music and identity

Red Jeep Blues Speaks Three Tickets Four Nights- Insight on Music Shaping Our Identities

How the way we construct our individual identities and view others ties into the music we listen to, whether it’s Phish or Taylor Swift, providing community in the process

Juliana Yacoubian

“I think music that moves people is the best kind of music. You should feel something while listening to a song or artist.”

I hear this through my Bluetooth headphones connected to my laptop. I am on a Zoom Meeting with Eric Bradley, a social studies and American history teacher at Morris Knolls High School in New Jersey- where he also coaches baseball and bowling.

 “Some people feel the beat or a song while others concentrate on lyrics,” he continues. “I have met new friends all over the country that I literally sat next to during a show and connected to them due to their depth and love of the music.”

Myles Braxton, a junior at the University of Massachusetts Amherst, relates to this comforting feeling music provides as well. He tells me he wants to share that with others.

“If it makes me feel a certain way I want other people to feel it too,” something he practices with narrative music videos he posts online.

He also tells me about a relationship he has with a specific song; how it’s a staple in his daily routine.

“Every morning when I wake up, I play the same song. [Self-Love by Mavi.] You can’t control anything in your life. I know that if I’m able to control one thing in my life it’s what I listen to first thing in the morning. The rest of the day is not up to me.”

Music wields the power to connect with someone so deeply they consider it as ritual as brushing their teeth. It allows us to create our identities and figure out what groups we want to associate ourselves with. Music has such an extensive history that ties into why it resonates with each of us; simultaneously creating a plethora of subcultures that anyone can find themselves in. It can also connect to individuals so deeply, they’ll drive across the country to hear their favorite band.

To be more specific, following a band on their tour around the United States in order to attend 20 shows in 36 days. Eric Bradley, a devoted fan of the jam band Phish, tells me, “The greatest part of traveling on tour was the music, community, sightseeing, but also freedom. Our only responsibility was getting to the next show. Sometimes we drove over 24 hours straight without stopping to rest. It was a hustle. But the experience of traveling, meeting new people who also were on tour, and seeing the country was one of the best times in my life…”

Bradley was a sophomore at Bloomsburg University when he knew he felt more of a pull to the music rather than just being drawn to it.

Going on tour was an idea ignited by a feeling. A sensation. A craving for more.

The very first days of 2003, January first to the fourth, Phish would stage a four-night run at the Hampton Coliseum in Newport, Virginia. Their first live show as a band after their brief hiatus. After their 1999 tour, the members of Phish took a break as a band and pursued solo careers in the meantime. This happened to be the same time Bradley became invested in jam bands. He was a junior in high school.

“I was a typical 90s kid listening to everything from Biggie to Tupac to Nirvana to Pearl Jam… I started hanging out with an older group of kids and that’s when I began listening to Jerry Garcia and the Dead. I just remember the music being so much different than any other music I had heard before.”

He saw performances of remaining members of The Grateful Dead and of individual Phish members but once they announced their return with a four-night show, “I knew I had to go.”

It was the most anticipated Phish show to date. At 21 years old, Bradley told his parents he was going with three friends to Virginia for the four nights. His parents questioned why he would drive so far from central Pennsylvania to see one band for a couple of nights but to this day Bradley still remembers the first note of the first song played (“Chalkdust Torture”) when he saw his favorite band for the first time. He tells me it is still his favorite song to this day because it was his first song.

“I remember how loud everyone was once the lights went off and they took the stage. The amount of energy and emotion began pouring out of everyone who had seen them 100 times or [for the first time] like me. I remember having goosebumps and not knowing what was going to happen next. Once the first note hit the place exploded and still to this day I never have been to a concert with that much energy. Even after the show people were screaming leaving the venue... My friends who also never seen them before felt the same way. We all couldn't believe the energy, atmosphere, music, lights... basically everything we heard about from others who have seen them.”

The Hampton venue was general admission, so Bradley was sitting with a group of six to ten friends. He tells me he only got three tickets and had a fake one for the fourth night. His buddy found him a valid ticket just as they were walking in. They were also staying in a hotel within walking distance from the venue.

