Boom Go the Bombs, Boom Goes the Bass
It is now common knowledge that the upper echelons of the Bush
Administration ignored warnings of the 9/11 attacks. But the
resulting devastation continues to expand. Bush Junior's War on
Terrorism, like his father's Gulf War, has shifted the attention
of even the most apolitical Americans towards the so-called
"third world." Palestine and Israel, India and Pakistan, Saddam
Hussein and Oil Sanctions, and, of course, Afghanistan, have
been sent straight to the forefront of the news agenda. Such
heightened interest has created a strong market for the sounds
and sights of these regions, so it is not surprising that U.S.
music producers are finding ways to pillage the "third world"
for material.
Of course, Americans are not going to pounce on the latest
Dahler Mehndi or Reda Darwish albums, but by appropriating the
cultural assets of the "foreign" lands from which these musical
styles originate, a new (to much of the "first world") aesthetic
has been applied to established Western formulas. The creators
of this "new mix" are viewed in turn as having "discovered" an
"exotic" or "different" sound. They set imperialism to a new
bass-heavy beat, claiming traditional "third world" art forms as
hot commodities.
The aural and visual epitome of this "new beat" is the
Henna-soaked music video entitled "Addictive" by Truth Hurts,
featuring Rakim. DJ Quik produced the song, sampling traditional
Hindi music. Although the track is centered on sounds from
India, the video features choreographed belly dancing: a Middle
Eastern dance form. This odd combination is indicative of a
typically totalizing Western mentality: India, the Middle East,
what's the difference? The entire "third world" is one big
backwards and "underdeveloped" wasteland, right? Wrong, but such
assumptions are embedded into every note, chant, beat, image,
and dance in "Addictive," relying on the romantic notion that
the Middle East and India are inherently mystical and sexy, as
if everyone studies the Kama Sutra, practices Tantric Sex, rides
magic carpets, and belly dances naked in the moonlight.
While the video's "exoticism" may seem exciting to the average
Westerner, who's more used to grinding and grabbing on the dance
floor, it comes with imperialist undertones. "Addictive" paints
a Westernized Middle East, offering a luxurious
palace-turned-nightclub, full of beautiful models slinking and
gyrating sexily on the dance floor, in "ethnic," sequined
costumes and Henna.
Such seductive images become increasingly politically
significant in a time when the dominant (that is, U.S.) media
images from the Middle East and India feature decontextualized
violence and aggression. Because of these images, many confused
and terror-paranoid Americans view the Middle East not as a
region with its own history and concerns, but as a vast, evil,
anti-American terror network, unhindered by geographical bounds
and hell-bent on destroying democracy forever. In that sense, by
collapsing the two, "Addictive" convolutes and expands the
boundaries of "evil" by making India part of an "anti-American
terror network." After all, expanding "boundaries" is what the
War on Terrorism is all about, as Ashcroft and Bush know all too
well.
This is not to say that Truth Hurts is some secret agent working
for the U.S. government, but that representation is always
political. Even the average pole-greasing stripper will refer to
herself as an "Exotic Dancer," exposing underlying attitudes
towards non-Western culture. It is because of these attitudes
that the average American can feel magically sexy, dancing in a
club to the "forbidden," "risqué" sounds of a faraway "foreign"
land like India, even when almost all of those people have no
idea what is being said in the song. For them, it simply does
not matter how the lyrics translate, only what preconceptions
are embedded in the sound.
The result is yet another layer of chaos: two completely
unrelated narratives going on simultaneously, in different
languages, only one of which is known to the average listener.
The sampled Hindi lyrics describe a garland of wedding flowers
that are "beautiful" but "bittersweet," while the English lyrics
tell the clichéd "Bonnie and Clyde" story, drug life and thug
love, so familiar from previous hip-hop tracks, from "Gangsta
Bitch" to "Down Ass Bitch."
However, because the visuals recontextualize the music, it isn't
quite the same story. Rakim portrays a very wealthy drug lord in
his rap, which he performs in an enormous, lavish Middle Eastern
palace. With the Taliban having been removed from power, such an
image complicates the recent tactic of linking the "War on
Terrorism" to the "War on Drugs," and the Taliban to the drug
trade. Consider that Mullah Omar banned opium planting in 2000,
after years of international pressure, which dramatically
decreased production in areas controlled by the Taliban, but it
flourished in areas controlled by the Northern Alliance, who are
now key allies to the "War on Terrorism." The removal of the
Taliban, while beyond beneficial to most of the people in
Afghanistan (particularly the women), will actually increase the
drug production in the Middle East, allowing more drug lords to
come into power.
But this is a music video, and we are not supposed to think
beyond its surface and aesthetics, just dance and buy the
record. "Addictive" is just another love song set to
choreographed dance moves in a club few of us could actually
enter. And, although it is currently enjoying heavy rotation on
BET and MTV, like so many other fleeting, postmodern
concoctions, it will soon be abandoned by fickle Western
consumers.
Before it does, Truth Hurts and Aftermath will milk "Addictive"
for all it's worth. While promoting her video in an interview
with MTV, Truth Hurts admits she has "never heard anything like
[Indian music] before," yet describes "Addictive" as "bringing
some truth to the table." Complicit in cultural
misrepresentation, contextual manipulation, and the
reinforcement of stereotypes that impede understanding,
"Addictive" is far from truth. It projects its mix of Indian
music and Middle Eastern dance through the American filter of
excessive opulence, offering an alluring, sexy image of both
expanses, that fits well into the War on Terrorism's media
landscape.
There is nothing sexy about thousands of Afghan civilians
becoming unreported "casualties" in the War on Terrorism, or the
millions of troops massed along the Indian and Pakistani borders
in preparation for yet another war. This new war will have
serious consequences for the Bush Administration, not only
because 12 million people could be slaughtered if a nuclear
conflagration should occur, but because Musharraf is pulling his
Pakistani ground troops from the Afghanistan border, which is
problematic for the War on Terrorism. The Bush Administration
does not have a simple relationship to India either, especially
since they so recently and aggressively pressured the country on
Enron¹s behalf (to sell Enron¹s Dubhal operations for billions
of much-needed dollars) even after 9/11 and the declaration of
the War on Terrorism. In such an ugly, war-ridden reality,
"Addictive" provides a reassuring sedative to the average
American viewer, conveniently leaving out mutilations by
landmines, refugee camps, resurfacing warlords and drug lords,
suicide bombers, occupations, and those current and imminent
wars in these regions that could destroy them entirely.
* * * *
Thanks to Satvinder Grewal for translating the Hindi lyrics.
— 11 June 2002
