Blackwell Publishing Ltd.Oxford, UK and Malden, USATSQThe Sociological Quarterly0038-02532006 Blackwell Publishing Ltd.2006472275304SOCIAL MOVEMENT CULTURES
Understanding Music in Social MovementsRobert Futrell, Pete Simi, and
Simon Gottschalk
*Direct all correspondence to Robert Futrell, Department of Sociology, UNLV, 4505 Maryland Parkway, Las
Vegas, NV 89154-5033; e-mail: [email protected] or Pete Simi, Department of Criminal Justice,
University of Nebraska-Omaha, Durham Science Center, 6001 Dodge Street, Omaha, NE 68182-0149;
UNDERSTANDING MUSIC IN MOVEMENTS: The White Power Music Scene
Robert Futrell*
University of Nevada at Las Vegas
Pete Simi*
University of Nebraska at Omaha
Simon Gottschalk
University of Nevada at Las Vegas
Relying on the analysis of ethnographic and documentary data, this article explains how U.S. White
Power Movement (WPM) activists use music to produce collective occasions and experiences that
we conceptualize as the movement’s music scene. We use the concept “music scene” to refer to the
full range of movement occasions in which music is the organizing principle. Members experience
these not as discrete events, but as interconnected sets of situations that form a relatively coherent
movement music scene. We emphasize three analytically distinct dimensions of this scene—local,
translocal, and virtual—and specify how each contributes to emotionally loaded experiences that
nurture collective identity. Participants claim that strong feelings of dignity, pride, pleasure, love,
kinship, and fellowship are supported through involvement in the WPM music scene. These emo-
tions play a central role in vitalizing and sustaining member commitments to movement ideals.
While many studies mention music as a part of social movement cultures, surprisinglyfew sociologists systematically consider how activists use the aesthetic, associational, andsymbolic forces of music in their movements. The most prominent exception is Eyer-man and Jamison’s (1998)
Music and Social Movements
, which describes connectionsbetween protest music and long-standing cultural traditions. They focus on the waysthat music embodies and reworks traditions “through the ritual of performance”(Eyerman and Jamison 1998:35), helps to “mobilize protest and create group solidarity”(p. 45), and eventually enters into broad “collective memory” as cognitive codes, aes-thetic principles, and “living sources of collective identity” (p. 47). While their argumentcaptures some of the widest dimensions of the relationship between movements, music,
and culture, it does not tell us much about the specific uses and experiences of music inmovements. We need thicker, more nuanced, case-specific treatments at the “groundlevel of social action” (DeNora 2000:x) to more fully explain how activists create, experi-ence, and use music.
In this article, we are concerned with how movement members use music to produceand structure the collective occasions and experiences that we identify as a movement’smusic scene. By movement music scene we mean the elements of a social movement’s cul-ture that are explicitly organized around music and which participants regard as impor-tant for supporting movement ideals and activist identities. In dramaturgical terms,“scene” refers to a part of a larger work (e.g., scene of a theatrical play) in which actors andsymbols convey ideas that tie together and sustain the overall storyline or action. Simi-larly, a movement’s music scene is an influential part of wider movement culture in whichactivists routinely enact and express movement ideals in settings organized aroundmusic. The music scene, then, encompasses those instances in which movement mem-bers use music to produce and structure collective movement occasions. These are notdiscrete occasions, but are interconnected sets of situations that members experience as arelatively coherent whole—a scene—which is a part of the broader movement. A musicscene is to be actively experienced, to be
felt
as particular cultural attitudes and emotionsthat draw participants into shared understandings of music, politics, lifestyle, and associ-ated symbols. Understanding how a movement’s music scene operates not only requiresknowledge of how it is organized, but also recognition of how participants feel about theoccasions that make up the scene. A movement’s music scene, then, is not merely anobjective quality that exists in time and space but is also thoroughly experiential, restingon shared beliefs about the nature, value, and authenticity of music-oriented movementoccasions (Grazian 2004).
We discuss these issues using the case of the U.S. White Power Movement’s (WPM)music scene. As we have explained elsewhere, a rich WPM culture endures despite theextreme marginalization and stigma associated with overt white power activism (Futrelland Simi 2004). WPM persistence rests on the members’ capacity to establish and main-tain “free spaces” (Evans and Boyte 1992; Polletta 1999; Futrell and Simi 2004) whereactivists communicate, materialize, and reinforce their ideology and collective sensibili-ties. For many members, the occasions organized around movement music provide“havens” (Hirsch 1990) from the mainstream. These range from face-to-face settings,such as concerts and festivals, to the virtual contexts of interactive music Web sites andwebzines. While not all movement members participate in or support the movement’smusic scene, many of those who do claim that their experiences in the scene evoke collec-tive meanings that help anchor their commitment to the movement. Our analysisdescribes how this occurs.
MUSIC, SCENES, AND MOVEMENT CULTURE
The few scholars who have developed a “ground-level” standpoint on the role of music inmovements typically describe music lyrics as tools for framing grievances and musical
performance as ritual activity. Lyrical analysis offers some insights into the use of musicin recruiting and mobilizing activists. For example, Denisoff ’s (1972) work on folk musicand U.S. left-wing movements highlights the use of rhetorical songs to articulate griev-ances and draw in activists.
1
Similarly, Roscigno, Danaher, and Summers-Effler (2002)discuss the cognitive impact of music on the collective identities of early 20th centurysouthern textile workers (see also McLaurin and Peterson 1992). They explain how work-ers used music and song to construct a collective identity by recasting the responsibilityfor labor problems onto company owners, signaling that exploitation was a shared expe-rience, and urging collective organization and protest. These works rely on lyrical analysisto describe music as a form of discourse that articulates identity and grievances. In thisview, music’s main impact is on the cognitive understandings of listeners, who come toperceive social conditions in new ways and act to change them according to lyrical repre-sentations. This argument specifies how the visions articulated in songs may enlightenand encourage people to organize and participate in collective action. However, lyricalanalysis only addresses part of activists’ experiences with music (DeNora 2000). Themeanings constructed through music result from a much wider range of factors (DeNora2000; Rosenthal 2003).
Ritual is one of these factors. Since Durkheim (1915), sociologists have thought of rit-uals as intensely emotional and expressive events that communicate meanings aboutsocial relationships in relatively dramatic ways (also Wuthnow 1987; Taylor and Whittier1995; C. Bell 1992; and Collins 2004). Rituals have been analyzed as symbolic perfor-mances that express conflict (Goffman 1959, 1967; Garfinkel 1967), symbolize resistanceand rebellion (Schechner 1993), frame grievances and communicate power (Benford andHunt 1992), and create the “emotion culture” (Gordon 1989) and boundaries of groups(Taylor and Whittier 1992). Many social movement cultures organize ritualistic occasionsaround music. According to Sardiello (1994:116 as quoted in Roscigno et al. 2002), it is inritual contexts that “music is meaningfully interpreted by social actors in a way that helpsto define or reaffirm their social worlds.” Lyrics may have little to do with this interpreta-tion. Rather, actors identify with and commit to one another as they collectively partici-pate in music performances (e.g., singing, dancing). According to Collins (2004, 2001),copresence and a shared focus of attention during performances can heighten partici-pants’ “emotional energy,” thereby strengthening collective feelings of solidarity. Thus,the scholarship on music and movement culture tells us that music lyrics offer listenersnarratives for making sense of their worlds, and music rituals allow participants to collec-tively experience the narratives and sounds in cognitively and emotionally meaningfulways.
Lyrical and ritual analyses are important, but limiting research to these two dimen-sions oversimplifies the uses and experiences of music in movements. As DeNora notes,music is “a device for social ordering [and] occasioning” (DeNora 2000:110). It serves asa familiar cultural pretext for drawing people together in an array of collective situations.Some of these situations can produce strong collective identities over time (Bennett andPeterson 2004; Hodkinson 2004). Paul Willis (1978) and Simon Frith (1996, 1981, 1978)demonstrate that music can be a key resource in and through which agency and identity
are produced. People often use and refer to music in ways that organize their relationshipsby “produc[ing] their social situations and themselves
as
selves” (DeNora 2000:6). It isnot just the content of music that is important, but “the cultural practices in and throughwhich [music] is used to produce social life” (DeNora 2000:6). This approach raisesimportant issues about what the cultural material of music “ ‘does’ for its consumerswithin the context of their lives [specifically how they use it], as an active ingredient ofsocial formation. Music does much more than depict or embody values . . . it is constitu-tive of styles of conduct” (DeNora 2000:6–7).
