The Revolution Will Not be Televised for Fred Ho
Bailey Triggs
Issue date: 11/12/02 Section: Arts
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"I'm a self-proclaimed multicultural internationalist matriarchal revolutionary socialist," musician Fred Ho told the InterArts students during his guest lecture last Friday. "I don't separate art and politics; for me, they're inseparable." Fred Ho, along with The Afro Asian Music Ensemble, was able to share his political views via music last Friday night at 8 PM in the Goodwin Theater of the Austin Arts Center.
In order to fully appreciate Ho's music (although it is interesting enough to stand on its own), you must understand Ho's politics. As he explained during his lecture, the main issues he focuses on (but by no means all) are racism, gender discrimination, and the evils of capitalism.
Ho grew up in the counter-culture sixties and was influenced greatly by their values and aspirations. "When I was young, I was swimming with the tide of social consciousness, now I'm swimming against it." Ho, as a Chinese-American, experienced racism first hand at an early age.
Though he tried to assimilate, he couldn't fully conform to society standards. This created in him a sense of injustice that fuels his political activism today. Ho's father, a college professor, was also discriminated against. Though he held a position that should have garnered respect, his peers looked down on him because he wasn't white. While Ho channeled his frustration with racism into his work, his father took his anger out on his wife. Growing up in a household where there was domestic abuse helped influence Ho's future activist work for women's rights and equality. Some of Ho's feminist projects include editing a 2003 Womyn Warriors/Sheros Calendar and authoring Matriarchy: The First and Final Communism.
Ho also believes that "pop culture for the most part is the enemy; it is the music of a consumerist world." People are tricked into believing they have choices: between Pepsi and Coke, Burger King and McDonald's, Walmart and K-mart, when really these are not choices at all. Ho tries to subvert pop culture through his music: "I'm in competition with the mainstream in winning the hearts and minds of the American public." He admits that his fight is an uphill battle because he doesn't submit his work to what he describes as a "consumerist disposable mentality." His performances are done on a low budget with minimalist sets that are easy to break down and transport to the next show. Without any sort of flash or glitz to his art, Ho is demanding that his audience focuses at the art and its message, not on some elaborate consumerist pageantry.
So, how does this translate to music? Ho takes an instrumentalist view on art, asserting that one of the primary functions of art is to convey a political message and work for social change. In the program for the show, he states the final goal of his art and all his activist work: "…we face the ever-critical challenge of ending imperialist-capitalist domination and building a new society that will eliminate all forms of oppression, violence and exploitation over people and the planet." Ho says every artist needs to ask him or herself: "Do you go to the front of the corporate welfare line? …If you looked at the sum of your life's work…has it become a decorated plaything for the rich?" Art without purpose, he believes, feeds into the country's consumerist mentality as much as buying a Big Mac from McDonald's.
Not only does Ho challenge social norms, but he also challenges musical norms and what people believe music should sound like: "My aesthetics are very different from the rich white aesthetic." Ho, in his battle to break away from the mainstream, does not want, however, to be so challenging to his audiences that they cannot be entertained on some level by his music. "I don't ever create for commercial entertainment, but I want a two-year-old to be able to enjoy my show. They'd get more out of it than watching [Disney's] Mulan."
Despite what you may think about Ho's politics, it was interesting to see them transformed into music at the Austin Arts Center last Friday night.
Ho came on stage carrying his baritone saxophone accompanied by Sam Furnace on the alto sax, David Bindman on the tenor sax, Wes Brown on bass, and Royal Hartigan on the percussion. The men stood on stage organizing their music on the stands and preparing to play. Suddenly, a sound like a war cry came shrieking out of Ho's saxophone launching the ensemble into "The Underground Railroad to My Heart Suite." As the musicians played, you could physically feel the power of their instruments: the bass thumped in your stomach as the saxophones rang through your chest. The skill of Ho and his musicians was remarkable; much like their political views, they insisted on pushing the envelope when it came to the range of sounds their instruments made. Sometimes it was difficult to believe such different sounds were coming out of the same instrument. It was obvious that Ho approaches his music with as much passion as his activism, for him they are one and the same.
Ho said that his aesthetic differed greatly from "the rich white aesthetic," or at least the western aesthetic, and you could hear that clearly in the music. His pieces were full of dissonance, varied time signatures, and odd meters. Sometimes it sounded like the performers were playing their instruments independent of each other, creating the feeling of a chaotic, artistic free-for-all. This dissonance made the parts where they were playing together all the more powerful. After an extended period of musical chaos, they usually picked up a common thread and came back to some feeling of order, if not just for a moment.
Part of what makes Ho's music so interesting to listen to is his adept fusion of western and eastern music. This style was found throughout his pieces, but was particularly showcased in "Shieu Heh Bao (A Chinese Love Song)" and "Don't Be Afraid, You Haven't Got It Made! (Korean medley)." Fred Ho dedicated "Shieu Heh Bao (A Chinese Love Song)" to Trinity Music Professor Lise Waxer, who passed away this summer. Waxer and Ho had met while he was guest teaching at a college where she was doing some graduate work. They developed a friendship (according to the dedication in the program written by Austin Arts Director Jeffry Walker) "built on some common heritage and a whole lot of passion for politics, people and their music." It was Waxer's idea to invite Ho to perform and lecture at Trinity this November.
"What's lacking today are people really wanting to do it. People who have that fire inside that won't be put out, even if you have a gun to your head." Ho complained to the InterArts students he was lecturing.