“I remember thinking, what are we going to do now…? Well we stayed in the parking lot for an hour and walked back to the motel where the party continued until the sun came up. This happened after nights two and three… Night four most people were leaving so it was calmer… There was way too much fun stuff going on. Basically, it was a party for four consecutive days from the hotel, to the lot, to the show, to the lot, to the show, to the lot, to the hotel… repeat.”

A dimming of the lights. A collective cheer from the audience increasing in volume. A funky electric guitar riff that escalates into an upbeat tune, and the show starts.

“The energy of the crowd still gives me goosebumps today. After the show I immediately called home. My parents thought something was wrong [it was midnight] but I just wanted to call them to thank them for allowing me to go without fighting or challenging my decision. I had never had such a body high from a live show and I knew then I wanted more. After four nights of music, I was hooked. I knew this was something I enjoyed and had a new sense of freedom, independence, but also traveling to see this band like everyone else drew me into the sense of community surrounding this group.”

Bradley attended Bloomsburg University in Pennsylvania, where he had a group of friends who also listened to Phish. Together they traveled to a couple of shows during the winter and spring of 2003.

“Phish did not play very close to Bloomsburg in Central PA so I went to Nassua, NY and Izod Center in NJ to see them. I would regularly leave Bloom on weekends to see other shows in NYC or Philly as well. Not much of a music scene in Bloom those days.”

“But the one-night hustle was not for me. I needed something bigger, longer, but also all encompassing. So I asked my Bloom friends if they would be interested in touring that summer…” Bradley admitted.

“How many shows?” they asked him.

Bradley affirmed, “As many as possible.”

“My friends thought I was crazy. I wouldn't survive long. I didn't have enough time or money to get organized enough to make it across the country. My parents, boss, and family members also questioned me on this, but I was 21 and didn't have a steady job, money, girlfriend- so I thought why not. What is the worst that can happen?”

Within the month, the summer plans were set. The group would eventually meet with two of Bradley’s friends in San Francisco but in the meantime, they would begin a cross country journey with Phish.

He convinced his Bloomsburg roommate to drive, who half-heartedly agreed. The roommate’s little brother- a senior in high school at the time- came along, mostly to tag along with his brother since he wasn’t as much of a Phish-listener. And so did Bradley’s best friend growing up who happened to be the one who introduced him to Phish in the first place- and wanted to go on a summer tour more than he did.

“It was a mish mash of people who decided within two weeks to do this and we all thought it would be easy. I was very excited. I wasn’t nervous for the concerts but nervous about getting home in one piece… I knew my body would take a beating traveling but also dancing and partying along the way.”

A stick-shift, beat-up red Jeep Cherokee. A couple hundred dollars in his pocket. His first cell phone. Three friends in the car. Starting at the Shoreline Amphitheater in California, Bradley’s plan was set in motion. Ending at the “It” Festival in Maine. Gorge, Washington. Salt Lake City. Alpine Valley. Deer Creek. Kansas. Atlanta. Charlotte. Raleigh. Pittsburgh. Camden. 2003. July ninth to August third. 20 shows. 36 days.

Bradley emphasizes it was something he decided towards the end of his sophomore year of college. Every step was certainly not calculated.

“We had some tickets already but back then tickets were never an issue and they were between $40-50 a show. We knew some shows were not going to be as popular due to location, venue, and weekday. So we planned ahead on the shows that could be sold out but didn't buy tickets for the others.”

He shares how all he packed was one bag and as they went on, they would throw away clothes and buy new ones at stores like Walmart. 

“Food also was getting dire at times so I ate what I could but 3 meals a day or protein rich food was not happening most of the journey…”

“We were in Kansas when I realized I was out of money with a month left to go.”  

Yet none of these obstacles dimmed their spirit. The passion for the music kept them going. The love for the music facilitated community during their travels. They met up with friends along the way from Caliornia to Washington State but Bradley mentions new friends as well.

“We also banded together with other people touring and started our own little family to help each other out along the way. Camped together, ate together, etc. Very cool seeing the same people on tour then becoming a tribe with them to help everyone get through the highs and lows of the trip.”

