Music and the politics of space: Acoustic territories in New Orleans

Abstract

Municipalities typically seek to control the production and distribution of sound through noise and zoning ordinances. By virtue of sound’s inherent properties, however, such ordinances also regulate public space, though the spaces in question belie clearly demarcated boundaries. This article considers the cultural discourse surrounding contemporary debates about musical performance in public spaces, paying particular attention to the ways in which the politicization and regulation of acoustic space can be levied to curtail and potentially marginalize cultural expression and labor. I take New Orleans as a case study in light of that city’s ongoing debates surrounding musical performance and the regulation of sound. New Orleans provides a uniquely compelling example, as overzealous policing of the soundscape at times conflicts with the role that live music plays in that city’s broader cultural economy. Ultimately, I assess the stakes of these debates while recognizing the contentious and inherently political dynamics at play.

Whether their targets are industrial, musical, or vehicular in nature, municipalities typically seek to control the production and distribution of sound through means such as noise and zoning ordinances. By virtue of sound’s inherent properties, such ordinances also regulate space, though the spaces in question belie clearly demarcated boundaries. Acoustic spaces can thus become sites fraught with contention, as stakeholders fight to reshape these spaces according to their respective desires and interests.

This article considers the cultural discourse surrounding contemporary debates surrounding musical performance in public space, paying particular attention to the ways in which the politicization and regulation of acoustic space can be levied to curtail and potentially marginalize cultural expression and labor. I take New Orleans as a case study in light of that city’s ongoing debates surrounding musical performance and the regulation of sound. New Orleans provides a uniquely compelling example, as the city’s musical heritage serves as a symbolic marker of its cultural identity. As such, policing of the city’s soundscape is at times in conflict not only with cultural expression but also with the key role that music and live performance play in the city’s cultural economy. In addition, in recent years, debates about regulating music in public spaces have been waged across three fronts in New Orleans, providing a complex and multilayered example for analysis. Throughout, I assess the stakes of these contemporary debates in New Orleans in terms of “acoustic territories” (Labelle, 2014), recognizing the contentious and inherently political dynamics at play in the regulation of acoustic space.

Sound and space

At its most fundamental level, acoustic space is defined simply by a particular sound’s spatial reach (Schafer, 1970, p. 25, 1977, p. 214). Yet, regulation of such spaces is uniquely challenging in that they are amorphous, “both discontinuous and nonhomogenous. Its resonant and interpenetrating processes are simultaneously related with centers everywhere and boundaries nowhere” (Carpenter & McLuhan, 1960, p. 67; McLuhan & Powers, 1989, p. 45). Acoustic space thus lends itself to continual negotiation and reconfiguration (Connor, 1997, p. 206).

With this ongoing process in mind, Labelle (2014) discusses not acoustic spaces, but acoustic territories “to impart meaning to the ambiguity inherent to acoustic space, as a productive form of tension” (p. xxiv). Labelle argues that acoustic spaces are fundamentally political, recognizing the stakes, conflicts, and continual reconfigurations that occur within. Importantly, he also stresses their social importance, noting that sounds are imbued with meaning in ways specific to their immediate social context (Labelle, 2014, p. xxiv). Acoustic territories are thus necessarily multidimensional; they are physical spaces defined by acoustic and spatial properties, but they also entail engaged and often contested social and political dimensions (Labelle, 2014, p. xxiv). Cohen (1998) notes that this is especially true in relation to music, as “the production of place through music is always a political and contested process […] music is implicated in the politics of place, the struggle for identity and belonging and power and prestige” (p. 287). While the terms “acoustic space” and “acoustic territory” are interchangeable insofar as their physical and spatial characteristics, the latter offers a much deeper critical lens that considers the power dynamics such spaces embody. Given this emphasis, I adopt Labelle’s concept of acoustic territories as the primary framework for this analysis.