While it's true that it's not the first time the term apathetic has been lobbed at the Trinity community (with seemingly just cause), you don't need to have that fire in the belly in order to appreciate Ho's music. When asked the question: "What do you want your audience to take away after seeing one of your performances?" Ho answered: "I want them to understand that people are fighting and they're correct to do so and it's right to support them even if you don't believe in their methods." Looking around in the dark theater at the audience tapping their thighs and nodding their heads to the music, it looked like at least some of the audience got the message.
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In order to fully appreciate Ho's music (although it is interesting enough to stand on its own), you must understand Ho's politics. As he explained during his lecture, the main issues he focuses on (but by no means all) are racism, gender discrimination, and the evils of capitalism.
Ho grew up in the counter-culture sixties and was influenced greatly by their values and aspirations. "When I was young, I was swimming with the tide of social consciousness, now I'm swimming against it." Ho, as a Chinese-American, experienced racism first hand at an early age.
Though he tried to assimilate, he couldn't fully conform to society standards. This created in him a sense of injustice that fuels his political activism today. Ho's father, a college professor, was also discriminated against. Though he held a position that should have garnered respect, his peers looked down on him because he wasn't white. While Ho channeled his frustration with racism into his work, his father took his anger out on his wife. Growing up in a household where there was domestic abuse helped influence Ho's future activist work for women's rights and equality. Some of Ho's feminist projects include editing a 2003 Womyn Warriors/Sheros Calendar and authoring Matriarchy: The First and Final Communism.
Ho also believes that "pop culture for the most part is the enemy; it is the music of a consumerist world." People are tricked into believing they have choices: between Pepsi and Coke, Burger King and McDonald's, Walmart and K-mart, when really these are not choices at all. Ho tries to subvert pop culture through his music: "I'm in competition with the mainstream in winning the hearts and minds of the American public." He admits that his fight is an uphill battle because he doesn't submit his work to what he describes as a "consumerist disposable mentality." His performances are done on a low budget with minimalist sets that are easy to break down and transport to the next show. Without any sort of flash or glitz to his art, Ho is demanding that his audience focuses at the art and its message, not on some elaborate consumerist pageantry.
So, how does this translate to music? Ho takes an instrumentalist view on art, asserting that one of the primary functions of art is to convey a political message and work for social change. In the program for the show, he states the final goal of his art and all his activist work: "…we face the ever-critical challenge of ending imperialist-capitalist domination and building a new society that will eliminate all forms of oppression, violence and exploitation over people and the planet." Ho says every artist needs to ask him or herself: "Do you go to the front of the corporate welfare line? …If you looked at the sum of your life's work…has it become a decorated plaything for the rich?" Art without purpose, he believes, feeds into the country's consumerist mentality as much as buying a Big Mac from McDonald's.
 |
Not only does Ho challenge social norms, but he also challenges musical norms and what people believe music should sound like: "My aesthetics are very different from the rich white aesthetic." Ho, in his battle to break away from the mainstream, does not want, however, to be so challenging to his audiences that they cannot be entertained on some level by his music. "I don't ever create for commercial entertainment, but I want a two-year-old to be able to enjoy my show. They'd get more out of it than watching [Disney's] Mulan."
Despite what you may think about Ho's politics, it was interesting to see them transformed into music at the Austin Arts Center last Friday night.
Ho came on stage carrying his baritone saxophone accompanied by Sam Furnace on the alto sax, David Bindman on the tenor sax, Wes Brown on bass, and Royal Hartigan on the percussion. The men stood on stage organizing their music on the stands and preparing to play. Suddenly, a sound like a war cry came shrieking out of Ho's saxophone launching the ensemble into "The Underground Railroad to My Heart Suite." As the musicians played, you could physically feel the power of their instruments: the bass thumped in your stomach as the saxophones rang through your chest. The skill of Ho and his musicians was remarkable; much like their political views, they insisted on pushing the envelope when it came to the range of sounds their instruments made. Sometimes it was difficult to believe such different sounds were coming out of the same instrument. It was obvious that Ho approaches his music with as much passion as his activism, for him they are one and the same.
Ho said that his aesthetic differed greatly from "the rich white aesthetic," or at least the western aesthetic, and you could hear that clearly in the music. His pieces were full of dissonance, varied time signatures, and odd meters. Sometimes it sounded like the performers were playing their instruments independent of each other, creating the feeling of a chaotic, artistic free-for-all. This dissonance made the parts where they were playing together all the more powerful. After an extended period of musical chaos, they usually picked up a common thread and came back to some feeling of order, if not just for a moment.
Part of what makes Ho's music so interesting to listen to is his adept fusion of western and eastern music. This style was found throughout his pieces, but was particularly showcased in "Shieu Heh Bao (A Chinese Love Song)" and "Don't Be Afraid, You Haven't Got It Made! (Korean medley)." Fred Ho dedicated "Shieu Heh Bao (A Chinese Love Song)" to Trinity Music Professor Lise Waxer, who passed away this summer. Waxer and Ho had met while he was guest teaching at a college where she was doing some graduate work. They developed a friendship (according to the dedication in the program written by Austin Arts Director Jeffry Walker) "built on some common heritage and a whole lot of passion for politics, people and their music." It was Waxer's idea to invite Ho to perform and lecture at Trinity this November.
"What's lacking today are people really wanting to do it. People who have that fire inside that won't be put out, even if you have a gun to your head." Ho complained to the InterArts students he was lecturing.
While it's true that it's not the first time the term apathetic has been lobbed at the Trinity community (with seemingly just cause), you don't need to have that fire in the belly in order to appreciate Ho's music. When asked the question: "What do you want your audience to take away after seeing one of your performances?" Ho answered: "I want them to understand that people are fighting and they're correct to do so and it's right to support them even if you don't believe in their methods." Looking around in the dark theater at the audience tapping their thighs and nodding their heads to the music, it looked like at least some of the audience got the message.