Applying these ideas to movement music leads us to explore the ways activists usemusic as the organizing principle for a wide range of movement-based occasions andpractices. A complete sociological account must explain the cluster of collective occasionsand activities that are organized around movement music. This approach offers a broadersense of how activists use music to communicate, materialize, enact, and sustain politi-cized movement identities. To deepen our understanding of music’s role in movements,we extend our analytic focus to the full range of situations and cultural items associatedwith movement members’ production, experience, and use of music. The concept“movement music scene” is intended to capture the organizational and experiential qual-ities of the occasions and practices revolving around movement music.
While the idea of “scene” is not entirely new and appears in a number of sociologicalstudies, most uses are undertheorized.
2
For instance, Ned Polsky’s (1967)
Hustlers, Beats,and Others
or Sherri Cavan’s (1972)
Hippies of the Haight
employ “scene” as a simpledescriptor and use it interchangeably with notions of subculture, counterculture, andcommunity.
3
In
Scenes
(1977), John Irwin goes a bit farther by elaborating on Shibutani’s(1961) notions of reference group and social world to describe several “lifestyle scenes”(e.g., bar, beat, hippie, surfing, skiing) created by urbanites to fill perceived voids in socia-bility. These scenes are collective activities that offer ongoing opportunities to “plug intomore complete, emotionally sustaining relationships” (Irwin 1977:26) than those that areotherwise found in metropolitan life. Though an interesting study, Irwin does little toassess the relationship of music and social scenes.
Recent scholarship has resurrected the notion of scene, establishing a specific link tomusic, and is beginning to map more precisely its conceptual meaning and empiricalaspects. The first in this wave, Will Straw (1991:273), describes a music scene as “that cul-tural space in which a range of musical practices coexist, interacting with each otherwithin a variety of processes of differentiation, and according to widely varying trajecto-ries of change and cross-fertilization.” A music scene is formed as “coalitions” and “alli-ances” come together around musical styles, articulate “a sense of purpose” (Straw1991:273), and draw boundaries that define who is “in” and “out,” thereby creating andsustaining social groups. The practices and occasions organized around music can “pro-duce a sense of community” (Straw 1991:373) that is meaningful, arousing, exciting, andauthenticating. Music scenes are not closed communities, however. While scenes may, asGaines (1994:52) observes, promote “subterranean, subcultural, esoteric, and insularcultures with highly specified meaning systems, and linguistic, sartorial, and behavioralcodes,” they also allow for very different levels of commitment and fluid participation by
its participants. In Irwin’s words, scenes are “available” (1977:29) insofar as they offernumerous ways for people with varying levels of interest to gear into the action andexpress affiliation. Participants may range from those highly committed to the music(and politics, fashions, attitudes, lifestyles, and symbolism) supported in the scene to themuch less committed and the merely curious (see also Fox 1987).
Most recently, Bennett and Peterson (2004) elaborated on these understandings ofmusic scenes with a three-part typology that distinguishes local, translocal, and virtualscenes. In their view, music scene refers to “the contexts in which clusters of producers,musicians, and fans collectively share their common musical tastes and collectively dis-tinguish themselves from others” (Bennett and Peterson 2004:1). Local scenes clusterthese activities in a particular geographic area, usually focus on a specific genre of music,and exhibit distinctive cultural signs and lifestyle elements associated with the locale inwhich the scene is embedded. Translocal scenes involve “widely scattered local scenesthat are drawn into regular communication around a distinctive form of music and life-style” (Bennett and Peterson 2004:6). These affective communities, organized aroundmusic and “[their] associated stylistic innovations . . . transcend the need for face-to-face interaction as a necessary requirement for scene membership.” Examples of translo-cal scenes include the temporary communities of music festivals and traveling musiccaravans, such as Deadheads, Phishheads, etc., that draw a variety of participants toperiodic large-scale gatherings where they interact with members across social networks(Bennett and Peterson 2004:9; see also Kruse 1993). Virtual scenes connect physicallyseparated people to create a “sense of scene via fanzines and, increasingly, through theInternet” (Bennett and Peterson 2004:7). Chat rooms, listservs, music trading sites, andvirtual ’zines mediate interaction organized around a music culture and facilitate an“exchange of knowledge” (Bennett and Peterson 2004:7) that promotes connectionsamong far-flung members.
This typology is useful but narrows the analytic focus on a scene to a single dimen-sion—local, translocal,
or
virtual—when it is likely that established scenes involve allthree elements. A more complete understanding of music scenes must locate and analyzethe interconnections among local, translocal, and virtual dimensions. The interconnec-tions have implications for accessibility, growth, and long-term maintenance of a musicscene, as each provides different ways for participants to be involved in a scene’s activities.Additionally, Bennett and Peterson neither explicitly analyze scenes’ political dimensionsnor attempt to understand social movement music scenes. We extend Bennett andPeterson’s (2004) typology by demonstrating the links between local, translocal, andvirtual dimensions of the U.S. WPM’s music scene. The WPM music scene includesbands, performances, performing spaces, indigenous recording companies, recordings,broadcasts (e.g., radio and video streams), symbols, street sheets, fanzines, Web sites thatreport on movement music, and the activists who are involved. These spaces (both phys-ical and virtual) and activities supply a range of options for interaction in situations inwhich political, aesthetic, and stylistic interests reflecting movement goals are promi-nently expressed. Participants report that their experiences in the scene create powerfulcognitive and emotional changes to sense of self and commitment to the movement.
Our analysis is grounded in ethnographic and documentary data collected on a variety ofwhite power activists and groups between 1996 and 2004. Participant observation
4
wasconducted in a variety of settings and included one- to three-hour in-depth face-to-faceand telephone interviews with 59 WPM activists.
5
Sixteen respondents were movementleaders and 43 were rank-and-file activists. Forty-four follow-up interviews were con-ducted with the primary movement contacts, for 99 total interviews. We also performedextensive content analysis of WPM media (e.g., newsletters, Web sites, Internet discussiongroups, and radio broadcasts) and collected information about the WPM from lawenforcement sources, research groups (e.g., Anti-Defamation League [ADL], SouthernPoverty Law Center), and print and broadcast media (newspaper articles and televisionsegments).
6
Snowball and purposive sampling strategies produced contacts with a wide range ofactivists, networks, and groups within the WPM. The sample included members of net-works active in 21 states.
7
Represented organizations include White Aryan Resistance,Aryan Nations and local branches of Aryan Nations, Hammerskins, National Alliance, KuKlux Klan (KKK), Southwest Aryan Separatists (SWAS), and various smaller skinheadgroups (e.g., Aryan Front, Bayside Skins, Independent Skins, L.A. County Skins, andOrange County Skins).
8
Interviews focused on individual manifestations of activism,movement strategies advocated within and across groups, and the meanings activistsattached to various types of movement participation, including music. Participant obser-vation and interviewing allowed for the close examination of a wide range of politicalactivism unavailable in secondary sources and movement propaganda (Blee 1996). Ofcourse, we cannot assume that interviewees’ recollections are complete and fully accurate.Secondary source analysis provided additional verification for the movement data col-lected through primary interview and observational means. Our triangulated multi-method strategy (Denzin 1978) produced a dense array of data on the U.S. WPM. Whilewe present our themes in a systematic and organized way in the following, we do notintend to depict a homogeneous, invariant picture of WPM music culture and experience.Our generalizations about the movement’s music scene and the people who sustain it con-stitute a starting point for further investigation about scenes in this and other movements.
Finally, a word about the methodological difficulties we confronted while studyingthe WPM. As we are not members of these groups, entrée was difficult. WPM membersare often antagonistic toward outsiders, they prefer secrecy, and, at times, participate inillegal activities. Moreover, the movement’s networks are diverse and loosely structured,and levels of activism vary widely among participants. Simi made contact with AryanNations and SWAS via several letters and phone calls requesting, as a sociologist, oppor-tunities to observe various movement events. Eventually these requests were granted byboth groups on the sole condition that he was white. These contacts snowballed into oth-ers across several of the movement’s networks, culminating in the sample describedabove. While many contacts were open to interviews, many others were not. Simi’s statuswas challenged at times. He was accused of working in concert with law enforcement
agencies or as an agent provocateur. Some of these challenges resulted in threats of bodilyharm, though none occurred.
THE WPM MUSIC SCENE
The U.S. WPM is a segmented network of overlapping groups such as the KKK, ChristianIdentity sects, neo-Nazis, and Aryan skinheads (Dobratz and Shanks-Meile 1997; Burris,Smith, and Strahm 2000).
9
Although there are differences among these wings of theWPM, they all agree on fundamental doctrines (Burris et al. 2000). As Abby Ferber(1998:49) explains, they “share common ideologies and goals and an overridingcommitment to maintaining white supremacy.