He is sure to point out how the Red Jeep barely survived. Bradley and his roommate would take turns driving since they were the only two who knew how to drive stick, but his roommate’s younger brother learned as well while driving through Idaho.

“No cops and speed limit was 90 the whole way,” Bradley tells me. Along with, “We did have a couple breakdowns along the way but nothing crazy.”

That poor red Jeep…

But even the breakdown of their only mode of transport would not stop them from getting to the next show. All the trials and tribulations only added to his tale to tell. The music kept them motivated.

“It was freeing, it really was,” Bradley tells me. “Best summer of my life.”

 Tim Honig is well-acquainted with the power of music. As a professor of music therapy at Westfield State University, Honig uses music to aid clients’ emotional, physical, psychological, social, or educational needs.

Honig explains how the best music for music therapy is the music that the client has a really strong relationship with. It’s whatever is most effective, with the clients’ needs leading the way.

“There’s nothing more valid about the way that I feel about music than the way that the people I work with do,” he says. “They’re feeling the way that they do when they listen to that music for a good reason.”

Listening to music is not just about sounds.

“I think a big piece of that is cultural messages embedded into the music, maybe less so the music itself,” he says. “A lot of times when we hear music, we are hearing so much more than the music. We are hearing messages we have encoded into the music: ‘if we listen to this kind of music, we are this kind of person’.”

I ask a broad question that leads him to laugh, both of us knowing it is not something that can be answered in the remaining 20 minutes of our interview:

Why does music impact people so deeply?

“Music tells us about who we are and who we hope to be and who we were in the past,” he says. “It touches you on a psychological and emotional level. It changes our mood. We feel heard by music. We feel that our stories are told by artists that have never met us. There’s that connection to how we experience the world.”

Music dances with our emotions and helps us understand who we are, who we see ourselves as.

“Another reason music affects us so deeply is because it touches every domain of human experience. It touches us on a physical level. We feel it on our skin.”

 The goosebumps you get after hearing an artist pour out their heart to you, for example. Honig mentions it has neurological affects but also brings up societal effects.

“It connects us.”

This ties into how we see and think about ourselves, and each other.

“Music is the studded leather jacket with patches that a punk wears. Music is certain kinds of hairstyles. Music is the physical device I access Spotify on. Music is the guitar in the corner over there,” he says.

A guitar is an example of the physical manifestation of music. But that is only one aspect.

He teaches me how in ethnomusicology, which is the study of the music of different cultures, there’s the idea that music is made up of not just cultures but repertories as well.

Words. Tonalities. Instruments-- what is used in the genre. There are the social understandings of music, as in who performs it, who is allowed to perform it, who listens to it, what the subgroups of it are, what genders are represented, who is represented at all. While yes, music has these material elements and it’s “more than just vibrations hanging in the air,” as Honig says, “each of those pieces is intrinsically cultural.”

In music there are culturally embedded codes, understandings, and meanings- these elements define musical subcultures that are separate from the music itself. Honig points out that when an individual is part of a subculture, they feel the music differently. He tells me that music therapists write a lot about the way we consume music as young people.

“For adolescents, listening to a certain kind of music is a low stakes way of trying out a new subculture identity,” he says.  “You can be punk for a week and if you decide it doesn’t really associate with your identity, then great, the worst thing that happens is that your friends remember you had a mohawk. It’s low stakes.”

And so most adolescents do that- listen to different types of music in this exploration process.

“So much of who we are and who other people view us to be is tied to these subcultures.”

We’re discussing music and emotions when Honig said something that opened my eyes to a new way of what music does. We all know there’s happy music that we listen to when we’re happy, or sad music when we’re sad. However, it’s not necessarily the music that forces the emotion.

“Some people listen to music and say, ‘Oh that made me really sad.’” He says. “Music doesn’t have the capacity to make us feel anything. What music does is connects us with something that was already there. You can’t feel that sadness if it wasn’t already there. What music does is activate that. Listening to sad music when you’re sad doesn’t necessarily make you more sad, it can make you feel validated. Music can hold you in that sadness. Make it more safe to feel that. Sometimes feeling sad is totally overwhelming. But music that hears you, that holds you can make it safer, more manageable to feel that.”