The amorphous structure of acoustic territories renders them inherently inclusive; acoustic territories’ disregard for boundaries between public and private space force this inclusion, whether or not inhabitants come willingly. As such, acoustic territories are “sphere[s] of simultaneous relations” (McLuhan & Powers, 1989, p. 22), where individual identities are put into association (though not necessarily affinity) with one another, emphasizing “individual identity as a relational project” (Labelle, 2014, p. xxi). Additionally, Sakakeeny (2010) discusses one’s orientation to a soundscape as not only spatial but also evaluative. Sound in turn can create multiple publics, often with competing interests in and evaluative orientations to the soundscape. Multiple and potentially conflicting evaluations of sound highlight that acoustic territories entail “an economy of power,” where the same sounds can be evaluated as intrusive noise or as vital to social and cultural life, establishing publics with a vested interest in the status quo or counterpublics resistant to it (Labelle, 2014, p. xxiii, 66). Moreover, orientations to sound “are not fixed or culturally assigned, but are as dynamic and mutable as the landscape itself and the sounds that animate it” (Sakakeeny, 2010, p. 4).

Sound also shapes the unique character and identity of place. Although Schafer’s (1977) broader concern is the degradation of what he calls “hi-fi” soundscapes (those with a natural, acoustic clarity) into “lo-fi” soundscapes (those where an overabundance of sounds obscures acoustic clarity, typified by industrialized urban centers; p. 43), his notion of soundmarks is useful here. For Schafer (1977), soundmarks are “community sound[s] which [are] unique or possess qualities which make it specially regarded or noticed by the people in that community” and which “reflect a community character” (pp. 10, 215–216, 239). Soundmarks might be industrial (a train that passes through town daily, a steam whistle that punctuates the phases of the work day), natural (a river’s continuous cascading over the town’s dam, the persistent call of seagulls), or cultural (the ringing of church bells, the chiming of the clock tower) in orientation.

Soundmarks also inform the production of music within those communities (Shabazz, 2017). In turn, geographies of sound “draw people together and symbolize their sense of collectivity and place,” providing “a sense of identity, in preserving and transmitting cultural memory, and in establishing the sensuous production of place” (Cohen, 1998, pp. 273, 287). Particular musical forms have long been associated with specific geographic locales, be it country music (Nashville), soul (Memphis, Philadelphia), blues (the Mississippi Delta, Chicago), or hip hop (New York, Atlanta). As I discuss below, the various musical styles originating in or otherwise associated with New Orleans have come to serve as symbolic representations of the city’s history and cultural identity. Meier-Dallach and Meier (1992) argue that a city’s soundscape reflects its geographic space as well as the relationships within it, and thus, “it is possible to analyse the culture and values of society by examining its sounds” (quoted in Barthelmes, 2002, p. 103). We can extend this argument to reflect that examinations of a city’s music illuminate the social and cultural values of that city. This is especially true in a city such as New Orleans, whose rich musical heritage provides a means for understanding the city’s cultural history.

Music and marginalization in New Orleans’ cultural economy

A number of musical styles uniquely mark New Orleans’ musical landscape. In some cases, the city was a point of origin for musical forms (jazz, bounce). ¹ In others, the city absorbed music from distant locales, only to recast these forms in New Orleans’ homegrown style (soul, blues, rock). Still other forms have become associated with the city by proxy to other cities in the region (Cajun, zydeco).

This rich musical landscape provides an expressive platform for New Orleans’ cultural milieu, and indeed, music plays a central role in many of New Orleans’ unique cultural traditions. Music is inextricable from the city’s parading culture, for example. Brass bands provide roving accompaniment for jazz funerals, Sunday second lines, ² and Mardi Gras processions; gangs of Mardi Gras Indians complement their visual display with percussion-driven songs and chants as they parade on Mardi Gras, Super Sunday, and St Joseph’s Night; particularly in the tourist hub of the city’s French Quarter, buskers stake out slices of sidewalk to play for passersby.

Throughout the year, an ever-increasing number of music festivals take place in the city. The year 2016 saw the city host over 136 such events of varying size and scope. The New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival (“Jazz Fest”) is the largest of these, drawing over 400,000 annual attendees in recent years (MacCash, 2016). The birthplace of jazz boasts over 136 music venues throughout the city, which produced 31,127 gigs in 2016 (Mayor’s Office of Cultural Economy, 2017, p. 5). These figures are calculated on a citywide basis, and venues are scattered throughout New Orleans. However, there is a noted concentration of live music venues, clubs, and busking activity in the tourist-heavy French Quarter and the adjacent Marigny neighborhood, underscoring music as one of New Orleans’ major tourist draws.

