Bred

By Rachel Thomson

“If you’re reading this, you’re in Bred… We’re an interesting bunch of people. All of us think about sex, all of us talk about sex and there’s a rumour that some of us have actually done it. Tonight is the party of the year and everyone’s invited; from the posh knobs from Upper Crust down to the lost souls in Crumbs. Tonight, everything changes, but remember, once it’s been lost it can’t be found and once it’s stolen it gone.”

I went to London on Friday night, heart in mouth, to see the opening night of Bred, the Tricycle Theatre’s Young Company takeover show exploring sexual attitudes and dilemmas. We had started talking to the Tricycle a long time ago about how we might connect research about teenage sexuality with performance, even using performance itself as a vehicle for new research. The appointment in 2015-2016 of Tom Bowtell as director in residence with the youth company – someone with a background in immersive theatre – provided the impetus for making this happen.

Tom and team came to meet us at Sussex for the day, talking with myself, historian Lucy Robinson who set him right on the recurrent history of ‘moral panics’ about sex and teenagers, Ester McGeeney (now at Brook) who shared her research on ’good sex’ and Elsie Whittington whose co-funded PhD research on sexual consent is co-funded between Brook and the University of Sussex.  Ester,  Elsie and Alison Robert from Brook subsequently  got involved in half term workshops with the young company where they explored ideas from their research, legal issues and professional obligations associated with underage and non/consensual sex as well as facilitating a conversation with parents and carers.

I went with Ester to see a dress rehearsal just a month ago and realised that the team were getting hung up on whether or how they could represent underage sex and how to create a drama out of sex without playing into the language and sentiments of moral panic. How could they show sex as something diverse, ordinary and extraordinary, life changing and banal, funny, silly and potentially dangerous. Something that every generation freaks out about and has to revinvent for themselves? We walked away from rehearsal with our fingers crossed, uncertain that all that confusion, energy and passion could come together into something coherent.

The night began in true promenade style as we were invited to listen into a moving monologue of a trans-teenager as she/he got ready for a night out. Then ushered into the main theatre space we joined what seemed to be a fearless stand-up routine, designed to set the scene of Bred – socially divided by gentrification between the upper crust and the crumbs estate. A game of hilarious sex bingo held the crowd (have you ever flirted with an animal – admit it!) until the whole audience had found its way to the room at which point the ‘party’ began. A combination of freeze-action-monologues, choreographed dance scenes and set pieces between couples and friends allowed us to see something of the hyper-diversity that marks the sexual culture of inner city teens. There is a loud lipstick lesbian who has never kissed a girl, the obsessed, the horny, the asexual, the heartbroken, the proud virgin and the virgin desperate to lose it. We find out about the ways in which couples and friendships can be at odds with each other, and how we may only know what we feel when we have ruined everything. We also discover something about gender, that girls can pressure boys into sex and that not all boys are gagging for it.

The law appears as a key player at the end of the play when the audience is asked to choose the fate of Wolf who is at risk of becoming a sexual offender having had her way with a 15 year old boy worse the wear for drink. The audience feels put on the spot, what is the ‘right’ thing to do in these post-Saville sensitive times. The majority decision to ‘report her’ triggers two films with the two protagonists-as-adults reflecting on how this had been a critical moment in their lives.

Somehow they managed to bring it all together into an entertaining show – capturing the contradictory nature of  teenage culture torn between experiment and censoriousness, pleasure seeking and fear. The law matters in lots of strange ways, as something we can take hold of and use to support our decisions – as something to disregard or as something with agency in itself that can change the course of our lives and of others.

Bred is a performance by the Tricycle Theatre 15-18 yrs Young Company on 17 – 19 March 2016, 7pm. Devised by the 15-18’s Tricycle Young Company, Bred is inspired by factual research into the sex lives of teenagers.

 

One year on: has the good sex project had any impact?

 

wigan prof training 4

This time last year we were finishing off the ‘good sex’ project, tying up loose ends and doing the final edits on our last set of films.  Nine months later we were asked to write a report for the project funders – the Economic and Social Research council – explaining what impact the project had for young people, for practitioners, for Brook as an organisation and for wider society.

In this post we hear from the participants and stakeholders involved in the project and summarise the impact the ‘good sex’ project has had for different individuals, stakeholders and communities. For more information, you can read the full narrative impact report here.

How do we know? 

In June this year we contacted project participants and stakeholders and asked them to reflect on the impact of the ‘good sex’ project. We asked all the young people involved in the project to complete a questionnaire in which they could reflect on the project and consider the impact it has had on them personally and professionally. We asked all the professionals we attended the training to complete a questionnaire that asked them to consider the impact the training may have had on their professional practice and to find out whether or not the learning had been disseminated within practice communities. Further we contacted key staff members at Brook and asked them to consider  the impact the project has had on Brook as an organisation. We also looked at the analytics from our digital platforms to think about our impact online and asked all those that we contacted to consider wider social impacts of the project.

 

Impact for Brook

Jules Hillier with young volunteers (s)

Outgoing CoE at Brook, Simon Blake, summarises the impact of the project for Brook as providing 1) an internal mandate to deliver work around pleasure, 2) a body of external evidence and a narrative to explain this work to others and 3) a set of practical and easy to use resources.

