Since its inception, rock and pop music have been flexible proving grounds for unconventional sexualities. The use of innuendo, metaphor, cheeky puns and even cross-dressing has either subtly disguised or relieved itself from the censorship of social mores—we call this “artistic license.”
Among underground or alternative music (re: the only music Recess writers care about), musicians have flaunted different sexualities that matched their unconventional appearances, but largely shied away any explicit or declaratory statements of sex: David Bowie, Morrissey, Michael Stipe (R.I.P. R.E.M.) and Neil Tennant (of Pet Shop Boys) all suggested, flirted, or ultimately back-pedaled on sexual inquiries before arriving at a consistent “decision.”
Members from contemporary acts like the Drums and Girls have taken a similarly liberal path of least resistance, at times suggesting their ambiguous lyrics are universal or genderless. And Sufjan Stevens’ silence continues to pit idealistic gay hipsters against his overly defensive Christian fans.
Of course, it shouldn’t have to be this way, and in certain instances (e.g. Anderson Cooper) I fully support resistance to this idea of public declaration, or “coming out.” It’s an inessential, symbolic act that’s become a little too mandatory and political.
But so Duke is hosting four non-heterosexual writers who grew up in South and North Carolina will talk about what it’s like to be “Out in the South.” My choice phrase, “non-heterosexual,” cues how tricky issues of identity have become in 2011.
Catchalls like “queer” have been suggested to signify the same thing, but some organizations have merely added this letter as an appendage to increasingly long acronyms like LGBTQAI.
“Out in the South” focuses on the intersection of these two identities, queer and Southern and tacitly implies that they are somewhat contradictory. Unfortunately, in industries of art this doesn’t have to be the case. Durham is a great example of this; a town with Southern character that is nonetheless a great intersection of alternative art and queer identities—and this weekend is as good a time as any to witness it. (North Carolina’s major gay pride celebration takes place largely on East Campus this Saturday, with local music venues supporting pre- and post-parties to boot.)
But looking out in a contemporary music landscape, the scene is still a little bleak. It’s still rare to see homosexuality treated with confidence; the activist stance of Lady Gaga, the confrontational aesthetics of Sleater-Kinney, the shocking depictions in Xiu Xiu songs and even the nonchalant pronoun choices in Stephin Merritt’s songs—I would argue that all these choices are political, even when they don’t mean to be. (That Katy Perry song isn’t even part of the discourse).
At some point that might not have to be the case, and Merritt’s flippancy (he advised young songwriters not to come out) would be less irksome, but for now, people like me will continue react with unfortunate enthusiasm when noticing a lyric suggesting boy-on-boy romance.
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