One of the city’s most prosperous economic sectors, New Orleans’ tourism industry quickly recovered after the devastation of Hurricane Katrina, setting record numbers of visitors and tourist dollars spent. In 2015, the city boasted 9.78 million visitors who spent US$7.08 billion dollars during their stay (New Orleans Convention and Visitors Bureau, 2016). Helping to fuel this thriving tourism sector is New Orleans’ marketing strategy which, along with architecture and cuisine, is replete with references to the city’s vibrant musical heritage. Brass band second lines, street buskers, jazz musicians, music venues, and festival stages adorn the pages of the city’s official visitors’ guide; similar images are accompanied by a trad jazz soundtrack in the city’s video marketing, while iconic musicians such as the Rebirth Brass Band and Irvin Mayfield serve as spokespersons in the city’s tourism marketing materials.

Through the city’s tourism discourse and representations of its culture via television, film, literature, and other media, New Orleans music serves a symbolic, indexical function, constituting and representing part of the city’s cultural identity. Indeed, a significant portion of the New Orleans musical canon reinforces this symbolic relationship via explicit references to the city’s culture, geography, history, and traditions. ³ Yet increasingly, the creators and practitioners of New Orleans’ musical culture are marginalized to a degree that threatens the viability of musical labor and its contributions to the local culture, economy, and identity.

While New Orleans realizes the value of music’s visibility within the tourist economy, the compensation for musicians’ labor is often minimized to the point of exploitation. For example, organizers of Jazz Fest hire brass bands for both on stage performances and to parade through the grounds with Social Aid and Pleasure Clubs. Although festival organizers recognize the value of incorporating local music and culture into the festival, the financial compensation is often nonnegotiable, and disproportionately low for the labor—especially in comparison to the high fees commanded by the growing number of national acts brought in to headline the festival (Sakakeeny, 2013, pp. 96–101).

Jazz Fest provides a specific example, but is indicative of the broader, pervasive issue relating to the economic value of music and other forms of cultural labor in New Orleans. Despite the significant role that musicians’ labor plays in the city’s tourism economy, the billions of dollars generated by New Orleans’ tourist industry trickle down unevenly to musicians (Mt. Auburn Associates 2005, p. 58; Sakakeeny, 2015, p. 4). This imbalance creates a glaring paradox within New Orleans’ cultural economy where

culture begins with culture workers who originate content, but cultural economics ends with these same workers, who are the last to receive any financial return. There is no cultural economy without their labor, but the bulk of the finances they generate accumulates elsewhere. (Sakakeeny, 2015, p. 4, emphasis in original)

This devaluation of musicians’ labor further harms the cultural economy, as local artists pursue more favorable economic opportunities in other markets, or abandon musical labor altogether (Mt. Auburn Associates, 2005, p. 59).

The devaluation of musical labor is compounded by other economic trends in New Orleans that further marginalize musicians in the city. The confluence of damaged housing stock and resulting displacement has contributed to drastic increases in housing costs since Hurricane Katrina. Housing prices within the City of New Orleans rose 46% between 2005 and 2015 (Wade Ragas, 2015, p. 6). Rents have also seen a significant increase of 20%–25% between 2012 and 2015, while 33% of New Orleans’ renters pay more than half of their wages to cover housing costs (Greater New Orleans Fair Housing Center, 2017, p. 1). An influx of new residents also factors into these trends, with younger and Whiter residents presenting a demographic shift in some neighborhoods. This has led to concerns over gentrification and its effects on the cost of living, particularly as it affects the city’s Black working class neighborhoods (Larsson, 2017).

These broader economic trends directly impact laborers in New Orleans’ cultural and tourism economies, as high costs make living in the city less feasible for service industry and cultural workers. Vocalist John Boutté recently relocated outside of the city to more affordable housing, but in turn bears the cost of an hour-long commute to gigs in the city. Boutté candidly assessed the depreciation of labor performed by musicians and service industry workers in an interview:

Don’t get me wrong, I love New Orleans. But we have ran the real people out, the ones who created this whole culture, the people who gave you the soul. […] Who’s gonna clean the hotel rooms? Who’s gonna cook your crawfish etouffee? Who’s gonna clean out your bidet? (Quoted in Michael, 2017)