‘The project has given Brook and others both an evidence base and youth led resources which are not challenging to use, but do challenge the status quo in work with young people.

The resources and blog have facilitated high level policy and practice conversations both within Brook and outside of Brook about the importance of ensuring we focus on the positive aspects as sex. This has been particularly important in a policy environment that focuses solely on negative aspects such as Child Sexual Exploitation, which whilst awful is not the experience of the majority of young people. This work has helped Brook to advocate and provide services and education that are relevant to a wider audience.

Some of the narrative was agenda setting at our 50th birthday celebrations and one of our donors gave a major gift for our based on the positive stories the young people presented, some of which was influenced by the work of the good sex project.’

Simon Blake, Former CEO, Brook

Further Brook’s National Lead on Participation and Volunteering noted that the project can be seen as an example of participation best practice – an exemplar that can be used internally in negotiations with stakeholders and potential funders.

‘[The ‘good sex’ project]  changed our approach to involving young people in research and showcased best practice participation in action. It was genuinely young people led in approach, enabling young people to take full ownership of the project, whilst giving them a great opportunity to gain skills in film making and other creative media. It also enhanced their knowledge of sexual health, and deepened their understanding of consent and pleasure. I know, from having spoken to many of the young people about their experience, that it was one of the projects that they enjoyed the most because it was fun, engaging, youth led, but also gave them a fascinating insight into the original research.

I have used the Good sex project as an example of best practice frequently when explaining participation to external stakeholders, directing professionals and young people to the relevant section of the website.

Naomi Sheppard, Head of Participation and Volunteering, Brook.

Impact for young people

Day 1 GS Lucy Em and group

‘[I] gained confidence in challenging misconceptions about young people and sex’.

‘[I learnt] to be wise about your perception of people and the advice you give others – which should be honest.’

Survey responses from young people involved in the project suggest that their involvement helped to increase their self-confidence, awareness and understanding of sexuality and sexual experience. Further it increased their capacity to think critically about sex, pleasure and consent in ways they had not done previously. This was supported by comments from senior leaders at Brook who suggest that the project had a significant impact on the confidence, understanding and engagement of the young people involved.

‘From working with some of the young people before and after the project, I have been able to see that their confidence improved during the life of the project. I think this was probably because they were provided with a genuine opportunity to take ownership of the project, built team work skills and engaged in creative activities.’

Naomi Sheppard, Head of Participation and Volunteering, Brook.

There was a positive impact on the individuals involved in the reanimating particularly one young woman who has experienced very high levels of disadvantage. She has reported increases in confidence and better understanding of the fact that there are multiple experiences of early sexual experience and that you have to take active control of the decisions you make.’

Simon Blake, Former CEO, Brook

 

Impact for practitioners

Anatomy Inspire

‘Although I already had knowledge around sex education, I feel [the training] shaped the way I deliver my group sessions and helped me discuss more about the different ways people can experience pleasure (not just through penetration-”normal” sex) and to feel more confident in my 1:1s with young people to ask the question ”are you enjoying it?” which can sometimes lead to disclosures around abuse/ unhealthy relationships. It has definitely had a major impact on my work.’

Training participant

Responses to the staff impact evaluation  suggest that the training had an impact on professional practice through (1) raising awareness of the importance of talking about pleasure and (2) providing the motivation and resources to enable practitioners talk to young people about pleasure.

[The training] has made me think about and incorporate learning around pleasure a lot more during my practice, both clinical and education. A lot of the work we do can feel preventative and it is important to keep in mind that young people should be preventing themselves from harm but not letting this stop them from enjoying their sexual activity.

Training participant

91% of training participants who took part in the follow up evaluation said that they had disseminated the training materials and insights gained to their colleagues and 82% reported that have used the learning and materials from the programme in their work with young people. 55% of trainees stated that the training has led to new projects or initiatives and 90% said that they planned to develop work around pleasure in the future. Unlike other reports from practitioners engaged in this area of work, none of the trainees reported experiencing any barriers to carrying out work relating to pleasure  and many reported that the project gave this work a sense of legitimacy.

 

Wider social impact

In order to make social and political change, I believe you have to listen and learn from people’s experiences. By creating these videos of real young people’s experiences it can powerfully challenge damaging misunderstandings about sex. It can also be used to open up discussions around consent and sexuality, which are often ignored. (Young volunteer)

The wider social impact of the good sex project is difficult to assess. Looking at our digital analytics we know that there have been over 4,000 views of the project films on You Tube and over 5,000 views of the project blog by nearly 3,000 visitors. On Brook’s website the project page received 2235 unique views from Feb 2014 – May 2015 (Due to an error in reporting data is unavailable pre Feb 14). How these materials have been received and understood is unknown – there are very few comments on the site and it is only through occasional emails from interested students and practitioners that we come to understand the value of the project blog and its materials for those working and studying this field.

Media plays a very big part in influencing people and getting even the most taboo subjects debated.(Young volunteer)

When we asked the young project volunteers what they thought the potential impact of the films could be several commented on the value the films could have in challenging social taboos and providing young people with access to stories that they don’t get to hear elsewhere.