10
There are ongoing debates among thegroups, but also sustained efforts to forge shared objectives. . . . ” Foremost among theseis the commitment to white power and defending the “white race” from “genocide.” Theyenvision a racially exclusive world where “nonwhites” are vanquished, segregated, or atleast subordinated to Aryan authority. This vision is articulated, for example, in the infa-mous “14 Words” statement (“We must secure the existence of our people and a future forwhite children”). Many WPM members are strongly anti-Semitic, support Aryan milita-rist nationalism, and claim to seek a white homeland to control and defend against non-Aryans. Members also object to interracial sex, marriage, and procreation, and idealizeconservative, traditional, and patriarchal family forms and community relations domi-nated by Aryan kinship. According to Ezekiel (1995:xxix), it is this general “agreement onbasic ideas [which] is the glue that holds the movement together.”
Aryan music is one of the most pervasive means of racist expression among both vet-eran and newly recruited WPM activists across all branches. Many WPM gatheringsinclude Aryan music produced by more than 100 U.S. white power bands and more than200 bands in 22 countries (Southern Poverty Law Center 2002). Two of the most notori-ous white power organizations—The National Alliance and Hammerskin Nation—areclosely tied to the two most prominent white power recording companies, ResistanceRecords and Free Your Mind Productions (formerly Panzerfaust Records). Theirexpressed goal is to create alternatives to mainstream music genres by producing musicthat articulates Aryan ideals and is linked to occasions and experiences in which the WPMis promoted.
There are many styles of white power music: rock, heavy metal, and country and west-ern are the most common, but techno and Aryan folk genres are also emerging. Whileeach genre claims specific stylistic distinctions, the lyrical themes in each reflect thefundamental doctrines common to most movement groups: Aryan nationalism, whitepower, race war, anti-Semitism, anti-immigration, anti-race-mixing, and white victim-ization.
11
There is also a clear emphasis on upholding Aryan values through movementparticipation, fraternity, kinship ties, and racial loyalty. These lyrics speak of fostering“global brotherhood,” “
volk
,” “white pride,” and “Aryan heritage.”
12
White power rock is, by far, the most popular style in the white power music scene. Itderives from punk and
Oi!
, a musical style originating in English working-class culturethat combines hard guitar and drum-driven sounds, relatively simple musical structures,
and vocals that resemble fast-paced chants. Its roots can be traced to the late-1970s Britishgroup Skrewdriver, who veered from punk anarchism toward racist politics and a heavymetal hard rock sound to become the first premier white power rock band (Goodrick-Clarke 2002; Ware and Back 2002). Other bands emerged during the 1980s, but the mostrapid growth occurred in the late 1990s (Center for New Community [CNC] n.d.; South-ern Poverty Law Center 2001a). Bound for Glory (St. Paul, MN), Aggravated Assault(Atlantic City, NJ), Bully Boys (Dallas, TX), Max Resist and The Hooligans (Detroit, MI)are among the most influential groups in white power rock, though Skrewdriver remainsthe most notorious one (Goodrick-Clarke 2002). The group appealed to the growingnumber of U.S. skinheads who, through the 1980s, became increasingly associated withextreme right-wing politics and Aryan racialism. Today, Skrewdriver is sometimesreferred to as the “godfather” of white power music. The band continues to be a focalpoint of solidarity among white power rock listeners, and is the exemplar for many bandsthat emerged during the last decade.
White power music culture matters to activists, but it is not clear precisely how it mat-ters. Our explanation concentrates on the creation of a movement music scene that pro-vides multiple ways for people to participate in music-focused occasions that promotemovement ideals and identity. Next, we discuss how the virtual, local, and translocal con-texts of the WPM music scene are organized.
Virtual Dimensions of the WPM Music Scene
The Internet is critical to organizing the WPM music scene. Cyberspace enables a widerange of white power activists to create dense interorganizational channels, throughwhich information about the movement travels quickly and unimpeded (Kaplan andWeinberg 1998; Burris et al. 2000). As Hoffman (1996:72) argues, the Internet presentsopportunities for WPM networking that previously did not exist by offering a privateform of communication and “bring[ing] distant isolated groups and individualstogether. [It] has the potential to reach an audience far beyond any they could reach withtheir traditional propaganda.”
We think a lot about how to reach a wider audience with the [mainstream] mediapushing all this anti-white propaganda. We can’t let that media define us. We’ve got tofind ways to get the message out and with the Internet we’ve had some success. [AryanWeb sites] are forums that help connect people to something larger that’s out there.(southeastern Aryan activist, December 15, 2002)
Aryan groups that promote white power music utilize the Web as a relatively low-risk,low-cost, high-access means of marketing and distributing WPM music, ideology, andother cultural items (Eyerman 2002). Several WPM music organizations have developedsophisticated Web-based media enterprises that are central to the white power musicscene. In North America alone, more than 40 companies are directly involved in creatinga Web-linked multimedia music culture for the movement (CNC n.d.). They range in sizefrom small two- or three-person Internet outlets that stock and distribute Aryan music tolarger, independent labels that sign bands, produce recordings, sell merchandise, andorganize live concerts, festivals, and tours. Resistance Records and Free Your Mind
Productions are the major labels in the U.S. white power music scene. They have the mostprominent and elaborate Internet presence and command national and internationalproduction and distribution networks, making their white power CDs and merchandisewidely available.
Resistance Records bills itself as “the soundtrack for the white revolution.” It wasfounded in 1993 by World Church of the Creator member George Burdi who later sold itto former National Alliance leader William Pierce. Following Pierce’s death in 2002, hisprotégé Erich Gliebe took over day-to-day operations of the National Alliance and Resis-tance Records. In 2005, Shaun Walker took the helm of the National Alliance and Gliebeis reportedly still assisting with Resistance Records. Resistance’s 718 music titles span arich variety of genres. Themes of violence and racist hatred aimed at blacks, Jews, Asians,and immigrants are articulated in the songs, cover art, and band names—for example,“Fueled by Hate,” “Aryan Terrorism,” “Brutal Attack,” “Blue-Eyed Devils,” “Angry Ary-ans,” “Racist Redneck Rebels,” and “RaHoWa” (short for “racial holy war”). According tothe ADL (ADL 2000), the company sold up to 50,000 white power CDs per year beforelegal troubles in 1997. By 2000, sales rebounded and Resistance reportedly received about50 orders per day, averaging $70 in merchandise. Judging by those numbers, it appearsthat Resistance performs modestly well relative to other small, independent U.S. musiclabels with possibly more than $1 million in annual sales (ADL 2000).
13
CDs are orderedthrough the Resistance Records Web site, which also offers access to 24-hour streamingradio, its fanzine
Resistance
, books, videos, jewelry, clothing, and other badges of WPMaffiliation, and links to other white power Web sites. Resistance’s purchase of the SwedishNordland Records in 1999 reportedly doubled the label’s inventory to 80,000 CDs (ADL2000). The label’s presence in Sweden is particularly important as “Sweden is . . . one ofthe world’s largest producers [and consumers] of racist rock”(Bjorgo 1998).
14
This expan-sion positioned Resistance Records as the major presence in the Aryan music scene.
Panzerfaust Records was established in September 1998 and has been closely linked tothe largest racist skinhead group, the Hammerskin Nation. Referring to a Nazi-era anti-tank weapon, Panzerfaust can be literally translated as “armored fist”—a concept mem-bers use to communicate the idea that white power music is “the audio ordnance that’sneeded by our comrades on the front lines of today’s racial struggle” (Panzerfaust RecordsWeb site—http://www.panzerfaust.com/about.shtml). After an internal dispute withowner Anthony Pierpoint, Panzerfaust was reorganized in early 2005 as Free Your MindProductions.
15
Our observations suggest that this change has only strengthened the orga-nization’s role in the WPM music scene, as the transition was almost seamless, links to theHammerskins are even more prominent, and the Web site is more sophisticated. LikeResistance Records, the Panzerfaust/Free Your Mind Web site offers hundreds of whitepower music selections across several genres. There is also a webzine that reports on themusic scene and other WPM developments, hyperlinks to other white power Web pages,a chat room for activists, photo galleries of bands and shows, and an extensive catalog ofmovement paraphernalia.
Resistance, Panzerfaust/Free Your Mind Productions, and other WPM music compa-nies claim their purpose is to build community around an authentic, indigenous Aryan
cultural alternative to mainstream pop culture, which they see as “polluted” with multi-ethnic influences. Such a project entails supporting a music scene that people, especiallyyouth, can access and emulate in their lifestyles and political practices. Resistance Recordsseeks to provide meaning and a source for community building among disaffected, andprimarily young, whites. The Web site proclaims:
Resistance music is the voice out there telling young White people that ours is a cul-ture and a race worth preserving and fighting for. For the time being, our racial ene-mies control the mass media and so our people must be awakened and won over, oneat a time if need be. Now that you have received the message, you have the responsi-bility to your kinsmen to help them out of the maze of degradation and filth that hasbeen constructed around them. (Resistance.com, August 28, 2003)
Panzerfaust founder Anthony Pierpoint explains how he sees his music company’s role:You’d be amazed at how many young white kids [are] looking for an outlet, a space, tosort of be something different where they don’t have to feel guilty about being whiteor act like a nigger to be cool . . . we [Panzerfaust] give them that opportunity andprovide some direction by helping get them educated. . . . (Interview, July 14, 2002)
Panzerfaust Records/Free Your Mind organizer Bryon Calvert also claims their Webpresence is crucial in recruiting young people into the white power music scene.
