the clear social function that carnival plays in defining the roles and rules of Brazilian society. Any of us who have found ourselves changed on the silent journey back home know the true power of the liminal, of repetition, the strange/unreal, and the noise. The sheer size, scale and scope of festivals can act to intensify the musical experience, shocking all of our senses into living with the music. If only for a couple of days, our sole focus is to negotiate the people, places and sounds of the festival space/place, carving our own paths into and through them. We create our own narratives of these musical experiences and we make sense of them to ourselves and others, both at the time and upon reflection. For who knows what will be remembered as a pivotal moment when all we wanted to do was to dance and to sing. 6 A FESTIVAL OF HUMAN CRISIS 2 EUSSI 3 LOV Patrycja Rozbicka, Gemma Bird, & Amanda Beattie This essay draws comparisons between music festivals and refugee Reception and Identification Centres (RICs) on the islands of Lesvos, Chios and Samos, with the aim of demonstrating initial similarities that may exist between the two environments and uncovering striking differences between them. It is intended as a first step in assessing how, and if, the provisions provided for one can offer lessons for the other (Bernet, 2017), and whether the knowledge of the festival sector could be adapted and put to use in improvising the conditions for refugee provisions. While we understand music festivals and how they look intuitively, RICs require a definition. Reception Centres are intended as a temporary space, one that provides immediate shelter and basic needs whilst initial asylum processing takes place (Avramopoulos, 2015). As such, these structures, spaces and provisions rely on temporary development and maintenance. They need to be reactive and able to adapt to growing populations and, as they have become less temporary solutions to crisis, they have to be adaptable. The temporary nature of both structures and systems (festivals and RICs), as well as the ways in which people flow around these spaces suggest an important point for comparison. Photograph: www.iandaviesphoto.com Ⓒ 2012 - 2019 | All Rights Reserved 7 The relative success of festivals in responding to complex needs suggest that RICs can learn from the governance of a multi-million pound industry. Past experiences on the island of Lesvos suggest a reality in which this is actually the case (Bernet, 2017). In 2015 a grassroots movement built an informal refugee camp on Lesvos to house around 800 people. The Better Days camp was a response to the overcrowding of the official Moria Reception Centre on Lesvos. In building this camp they were supported by a group of Dutch volunteers from the festival industry who were able to draw on their networks to bring festival infrastructure to the camp, in particular high quality tents that could withstand the conditions. Importantly though, these volunteers not only brought equipment but also knowledge of sanitation, waste disposal and lighting to improve safety and security (author interview with Glocal Roots, 2019) and it is the success of this project that further emphasises the wider applicability of knowledge from the festival sector for improving official, as well as unofficial, housing solutions for refugees. It is through recognising the capacity of festivals to provide food, washing facilities and quality shelters that we can come to understand the capacity to achieve this and as such the failings of different state, and international bodies, to do the same when it comes to refugee provision in South East Europe. We use photographs to question the initial visual similarities (pairing photographs from festivals and RICs) before re-focusing attention on the details that exist within the mosaic of images we present. To achieve this we also draw on interview and ‘serial ethnographic’ (Mannergren Selimovic, 2018) data from multiple visits to both UK festivals and the islands of Lesvos, Chios, Samos and Kos between 2017 and 2019, we make suggestions of lessons that can be learnt from the experience of festival sites for rethinking refugee housing and support inside RICs. In so doing, we remain ever mindful of the inherent privilege interwoven alongside the institutional tapestry of the festival experience, from those who organise them and those who enjoy them. Based on interviews with activists, however, we recognise the importance of drawing on other experiences, even those that stand in stark contrast with refugee lived experience (Anonymous author interview, 2018; author interview with Liska Bernet, 2019). 