As schools lack in sex ed, hearing peoples experiences true to life would be helpful to those who have little knowledge about what to expect. (Young volunteer)

Carlos filming megan

 

 

Summary of project outputs

1.      A series of 13 short films that reanimate interview data from the original research about young people’s experiences of first sex. Available on Brook’s website and on You Tube 

2.      Two short films that reanimate survey data from the original research on good / bad sex. Available on the Brook website and on You Tube 

3.      Training materials for a one-day training course on sexual pleasure and linked education resources available to download from the project website.

4.      A series of short films based on interviews with practitioners and researchers about why it is important to talk about sexual pleasure and how it might be possible to do this in practice.

5.      A project blog that documents the methods of knowledge exchange and data reanimation that have been developed over the course of the project. The blog continues to be developed by the researchers and has had to date 5,223 views.

6.      Project findings have been presented at the BSA annual conference at the University of Leeds in April 2014 and the Researching sex and intimacy in contemporary life symposium at the University of Sussex in July 2014. The BERA Youth work, informal learning and the arts: exploring the research and practice agenda seminar at the University of Nottingham in April 2015. A recording of an earlier presentation on the project at the University of Sussex is available online.

 

Slow, slow, quick-quick-slow

photo2

Rachel Thomson

I’ve been reflecting on the funny temporalities involved in changes and continuities. The way we go backwards in order to go forward, and how nothing happens – then it all comes at once. Knowledge captured in truisms about buses and dance steps.

Learning, development, change, love, understanding: all those important things happen in in this jumpy, staggered kind of way. Not the smooth lines that graphs suggest. I’ve been thinking about this because we are at the ‘end’ of the Sexology & Songs project – or at least the project funding is at an end, and like good researchers and youth workers, we need to evaluate the impact of the work, for ourselves and for our funders the Wellcome Trust. During the first session 13 weeks ago, at the start of the winter, participants and workers were asked to rate themselves between 1-10 on the following items:

1)            If I asked you to stand up on a stage now and sing in front of a room full of people,                   how confident would you feel? Answers ranged from 9-1 (average 7)

2)            If I asked you to talk about sex in the room right now, how confident would you                          feel? Answers ranged from 10-2 (average 6.5)

3)            If I asked you to carry out your own research project, how confident would you                          feel? Answers ranged from 8-1 (average 5)

4)            Write one thing that you would like to get out of doing this project:

The workers said:

‘Have helped participants to write and perform their own song’; ‘Write a song and perform’; ‘Confidently talk about sex and have knowledge about sexology’

The young people said:

‘Learn guitar’; ‘Play at least one instrument’; ‘Perform’; ‘Play an instrument’; ‘Learn how to create songs in different genres’

Over the course of the project a pretty consistent group of young women managed to turn up every Wednesday evening, through a long winter, interrupted by the Christmas break. A core group of professionals also got there almost every week: musicians, youth worker and a researcher – and some of us dropped in and out over the project. This is the core of relationship based work, the reliable turning up and being there whatever.

I kept in touch with the work of the group through Ester’s blog and occasional visits. I was there for some wonderful moments along the way as well as seeing the group do their thing on the big night at the Round House. The group process was not straight forward. It took musicians, researchers and youth workers a while to work out how each other worked. It took a while for the girls to get to know each other and to start working together. Not everyone got on stage at the Roundhouse, but everyone turned up on a Wednesday night in March to evaluate the experience.

Originally we didn’t have any time scheduled for evaluation, and the build up to the performance was so intense and exciting there wasn’t really space for thinking about endings earlier on. I had planned to do some work with the girls on the train back from London, but realised how silly that was. We were all full of adrenaline and full of stories about the night and about the past. Lots got said in taxis to London Bridge and on the train back to Brighton that had not been said in the 13 weeks before. It felt like a really important time, just before the end, when things could still happen. And anyway, I had to change at East Croydon. Fortunately an extra session was squeezed out of one budget and hooked onto another and the group came together for some reflection and to think about whether they wanted to get involved in a new music project that would be happening at the youth centre involving one of the same musicians.

I was really happy that everyone turned up. I was there in the place of Ester, who had been a stalwart for the whole 13 weeks but just couldn’t make it. The group felt a bit subdued though and I was thinking about how sad this gathering might be for some of the participants. It was important that we had a good ending. We started with some memory work, I asked the young women to write down something about the day and night of the performance that they would like to remember and something about the process of the project that stuck in their minds.

IMG_2728   IMG_2730   IMG_2729

 

The 13 weeks: 

My confidence improved during the project; having somewhere to go and sing and eat and talk and stuff; all the new people I met; performing; learning bass and playing Uke; seeing ideas and confidence develop; getting to know everyone, having a lot of fun and making some great original music; everyone and everything have been amazing and I wouldn’t regret it for the world; hearing solos; the development of the group from a starting point of not knowing each others, learning about sexology, research, songwriting, playing and singing and achieving the songs and memories; the food and the games: apple, banana, cucumber, DimeBar, egg, frankfurter, grapefruit, hamburger, icecream, jam, kitkat, lemon, melon, Nutella, orange, pineapple, quavers, rhubarb & custard, strawberries, toasted waffles, upsidedown cake, vanilla essence, water, xtra large, yam, zebra bars.