I probably do over a hundred emails a day . . . your average 14 or 15 year old kid thatcame across us by doing an Internet search, or because he saw a sticker or some friendsof his told him about the label. And they go and they actually read the literature, theyread the articles, they listen to the MP3s, they watch the music videos, they listen towhat we’re saying, and it’s like they just soak it up. (http://www.news.minnesota.publicradio.org/features/2004/05/13_horwichj_panzerfaust/, May 29, 2004)
Providing a music scene members can join is, then, a crucial part of the WPM’s efforts torecruit members and nurture movement identity. For a Bound for Glory band member,access means exposure, which leads to “racial education” and, ultimately, political action.
Music is number one. It’s the best way to reach people. Through music, people canstart getting into the scene, then you can start educating them. It’s about making apolitical community by getting involved in the music. (Downloaded from http://www.musicalterrorists.com, February 24, 2004)
Part of the “education” is implemented by marketing the political lifestyle models ofAryan activism associated with the WPM music scene. Web catalogs are replete withimages of activist “models” demonstrating a variety of clothing styles and activities thatmake up the “Aryan aesthetic” of the WPM music scene. Along with many others, Panzer-faust/Free Your Mind Productions and the linked Hammerskin Nation Web sites offerphoto galleries of concert participants displaying dress, tattoos, and other insignia ofAryan authenticity and style that viewers are encouraged to assimilate, emulate, andreproduce. Resistance Records markets their own clothing brand, “Aryan Wear,” whichcombines Nordic, skinhead, punk, and military influences. Members consume and dis-play this paraphernalia as a political act that authenticates their Aryan activist status.
It’s really cool how you can get all this shit off the Net now. Ten years ago there reallywasn’t that much stuff you could get period. But now you’ve got all the music, the
jackets and boots, and other clothes, and all kinds of racial books and magazines. Imean you can get pretty much anything you can think of. . . . These products . . . theyshow how far we’ve come and how much possibility there is for what we can do and itreminds you of who you are—a white Aryan. . . . (Southern California skinhead, June14, 2004)
The explicit goal of the music Web sites is to market an identity linked to a particularmovement music scene—a strategy also common among mainstream music companies.Of course, one difference is that this scene and aesthetic revolve around explicit, highlypoliticized white power themes, which veteran activists expect will encourage young par-ticipants to carry on racist political lifestyles outside of the scene. That the WPM musicscene mirrors some aspects of mainstream scenes is not coincidental but strategic. TheWPM music industry’s clear intention is to mimic the familiar
forms
of popular musicculture while investing it with radically racist themes. It is a way to sustain veteran mem-bers and draw new members into the movement’s music culture by offering the forms ofoccasions, experiences, and items common across many music scenes.
To accentuate connections among scene participants, many of these music Web sitesare not merely organized clearinghouses for Aryan music and paraphernalia, but theyalso provide space for real-time communication through listservs, chat rooms, and bulle-tin boards in which members create and sustain virtual white power communities linkedthrough participation in the music scene. An Aryan Front member captures the feeling ofmany other activists we spoke to:
It keeps me connected, I don’t have my free time to attend as many . . . festivals as I’dlike, but emailing and the chatrooms and just the Web sites make me feel a lot lessalone. . . . I think the Internet just makes it easier to be a racialist when you knowwhat’s out there and how many other people all over the world are fighting for prettymuch the same thing you are and feel the same way you do. . . . (Aryan Front activist,June 27, 2004)
Message boards are replete with discussions among attendees and those experiencingaspects of the scene from afar. Many chat room participants encourage attendees todescribe their experiences so that they can vicariously feel connected to the scene.
Ugh. . . . I have to work and can’t make Aryan Fest @@@@ I’m counting on the listto fill me in on all the good stuff! 14/88 aryanwoman (Downloaded fromPanzerfaust.com chat room, March 8, 2004)
White power music companies and concert organizers are also providing real-time Webaccess to events for members of the scene who cannot attend a show. For instance, Pan-zerfaust gave virtual entrée to the 2004 Aryan Fest through live video streams, photos, andsound clips of the event. Online fanzines also report in great detail on Aryan music festi-vals and bar shows, both hyping the events before they occur and then offering behind-the-scenes coverage of the bands, fans, and movement leaders who attend. Likewise,streaming Internet radio stations such as Radiowhite.com and Resistance Radio not onlybroadcast white power music but also interview band members and movement leaders.
The virtual dimension of the WPM music scene offers Web-based contexts in whichparticipants can access social networks that intersect around white power music. While
translocal and local dimensions of the white power music scene are kept in motion by aseries of concerts, festivals, and other activities where members converge in face-to-facesettings, the virtual dimension allows members to feel a part of the scene without physi-cally being there. Instead, they participate vicariously by reading reports from thoseinvolved in movement music, by listening to broadcast performances and recordings, andby consuming CDs, symbolic apparel, and other merchandise that represent the musicscene and the wider movement. The virtual dimension of the scene makes even solitaryexperiences, such as listening to songs, surfing music Web pages, or reading ’zines a partof participating in the scene’s broad collective experience. As we discuss in more detail inthe following, embracing the Aryan music aesthetic in these ways can help membersexperience the ambient moods and tones that nourish their sense of belonging and iden-tification with the collective “we” of the movement music scene.
Local and Translocal Dimensions of the WPM Music Scene
The WPM music scene relies on much more than its Internet presence. Concerts andmusic festivals are the scene’s primary face-to-face opportunities for participants to expe-rience a level of camaraderie and fellowship that virtual participation alone cannot pro-vide. Small bar shows are the focal occasions of the local dimension of the WPM musicscene. They are the most frequently organized music events and typically draw anywherefrom 50 to 100 regular participants from a particular geographic locale. In the SouthernCalifornia white power music scene (mainly Los Angeles, Orange, and San Bernardinocounties), small bar shows usually feature three or four bands and brief speeches fromWPM activists between sets. These events tend to draw a crowd of regulars—committedyoung and veteran activists with strong friendship affiliations across several local move-ment networks. At the shows we observed for this study, we identified local members ofthe Hammerskins, KKK, National Alliance, Women for Aryan Unity, Aryan Front,Orange County Skins, World Church of the Creator, Blood and Honour, and AryanNations. Larger bar concerts are less frequent, but usually draw between 150 and 200 par-ticipants from both the local scene and scenes outside the area. These events are oftenorganized around the most prominent white power bands that travel a music circuit con-necting several different local scenes. The circuits establish connections between local,translocal, and virtual dimensions of the scene. Linking various local scenes createsopportunities for members in one local scene to experience live performances by bandscelebrated in other ones. Since these bands are often among the most popular across theentire WPM music scene, many attendees will have listened to their recordings, discussedthem in Internet chat rooms, and read about them in ’zines. The entire circuit, rather thanjust one local venue, then, becomes a set of occasions that offers participants multipleways to experience the scene.
Multiday festivals are the largest, most elaborate, and most clearly translocal dimen-sion of the scene. They draw together 300–600 members from an array of local scenes andmovement networks across the United States and other countries. All these settings bringa range of people together around Aryan music in order to foster a sense of purpose andbelonging for a community whose members practice racial exclusion and openly express
racist viewpoints. Indeed, these music events are one of the few places where WPM activ-ists openly participate in face-to-face collective relationships fueled by Aryan ideals.
When you’re at a show you get to do things you normally can’t do and it just feels greatto let go and be what you are [as he points to audience members that are simulta-neously
sieg heil
ing the band on stage during a performance]. You know, be a racistwith everyone else who’s here. We’re all here because we’re white and we want to besomewhere where that’s not a crime and you don’t have to be ashamed of it and that’shard to find today. It’s hard to find places where you can do that. (Aryan musician/activist, July 15, 2002)
While local activists predominate at the bar concerts, the larger events also attract manyout-of-town WPM members, thereby giving the scene a translocal dimension. Some comefrom other vibrant local scenes with information about their own particular bands andcultural styles, while others come to experience a vibrant local scene that is not availablein their own area. The Southern California shows we observed included participants fromNorthern California, Nevada, Utah, Florida, Georgia, New Jersey, Arizona, Texas, Oregon,and Minnesota. Larger concerts also draw more nascent members and potential recruitswith no clear affiliations. Organizers seek to take advantage of this by providing attendeeswith direct access to materials associated with the movement music scene. The bar isstocked with white power CDs, stickers, and patches, band T-shirts, ’zines, and other whitepower literature. There is also contact information for as many as 20 separate white powergroups across the nation. Audience members are encouraged to sample the merchandise,carouse with band members, and befriend other activist “brothers and sisters.”