8 As such, we recall that the festival-goer, imbued with wages and disposable income is situated to fully enjoy the perks of global capitalism. Moreover, as a paying participant, they expect, and even demand, appropriate service provision. The refugee, on the other hand, lives within extreme conditions of depravity and lacks mobility rights, within and beyond, the state. In that understanding, the festival goer is viewed as human and citizen in his/her full rights. Refugees, in contrast, are defined as non-humans or ‘missing people’ (Braidotti, 2018), as ‘ungrievable’ bodies (Butler, 2012), or non-citizens (Azoulay, 2008). The ability of the refugee to demand service provision is limited to protest, itself curtailed by state officials. It is in this vein, and with this understanding, that we draw these comparisons and make suggestions for how the lessons of the festival industry can begin to provide more humane conditions, that in fact recognise the humanity of refugees, challenging the narratives of non- human and ungrievable bodies. This photo essay is based on visual material collected during research visits to music festivals in the UK in 2017, 2018 and 2019 and during primary research (#IR_Aesthetics Project) in RICs in Lesvos, Chios and Samos in 2018 and 2019, as well as a series of prolonged visits in the area engaging with activist and NGO support networks. It was, during this fieldwork, that we were alerted to conversations within activist communities, which imagined the comparative value of festivals and RICs (anonymous author interview, 2018). A conscious decision has been made in the production of this essay to avoid photographing human beings living in and around RICs. There are a number of reasons for this. The first being the inability to guarantee the safety and anonymity of people photographed. We wanted to avoid negative consequences for subjects of our study. Like Butler (2011), we conceptualise a body as never devoid of its context (Butler, 2009) and vulnerable to injury and suffering (Murphy, 2011). A body is always impinged upon from outside: by others, by social norms, by historical specific conditions of embodiment (or lack of it), by social and political organization, and by environmental factors (Lloyd, 2015). 9 Refugees are often unintelligible in those terms and thus are unrecognisable, they do not appear in public as legible subjects in their own rights, their life is ‘ungrievable’ or dispensable (Butler, 2012: 11). An empty photograph intends to challenge the exploitation and silencing that occurs through the endless photography of people’s lives without their permission. The exclusion of human beings from our images not only challenges the unethical practices of taking photographs without permission, it also allows to highlight not only what can be seen, but also what is missing. These photographs are not works of artistic endeavour, rather they are a testimony of the events and human experiences that have been taking place in the RICs and their vicinity, an attempt to raise awareness of conditions and to challenge their continuation. Second, we wanted to avoid sensationalising and exploiting the stories of individuals who are propelled into the public domain and thus taking away those individual’s sovereignty and power in deciding what happens with their image. To this day, weak populations remain more exposed to photography, especially journalistic photography, which coerces and confines them to passive, unprotected position (Azoulay, 2008). Thirdly, there is an imaginary value of presenting empty spaces into which people can imagine the effects on their own lives (Greene, 1995) provoking, hopefully, self-reflexivity. Following Azoulay (2008) we recognise the co-ownership of photography, by photographer, photographed, and witness. Each element of this triumvirate is a necessary condition under which photography is truly effective. Thus, we encourage a reader/viewer of this essay to imagine crafting a life for multiple years in a temporary space capable of providing a standard of living akin to that of a festival and to draw on this imagination to better understand the images and discussions we present. We situate our key comparisons within this stark contrast of beneficiary populations. The first approaches the geography of these spaces from a distance, focusing on size, location and borders. The second considers accommodation types and how they are spaced and located. From there we engage with questions of security, fences and their materiality (Sundberg, 2008; Squire 2013; and Soto, 2018). 10 Fourthly, we engage with medical provision, doctors and trained medical staff available at these sights, their role and the expectations placed on them. Finally, the last section focuses on waste disposal and sanitary provisions, each of which are fundamental aspects of both RICs and festivals, and as experiences on Lesvos demonstrate, are the starting point for conversations between the two (Bernet, 2017). 