London and the Roundhouse: I met to many nice and wonderful people who have inspired me; Dan Gillespie from the Feeling’s speech and performance; the girls singing and meeting other people; train and taxi journey home; me and Rita turning the studio into a mini club; being blown away how everyone on stage pulled it out of the bag for the gig; everyone pulling together and performing on stage alongside all the other groups to an audience and live broadcast cameras.

We stuck our memories on the wall, but the girls were reluctant to make their memories visible and didn’t go up and look at them. I said I would record them and let them have them back.

We then all completed a post-it to record what we had learned over the project, about ourselves, about music, about sex and about research. Again they went on the wall and are recorded here.

What I learned about myself? How hard it is to get somewhere every week; always busy; I learned I enjoy working with a mixture of researchers and musician and young people to create a project; I found confidence in music; Me? Nothing; That every time I sing my confidence grows but I’ll always be nervous.

What I learned about music? I learned piano; You can be anything you want even berrie strongbow; Voices sound great together,; It’s hard to write a good song – it takes time and beautiful voices; Song writing is a good way to say what you are afraid to say; I learned music and chords on the uke.

What I learned about sex? That sex education is mostly focused on the negative and misses important stuff about enjoyment and choice; Don’t have sex because you will get pregnant and die; Different views on sex; I learned everyone should be talking about sex a lot more. Once its talked about its not a big deal, makes me realise that it is important to be open; It all comes out in the end; That sex is anything you want it to be.

What I learned about research? Flying penises; That research can be a way of making a stand about something; Research can be important for yourself; That research can be in many different forms and can be really interesting and inspiring and can capture a snapshot in time; Universal confusion and constant questions; Umm, ways to research other than interviews; It’s all research; I’ve learned so much from the research on the project.

And then we had a good old sing. Started with one of the musicians’s own songs that had been used as a warm-up over the weeks. Once together then we tried in in rounds, culminating in four groups singing a phrase apart. Exhilarating! Then we sang the songs the group had made together. Starting with our cover ‘I’m Adored’ which told the story of the group’s journey, the beautiful lyrics moving everyone in the room and then ‘Agree to Disagree’ which left us on a high, full of energy and excitement – able to see what we had created together. Cate Ferris, the musician who was there to begin a new strand of work was blown away by what the girls, their beautiful voices, the emotion in their lyrics, the inventiveness of their songs. What a great moment!

Cate then performed herself, sharing her loopy, poppy music and inviting the girls to join in. People were shy, unsure, at the start of something new.

You can listen to our songs and watch a film of our 13 week process here and read more blogs on the sex and songs project  here

photo

 

 

 

How many historians does it take to start a cover band?

Six weeks ago the young women and practitioners from the Brighton Sexology and songs project performed live at Camden Roundhouse as part of the Wellcome Collection’s Institute of Sexology season. Many of the women at the Brighton hub, did not want to write original music (or engage with sex research). Instead they wanted to sing and perform covers or songs they loved. Here’s historian Lucy’s Robinson reflecting on the project and what a historian can learn from a cover band.

How many historians does it take to start a cover band? 

Lucy Robinson

When we began the sexology and song-writing project we imagined that the young women involved would undertake some sort of original research and then write songs about it.When we began, we thought about encouraging the song writers to undertake their own original research, perhaps through conducting interviews. And we imagined that they would take inspiration from the content and translate it into original lyrics and music (in part because Wellcome were funding us to produce original songs). It quickly became clear that the young women participants, the youth worker and music practitioners had some different priorities.

The practitioners wanted to concentrate on building a secure and supportive environment in which to build a collective group identity, and the young women wanted to sing songs that they already knew and liked.  The young sexology song-writers didn’t want to write songs.  They wanted to cover and recover them.

We came to realise that our assumptions about what constituted research, and what constituted song-writing both privileged a certain sort of production.  Although we had been tasked with writing ‘original’ music,  it didn’t seem  appropriate to make the young women become song-writers when they didn’t want to be. And it was not clear how enforcing our agenda would fit with our wider responsibility to facilitate a sense of ownership of the project and enable the young women’s self-expression. When two slightly different points came together the problem shifted out of the way. Firstly, we could read cover versions as a creative active engagement rather than a lack of creativity, secondly we could read historical research as much closer to a cover version than it is to singer song-writing.We weren’t training the young women  to be researchers – rather they were training us in their modes of re-enactment; an active and creative intervention in a cultural circuit. One that brought together the legitimacy of publically celebrated singer-songwriters, with their own experiences and voices.

The young women in the project’s resistance to write in favour of performing well known tracks pointed to a lack of confidence in their own skills.  They were not comfortable in producing music that would give them their own voice and instead deferred to the expertise of established successful singer song writers like Adele.   The young women in the project may have lacked the confidence to initially define themselves as song writers, but that did not mean that their decision to sing other people’s songs was an abdication of their own creative potential.  The collective act of singing covers together can be read as democratising, the redistribution of an individual star’s success amongst a group of young women sharing lines, taking turns, and making their consumption an active process.  When they sang in rounds, with one voice building on another, it helped the individual voice fit into the collective chorus. The cover version is therefore an active, re-enactment, rather than a low quality replay of the original track. (Furthermore, as Farrell Williams, George Harrison, and Country Joe Macdonald have all learnt the originality of an ‘original’ composition may not be that simple either.  Subconscious or conscious musical plagiarism suggests how often it is that ‘melodies align’ across time and genre, even unwittingly).[1]