There is an inherent tension, however, in attracting participants. One of the featuresof scenes is their availability and openness (Irwin 1977). Organizers struggle to maintainthe local WPM music scene’s availability and openness while simultaneously excludingWPM opponents from shows. They go to great effort to maintain the ambiance and toneof the concerts as “pure” Aryan spaces. Thus, many bar concerts are organized as privateparties where attendees are visually screened by bouncers and their names are checkedagainst a list compiled by the show’s organizers. In others, tickets obtained via organizers’Web sites are required for entry. To get in, attendees must know members of the localscene who will sign their name on the list or vouch for them at the door. It is also possibleto gain entrée by displaying the symbols of membership, such as Aryan tattoos, fashion,WPM vernacular, and other proofs of cultural knowledge that confirm one’s politics. Atother times, young attendees without clear affiliation will be let in if organizers feel theyare not a threat and may be recruitable. This filtering process marks the boundariesbetween scene members and those not “in the know.”
As a result of these filtering efforts, the ambient mood at the shows is one of catharticrelease from the strains of everyday routines, especially the claimed limitations typicallyimposed on racist expression. Participants’ Aryan symbols and white power tattoos—oneof the most celebrated signs of WPM membership—are on clear display. Many partici-pants wear tank top shirts (and some men go bare chested) to show off tattoos such as theGerman iron cross, confederate flag, Hitler, crossed hammers, or a clenched fist with slo-gans such as “White Pride,” “White Power,” “SKIN,” or “Proud to be White.” Some also
display tattoos of local white power bands, further expressing attachments to the localmusic scene. Jackets and T-shirts with white power patches indicating affiliation withlocal (e.g., OC Skins) or national groups (Hammerskins) are also prominent. There areother ritualized elements to these shows, including activities such as collective whitepower chants,
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some done in unison with the bands, or various types of dance. Theshows are also replete with open displays of camaraderie and fellowship among manyparticipants. The festive tone is also indicated by members’ gestures,
sieg heils
, claspingshoulders, and “busting knuckles” or “knocking elbows,” combined with smiles andshouts of excitement to each other and the bands. Performed between long-time friendsand recent acquaintances, these gestures of camaraderie are meant to express a collectiveidentity as participants in the scene. Many conversations revolve around gossip about thelocal activist networks involved in the scene, appreciation of the music played at the show,comparisons among bands and genres, and links between the bands and WPM groups.Activists often invite others into their conversations in an effort to befriend fellow Aryansand recruit new members. The other WPM group settings we have observed—such asAryan congresses, demonstrations, and rallies—carry a more serious, politicized tone tothem. To be clear, while the music spaces are also highly politicized, they contain a “loose-ness” and sense of leisure that does not seem to require that attendees demonstrate thelevel of movement commitment expected in other WPM activities.
White power music festivals are the leading translocal occasions in the WPM musicscene, as they draw larger numbers across an even wider array of movement networksthan the bar concerts. Since 1998, both the frequency and size of festivals have increaseddramatically (Southern Poverty Law Center 2001b). The two most prominent festivals—Hammerfest, organized by Panzerfaust and Hammerskin Nation, and Nordic Fest, pro-duced by Resistance and the Imperial Klans of America—have been held annually since2000 and draw between 300 and 600 activists from both the United States and Europe(ADL 2002).
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The 2002 Rocky Mountain Heritage Festival featured bands and activistsfrom various skinhead groups, the National Alliance, and KKK affiliates based in 12states, Great Britain, Germany, Poland, and the Netherlands. Folk Fest, which has beenheld in Florida since 2001, is sponsored by the white nationalist organization Nordwave,and features live bands, a hammer-lifting competition, a playground for children, food,camping, boat rentals, and hikes on nature trails. An even more recent addition is AryanFest, organized by the Oregon-based Volksfront (with chapters in California and Arizonaas well as Canada and Germany). The event was held in early 2004 on a private propertyoutside Phoenix, Arizona. For a $30 ticket, attendees could listen to nine bands and threefeatured speakers, receive two free beers, a barbeque dinner, and on-site camping. Panzer-faust Records provided these resources and all of the proceeds were earmarked to benefitVolksfront land purchases for Aryan community development.
Multiday events are the most notorious and popular in the WPM music scene. Typi-cally held on remote, private property, the festivals usually include up to a dozen bands,speeches from WPM leaders, workshops on Aryan heritage and activism, a wide array ofwhite power merchandise, ritual swastika and cross lightings, and even sporting compe-titions. Like bar shows in the local scene, patrons are extensively scrutinized to help
ensure privacy from authorities and protesters. Privacy is partially protected by thesophisticated virtual dimensions of the scene. For instance, tickets and information aboutHammerfest 2000 were available to activists only through a password-protected Web site.Tickets were required for entry, and all patrons were thoroughly observed at the gates toensure that the festival was a safe haven for extreme racist expression. Similarly, theattendees of Aryan Fest 2004 were instructed via the event Web site to gather at a meetingplace several miles from the event at times set by festival organizers for initial scrutinybefore being led to the venue. Many attendees stay at the same hotels and eat at the samerestaurants that are promoted on event Web sites and discussion lists. On-site camping atthe largest festivals allows activists to set up temporary tent towns where all-night partiesand postconcert “fellowshipping” are the norm. Some of the largest festivals have alsooffered on-site amenities such as a restaurant and general store. The events explicitly caterto several generations of white power activists, from teens and young adults to mucholder veterans, thereby creating a powerful context for the transmission of movementidentity and practices as well as for the recruitment and retention of members (for similarfindings, see Hamm 2002:85–93).
Frith (1996:111) observes that making and experiencing music culture is not simplya way of expressing ideas, but “a way of living them” (see also Willis et al. 1990). In otherwords, music is a social activity that emerges from social interaction and provides a basisfor sustaining interactions across various social contexts and occasions. As the primarylocal and translocal contexts in the WPM music scene, concerts and festivals bring Aryanactivists together in spaces where they collectively distinguish themselves. These occa-sions are “prefigurative,” in that they are among the few face-to-face contexts in whichactivists live and feel the types of experiences and relationships that reflect the society themovement seeks to build, if only for a few hours or days (Breines 1989; Polletta 1999;Futrell and Simi 2004). The virtual dimensions of the scene enhance members’ abilities tocontinuously network with one another outside of face-to-face contexts, providing a con-tinuity of scene experiences that would otherwise be difficult to produce. Likewise, thelive contexts concretize the scene’s virtual dimensions by providing direct physical con-tact with other members. All three dimensions offer numerous opportunities for partici-pation in an enduring white power music scene that helps anchor members to themovement.
EMOTIONS AND IDENTITY IN THE WPM MUSIC SCENE
A broad understanding of the music scene’s significance for WPM members requires arecognition of what it means to those involved, how they feel about it, and how theseemotional experiences support collective sensibilities. The virtual, local, and translocaldimensions are contexts for emotionally loaded experiences, which activists value, in partbecause of strengthened feelings about and identification with their peers in the scene andthe wider movement.
Our data strongly suggest that the WPM’s music scene is pregnant with meaning andemotion. Specifically, the activists we interviewed felt “vitalizing” (Taylor 2000) and
“reciprocal” (Jasper 1998) feelings of freedom, pride, pleasure, gratification, connected-ness, revelation, identification, power, and legitimacy about the movement, which theylargely attributed to their experiences at occasions organized around movement music.
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These types of convictions are, in Collins’ words (1990: 28 as quoted in Jasper 1998: 399),“the ‘glue’ of solidarity” that anchors collective identity and action. The emotions mostcommonly attributed to WPM members, “reactive emotions” in Jasper’s (1998) terms,such as anger, hatred, and outrage that galvanize members against an “other,” are alsoapparent. These emotions take root in individuals, but are nurtured and amplified by thescene’s organizational contexts and cultural settings, which foster expectations of howmembers should feel about themselves in relation to other members and outsiders (Jasper1998; Taylor 2000). Of course, these same types of emotions can be experienced in a widerange of movement occasions, many of which are not explicitly tied to Aryan music andthe scene (e.g., occasions organized around religious practice). Our focus here, however,is on scene experiences as they are linked through the range of social occasions and activ-ities in which music is the focal point.