1. View from a distance The ten largest festivals in the UK in 2017 had a combined capacity of 700,000 participants, with Glastonbury alone hosting 120,000 guest and Latitude and Bestival (ranking ninth and tenth) selling 35,000 and 30,000 tickets respectively (Consultancy.uk). Smaller festivals such as Truck Festival in Oxfordshire sold 5,000 tickets in 2018 (Truck Festival, 2019) and, Moseley Folk Festival in Birmingham had a reported daily capacity of 6,000 visitors (eFestivals.co.uk, 2018). Photo 1: Panoramic view of the Truck Festival, Oxfordshire, UK, Summer 2018 11 In contrast, whilst the number of refugees arriving into the countries of South East Europe has decreased overall since 2015, the flow of people nevertheless continues, with 79,500 refugees and asylum seekers residing in Greece as of May 2019 (UNHCR 2019) and an increase in arrivals on to the islands between July and August 2019. Those arriving are in the first instance accommodated in RICs either on the mainland or on the islands of Lesvos, Chios, Samos, Kos and Leros, most commonly known as the Hotspots (Dimitriadi, 2017) (the focus of this piece). These spaces in structure, and often location, resemble festival sights in their reliance on temporary accommodation and impermanent administration structures, yet in keen contrast to festival sites, they are dealing with humanitarian crises and have additional problems such as difficulties with mental health and asylum procedures to contend with (anonymous author interview, 2018). Whilst we recognise these vast differences in problems faced, we suggest that drawing on festivals to support improved conditions in housing structures, waste disposal, sanitation and food, would provide a safer and more secure environment for overcoming the deeper issues associated with crisis, as, as one interviewee told us, on Samos at least ‘everything comes back to food and water’ (Author interview with Project Armonia, 2019). Photo 2: Panoramic view of the Vathy RIC (lower left corner), Samos Island, South Greece, January 2019 12 2. ‘Sea’ of tents While not all festivals look the same, they have a commonly acknowledged aesthetic. The stage is always present at the centre of attention. We also have camping sights, on occasion, romantically compared to the ‘sea’ of tents (Mair and Laing, 2011). Photo 3: Tent field with view of the stage in the background, Truck Festival, Oxfordshire, UK, Summer 2018 The reliance on tents to house refugees is also becoming a common occurrence in RIC’s. The RIC on Samos has an official capacity of 650 people, yet between December 2018 and January 2019 an estimated 5,000 people were waiting on the island for an asylum decision (Beattie et al, 2019). 13 The numbers are continuously fluctuating. When the number of people rapidly increases, the majority of people live outside the RIC’s fence. This area is referred to as the ‘jungle’ (Bird and Beattie, 2019) and relies on tents and makeshift shelters that are unable to withstand the rain and cold in winter, or provide protection from the heat, snakes and rats in summer (anonymous author interview, 2019). Photo 4: The 'Jungle' outside Vathy Reception Centre, Samos Island, South Greece, January 2019 3. Security provisions The security at festivals relies on check-points, fenced off areas, as well as wristbands indicating area-access. There are occasional flare ups: This is Tomorrow festival in Newcastle in May 2019 was cut short due to security concerns (NME, 25th May 2019), organizers of the We Are FSTVL in Upminster, also in May 2019, faced festival-goers storming the festival entrance when they ran out of wristbands (Independent, 27th May 2019). Yet, in general, the use of fences and wristbands lead to smooth running events. 14 Photo 5: Security check point, Truck Festival, Oxfordshire, Summer 2018 Photo 6: Beach stage, the Great Escape Festival, Brighton, UK, Spring 2019 15 Security in RICs relies on a combination of organisations including local police and, similarly to festival environments, private security firms. Particularly poignant to a comparison with the UK is the presence of G4S, at both festivals (Guardian, July 2019) and in RICs. RICs also make use of barbed wire fencing, often multi layered, and, whilst they are presented as being open, the layers of security present an aesthetic of ‘enclosure and control’ (Barder, 2016: 32; Tazzioli, 2018). Like a festival site there are zones of exclusions within an RIC separated by fences, zones where only administrators can enter, zones that are often associated of a higher standard including containers with working air conditioning and heating. Photo 7: Moria Reception Centre, Lesvos, South Greece, Summer 2017 16 Photo 8: A fence surrounding the Vathy Reception Centre, Samos Island, South Greece, Summer 2018 4. Medical provisions While medical provisions at festivals have not always been perfect (Chapman et al. 1982), there has been growing improvements in this area. More data is available on successful application of emergency medicine at music festivals (McQueen and Davies, 2012) and medical provisions now focus exclusively on the needs of festival emergencies. A notable example is Festival Medical Service created in 1979 and is now a recognised provider of high-quality professional event medical services at large and small events (FMA ‘About’). Festivals not only provide more information on emergency first aid, but also install functional medical emergency points (with Glastonbury going as far as having main medical centre and number of smaller walk-in emergency points; Glastonbury ‘Medical and First Aid’). 