So… Why does music affect us so deeply?

“It connects us with potentials, with abilities, with parts of our identities… and it connects us with parts of ourselves that we didn’t have access to before or reconnects us with things that are important, things that we’ve lost touch with.”

I sat down with Tatishe Nteta to get more background on the academic and psychological side behind the idea of why we associate ourselves with specific music groups. Nteta is a professor of Political Science at the University of Massachusetts Amherst. Part of his teachings include how individuals learn to create their own identity and how they choose to associate themselves with certain groups. In meeting with him I was curious to connect how we construct our identities with the extent we connect ourselves with a musical culture.

“Music is a reflection of group identities. Who you are is determined by who you identify as, as part of your groups. People gravitate towards artists that share their stories. It’s also a reflection of how you grew up,” Nteta tells me.

In our conversation we keep in mind the influence of an individual’s upbringing on how they see themselves and what they relate to- including their experiences and the music played around them when they were younger.  

“If you look at the music an individual likes, there is always a story. It can be of socialization [the process of how we learn to behave in society and around others], music you learned to like and positively reinforced to like it. People that really like classical music come from families that also really like classical music. It is about seeing yourself resonating with stories that are told.”

In an academic sense, you can say music tastes are connected to group identities and socialization. To this statement Nteta adds on saying there are people who disconnect from that.

You can still listen to music that you aren’t defined by or even relate to, but to associate yourself with a kind of music, there must be a deeper layer.

“In some small shape form or fashion, you have to see yourself in it for it to shape who you are.”

Using Taylor Swift as an example, individuals who listen to her music perceive her as the messenger of a message; since they are fans of her music, they are more likely to attach to or believe in what she is saying. They’ll relate to her songs when they receive it because they see her as a credible source. Music has the power to make people feel incredibly connected to people they have never met.

This is what Nteta is saying when he explains, “Some people see this as gospel. So Swifties are like, 'I'm the anti-hero [a reference to one of her newest songs]. She finally gets me.' It comes part and parcel with their identity. And there are others who just like the hook. [But they are both exposed.] Whether or not they follow through with the message provided is based on their perception of the messenger.”

“Music is also about educating yourself. It can be used to expose yourself to interpretations and stories you otherwise wouldn’t have. It is a means by which you can understand the plight and successes of people which you have very little connected tissue with.”

Why do we feel the need to associate with artists and their music in the first place? With these groups of similar individuals?

“Why are groups important? They simplify chaotic worlds. A musical community says ‘hey this is my group…’”

Nteta explains we all have this overarching commonality that helps us understand who is with us or against us. He elaborates, “It can give me a sense of who I am. It can bolster my self-esteem.”

Linking yourself with an artist can make you feel good. On this Nteta gives the example of Taylor Swift selling out venues worldwide. He uses Swift as a “modern manifestation” of Phish and The Grateful Dead to group them together as bands that have a particular effect over masses of people that other bands don’t. 

He continues to say, “I guess that is the pinnacle of influence, when there is a collection of people who reflect the name of your band.”

 Nteta demonstrates the academic backbone to why we see ourselves in the music we listen to, providing further elaboration on why we associate ourselves with music. 

I ask him about the differences between personality and identity. Are they the same thing?

“It’s much more difficult to describe and tap into your personality whereas your identity is something that is understood first from yourself and seen by others. I have a multitude of identities, as many individuals have. Racial identity. Gender identity. Educational identity. But if you as someone what my personality, it is very difficult to assume.”

He acknowledges one’s assessment of their own personality can contrast the assessment of their personality by someone else. However one’s understanding of their own identity is often incredibly congruent with how it is understood by society.

With this, music allows you to create who you want to be and how you want to see yourself. It allows you to know who is in your ingroup. It quite literally, creates community.

“It can bring connections. It can tie me closer to the people that are important to me. Your network connects your characteristics.”

In resonating with the music you hear, you connect it to yourself.