If these economic trends continue, they stand to further marginalize and even displace New Orleans’ musicians and culture bearers. ⁴ In turn, this potential dilution of New Orleans’ unique cultural practices and traditions diminishes part of what makes the city such a unique tourist destination, thus putting the health New Orleans’ tourist economy at risk. ⁵

Musicians and their labor are further marginalized by attempts to closely regulate acoustic territories in New Orleans, though there is certainly precedent for such limiting of cultural expression. Noting music’s potential to operate as an oppositional discourse, Attali (2003) argues that noise ordinances can serve as a means of cultural control, of figuratively and literally silencing dissent:

… it is necessary to ban subversive noise because it betokens demands for cultural autonomy, support for differences or marginality: a concern for maintaining tonalism, the primacy of melody, a distrust of new languages, codes, or instruments, a refusal of the abnormal—these characteristics are common to all regimes of that nature. They are direct translations of the political importance of cultural repression and noise control. (p. 7)

Attali here outlines an extreme example of cultural oppression, but the same underlying political tensions have played out via noise ordinances in a number of historical contexts. Early noise ordinances took aim at street music as a means to legitimate the art music then populating concert halls (Schafer, 1977, p. 66). Picker (2003) notes that ordinances in the Victorian era selectively targeted noises produced by the lower classes. Thompson (2004) writes of similarly selective noise ordinances in Chicago and New York in the early 20th century, silencing Coney Island barkers, street merchants, and busking musicians (pp. 124–125). ⁶

In similar fashion, ordinances regulating cultural traditions in New Orleans disproportionately impact cultural traditions in the city’s working class Black neighborhoods, including second lines, Mardi Gras Indians, Baby Dolls, and Skull and Bone gangs. Following Hurricane Katrina, for example, the city of New Orleans increased the permit fees required for these neighborhood parading organizations by as much as 530% (Scheets, 2007). Officially, the increased fees were in response to the need for stronger police presence following a series of shootings at neighborhood parades over the previous decade. Despite similar incidents at larger parades of the well-established (and predominantly White) Mardi Gras Krewes, the City did not impose similar increases for these events (Crutcher, 2010, p. 118; Hirsch, 2015; McAllister, 2015; Scheets, 2007). With the aid of the ACLU (American Civil Liberties Union), the New Orleans’ Social Aid and Pleasure Club Task Force successfully fought the City to reduce the revised fees to US$1985 (American Civil Liberties Union of Louisiana, 2007).

Noise ordinances also disproportionately impact Black New Orleanians by virtue of workforce demographics. A 2012 survey from advocacy group Sweet Home New Orleans found that the Blacks accounted for 65% of the city’s musicians, while Whites accounted for 35% (Sweet Home New Orleans, 2012, p. 3). This approximates New Orleans’ population demographics reported in 2010 census data, where Blacks accounted for 60.2% of the city’s residents, and Whites accounted for 33% (United States Census Bureau, 2010). A broader report on the cultural economy in Louisiana found that among Black musicians and business owners, there was at least a perception of exploitation and disparate economic opportunities in comparison with their White counterparts (Mt. Auburn Associates, 2005, p. 58). Given these dynamics, critics argue that noise ordinances can open up Black performers to further discrimination and marginalization via uneven, targeted enforcement (Stephens, 2014; Woodward, 2012a).

In short, it is important to consider the regulation of New Orleans’ acoustic territories within the constellation of the city’s cultural economy, with attention to cultural expression, musical labor, as well as macro and micro economic factors. This is especially important as regulations of New Orleans’ acoustic territories stand to have significant adverse effects on particular groups of residents that break down along lines of geography, race, and socioeconomic class, potentially inhibiting these groups’ established forms of cultural expression and their ability to be compensated for cultural labor.

Examining the constantly shifting dynamics of popular culture, Stuart Hall (1981) argues that “the changing balance and relations of social forces throughout that history reveal themselves, time and again, in struggles over the forms of the culture, traditions and ways of life of the popular classes” (p. 227). Tensions within New Orleans’ acoustic territories offer one such site of struggle, raising questions not just of amplitude, but of the parameters of cultural expression and the value of cultural labor. These concerns are at the heart of current debates regarding music in the public spaces of New Orleans.