17 Photo 9: Welfare tent, Truck Festival, Oxfordshire, UK, Summer 2018 Photo 10: First Aid point, Truck Festival, Oxfordshire, UK, Summer 2018 18 With growing numbers of medical provisions at festivals, the situation is very different in RICs. The proportion of medical professionals on duty is striking, with one protest sign reading ‘one doctor per 6,000 people’ and interviewees telling us of lengthy queues to see a doctor, with only one doctor present in an RIC for some months. This is against a backdrop of attempts to hire more staff, with doctors then failing to arrive for their first day of work (anonymous author interview, 2019). The support offered by the third sector differs between RICs, as does the relationships between camp or reception centre officials, local and national government, and third sector providers. In particular, Médecins Sans Frontières (the largest and most active medical provider after UNHCR) tries to maintain a strong presence on Lesvos and Chios. However, their involvement on Samos is limited as they are unable to carry out vaccination programmes nor medical services inside the RIC, they have however provided psycho- social support, advice for how to stay safe medically when travelling and children’s vaccination programmes outside of the borders of the RIC (author interview with MSF, 2019). Photo 11: Taken during January 2019 protests around Vathy RIC, Samos Island, South Greece 19 5. Sanitary Provisions There is a social rhythm expressed in daily routines of the festival-goers and a sense of community between participants (Tjora, 2016). And while every participant accepts certain levels of inconvenience, almost written into the ‘to-do’ list of any festival experience, we have grown more accustomed to the presence of sufficient amenities, like showers and toilets (Saleh & Ryan, 1993) and waste disposal, meaning that the festival industry have the ideal knowledge base for supporting the setup of camps and temporary accommodation (Bernet, 2017). Photo 12: Fresh water access, Truck Festival, Oxfordshire, UK, Summer 2018 20 Photo 13: Toilets facilities, Truck Festival, Oxfordshire, UK, Summer 2018 Photo 14: Rubbish bins, Truck Festival, Oxfordshire, UK, summer 2018 21 Life in the island RICs is one of continuous queues (Bird and Beattie, 2019). Everyone has access to showers but they must queue to make use of them and most people do not have time to do this daily whilst also queuing for food. There are also often issues with water supply, in particular for the provision of sanitation, a major problem that occurred in the summer of 2019 on Chios (Action for Education, 2019). A problem the solving of which would benefit from the knowledge of an industry that is used to establishing water provision in temporary locations. As well as issues with water provision there is a lot of untouched food littering the ‘jungle’ outside the Vathy camp, leading to further risks of vermin and disease and a limited number of toilets, many of which are broken and unclean. Following gender- based violence, a number of RIC residents in fact rely on plastic bottles as an alternative to the toilets, especially after dark. In the outside area of Vathy Reception Centre additional toilets were brought in by an NGO, but they have since been removed as they were placed on adjacent private land (Author interview with NGO, 2019). In addition, while festival-goers have wellies to navigate sanitation, RIC populations often do not. Many members of the community in fact take their socks off when it Photo 15: Littering outside of Vathy RIC, rains to stay dry and warm when they Samos Island, South Greece, January arrive at their tents and rarely have 2019 seasonally appropriate shoes. 22 Conclusions A parallel narrative between music festivals and RICs opens our eyes to alternative solutions to the management of refugee provision. Knowledge that drawing on the experience of the festival industry has had some success in providing grassroots support also suggests that a more sustained collaboration, also working with RICs, could be of value. There are similarities between festivals and RICs and lessons to be learned. For example, there is evidence that festivals located in urban spaces have better facilities at their disposal, are a social space where people may pursue their interests, meet with family and friends (Cudny, 2018), or encourage cultural engagement and social cohesion (see for example research by McGillivray); all those elements which are lacking in the peripheral locations of RICs (Bird et al. forthcoming). The recycling practices introduced at the festivals in recent years (eg. banning plastic bottles at Glastonbury, Guardian, February 2019; or, tents recycling by an NGO, Julie’s Bike), are practices aimed at cutting waste, which could also be Photo 16: Plastic bottles with urine outside of transferred to the RICs which are Vathy RIC, Samos Island, South Greece, January dealing with waste disposal issues 2019 (WHO2019). 