We concentrate our analysis on “vitalizing emotions” (Taylor 2000) that elicit positivefeelings such as pride and pleasure in movement identity (Taylor 2000:271). Specifically,we discuss two analytically distinct, yet closely intertwined, ways that the WPM musicscene helps participants anchor their feelings toward the movement and its members.First, we show how the WPM music scene’s cultural community offers many activists asense of defiant accomplishment against mainstream culture. Second, we explain howthese emotions, combined with the sense of camaraderie and fellowship created in themusic scene, help to maintain bonds that sustain involvement and draw in new members.
Agency and Solidarity
Part of the emotional significance activists attribute to the WPM music scene revolvesaround a strong sense of agency. Many reported feeling dignity, pride, and pleasurethrough their participation in the music scene. The scene’s physical settings and virtualcontexts encourage members to openly express and embody extreme racialist ideals withsupportive others. Because these acts defy mainstream cultural practice, they enablemembers to experience a strong sense of agency regarding their capacity to organize, par-ticipate in, and sustain Aryan ideals and identity through music. This empowering senseof agency can nurture commitment toward the scene and the wider movement. Addition-ally, agency can be felt in solitary acts that are tied to and available through the musicscene. As an activist explains:
I listen to white power music and I still have that feeling of being involved with some-thing as a whole. Listening to music like Max Resist, it’s something where I can sit athome alone and even though I know the whole world is against me I can pop in a MaxResist CD and listen to it and go not only is this uplifting me but I know the band’sbehind it and there are people who have the same CD that forms a community andgives us strength. . . . (Midwest Aryan, September 1, 2001)
Many members claim to experience white power music as representing a larger culturalcommunity of the music scene and the wider movement. By calling forth inspiring imag-
ery of that community, activists report that white power music lifts their spirits andstrengthens their convictions when they may otherwise feel pressured to conform tomainstream culture and to reject white power ideas. As a northern Hammerskin explains:
What it does to people you know who listen to white power music it gives them a cer-tain level of confidence it allows them in their daily lives when they’re trying to keeptheir jobs, maintain their relationship with their girlfriend, or to raise a child, ormaintain a household when your struggling with your racial ideology. . . . What itdoes is it gives you a little room to maneuver, a little bit of uplifting attitude. You knowyou can get through your day with the whole world against you instead of giving upor selling out. We say, “You know what we’re racists and nobody likes us but we don’tcare and we’re not gonna go away and tomorrow is another day.” [We] form a richcommunity together . . . a basis to unite. (Northern Hammerskin, September 1,2001)
This community is accessible in a variety of contexts that comprise the scene. Participantsreport that live shows and festivals offer them the pleasures of fellowship, love, kinship,pride, and inspiration in face-to-face contact with other members. These “reciprocalemotions”—i.e., feelings that members have toward each other—combined with thereactive emotions of anger and hatred for the racial “other,” can be strong reinforcers ofcollective identity (Jasper 1998).
When I hear [white power music] it ignites something in me. Attending the musicshows and being there live is even more powerful. The live shows are energizers forracial pride, they just fill you up with love and hope for the future. (SoutheasternAryan Activist, June 23, 2003)[The festival] was great. We got dressed up [in Aryan regalia] with all these great whitefamilies and that’s what was really important about this event . . . a chance to buildunity and remember why we do all of this, it’s for racial kinship. (Colorado Aryan,February 19, 2001)
The festivals are particularly important settings in this regard. These large-scale eventsbring together supportive peers across a range of WPM networks and are particularlypowerful for fostering pride and a sense of connection to an enduring Aryan community.Two WPM members relate common responses of many attendees interviewed:
I really hate missing the shows . . . [they] really bring people together. They keep youstrong, they keep you feeling like you’re part of something, part of the movement andif we can keep together then there’s hope that we can save the white race from destruc-tion. (Idaho Aryan, July 12, 1999)When people come together at the music shows we’re telling each other that ourbeliefs can withstand all of the bullshit out there and we don’t have to cave in, we don’thave to give up and go with the race-mixing multicultural propaganda. . . . (SouthernCalifornia skinhead, August 13, 2000)
Feelings of unity, cathartic release, and, simply, “fun” are major elements of this collectiveexperience.
Before ’93 I didn’t really hang out with others [in the WPM] much. I pretty much didmy own thing and hung out with [white power] people around the neighborhood
and in college. But then I went [to a festival] and that’s when it started to change. Thatshow helped build so much unity. We really came together after that. There werepeople from all over. California, Arizona, Nevada, from all over, even from othercountries. It was all ’cause of this show. (L.A. County skinhead, March 28, 2002)They’re [music shows] informational as well as entertaining which is really importantto combine. These are the main purposes for these events, to have fun as well as toremember our duty. (Southern California skinhead, January 25, 2002)
Many find participation in the scene pleasurable. Committed WPM activists indicate thatthis pleasure emerges from the feeling of dignity they experience in contexts where openmoral expression of Aryanism is supported (see D. Bell 1992) for similar points aboutU.S. civil rights activists). Elisabeth Jean Wood (2001:268) has talked of such pleasures asthe “emotional in-process benefits [or] the emotion-laden consequences of action expe-rienced only by those participating in that action.” While their ideological positions arequite different, the emotions WPM activists experience in the scene parallel those of theEl Salvadoran insurgents she studied. She explains that while campesinos supporting theFarabundo Marti National Liberation (FMLN) organized to realize their interests,
. . . the particular emotional benefits (of their actions) turned on a more profoundrole for agency: for both moral outrage and pride, the
assertion of agency
itself consti-tuted part of the meaning of those acts. Participation per se expressed moral outrage,asserted a claim to dignity, and gave grounds for pride . . . their exercise ofagency . . . was a pleasure, both individually experienced (as pleasure must be) andcollectively expressed (shared with other participants as they jointly asserted theircapacity for agency and dignity as actors). Thus moral outrage, pride andpleasure . . . impelled the insurgency despite the high risk and uncertainty. (Wood2001:268l, original emphasis)
Members also indicate that creating and sustaining the cultural community of activists inthe WPM’s music scene is an expression of agency against social forces that they perceiveto be aligned against them. They experience defiant resistance as pleasurable, in part,because it symbolizes their capacity to act and their dignity as actors despite strong con-straints and potentially high risks.
These feelings are not limited to experiences at festivals or concerts. As we describedpreviously, members also express similar feelings when they consult white power fan-zines, Web sites, and virtual chat rooms in which attendees relay moods and emotions ofthe experience to others. For instance, the authors of postings in a Panzerfaust Recordschat room conveyed feelings of inspiration, identification, excitement, hatred, andaggression experienced by participating in recent white power concerts. Discussing a2003 Confederate Hammerskins show outside Jacksonville, Florida, an activist related:
What a great show!! After [the] speech I was ready to take on every jew in the land witha stick. can’t wait to go get out to “cali” and see how in the hell those guy’s can wearthose hair cuts and not be fighting 24/7. Final War kicked ass as always as did all thebands, red white and black watch out for this allstar lineup they are going to be some-thing else. well thanks for the great time great to see everybody and great to see all thekids come and have fun for they are why we do this and will always be in this “till every
jew is d**d—opps gone” 14/88 Bob. (Downloaded from Panzerfaust.com, March 24,2004)
Another member expressed similar sentiments about the 2004 Volksfront Aryan Fest:My bro N I went to our first Aryanfest this last weekend in phoenix. It was just mindblowing on the amount of brothers and sisters out there all living, breathing, andworking for the cause. And here I thought we were alone LOL. The bros from Volks-front were not only helpful, but very professional as well. Living in today’s society it’snice to know that at any time I can log onto Panzerfaust and be connected to mybrothers and sisters, and speak our minds on the cause at hand. For me it’s all of usgetting together and fighting for the same common goal “THE PRESERVATION OFTHE WHITE RACE.” Once again thanks to Azvolksfront and Panzerfaust Recordsfor the weekend with my new family. Proudwhiteman. (Downloaded fromPanzerfaust.com, March 24, 2004)
These postings closely mirror the types of sentiments many of the activists we interviewedreported about the concert experience. Messages of joy, inspiration, and identificationmay lead those reading these posts to anticipate similar experiences and consider attend-ing future shows. Such enthusiastic descriptions of the scene, so common in the move-ment’s virtual spaces, affirm the visceral feelings and affective bonds attendees expect inthe face-to-face gatherings. These feelings of community, pride, and pleasure are alsobuoyed by expressions of anger and resentment that bind Aryans against their opponents.
Exceptionalism, Superiority, Recruitment, and Commitment
WPM members’ experiences in the music scene also figure prominently in many of thestories they tell about their involvement in the wider movement. Affective bonds sup-ported in the scene appear crucial to recruitment (McAdam 1988). In particular, feelingsof uniqueness and superiority cultivated in the scene can be transformative.