In the current cultural context it isn’t really surprising that the young people in our project did not have any concerns about the inauthenticity of the cover version.  The cover band is bigger business than ever.  The karaoke machine and the dance mat provide regular opportunities to put yourself in the original artist’s place.  Computer games like Sing Star, for example, combine karoake with role play of the journey from starlet to stardom. There are a number of well established local and national music festivals that specialise in tribute acts; TribFest, Glastonbudget, Fake Festival, Wannasee Festival to name just a few.  Dermot O’Leary’s Live  Lounge developed the cover song as a cunning, knowing and creative intervention.  Whilst the TV talent show certainly isn’t new, the dominance of a very particular reality TV or ‘gamedoc’[2] format situates the cover song at the centre of the creative process.

In X-Factor, Britain’s Got Talent, The Voice, and the earlier incarnations of the format, Popstars and Pop Idol, good singers get their break at audition by singing someone else’s songs, chosen from a list of pre-agreed choices.  If they ‘make it their own’ well enough, they might get through to the next stages of the competition after which they will be reliant on their mentors or judges to choose the right song, costumes and arrangements for them.  To be a real star, you need to be packaged and scripted by a real star-maker.  The line between the individual artist competing and the star-maker behind them blurs all the time. It gets pretty hard to work out who has won, or failed, when the songs bomb or are popular with voting audiences. It’s worth noting that professional tribute acts have generally had a difficult ride in musical gamedocs,  perhaps that is because they embody the tensions around what counts as original and what counts as a cover.

In the media literate group of young women in the song-writing project, it wasn’t surprising therefore that the act of choosing what song they would cover was in itself an active process. It was also a process that ended up fulfilling both sets of practitioners’ expectations: it helped cohere the group and allow the project members to situate themselves within that group as individuals.  The discussions around finding a song that spoke to everyone, or that everyone knew,  involved developing a shared musical language.  Being the person who had their song chosen, or insisted that they would only sing their own song choice, positioned individuals in the group.  Having your choice of cover chosen by the rest of the group had a status of its own.  In other words, the participation in this project was less focussed on the participation in the production of a song, and at least as much focussed on participation in, and negotiation of, a collective experience.

In Play it Again, an edited collection dedicated to the analysis of cover songs, Don Cusic defended the cover as a legitimate form of musical expression.   Cusic cited Hendrix’s cover of Bob Dylan’s ‘All Along the Watchtower’ as a ‘glorious (if obvious) example of a cover in which everything goes right’.[3] But he also explained the economic circumstances in which the singer/song-writer is valued over the singer as performer.  In the commercial music industry if you don’t own the words, you don’t earn the money. ‘If an artist has no songwriting credit on an album, they have lost a revenue stream’. [4] The value of writing your own songs, tells us as much about the difficulty of avoiding exploitative contracts as a performers as it does about the cultural value given to authorship over performance, or to production over re-production.   Songwriters in bands own the actual words and notes they perform, even if they don’t own the name they perform under, style or public image.

I am suggesting therefore that the young women’s choice to cover rather than write songs intervened in the assumed passivity of their consumption in a way makes sense of the cultural world which they inhabit.  They demonstrated agency in the covers that they chose and how they sung themselves into the established songs that they sung.   But I recognise the conditions in which this freedom to choose NOT to produce takes place.  The values of the music market don’t map simply onto the cultural capital of performers’ and of audiences’ active investment in music.  What if a performer doesn’t want to make a cover their own? What if they want to be part of the original imagining of the song?

I wanted to think about the values of replicating an emotional attachment to the original artist’s recording by singing it in a new context and what light a historical approach might shed on the contested value of the cover version.  Two historical concepts sprung to mind; the first was the idea of the cultural circuit, that there is an active process to the way in which we fit our own experiences into the way in which we see ourselves represented in popular culture.  Secondly was the historical specificity of the idea of a cover version itself.

Al Thomson’s work on Anzac veterans used the idea of the ‘cultural circuit’ to explain how the oral history interviews he conducted in the 1980s with those who had fought in Gallipolli ended up with the interviewees describing scenes from the 1981 film Gallipoli, rather than giving voice to their own stories of their own experiences.[5]  He argued that the big public story as put together in the film, validated certain stories which Thomson’s interviewees then slipped around their own experiences.  They found a way of speaking for themselves by rehearsing the narrative that was already public.  Similarly, the young women involved in the project were not just active consumers and reproducers of cover versions, they were part of a conversation between the past and present.  Thomson’s cultural circuit could also suggest that when they were mapping their own song singing experiences into the song writer’s experience.  When the young women in the project attached themselves to an already established song, they found a space for their own experiences within an authorised musical narrative.