Policing acoustic territories in New Orleans

New Orleans provides a unique case study in the regulation of acoustic space given the centrality of live music in the city. As with other urban soundscapes, local ordinances in New Orleans aim to define and regulate acoustic territories, ostensibly in the interest of protecting residents’ rights to tranquility in domestic space. Yet, noise ordinances in New Orleans have been subject to debate since at least the 19th century. In a section titled “Offenses and Nuisances,” the 1857 city code declared that, “It shall not be lawful for any person or persons Drums, horns, to beat a drum, or blow a horn, or sound a trumpet in any street or public place within the limits of the city,” excepting military and auctioneers (Common Council of New Orleans, 1857). Around the same time, disputes challenged whether brass bands should be allowed to parade the streets on the Sabbath, while the city established a licensing system for busking street musicians, a debate that resurfaced in the 1970s (Le Menestrel, 2014, p. 2; Young, 2011). Hersch (2007) recounts the city’s attempts in the late 19th and early 20th centuries to confine jazz performance to the margins, outside of “respectable” neighborhoods and venues—those with predominantly White residents and clientele (pp. 29–33, 211). In the 1990s, proposed legislation sought to insulate churches and schools with “quiet zones” within which musical performances would be outlawed (Le Menestrel, 2014, p. 2).

In more recent years, the regulation of acoustic territories in New Orleans has fueled intense debate, amplifying the tensions between public and private interests that are inherent in policing the soundscape. In one prominent example, the To Be Continued Brass Band were shut down for playing on the corner of Bourbon and Canal streets, where they’d regularly played since their formation 8 years earlier. The New Orleans Police Department (NOPD) was enforcing an on-the-books but long unenforced curfew ordinance which prohibited live music on the streets after 8:00 p.m. (DeBerry, 2010).

The next 2 years saw an enforcement sweep of similarly dormant zoning laws, leading to temporary shutdowns of a number of local clubs (including five in the Marigny neighborhood), the silencing of established street performers, and renewing debate about how, when, and where musical expression occurred in the city (Welch, 2013; Woodward, 2012a, 2012b). ⁷

As the city increased enforcement, the stakes of debates over New Orleans’ acoustic territories became clear. Most prominently, excessive restriction of music in public spaces threatens cultural expression, and in turn, New Orleans’ cultural identity and way of life. After enforcement of the musicians’ curfew shut down the To Be Continued Brass Band’s performance in 2010, the band’s trumpeter Sean Roberts explained the cultural costs of curbing street musicians in New Orleans:

What they doin’ is slowly but surely killin’ a New Orleans tradition, you know? For young people, you know, for musicians period, you know, ‘cause I learned how to play the trumpet right here. Talkin’ about really learned how to play. I ain’t know how to play the trumpet for real until I started playin’ right here on this corner. You know, it just mean a lot to the city, you know, tourists, it’s the birthplace of jazz. This is what we’re known for. This, right here is what we’re known for. And, and for them to just stop it is just wrong, you know, cause it’s not just the tourists who like it, it’s locals, it’s the way of life, the way of life out here, it’s like air, you know? (Quoted in Pal, 2010)

Jan Ramsey (2015), who serves as Editor-in-Chief of local music publication Offbeat, put it more bluntly: “Cut out the music and you diminish New Orleans. New Orleans means music.”

In addition to diminishing cultural expression, overly strict noise ordinances limit economic opportunities for the performance of musical labor. Echoing concerns raised by Mt. Auburns’ Associates (2005) in their report, Bounce DJ Rusty Lazer emphasized this point in the wake of NOPD’s enforcement ramp up in 2012–2013:

I lost a lot of work, my income went from, like my income dropped by four-fifths since that happened. I can’t play at Mimi’s, I can’t play late at Siberia, I can’t play late at the St. Roch anymore. Like all the places I used to go until 4 or 5 in the morning, I can only go until 2. So all of the money I used to make is gone and now I’m just having to deal with that. […] I mean really the only thing is to leave, you know? Like you go to San Francisco, go to LA, go to New York, go to Chicago, go to Austin, you know, any places where we already have like a following for bounce, I can do that. (Quoted in Young, 2013)

At stake in debates over regulating New Orleans’ acoustic territories then is economic opportunity for musicians to earn a living, and a crucial component to both the city’s cultural identity and its tourist economy. Over the course of 5 years, a complicated and protracted debate ensued across three fronts and includes multiple stakeholders, most visibly owners of music venues, musicians, neighborhood organizations, and City Council. The first of these fronts concerned revisions to New Orleans’ noise ordinance.