I had some racist views before I started listening to [white power] music, but once Iheard that first Skrewdriver song I was sold. It really did change my life. I started goingto white power shows whenever I could and I’d drive anywhere, it didn’t matter howfar. . . . It connected me to other people who had the same passion and were willing tosay, “you know, I’m a racist. So what? I’m proud of who I am,” and you weren’t goingto hide from the fact whites are getting pushed aside. (Colorado Skin, August 23, 2002)How I really started believing, thinking, in that white separatist sense and then got allwhite supremacist, it was really through the music. There’s a whole other genre ofmusic out there that no one ever hears about, and it’s real powerful, especially at thatawkward stage where no one exactly knows who they are. It gives you anidentity . . . you’re special, you know, because you’re white. (California skinheadquoted in Blee 2002:162)
Some fans are drawn to the scene by a sense of exceptionalism, and the enlightenmentderived from their insider status and perceived privileged knowledge about the “true”nature of the world, which they fully realize through participation in the scene. For exam-ple, many members of the scene claim that they are among the few who “see through” andreject mainstream attempts to denude Aryan culture and destroy the “white race.”
Resistance music is important to me because it is a real alternative. Its great to havesomething that doesn’t degenerate our culture and heritage. With MTV and themajor record labels promoting hip-hop as “the cool thing” for white kids, too manywhite kids have been duped into believing it and drive around listening to blacks singabout “killing whitey,” its pathetic! I refuse to be a mindless lemming that follows anyfad that comes from the MTV media bosses. (Chat room posting by “Joe” http://www.resistance.com/who/index.htm, September 27, 2002—Resistance Records)
Many activist fans use WPM music as a form of aesthetic expression to authenticatethemselves as true Aryans with alternative politics, attitudes, and style they can accessthrough the scene. But, recalling Frith (1996), music is not simply a way of expressingideas, it is also a way of living and feeling them. By making the aesthetic judgment to listento white power music and participate in the scene, members come to live the movementand feel more involved than might be the case without the music. Of course, there aremultitudes of ways to experience the WPM music scene and to “live the movement.” Wedo not presume that all participants in the scene express the strong commitments we dis-cuss here, as not all participants in any movement express the same views and rationalesfor involvement. For many in the WPM, religiously based white supremacist activitiesprovide other ways to gear into the movement and live it in emotionally significant ways(see Dobratz 2001). What the music scene does provide, however, are occasions organizedaround music that create opportunities for participation in a variety of ways. Ourresearch shows that the music scene is also a distinct route to deep commitments to theWPM. As Hamm (1993: 211) observes, many “listeners of this music . . . transform them-selves from their ordinary realities to something wider, something that enlarges them aspeople. They become [white power activists].”
CONCLUSION
In this article, we have extended prior approaches to scenes, music, and movement cul-ture by elaborating the concept of movement music scene to capture both the organiza-tional and experiential character of movement activities focused on music. ExtendingBennett and Petersons’ (2004) framework of virtual, local, and translocal dimensions ofmusic scenes helps to produce a more complete and nuanced understanding of the effectsof music in social movements than those provided by lyrical and ritual analyses alone. Tobe clear, our intent is neither to dismiss the relevance of lyrics in articulating influentialvalues and meanings, nor to claim that ritualistic aspects are unimportant. Clearly bothare central to music’s role in social life, including in social movement cultures. But that isnot all. Music is also an organizing resource and focal activity for a variety of movementoccasions that, in the WPM, extend across virtual, local, and translocal movement con-texts. In both physical and virtual settings, activists use the aesthetic, symbolic, and asso-ciational forces of music to draw participants to a range of practices through which theyarticulate, materialize, reaffirm, and experience their commitment to the movement. Theproliferation of both physical settings (in the form of concerts and festivals), and virtualsettings (such as music Web sites, streaming radio, fanzines, and chat rooms) creates
numerous opportunities for people to participate in the scene and, thereby, be involvedin the movement in various ways. As Gerlach (1971; also, Gerlach and Hine 1970, 1973)has long noted, such segmented and polycentric forms of organization can enhance thevitality of a movement as it permits members to do different things and reach out to dif-ferent populations. The multiplicity of music occasions that constitute the WPM musicscene brings a variety of members into contact with one another, enabling them to con-struct networks of affiliation and overcome obstacles to participation and the mobiliza-tion of resources.
Such a scene is particularly important for highly marginalized movements like theWPM. Facing “strong codes against the direct [public] expression of racist views” (VanDijk 1992; Billig 2001), the music scene provides physical and virtual spaces where mem-bers can freely express and experience the feelings and attitudes associated with the Aryanaesthetic. As Buechler (2000:208) observes, movements that give such emphasis to inter-nal movement culture are often “subjected to the criticism that they are no longer socialmovements at all but rather depoliticized subcultures no longer interested in social trans-formation.” This claim ignores what the concept of movement music scene highlights—that maintaining a cultural community of committed activists is “both a major accom-plishment and [may be] the outer limit of what is [presently] possible” for the WPM(Buechler 2000:208). This does not mean that larger social transformation goals are notsought. Rather, we maintain that strengthening the movement culture is a condition nec-essary for and prior to the attainment of broader goals. WPM organizers realize that theAryan music scene is a pivotal part of the movement’s culture, and so should we.
The issue of music’s role in movements is not only an academic concern. Althoughparticipation and interest in the WPM music scene appears to be growing, Blee(2002:165) notes that “not all racists agree on what forms of racist culture are appropriate[and] the question of music can provoke especially hot disputes.” Some members con-sider Aryan music and the scene created around it as little more than a minor culturaladjunct or even a distraction to “real” movement politics. They believe that participationin the music scene too often becomes the limit of one’s involvement in the movementrather than a gateway to deeper commitments that hold the potential for active insur-gency. Scholars echoing this assumption argue that music is merely a superficial packag-ing of political ideas without much substance regarding WPM goals or strong effects onwider movement participation (for more on this point, see Street 2003). On the contrary,we have shown that the movement–music relationship in the WPM scene is much morethan the superficial stylistic behavior devoid of political content or influence. The WPMmusic scene engages both seasoned activists and nascent members in activities thatexpress the lifestyle and ideology of white power politics, thereby providing activists andpotential adherents broad access to models of Aryan identity and opportunities to sustainit. Thus, far from being politically innocuous, the white power music scene contributes innumerous ways to the formation and persistence of movement involvement.
Blee (2002:162) and others (e.g., Hamm 1993) also claim that racist music is particu-larly important for younger generations of activists, and suggest that “many young racistssee such music as the key to reviving a movement they regard as floundering under the
Understanding Music in Social Movements Robert Futrell, Pete Simi, and Simon Gottschalk
lifeless leadership of older Klan and Nazi leaders.” It appears to us that music is not just away to overcome older generations’ deficiencies, but may also bring generations together.Generational divides between scene participants and nonparticipants may, in fact, bediminishing as involvement in the music scene increases across movement networks, andorganizational aspects become more professionalized and sophisticated, offering a widerrange of musical styles, paraphernalia, and involvement opportunities. There is no doubtthat many participants in the white power music scene are in their teens and twenties(Hamm 1993; Lööwe 1998a; ADL 2002), and our observations suggest that the action inthe scene (which involves subterranean, risky, and taboo aspects) does attract young new-comers. Nevertheless, the WPM music scene is not exclusively youth dominated. Many ofthe earliest activists who initiated the scene in the late 1980s and early 1990s are nowactive veterans. Other long-time participants, who claim ambivalence about attendingshows and other face-to-face occasions, utilize the scene’s virtual dimensions (e.g.,streaming recordings, Internet chat rooms, fanzines) to access the movement and sustaintheir involvement. Indeed, many of our older informants claim that the scene allows themto participate in more mature and sophisticated (often meaning less public and less risky)ways than were once available to them.
Cyberspace is a particularly important dimension of this involvement, as it enablesparticipants to experience the scene without having to be physically “there.” Web sitesenable members to regularly connect with one another, and movement music provides anattractive incentive for making those connections. Members can even participate vicari-ously in the collective experience of live concerts and festivals through chats about thescene, reports of music events, CDs, or streaming broadcasts of the events. The virtualcontexts of the WPM music scene help conjure emotions and ideas that nourish partici-pants’ identification with the collective “we” of the scene and the wider movement. As vir-tual experiences become an increasingly important part of contemporary identityformation processes, and as more people interact in and experience virtual worlds, weexpect the virtual dimension of the WPM music scene to carry even more influence indeveloping movement ties and commitments. Indeed, as Barry Wellman and his col-leagues have pointed out, the Internet adds another layer of social interaction to manyusers’ experiences, increasing the density of their relationships (Wellman 1999; Wellmanand Gulia 1999; Wellman and Haythornthwaite 2002). Clearly, combined with face-to-face contexts, the virtual dimension of the WPM music scene creates a potent, multifac-eted cultural resource for linking members to one another and the collective “we” of themovement.