23 Some of these practices are already happening on the Greek islands but they are carried out by NGOs rather than the RICs. The organisation Dirty Girls on Lesvos, for example, wash used blankets so that they can be reused rather than being destroyed which was previously happening inside of Moria (author interview, 2018). Similarly, the organization of medical provisions at the festivals, could be a model for voluntary organizations engagement with the needs of RIC populations. As mentioned above, the same security company, G4S, is already contracted in both cases, at festivals and in RICs. Yet, there seems to be a lack of reflection on how experience from one could be implemented in the other. Further research is necessary to draw on the suggestions above in an impactful way. The proposed research agenda concerns itself with the inhuman(e) aspects of our historical conditions, including for example: human rights studies, humanitarian management, trauma, memory and recognition studies (Braidotti, 2018); and advocates for the necessity of interdisciplinary work. Through engaging with two different examples the point of this photo essay was to draw attention to the horror of one (RIC), placed against the idyll of the other (festival) and the lessons that can be learnt. If then, the devil resides in the detail, what does this tell us? It is true that we can organise large numbers of people at a music festival yet, cannot replicate the same flexibility for refugees in Reception Centres. We question the initial superficial visual similarities apparent in ‘matching’ photos from festivals and RICs and instead refocus the lens on the differences discernible in the detailed tapestry of the photos. The temporary nature of music festivals reminds us that RICs too were meant to be temporary. They are not. They permanently reside in the landscape. The voluntary nature of attendance at a music festival versus the confines of the reality of life in an RIC is a further stark contrast. Life at a music festival is- and always will be- a luxurious experience. Life in an RIC is the complete opposite. Whilst both environments represent a departure from normality, a suspension of the real, of time, and of perception, the comparison between the two demands further reflection. 24 It is to acknowledge the conceptual shift towards the surreal. Consequently, it asks the reader to grapple with a seemingly superficial similarity between festivals and RICs and embrace a filtered lens. A lens which when seen through a glass darkly, reveals a nightmarish parody mirroring of the fiesta. Yet it also reveals an opportunity to learn, an opportunity often embraced by grassroots organisations, that suggest that the lessons of festival management can indeed be drawn upon to provide for refugees in a way that provides solidarity and dignity (Author interview with Glocal Roots, 2019), an approach sorely missing from the RICs themselves. The #IR_Aesthetics , funded by the Aston Centre for Europe (Aston University) and Europe and the World Centre (University of Liverpool), is a field research project investigating the stories of migration and the refugee crisis in Serbia, Macedonia, and Greece from inter-disciplinary perspective. It focuses on (1) political expression in marginalised communities through use of graffiti and music, (2) use of technology and social networks, (3) investigates everyday geographies of the refugee crisis, and (4) migration and trauma, and children in IR. Dr. Patrycja Rozbicka is a lecturer in Politics and International Relations at Aston University, Birmingham Dr. Gemma Bird is a lecturer in Politics and International Relations at University of Liverpool Dr. Amanda Russell Beattie is a senior Lecturer in Politics and International Relations, Aston University, Birmingham 25 References: Action for Education. 2019, Water: why is there such a shortage for asylum seekers on Chios (online). Available at: https://www.actionforeducation.co.uk/post/water-chios(accessed 26/08/2019). Avramopoulos, D., 2015, Explanatory note on the ‘Hotspot’ approach. Available at: https://www.statewatch.org/news/2015/jul/eu-com-hotsposts.pdf(accessed 02/07/2019). Barder, A., 2016, Barbed Wire, in Salter, M. ed. Making Things International 2: Catalysts and Reactions, University of Minnesota Press Bernet, L., 2017, Learning from the Grassroots Response to the European Refugee Crisis. Available at : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YqLvPSFN5kg(accessed 02/07/2019). Bird, G. & Beattie, A. 2019, Samos: grim winter leads to protests by refugees living in limbo on Greek island (online). Available here: https://theconversation.com/samos-grim-winter-leads-to- protests-by-refugees-living-in-limbo-on-greek-island-110116. Accessed 09/08/2019. Bird, G., Obradovic-Wochnik, J., Beattie, A., Rozbicka, P. (fortcoming), The ‘badlands’ of the Balkan Route(s): refugee provision in urban space, Global Policy, Special issue. Braidotti, R. 2018, A Theoretical Framework for the Critical Posthumanities. Theory, Culture & Society. https://doi.org/10.1177/0263276418771486Butler, J. 2009, Frames of War : When is Life Grievable? London: Verso. Butler, J. 2011, ‘Remarks on Queer Bonds’, GLQ, 17 : 2-3, 381-387.Butler, J. 2012, ‘Can one lead a good life in a bad life? Adorno Prize Lecture’, Radical Philosophy, 176, pp. 9-18. Chapman K.R., Carmichael F.J., Goode J.E. 1982, ‘Medical services for outdoor rock music festivals’, Can Med Assoc J. , 126:8. 