This was published 4 years ago
'I would not wear those costumes' now, says Empire of the Sun's Nick Littlemore
By Robert Moran
Nick Littlemore, of ARIA-winning local dance trio Pnau, says when he and Luke Steele founded Empire of the Sun in 2007, the pair dreamed of the concept primarily in sci-fi and fantasy terms.
Thirteen years on, he now looks back on the band's aesthetic at the time – with its heavy use of Native American headdresses – with a new cultural understanding.
"There's no denying the inspiration of other cultures that were woven into the first album. We shot music videos in China and Mexico and their cultures certainly carried the visual narrative from the landscapes, cityscapes and costumes," Littlemore says. "I've also personally always had a love of psychedelia and dream states which traditionally belong to shamanic cultures.
"I think society has learned a lot over the years about the sensitivity of using other cultural identities to drive their own projects. It's important to listen to these voices and I do support them. It wasn't ever the motivation behind Empire, however today I would not wear those same costumes as I did 13 years ago," says Littlemore.
"I'd hate to think we ever offended anyone, we've only ever tried to express unity and create a magical world."
Littlemore's comments come after singer Adele ignited debate around cultural appropriation this week, sharing on Instagram a photo of herself wearing a Jamaican flag bikini top with her hair in Bantu knots. An apparent nod to London's Notting Hill Carnival and its celebration of Britain's West Indian diaspora, the picture found the singer accused of appropriating the traditionally black hairstyle.
While there's no threat that Adele, famed for her operatic ballads, is planning a career pivot anytime soon, for pop stars who have long borrowed elements of "exotic" cultures as part of their edgy, aesthetic rebrands, the backlash is telling. As more than one online commenter posted about Adele's misstep: "She should have known better."
Pop music's list of recent grievances in the space is long. There's Katy Perry dressing as a geisha; Coldplay and Beyonce fetishising Bollywood and India's Holi festival; Ariana Grande accused of "blackfishing" (the term used to describe people who misrepresent themselves as black).
Australian rapper Iggy Azalea'sunwillingness to engage with criticisms of appropriation contributed to a decline in popularity, while even Gwen Stefani – whose Harajuku Girls period was commercially successful and popularly lauded in its time – saw her work retroactively panned, the singer forced to defend it again last year.
It all suggests that today's pop audience – perhaps unlike generations of the past, who largely shrugged aside the exploitative tendencies of, say, The Beatles (Chuck Berry knock-offs) and The Rolling Stones ("Thames Delta bluesmen") – is more sensitive to such cultural missteps and the way ethnic identities are casually borrowed by inspiration-starved artists. Or, at least it seems that way.
"The increased public discourse [around cultural appropriation] now does not mean that, for example, black people did not notice over the course of the whole 20th century how much their culture and music were being absorbed into white-owned music industries and refashioned for white tastes," says Dr Tami Gadir, lecturer in the music industry program at the school of media and communication at RMIT.
"It just means that historically people in power positions have actively denied people with less power the space to challenge or question the asymmetries in such cultural exchanges. Maybe that's starting to change, which is uncomfortable for people who prefer to defend the status quo."
More recently, claims of cultural appropriation have also moved beyond the usual focus on white thieves. As K-pop's global rise continues with bands such as BTS and Blackpink topping charts worldwide, black critics have questioned the genre's reliance on hip-hop signifiers. Canadian rapper Drake's recent dalliance with UK drill – a gritty hip-hop subset whose influence is also fuelling much of the current Australian rap scene – also saw him labelled a "culture vulture".
In terms of how an artist might approach their work, where does this leave us? Does it mean musicians are only allowed to operate in the limited artistic space that reflects their own cultural identity? (A headline from satirical publication The Betoota Advocate once seemingly summed up such Caucasian fears: "Report: Yodelling only art form white people can perform without cultural appropriation").
Dr Sarah Keith, senior lecturer in media and music at Macquarie University, says such arguments misrepresent audiences' concerns.
"I don't think there are any rules that say you need to only represent your own ethnic identity, partly because you can't really pin down an ethnic identity. We live in a globalised world, people listen to music from all over the world, and we mingle in very mixed communities," she says.
"But there are some questions artists need to ask themselves when they are engaging with cultures or modes of expression that aren't their own. Like, 'Why am I the person who brings this to the mainstream?', 'Am I going to be perpetuating any stereotypes that will be hurtful or harmful to a community?', 'Am I taking up space in the media that will take away focus from other practitioners?', 'Am I participating in this community or am I just using this culture temporarily for my own personal gain?'"
There's also "no such thing as a green light" when it comes to pop's cultural exchange, says Dr Keith, because we all have different ideas on what's acceptable. Even a seemingly successful example, like Paul Simon's Graceland – which won the Grammy for album of the year in 1987, and remains critically lauded as one of the greatest albums of all time – still faced criticism.
"Some people saw Paul Simon as elevating South African musicians, someone who brought a band like Ladysmith Black Mambazo to the mainstream. But on the other hand, why was it Paul Simon who had to step in as the white saviour to do this? There's an existing power dynamic that makes it uncomfortable for some people."
In 2018 Ghanaian-Australian rapper Genesis Owusu, real name Kofi Owusu-Ansah, released a single titled Wit' Da Team which specifically addressed his growing impatience with displays of cultural appropriation.
"I'd seen it throughout my life, especially in regards to the black women in my life and on social media constantly being dragged down because people were saying their hair was ratchet or dogging them because of the way they dressed or their physical features," he says, "only for, down the line, a Kardashian to be hailed as an innovator for wearing box braids."
Owusu-Ansah says it's possible, and essential, for artists to operate in a space of acceptable cultural exchange.
"The key points of difference between appropriation and appreciation is acknowledgement and respect," he says. "As long as these two things are properly established, there shouldn't be any reason why cultural elements can't be shared and embraced by people outside of that culture. Sharing cultures is something that should be encouraged.
"I think when it's done well in music, it's not quite a point of spectacle. [R&B singer] D'Angelo has a song on his album Voodoo that's, like, salsa – and it's just a great song. When it's done right, people just respect the art."