Front 1: the noise ordinance

The enforcement sweeps in the early part of the decade reignited debates among stakeholders as New Orleans endeavored to review its noise ordinance for the first time since 1998 (Woodward, 2013). The year 2012 provided an initial step, when the city passed a “Loudspeaker Ordinance,” prohibiting commercial establishments from directing loudspeakers toward “any door, window, or other opening to the exterior of the building,” and requiring speaker placement at least 10 ft from any such opening (City of New Orleans, 2012). Following this initial and uncontroversial step, discourse about the city’s noise ordinance yielded three sets of recommendations.

The first came from the Vieux Carré Property Owners, Residents, and Associates (VCPORA). One of the most vocal neighborhood groups in the noise ordinance debate, VCPORA represents a group of property owners and residents of the city’s historic French Quarter. Issued in early 2013, VCPORA’s proposal consisted of seven recommendations, including statewide legislation to increase the severity of penalties, shifting sound readings to the emanating rather than receiving property, and decreasing allowable sound limits to 1989 levels (Vieux Carré Property Owners, Residents, and Associates, 2013). ⁸ Beyond the content of VCPORA’s proposals, the group drew criticism as representing the interests of “a small group of wealthy and well-connected residents of the French Quarter” driven by self-interest rather than a meaningful community dialogue (Webster, 2014a). The makeup of VCPORA’s membership did little to quell such criticisms. Behind the scenes, VCPORA president Nathan Chapman strategized with the Brylski Company public relations firm that had previously spearheaded Councilwoman Stacy Head’s re-election campaign. Another key VCPORA member was attorney Stuart Smith, who had previously filed suit against a number of music clubs in the French Quarter for noise complaints dating back to 2004 (J. Ramsey, 2014; Webster, 2015b). Smith had also donated over US$17,000 to councilmembers’ election campaigns over the previous 4 years, and used this support as leverage in threatening members of City Council to support VCPORA’s proposal. He subsequently pleaded guilty to cyberstalking and intimidation of councilmembers, and was sentenced to 2 years probation (Freund, 2014; Webster, 2014b).

A second proposal came from the grassroots Music and Culture Coalition of New Orleans (MaCCNO). Established in the wake of the 2012 enforcement sweep, MaCCNO serves as an advocacy group on behalf of the city’s musicians, venue owners, and culture bearers. MaCCNO’s proposal does not propose specific figures regarding sound levels, instead urging opportunity for neighborhood-level input, public involvement in mediation of noise complaints, public outreach regarding the policies embedded in any new ordinance, clarification of the ordinance as it pertains to street performers, and a general call to encourage and protect New Orleans’ cultural traditions “including but not limited to Jazz Funerals, Second Lines, street performance, Mardi Gras Indian practices, parades, and gatherings” (Music and Culture Coalition of New Orleans, 2013). In short, the MaCCNO proposal evinces a clear understanding that New Orleans’ unique practices and traditions are central to its cultural identity and tourist economy, as is the cultural labor performed by the city’s musicians.

A final set of proposals came from sound expert David Woolworth, hired by the city to gather data on sound in New Orleans, and to submit recommendations for shaping the revised noise ordinance. Woolworth’s comprehensive report provided a wealth of recommendations, many of which related to enforcement methodology and practice. Informed by his data analysis, Woolworth effectively proposed an increase in the limits of permissible sound from 80 to 95 dB, while also recommending violations be reclassified as a civil rather than a criminal offense (Oxford Acoustics, 2013, p. 66).

That December, City Council adopted the core tenets of VCPORA’s proposal in publishing its own draft of a revised noise ordinance, defining “noise” simply as “any sound which exceeds the maximum permissible sound levels by land use categories as given [in this document]” (City of New Orleans, 2013). Public opposition to the draft ordinance swelled quickly; through grassroots organizing, MaCCNO spearheaded a public demonstration set for the 17 January meeting of the Council’s Housing and Human Needs Committee. Mounting public pressure and support for the protest led the Committee to cancel their meeting and withdraw the ordinance, though the protest went on as planned. hundreds of local musicians and advocates gathered outside City Hall to protest the ordinance, culminating in a second line through City Hall and into Council chambers (Alexander, 2014).