935–938. Cudny, W. 2016, Festivalisation of Urban Spaces. Factors, Processes and Effects (2016), Springer, Cham. Dimitriadi, A. 2017, ‘Governing irregular migration at the margins of Europe. The case of hotspots on the Greek islands’, Etnografia e ricerca qualitativa, 10(1), pp 75-96. Greene, M. 1995, Releasing the Imagination, Essays on Education, the Arts and Social Change. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Mair, J. & Laing, J. 2012, The greening of music festivals: motivations, barriers and outcomes. Applying the Mair and Jago model, Journal of Sustainable Tourism, 20:5, 683-700, DOI: 10.1080/09669582.2011.636819 Lloyd, M.S., 2015, The ethics and politics of vulnerable bodies'. IN: Lloyd, M.S., (ed.) Butler and Ethics, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University, Press, pp. 167-192. Mannergren Selmovic, J. 2018, ‘Everyday agency and transformation: Place, body and story in the divided city’ Cooperation and Conflict 1-16. McQueen C, Davies C. 2012, ‘Health care in a unique setting: applying emergency medicine at music festivals’, Open Access Emerg Med., 4, pp. 69–73. 26 Murphy, A.V. 2011, ‘Corporal Vulnerability and the New Humanism’, Hypatia, 26:3, 575-590. Saleh, F. & Ryan, Ch. 1993, ‘Jazz and knitwear: Factors that attract tourists to festivals, Tourism Management’, 14:4, 289-297, DOI: 10/1016/0261-5177(93)90063-Q Soto, G., 2018, Object afterlives and the burden of history: between ‘trash’ and ‘heritage’ in the steps of the migrants American Anthropologist 120 (3), pp 460-473 Sundberg, J, 2008, ‘“Trash talk” and the production fo quotidian geopolitical boundaries in the USA-Mexico borderlands’ Social and Cultural Geography 9(8): pp 871-890 Squire, V. 2014, “Desert `Trash': Posthumanism, Border Struggles, and Humanitarian Politics.” Political Geography 39 (c): 11–21. doi:10.1016/j.polgeo.2013.12.003. Tazzioli, M., 2018, Containment through mobility: migrants’ spatial disobediences and the reshaping of control through the hotspot system. Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies, 44(16), pp.2764-2779. Tjora, A. 2016, The social rhythm of the rock music festival. Popular Music, 35(1), pp. 64-83. doi:10.1017/S026114301500080X Photograph: www.iandaviesphoto.com Ⓒ 2012 - 2019 | All Rights Reserved 27 SHIP ‘FAM’, FESTIVAL ‘VIRGINS’, & A CRUISE TO NOWHERE: LIMINALITY AND CRUISE SHIP MUSIC FESTIVALS David Cashman It may be a startling 2 EUSSI 3 LOV thought to a festivalgoer on a cruise ship, as they sit watching Cannibal Corpse play from the luxury of the hot tub at the side of the stage, but the luxurious space in which they are apparently sipping beer, slowly pruning their fingers, and potentially suffering hearing loss, doesn’t actually exist. Acknowledgements : The author would like to acknowledge the efforts of talented illustrator Jessica Robinson (@jkrillustration), creator of the webcomic “Roxy”. 28 At least in the way the space of many land-based festivals do. Cruise ships are an example of what Augé (1992) calls ‘non-space’. Humans create and construct places from spaces by naming them (Relph, 1976) . Cruise ships, however, exist in the dark and nameless spaces oceans where it is hard for humans to survive. To do so, we have to build ships and even then, sometimes, people do not survive at sea. And yet, being among the largest humanly constructed moving objects, cruise ships are also mobile geographies unto themselves, named by the ship’s geography, such as lido deck, forward, in the Blue Sapphire lounge, or cabin 942. Casey (2009, pp. 3–6) notes the distinction between maritime space and place in his account of Admiral Cloudsley Shovel becoming lost in fog for eleven days in 1707. Although Shovel’s men knew where they were on the ship (ship place), their geographic place had devolved into space with no idea of where they were. Over the past decade and a half, music promoters, seeking to monetise live performance as much as they can, have begun to organise music festivals within the hyperreal and liminal non-spaces of cruise ships. Cruise ships are, in many ways, an ideal place to place such festivals. Performance spaces already exist with cutting-edge technology. Accommodation is plentiful and luxurious. Food and drink is available. Security is in place. They are regarded as luxurious and exotic vacation products. Consequently, such aquatic festivals have become successful, significant, and profitable cultural tourism experiences. They share many parallels with their land-based counterparts. They celebrate a genre of music. They offer many of the same enticements that land-based festivals do such as concerts, autograph signings with star performers, and celebratory events. However, there is a fundamental difference. Land-based festivals exist in a geographic place and often celebrate that place. Cruise music festivals occur within the mobile 29 experiential placelessness of a cruise ship. There is nothing but the ship with which to interact. There is no ‘local’. This enhances the liminality and experience of the festival as there is no distracting ‘outside’ for festivalgoers to engage with. The physical limits of the festival are delineated by the confines of the ship. Within these boundaries, exists a visceral, hedonistic, neotribal, and liminal experience—a celebration of music without the distractions of a place. This paper is the result of research undertaken in 2016. The views of 129 cruise festivalgoers were sourced via an open-ended survey. Follow-up interviews with key informants were conducted and analysed using a grounded theory approach. Resulting themes were considered and analysed. The datasets were further enhanced by my own experiences as an orchestral pianist on board cruise ships between 2004 and 2008. 