The Aryan music scene is one part of WPM culture that draws together participantswhose commitment levels may vary widely. People “make the scene” by navigatingthrough a variety of spaces organized around music. They may just wet their feet by surf-ing WPM Web sites, or dive in by participating in both virtual and face-to-face occasions.If, as most accounts suggest, changes in self-concept and collective identification usuallyoccur gradually as a result of interaction and exposure to alternative styles and narratives(Kiecolt 2000:117), it is reasonable to suggest that the more opportunities for exposure toracist narratives and experiences the scene provides, and the longer that exposure, the
Robert Futrell, Pete Simi, and Simon Gottschalk Understanding Music in Social Movements
deeper the identification with the WPM is likely to become. For those who become com-mitted, the scene helps to sustain affiliation by making available experiences that vitalizeinvolvement in strident racist and anti-Semitic beliefs, and provides a sense of dignity,efficacy, and pleasure that activists may not find elsewhere. This is the primary signifi-cance of the scene for its members.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We want to thank the UNLV Huntridge Writers Group, Peter Kivisto, and the anonymousTSQ reviewers for their helpful suggestions on earlier drafts of this article. Research sup-port for this project was provided by the National Science Foundation (SES—0202129),the UNLV Graduate College, and the Office of Sponsored Programs at the University ofNebraska, Omaha.
NOTES
1Denisoff (1971) also describes what, by our conceptualization, is the early American folk music
labor movement scene—a highly politicized amalgamation of performers, their songs, perfor-
mances, performing spaces, organizers, music bulletins, and ’zines (e.g., Sing Out!), production
companies (e.g., People’s Songs, Inc., People’s Artists, Inc.), and radio broadcasts (also see
Eyerman and Jamison 1998). However, he does not give much analytic attention to the wide range
of collective occasions and experiences available in this scene and, instead, focuses on lyrical anal-
ysis to assess movement music.2There is fairly common usage of the term “scene” as related to music, art, and fashion across the
fields of sociology, cultural studies, anthropology, communications, and history. However, few
have attempted to spell out what it means analytically.3Although “scene” is sometimes used synonymously with subculture, we do not intend this.
“Scene” is not coterminous with the concept of subculture. As Bennett (2000, 1999) notes, the
concept subculture has lost much of its sociological validity as scholars use it in contradictory
ways and it takes on a plurality of meanings. Regarding music and sociability, subculture seems to
now exist as “little more than a convenient ‘catch-all’ term for any aspect of social life in
which . . . people, style, and music intersect” (Bennett 1999:600). Moreover, the traditional use of
this term suggests that subcultures are much more coherent and homogenous than they often are.
This is important for us, as activist commitments to movement communities vary widely and
involvement can be very fluid. Indeed, one of the important features of the WPM music scene is
that it offers multiple ways to gear into the movement that require differing levels of commitment
and allow for fluid participation. Second, social movement scholars often use subculture to
describe a much broader aspect of movement culture than our use of the scene concept. Subcul-
ture often refers to the entirety of a movement (i.e., a social movement is a subculture). Following
this definition, if music scene is equivalent to subculture it would be a subculture of a subculture.
Additionally, equating music scene with subculture would ignore the various genres in the scene
and would not take us very far analytically. A movement music scene is subcultural, but not a sub-
culture per se. At most, we use scene to refer to a dimension of a movement subculture. All those
who participate in the movement do not necessarily also participate in a movement’s music scene.
Indeed, not all racist groups agree on what forms of racist culture are appropriate (Blee 2002:165).
Understanding Music in Social Movements Robert Futrell, Pete Simi, and Simon Gottschalk
Finally, what we conceptualize as scene also cannot be captured by the concept ritual. Although
movement music scenes may certainly exhibit features of formal ritual (e.g., ritual boundaries,
group performance, symbolic enactment), to limit what happens in the scene and how people
experience it to ritual oversimplifies the matter.4Participant observation concentrated on Christian Identity activists in the southwest, Aryan
Nations activists in Idaho, WPM participants in Southern California including major leaders such
as Tom Metzger (founder of the White Aryan Resistance), several WPM promoters and band
members, and numerous skinhead groups. These contacts resulted in, among other things, obser-
vations of live Web site/radio broadcast productions, various social gatherings, WPM bar concerts
and music festivals, and 21 home visits with activists, each ranging from one day to three weeks.5Of the 59 interviews, 43 were with male activists and 16 with female activists. Their ages ranged
from 15 to 25 years (n7), 26 to 35 years (n28), 36 to 45 years (n9), 46 to 55 years (n9), and 55 and
over (n6).6Newspaper articles on the WPM were drawn primarily from the Los Angeles Times, The Salt Lake
Tribune, The Spectrum (St. George, Utah), and the Las Vegas Review Journal. Articles were selected
through a structured, exhaustive search of the Lexus–Nexus database and microfilm indexes of the
Los Angeles Times and Las Vegas Review Journal to 1985 using search terms such as skinhead, neo-
Nazi, white supremacy, white power, hate- (including hate-crime, hate group, etc.). Other articles
are drawn from data provided by watchdog groups (e.g., Southern Poverty Law Center, Political
Research Associates). We also examined 48 WPM Web sites.7The states are: Alabama, Arizona, California, Florida, Georgia, Idaho, Illinois, Kansas, Maine,
Michigan, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, New Jersey, New York, Ohio, Oregon, Pennsylvania,
Oregon, Texas, and Washington.8In the case of widely known white power groups, the names of the organizations and their repre-
sentatives are left unchanged. In other cases, pseudonyms are used.9There are many attitudes held by members of skinhead subcultures. Some are explicitly antiracist.
Here we refer only to those explicitly racist skinheads directly involved in white power activities.10Though typically characterized as a supremacist movement (Ferber 1998), Dobratz and Shanks-
Meile (1997) argue that a separatist philosophy has become a central theme within some net-
works of the WPM. Additionally, Berbrier (1998) points out that “new racist” rhetoric seeks to
emphasize white power legitimacy through arguments for cultural pluralism and some are even
claiming whites as victims of discrimination, stigmatization, and racial genocide (Berbrier
2000).11Examples of doctrinaire song titles and lyrics by two of the most popular white power bands
include:
Race and Nation by Skrewdriver (n.d.)
I believe in the White race,
A race apart,
We’ve got a mile start,
I believe in my country,
It’s where I belong,
It’s where I’ll stay,
Chorus:
For my race and nation,
Race and nation,
Race and nation,
Race and nation.
Robert Futrell, Pete Simi, and Simon Gottschalk Understanding Music in Social Movements
Hate Train Rolling on the rails of an insane world,
Hate Train Rolling a non-stop collision undeterred,
Hate Train Rolling leaving wreckage in our path,
We’re Bound for Glory,
Hate Train Rolling, Built to forever last.12Examples of song titles and lyrics focusing on themes of “brotherhood,” “volk,” “white pride,” and
“Aryan heritage” include:
Geile Macker(Keine Kacker) by Max Resist (n.d., 1998b)
Freikorps for Deutschland,
andthe love of the fatherland,
Max Resist for brotherhood is the reason we exist,
Standing together with our strength and pride,
Our true feelings for us it’s hard to hide.
Chorus:
Skinhead unity, it’s the way it should always be,
Friends from all over the world that’s you and me,
Aryan brothers hands across the sea,
Skinhead pride—White unity.
It’s Okay to Be White by Aggressive Force (n.d.)
It’s okay to be White,
Strength through pride,
You have inside,
It’s okay to be White,
It’s okay to be White,
Loyalty within you,
Have with your kin.
Stand One, Stand All by Youngland (n.d.)
Stand one, stand all, stand up, stand proud
and raise the white man’s flag,
Cause I’m for you and you’re for me,
and unity is what we have.
Don’t listen to what they say,
Don’t ever fall away,
Don’t listen we’ll have our day,
When our nations have their way.13It is important to note that claims by both WPM leaders and antiracist watchdog organizations
may exaggerate the level of sales and consumer demand.14According to a 1997 survey by the Centre for Migration Studies and the National Council of Crime
Prevention in Sweden, out of 8,000 young Swedes between the ages of 12 and 19, 12.2 percent
reported listening to white power rock “sometimes or often” (Lööwe 1998b).15Throughout the paper, references to “Panzerfaust” refer to activities and statements prior to the
2005 reorganization. “Panzerfaust/Free Your Mind Productions” will be used for all post-