Although the Housing and Human Needs Committee intended to consider a revised draft later that month, this plan was also withdrawn (City of New Orleans, 2014). Yet another draft came up for a vote in April 2014; with the support of the Mayor’s office, that draft pivoted away from the VCPORA proposal to shift enforcement from the NOPD to the Health Department, recast violations as civil rather than criminal offenses, provided instructions for sound measurement, and eliminated the controversial curfew for street musicians. This proposal also failed in revising the city’s noise ordinance, deadlocking the council in a 3–3 vote (Woodward, 2014).

The failure of this April 2014 proposal effectively killed any momentum on revising the noise ordinance in New Orleans, though debates over the city’s acoustic territories persisted. In the spring of 2015, Councilwoman Nadine Ramsey proposed a series of amendments to the existing noise ordinance, explicitly focusing on Bourbon Street. Adopting suggestions from the Woolworth study, Ramsey’s proposal specifically addressed low bass frequencies (which travel farther and are less easily absorbed than higher frequencies), and again recast violations as a civil rather than criminal offense (N. Ramsey, 2015). Ramsey’s proposal also split enforcement duties between the NOPD and the Health Department, and maintained existing noise levels (the greater of 10 dB above ambient noise levels or 60 dB; N. Ramsey, 2015). When Ramsey’s proposal finally came to a Council vote, however, it failed to pass (Webster, 2015a).

In September 2015, Mayor Mitch Landrieu’s administration teamed with the Health Department to implement the Sound Check initiative. Absent a revised noise ordinance, the Mayor’s Office framed Sound Check as “a public health education initiative […] which aims to reduce the level of harmful sounds that can adversely affect public health” (Office of Mayor Mitch Landrieu, 2015). Sound Check armed Health Department representatives with noise meters and sent them to neighborhoods with high concentrations of live music (the French Quarter and the neighboring Marigny). Although the program is strictly educational and informational in practice, critics suggest that this seemingly innocuous public health education initiative might serve as precedent when City Council eventually revisits the noise ordinance revision (Adelson, 2015). MaCCNO Executive Director Ethan Ellestad questions Sound Check’s motives, suggesting that the program may not simply be a matter of public education, but of vying for control of acoustic territories:

Singling out music as a health hazard is not going to solve the problems that exist. Public health could be a red herring; it’s a way to control music and cultural products without helping anyone in the music and cultural community. (Quoted in Grimm, 2015)

Despite an initial flurry of activity, the Sound Check initiative has become far less active. The program’s website remains active, including information on sound dynamics, hearing protection, and a form to request sound readings or earplugs (New Orleans Health Department, 2016).

Front 2: zoning

Following the city’s failed attempts to revise the noise ordinance, debate about New Orleans’ acoustic territories shifted to a different regulatory discussion—the first major revision of the city’s Comprehensive Zoning Ordinance (CZO) in 45 years. One of the many difficulties with the noise ordinance discussion was its citywide application (although later drafts honed in on the French Quarter and Marigny neighborhoods, with special attention paid to the Bourbon Street entertainment district). In contrast, addressing concerns over amplified music through the CZO presented an opportunity to recognize the unique character and needs of individual neighborhoods.

Although not explicitly a noise ordinance, the CZO provided an opportunity to address a number of issues relevant to the city’s acoustic territories and live performances. Here too, MaCCNO evinced the power of grassroots advocacy. The CZO brought about some gains for the musical community, many of which developed out of comments filed by MaCCNO throughout the CZO revision process. For example, early drafts of the revised CZO included items related to sound and amplification; as MaCCNO argued, such regulations are beyond the scope of the CZO, particularly as they are addressed by the noise ordinance (Music and Culture Coalition of New Orleans, 2015a, 2015b).

As passed, the CZO and amendments alternately enhanced and restricted opportunities for cultural expression. One provision of the CZO expands live entertainment uses for restaurants, though it generally prohibits such use in the tourist-heavy French Quarter (City of New Orleans, 2015, §18.9–18.12; §26.6). Even so, the ordinance did expand live music opportunities in French Quarter courtyards, so long as the venue is otherwise permitted to host live music. The CZO also doubled the maximum amount of temporary outdoor entertainment events to eight per year, with a duration of up to 3 days each (City of New Orleans, 2015, §21.8.C).