Furthermore, our idea of the cover version as inferior to singer/song-writing is historically specific, but it is also political. During the 1950s, according to George Plasketes, for example the cover version was shot through with the politics of race.  ‘It was [he wrote in 2005] beg, borrow and steals, as prejudice, plagiarism and [underpinned…] the widespread practice of covering songs. Whilst white artists Elvis, Pat Boone and Bill Haley produced an “appropriate sound” for segregated American by reproducing black artist’s sounds and styles.[6]   In Sixties Britain, Cilla Black was a young white female singer with a back story of Liverpudlian authenticity that traced her to the Beatles and the Cavern Club. Cilla Black’s cover of Dionne Warwick’s ‘Anyone Who Had a Heart’ was so close to the original that Warwick famously said ‘I honestly believe that if I’d sneezed on my next record, then Cilla would have sneezed on hers too.’.   (Forty years later, Warwick recognised that the producer, the star maker, Brian Epstein was the one who she should have blamed.[7])  In the late 1970s a group of left wing activists who called themselves Rock Against Racism, wrote an open letter to Eric Clapton, calling him out for making anti immigration statements whilst simultaneously making a fortune covering Bob Marley songs and emulating black musician’s style. (‘Who shot the Sherriff, Eric? It sure as hell wasn’t you!)

Plasketes situates the cover version as we now recognise it, in the Eighties.  ‘Since the 1980s, ‘‘Re’’ has been the predominant cultural mode. This condition is an endless lifestyle loop of repeating, retrieving, rewinding, recycling, reciting, redesigning and reprocessing’.[8]  Cover versions were easy (and cheap if you owned the rights) products to be churned out by pop factories to fill new satellite music channels and deregulated radio broadcasters. I would challenge the idea that the cover version is rooted in the Eighties. The idea that artists should produce their own work, rather than utilise their own musical talent to translate the song in their own way, is itself historically specific.  Brian Ferry blames Bob Dylan. But something does happen to the cover version in the Eighties.  The growth of new media platforms, editing techniques, affordable technology, the hang over of a DIY Post punk subcultural ethos,  and a group of cultural studies academics waiting to apply their new toy, post-modernism, to cultural production and consumption, gave new meanings to the process of re-use. So the Eighties doesn’t invent the cover band – but it certainly makes it worth thinking about.

These young women’s preference for re-enacting rather than producing music is much closer to my own historical approach than I had first thought – although I do love a good cover band.  My all time favourite is the seven piece tribute band ShoMaddyMaddy who perform two split sets, one as Showaddywaddy and one as Madness – it makes perfect sense.  I also feel ever so slightly guilty that I once convinced one of my favourite little boys that we were watching the real Lady Gaga in the back bar of a holiday camp in Cornwall.

But during the project I realised that the cover version also spoke to me as a historian. The tension between the cover and the original gets to the heart of debates over what History is for, or in National Curriculum terms what History is ‘good history’.  Is History a discipline with the goal of uncovering what happened in the past, excavating the data, piecing it together, producing a narrative? Or is it about finding an echo of ourselves in the past, or analysing the processes through which it has been produced?  What is so special about writing the original? Or being the first one to get your hands on a source, or the first to uncover some hitherto lost voice? In the most romanticised imagining of the historian, he, or she, is the explorer of a lost world,  uncovering forgotten artefacts through which to produce new historical knowledge.  Although that does sound pretty exciting, it isn’t really how I’ve ever worked.  I am much less interested in creating history through re-using evidence.  For me, historical meaning isn’t produced in the genesis moment of production alone, but in the dissemination, consumption and memory of a cultural artefact.  Singing someone else’s songs, like re-using someone else’s interviews, is therefore a way of having a conversation with the past, that keeps track of how it has been valued and maintained over time.

So what is the difference between historical analysis and a ‘cover’? The lesson of the Sexology and Song-writing project for me was to put my historical methods into practice.  I have no problem re-analysing someone else’s sources, so why shouldn’t they want to sing someone else’s song?  In fact, let’s go one step further, and take up their lead, exploring re-enactment, collectively but in our own voices.

[1] http://consequenceofsound.net/2014/05/10-famous-instances-of-alleged-music-plagiarism/full-post/

[2] Hill, A. (2002). “Big Brother: The Real Audience.” Television & New Media 3(3): 323-340.

[3] Cusic, Don, ‘In Defense of Cover Songs: Commerce and Credibility’, in Plasketes, G. (ed). Play it again: cover songs in popular music, ‘Ashgate. (2001) p236

[4] Cusic, Don, ‘In Defense of Cover Songs: Commerce and Credibility’, in Plasketes, G. (ed). Play it again: cover songs in popular music, ‘Ashgate. (2001) p223

[5] Thomson, A Anzac Memories: Living with the Legend, Melbourne, OUP, 1994

[6] Plasketes, G. (2005). “Re‐flections on the Cover Age: A Collage of Continuous Coverage in Popular Music.” Popular Music and Society 28(2): 145

[7] McMormick, Neil ‘Dionne Warwick: ‘I’m reaching out for something new’, The Telegraph, 15/03/15

[8] Plasketes, G. (2005). “Re‐flections on the Cover Age: A Collage of Continuous Coverage in Popular Music.” Popular Music and Society 28(2): 132

Yours is ours: sex, song-writing and research

IMG_6185

On the 7th January our Brighton based ‘sex and song-writing’ group met up after the Christmas break. We chatted for about half an hour, catching up on Christmas, new years eve parties and the new wave of pressures at school and college as mock exams and coursework deadlines loomed. The group felt relaxed and lively – free from any ‘January blues’ or the tense awkwardness of the early weeks last Autumn.