30 31 COMIC STRIP 2 32 This basic formula, repeated on popular music cruises between different production companies and cruise lines, comprises a standardised and profitable approach. Like the cruise product, it results in expectation realisation. Even if moving between different cruise ship festivals, festivalgoers know what to do, how the festival operates, and thus consistency of product across the industry is ensured. While rock music cruises are recent phenomena, they emerged from previous models of cruising. In particular, their origin is in excursion shipping, a tourism product that originated in the mid-nineteenth century. Commercial estuary and coastal steam-powered vessels of this time were financially affected by the development of the faster and more convenient railways. In an effort to reverse declining fortunes, pleasure or excursion cruises were organised, where a ship would take passengers on a short voyage, returning them to their origin at the end of the day. The provision of professional musicians, still decades away on ocean-going vessels, was often offered on these trips as an inducement to partake in the pleasures of such cruises. Even when musicians began appearing on oceangoing steamers in the 1880s, pleasure cruises continued play the waterways – and still do; over the years I have played for dozens of weddings and functions on pleasure cruises in Sydney Harbour. With the rise of the modern cruise industry in the 1960s, new opportunities for pleasure-cruising arose. In 1970, a promoter named Richard Groff attempted to charter Greek Line’s SS Queen Anna Maria for a waterborne reconstruction of Woodstock, which Groff reportedly liked, except for the mud. This venture ultimately failed because Bermuda, the destination, felt the cruise was ‘alien to the way in which Bermuda has been promoted over the years’; also the Greek government, which flagged the ship, had recently voiced disapproval of rock music. However, the idea of chartering a ship for a music festival was a sound one, and between 1974 and 1979, Holland America’s SS Rotterdam hosted a biannual jazz cruise. The idea was revived from 1983 aboard the SS Norway. Classical cruises began appearing in the eighties in the Mediterranean, but rock cruises would have to wait until the new millennium. 33 On the Labor Day weekend in 2001, the first Rock Boat festival was launched aboard Carnival’s tiny MV Jubilee. Organised by Floridan alternative band Sister Hazel for 450 of their fans, it proved so successful that it became an annual event, with its upcoming 2020 festival marking the twentieth consecutive Rock Boat. Sister Hazel (now trading as Sixth Man Productions) began to organise other cruises themed around performers (KISS Kruise, Kid Rock Cruise) and genres (roots-themed Cayamo, country cruises, blues cruises, EDM cruises). So successful was this formula that other companies began organising similar cruises such as EDM-themed festival Holy Ship (organised by American music festival HARD) or 70,000 Tons of Metal, organised by Swiss promoter Andy Piller. These festivals keep increasing in number and success. Cruise ship festival spaces are hybrids made up of several other experiences. On one hand, they take place amid the non-space of the ocean. But they also exist onboard the cruise ship and also take into account music festival spaces. Some do not engage with the land at all, preferring instead to remain at sea. Others do go to land, but only to the hyperreal, and cruise-line leased islands, which are constructed as nameless and deserted Caribbean islands. Others do go to ports, and some interaction with these places, such as Jamaica or St Thomas, does occur; however, given that the ship stays in port only for a short time, these are more of a transitory destination than a real engagement. The main festival space is aboard the cruise ship. 34 The camaraderie between festivalgoers, as well as festivalgoers and star musicians can be understood within Morgan’s concept of ‘social interaction’, which he also refers to as communitas. This term has overtones of equality within a community. Communitas is a core 35 concept within the anthropology of ritual as pioneered by Victor Turner (1969) . Turner (1974) also believes that travel as well as ritual also constructs communitas, a view shared by subsequent tourism scholars (Cohen, 1979; Wang, 1999; Franklin, 2003, pp. 49–52; Yarnal