“The hope is that you see yourself not as part of the story that’s been told but part of the story that will be told.”

So when did music get so powerful? It always has been.

Nicholas McBride, professor in the Journalism department of UMass Amherst who covers a variety of topics including philosophy and music as history- surprises me with an incredibly interesting history lesson.

In discussing events after the Civil War and civic organizations that came to light at this time, he starts talking about a certain period that held a new way of thinking. And how money makers wanted to change it since it was more profitable to take advantage of people. He tells me this is where we started getting laws as a way to mass incarcerate people - sucking the fruits of labor and “virtually making African Americans a peonage [a system where labor is forced based on debts of the worker] class. Pretty much the same thing as slavery.”

He continues to tell me, “Kicking them out of office. A taking away of their political voice. And what’s left? If your political voice is taken. If you’re basically violently controlled, the only voice that was left was music. And so, music became a sonic language of freedom. And that’s where you get jazz.”

 Music stems from a need to be heard. From passion. Something everyone can feel. Something everyone can understand, can speak.

 “It’s called the universal language,” McBride says.

People from different cultures and backgrounds hear music and it has the potential to affect each being so deeply.  

“From a cultural standpoint, music is a spiritual language. Its impact is tied to a common understanding as our predicament as human beings. You can make an argument that it is more spiritual than material.”

“It gives meaning to life.” 

Individuals can feel more pulled to a music when it resonates with their culture. Here we can identify that the subcultures of music genres are different from the original culture the musical sound originates from. Another reason why music resonates is because it cannot be separated from its history. McBride begins to include the influence of contributions from Black musicians.

“Hip Hop and rap was denigrated as criminal enterprise when it first started. Now it’s ubiquitous. It’s a used culture. And that’s true for every black musical contribution. Like rock and roll was rhythm and blues. … The slaves brought the rhythm to America, then it goes back across the ocean and becomes present in flamenco. Then comes back as the Rolling Stones and the Beatles.”

“It’s like the air. It’s everywhere. You can’t breathe in a segregated way. It’s all together. Where you venture into, it brings all these elements that can’t be contained. That is the ultimate definition of the spiritual impact. It is something that hits your essence.”

Music comes from cultures and then creates its own. The power music has can’t be contained, so no wonder any given individual can feel drawn to an artist or sound where they associate it as part of their identity. In effect, they look for others of similar ideals and interests so they can create community in their own group. But for any given individual to enjoy a piece of music, it doesn’t have to be that deep.

So why are individuals tied to a musical genre? What does community do for individuals?

McBride says to me, “It varies a lot to the individual. A lot of times it is just pure enjoyment. Doesn’t have to be taken a lot deeper than that. Life at its best should be something to enjoy. Something pleasurable. Not an academic exercise.”

Music has the ability to make us feel heard and comforted. It can tie us tighter to those closest to us but also to complete strangers. It can make people we’ve never met feel like family. Music helps us decide who we want to be around and who we wouldn’t want to associate ourselves with.

Myles Braxton says, “I may have nothing in common with you but if we like the same artists, we’ll probably be really good friends.” 

Eric Bradley was 17 years old when he started listening to Phish in high school. He was 21 when followed them on tour. Recently, he celebrated his 40th birthday and a majority of the people he celebrated with were people he would go to shows with in college.

He tells me, “The friends I went on tour with are friends I have to this day.” 

The friends and community music can provide is a magical thing- in itself creating unforgettable experiences. Even if it’s not with others, music still resonates.

Braxton tells me, “Some people don’t have someone to talk to so they turn to music. Music in its purest form is vibrations, and vibrations in its purest form is healing.”

Music heals. Music connects. Music helps us choose how we want to see the world, each other, and ourselves. Music has an extensive history that can be traced to origins all over the world and all at different points in time. Everyday music continues to prove it is one of the best ways to bring people together.

McBride shares, “And you know, everybody needs a sense of belonging. We’re all in some kind of gang. Whether it’s our family or cultural background. We’re all affiliated. But to me, I think what music indicates is the supreme affiliation. And the supreme affiliation of my way of thinking is the kinship of our humanity.”