IMG_6187

Towards the end of last term we seemed to have found a rhythm for the sessions, divided into four uneven chunks of time.

Chunk 1: The musician set up the equipment as the researcher and youth worker get out the food and drinks and chat to the girls about their weeks. The late comers arrive and youth worker Jo has the chance to have a 1-2-1 with any of the girls who might need one.

Chunk 2: We stand reluctantly in a circle, with several of the girls complaining of being too tired to stand and the musicians reminding us all of how important it is to use all of our bodies when we sing. We warm up, making strange sounds with our voices and shapes with our mouths. We shake out our bodies and then we start to sing. Usually a round. By now we can divide into 2, 3 or 4 groups and as long as the strong singers are evenly distributed we can hold 4 parts. Everyone always sings together – including the researchers, youth worker and musicians. Often a few of the girls drift away, staring at their phones, their lips barely moving. Sometimes they join in again after a while, other weeks they remain quiet.

Chunk 3: We divide into two groups. Musician Marina works with those in the group who are learning instruments and with one of the young women who is particularly interested in song-writing. We practice and rehearse our new song ‘Wild but Tamed’ each week until one D. brings a new song that she wrote on the way home from the group, noting down lyrics on her iphone and staying up late playing her guitar. This is a song about bad sex. ‘I was really getting down to it / whilst you were slowing down / and the last thing you should say is / is how your girlfriend’s out of town.’ In the other group, Musician Zoe works with those young women interested in singing. They take turns to choose a song that they like and they learn to sing it together, with some feeling more or less confident about singing solo in front of the others. Researcher Rachel Thomson described this process in her last blog, written last December.

Chunk 4: The two groups come back together and, if there is still time, each group performs for each other.

IMG_6190

On the first week back after Christmas, we reminded the young women that we have 6 weeks to go until we perform at the Roundhouse, alongside the five other research/song-writing hubs from around the UK. When we went round and asked the girls individually if they wanted to perform, they all, confidently said yes. We turned then to the question of which songs we were going to perform and to the question we had continually wrestled with as to whether or not the young women would be able to perform covers of existing songs. One young woman in particular remained resistant to the idea of writing new material or to performing new material written by others.

Originally, the group was set up as a researching-song-writing-performing girls group. Before we started I imagined that the young women would do research about sex and relationships, use this experience to write their own songs and then perform these songs at the Roundhouse as original contributions to music and knowledge. As we have worked with the young women however, our research and performance aims and objects have been tempered by our desire to create a relaxed and supportive environment within which everyone can engage and explore their own interests and strengthens. These more participatory aims have meant there has been much less research and much less song-writing than I originally imagined and a lot more time spent being together as group, talking, bonding and singing together.

On the first week back after Christmas we agreed to continue working in parallel groups. In one we would continue writing and developing original material based on research about ‘good sex’ and in the other we would experiment with re-working, sampling and adapting existing songs. In the latter group we chose Ella Henderson’s Yours, a favourite of one group member that we had sung in previous weeks. As we learnt the song and wrote down the lyrics, we noted a parallel between the process of described in the song and the journey that the group was going through – a process of going from feeling uncertain and ‘afraid of the words’ to feeling confident enough to ‘un-tame my mouth’ and let the words ‘burst’ out. In Henderson’s version it is love that makes her feel strong and powerful, in our version it is ourselves – the group and the process we are engaged in.

We brainstormed words that described how the young women had felt in the early weeks (anxious, nervous, awkward) and compared this to how they felt now (relaxed, confident). We used these emotions to adapt Henderson’s lyrics and start to write a song about us and the journey we were half way through.

IMG_6224

The following week we continued to work on this song as a whole group, working out the chords and picking out new harmonies led by musician Zoe. The girls joined in, developing new ideas parts they could sing and making suggestions for how to end the song. This was a new format for us, developing new material as a whole group and singing different parts together. It sounded beautiful and as I watched the group sing, one girl with her head back, I felt moved. This week the group seemed heavy. Several of the girls had been having a tough time and were tired, down or preoccupied. When I congratulated one of them for coming to the group – considering everything else that was going on – she said that coming to the group was time out – a relaxing space to forget about all the stress and everything else that was going on. Watching, listening and being there that week – I agreed.

Towards the end of the session, one of the group asked if we could do some last minute song-writing. Out came the box of ‘data’ and we looked at excerpts from interview transcripts about first sex. Words from the extract jumped out for song-writer D. ‘I did, I did, I did’. A 16 year old young women’s exclamation as she tried to make sense of whether or not she enjoyed her first sexual experience or not. Unable to find an empty room in the youth centre, we huddled in the hallway, musician Zoe, young song-writer D and me the researcher, scribbling phrases on to flip-chart paper. Then Zoe and D started to sing and the phrases became lyrics to be worked into a new song. More next time.

 

The million dollar question: How can workers talk to young people about sex and pleasure?

        ‘ I always discuss pleasure when I have time in my school sessions as its vital that young              people don’t just grow up being taught that sex is bad, dangerous, scary etc. SRE can                  almost feel like it teaches that we must protect girls from sex starved boys and that                     diseases and unwanted pregnancy are lurking round every corner. It needs to be made              clear that sex with the right partner and at a time when you are ready should be fun,                    lovely and enjoyable’  (Survey respondent).