and Kerstetter, 2005; Duffy et al., 2011) . Urry and Larsen (2011) note that a tourist, out of their usual social and spatial residency, experiences liminality, where the individual finds him/herself in an ‘anti- structure … out of time and place’ – conventional social ties are suspended, an intensive bonding ‘communitas’ is experienced, and there is direct experience of the sacred or supernatural. (p. 27) However, the social structures of music also generate communitas. In discussing music as a device for social ordering, DeNora (2000) notes that music can foster ‘a co-subjectivity where two or more individuals may come to exhibit similar modes of feeling and acting, constituted in relation to extra-personal parameters, such as those provided by musical materials’ (p. 149). Of particular relevance to cruise festivals is Connell and Gibson’s (2003) observation that music tourism sub-cultures have emerged around the tours of particular artists, with groups of highly committed fans (even ‘groupies’), who follow performers around from concert to concert, even generating a sense of ‘communitas’ through shared experiences, fan clubs and traditions maintained on-tour. (p. 228) The inhabitants of a liminal space “dress differently, eat and drink differently, sleep differently, act differently, play differently, and feel differently” (Yarnal and Kerstetter, 2005, p. 370) . Cruise ship festivals are considered liminal because they result from the convergence of music festivals—a liminal experience (Kim and Jamal, 2007; Gibson and Connell, 2012) —and cruise tourism—also a liminal experience (Wood, 2000; Yarnal and Kerstetter, 2005) . Cruise festivalgoers recount how a music festival on a cruise ship improves on both models. It forms a memorable life-affirming experience, where strangers become family and you get to meet your musical heroes. A strong sense of communitas is established with the other festivalgoers. 36 Festivalgoers enter the festival spaceof the cruise ship, have an intense and life-affirming experience in close proximity to likeminded fans and, and at the conclusion of the festival go back to their lives; however communitas and liminal space continue as participants maintain contact through social media. 37 The experience of music festivals on cruise ships is intense, hedonistic, and short. Ties with everyday life—family, work, and home—are severed and participants are placed in an experiential cocoon. The communitas of a cruise festival is more intense than the larger festivals on land due to the smaller numbers and more intimate nature of the festival, and that ship festival communitas includes the star performers, a feature that is not part of larger land-based festivals. The star musician you saw on the stage last night is lining up in the breakfast queue in the morning. Regularly festivalgoers recount meeting their musical idols around the ship. Some festivals mandate fan interaction in their contracts with musicians. Everyone is on the same ship and there is no opportunity to leave. Many cruise music festivals do not approach human habitation and culture for the duration of the cruise; the only lands they may approach are the hyperreal and constructed cruise line-leased islands for a hedonistic beach party. Some do not even do this and spend their entire duration at sea. This liminality separates participants from their daily lives and permits immersion in a constructive and hyperreal festival. As liminal spaces, cruise ships festivals construct an experiential cocoon conducive to the evolution of quick but intense friendships (a manifestation of communitas) among fans and star performers. Several accounts in academic literature, in fire camps, within the anthropological field, within expat communities, and within cruise ship crews, document the development of intense relationships within the combination of intense experience and unfamiliar surroundings (Cupples, 2002; Altork, 2007; Walsh, 2007; Kaspar and Landolt, 2016) . These might be platonic or sexual relationships. Altork, for example, describes the experience of documenting the world of rural firefighters in North America, an intense and unfamiliar environment, which sometimes led to unusual intimacy and even eroticism between firefighters and support staff. One of her informants notes: 38 ’ll tell you, after five days men get horny as hell and they will proposition anything they think they can bed. We call them fireline romances. You’re very tight with people and shut off from the outside world (Altork, 2007, p. 123) Both in my own experience, and within Forsythe’s research (2012, pp. 29– 30) , working on board a cruise ship suffers the same disconnect, the same intensity of experience, and the same powerful platonic and sexual relationships. It is not unexpected then that the music festivals aboard cruise ships engender that same quick intensity of relationships within participants within a cruise ship festival, whether star performer or festivalgoer. Festivalgoers and star performers refer to each other as ‘ship fam’ (or variants thereof) and post to social media with the hashtag #shipfam.