    IMG_3622  Terry Delany Anatomy Inspire   good bad depends   AGM photo cards

Over the past 6 years I have been talking to youth workers, social workers, sex educators, nurses and doctors and asking if they think  sexual pleasure should be included in sex education and sexual health services for young people. Almost everyone I have met says yes. When I go on to ask how they would do this in practice, many shrug, laugh or tell me that they have no idea! When I conducted a survey of practitioners in North London in 2010, 90% said ‘yes’ – pleasure should be included in sex education and sexual health services for young people. Very few had received any training however or could recommend any good resources to use. When I asked if they had any concerns about including pleasure in SRE or sexual health services, respondents pointed to potential  problems managing professional boundaries and potential negative responses from colleagues,  parents and school governors. If not done well, respondents noted, young people and practitioners would be embarrassed and the work could be seen as encouraging young people to ‘do it’.

   Schools [might be] wary of including sexual pleasure – they think this may be                                  interpreted  as ‘promoting sexual activity’. Some young people [might be]                                         embarrassed talking about  sex and pleasure – without SRE from an early age often                    young people lack the skills and language to discuss pleasure’ (Survey respondent).     

For 90% of respondents, and the majority of people I have talked to over the past 6 years who work in this field, these concerns do not mean that the work should not be done. It means however that we need shifts in policy and social attitudes and good training and resources for practitioners to use.

The ‘good sex’ project was created to address this gap and to provide practitioners with some tools, training and resources to engage in this area of work. As part of this project documentary film maker Susi Arnott and I have been interviewing youth workers, clinicians, educators, researchers and young volunteers about why it is important to talk to young people about sex and pleasure and asking them how to do this in practice. We have hours of footage of people talking passionately about why this area of work is so important and have edited these 11 short clips that give you 11 reasons why it is important to talk to young people about sex and pleasureWe are looking for reason 12 so if you can think of one we have left out – please get in touch!

Like the practitioners I surveyed nearly 5 years ago, many of the people we interviewed to were less sure how to engage in pleasure work in practice. This, said Steve Slack from the Centre for HIV and Sexual health, is the 100 million dollar question that we need to – very carefully – address. Some people that we interviewed were more confident and suggested that work is not as complicated or as challenging as we might think it is. Here are there ideas edited into 10 short films about how youth, education and health practitioners can introduce discussion of pleasure into a consultation or an outreach session. There are many more ways that you could do this work (the Centre for HIV and Sexual Health have come up with 30!) and we hope that these films will encourage others to share their best and amazing practice with others.

Thanks to everyone who appears in this film and to all those who have shared their ideas and suggestions with me over the years.

#1 Create a safe space

#2 Find a language that works for you

 #3 Give young people the opportunity to ask questions

#4 Try asking some simple exploratory questions

 #5 Use some of the great resources out there already

 #6 Try one of these activities – or develop your own!

 #7 Include discussion of pleasure in condom sessions

#8 Support and train young people to be social activists and lead their own campaigns.

#9 Listen!

#10 Get some experience. Shadow colleagues, support each other, go on training and confront your fears!

                 IMG_3691

Why is it important to talk to young people about sex and pleasure?

Over the past year documentary film maker Susi Arnott and I have been interviewing sex educators, researcher, health workers and youth practitioners about why it is important to talk to young people about sex and pleasure.

Screen Shot 2014-12-19 at 11.52.08 Screen Shot 2014-12-19 at 11.52.23Screen Shot 2014-12-19 at 12.41.05Screen Shot 2014-12-19 at 12.41.47Screen Shot 2014-12-19 at 12.42.23Screen Shot 2014-12-19 at 12.43.03Screen Shot 2014-12-19 at 12.46.27Screen Shot 2014-12-19 at 12.45.43Screen Shot 2014-12-19 at 12.45.00Screen Shot 2014-12-19 at 12.44.43Screen Shot 2014-12-19 at 12.43.03

This series of 11 clips captures their responses. Watch. Share. Tell us what you think.

#1 Sexual health is about more than preventing unwanted pregnancy and STIs. It is about the right to have safe and enjoyable sexual experiences.

 #2 To bridge the gap between what young people learn at school and what happens in their real lives.

#3 Understanding pleasure is an essential part of safeguarding young people and understanding consent. How can you say ‘no’ if you don’t know how to say ‘yes’?

#4 It’s your job!

#5 It will help you to explore safer (and maybe more pleasurable) alternatives to penis and vagina sex

#6. It helps us to make sure we include all people of all genders and sexualities in sexual health and sex education services.

#7 To challenge gender stereotypes about sex and pleasure.

#8 To make sure we give young people a more realistic alternative to pornography. 

#9 Because it’s what young people want

#10 To help young people make the right decisions.

#11 Because no-one else will

Have you got a reason 12? We would love to hear from you. Contact participation@brook.org.uk or tweet @brookcharity #pleasure

These films forms part of the good sex project which aims to promote ‘sex-positive’ approaches to sexual health service delivery through building a robust and accessible evidence base. The project is a collaboration between Brook and the Centre for Innovation and Research in Childhood and Youth at University of Sussex and funded by the ESRC.