Finally, the CZO created two additional commercial overlay districts. Overlays allow variance in permissible use that may be in contrast to a district’s primary zoning regulations. In this case, the overlays created by the CZO would provide new opportunities for live entertainment, although these districts are not explicitly zoned for Arts and Culture (City of New Orleans, 2015, §18.19; §18.20). As Le Menestrel (2014) points out, however, overlays are inconsistently enforced, putting their efficacy into question (p. 9). Signed in May 2015, the revised CZO took effect the following August.

Front 3: master plan

MaCCNO took one further step to curtailing the marginalization of cultural expression by proposing amendments to the city’s Master Plan, “a City Charter-mandated planning framework for the core systems that shape New Orleans’ physical, social, environmental, and economic future” (City of New Orleans, 2016). ⁹ Two of MaCCNO’s amendments are directly related to navigating acoustic territories in New Orleans. ¹⁰ Specifically, one amendment seeks to “Protect the remaining neighborhood music venues (and barrooms that host live music) in perpetuity. Even if an existing venue or bar were to close, a new business in that space would still be able to provide live music” (Music and Culture Coalition of New Orleans, 2016). This proposed amendment recognizes that for decades, neighborhood bars throughout the city have nurtured live performance and served as home base for the city’s many cultural organizations. As zoning laws, urban redevelopment, and an eventual noise ordinance evolve, these venues are particularly vulnerable and their loss would further restrict opportunities for musical performance, the preservation of cultural traditions, and the incubation of artists’ craft. Codifying protections for these businesses ensures that they remain sites of cultural expression and breeding grounds of local talent.

A second MaCCNO amendment aims to establish a citywide grant program to assist music venues in soundproofing their buildings. Such a proactive initiative would work to address concerns raised in the noise ordinance debate, endeavoring to reduce sound levels emanating from venues without necessarily compromising opportunities for live music. Purchasing and installing proper soundproofing materials can be cost prohibitive for the city’s music venues, many of which are independently owned small businesses. ¹¹ A citywide grant program helps defray these costs, increasing venues’ ability to comply with current and future noise ordinances, in turn allowing these venues to continue generating profits as well as tax revenue. Sound leak from venues could also be allayed by enforcement of existing ordinances. As noted in the Woolworth report, the CZO mandates that venues in the Frenchmen Street Arts and Culture Overlay close their doors during performances, though this is often not followed nor enforced (Oxford Acoustics, 2013, p. 31).

MaCCNO’s amendment package passed a Council vote in July 2017, although the precise funding, development, and implementation of these initiatives have yet to be determined. Still, the adoption of MaCCNO’s amendments suggests City Council’s renewed consideration of the cultural and economic value of New Orleans’ acoustic territories as sites of cultural expression and labor, suggesting a potential shift in Council’s approach to regulating musical performance in public spaces.

Conclusion

Across three major fronts (the noise ordinance, the Central Zoning Ordinance, and the City’s Master Plan), recent debates in New Orleans illuminate the complexities inherent in acoustic territories, highlighting their intricate relations to broader cultural, political, and economic contexts. Three such relations are integral to understanding the role that musical performance plays in New Orleans, and as such, in attempts to regulate music in public spaces. The first of these is the relationship between acoustic territories and cultural expression.

Acoustic territories are not simply sites of sonic negotiation, but in relation to public performance of music, they are also sites of cultural expression. Like culture itself, acoustic territories are dynamic, and subject to reconfiguration via social and political processes (see Williams, 1983, p. 295). As acoustic space becomes politicized and territorialized, however, the danger is that these political processes operate in opposition to culture rather than in dialogue with it. Overzealous regulation of acoustic territories marginalizes cultural expression, endangering both the vitality of culture and the sense of place that it engenders. Simply put, control over acoustic territories affords control over cultural expression.

Any serious dialogue regarding the regulation of musical performance must understand live music not simply as a behavior to be regulated, but as a vital part of the city’s rich, unique culture that is intricately interwoven with its identity and economy. As local musician and musicologist Matt Sakakeeny put it,

If you’re in Omaha or wherever, an ordinance that affects live music may be peripheral to the overall functioning of the city. In New Orleans, music isn’t an entertaining sideshow, it’s a piece of the entire infrastructure of the city. (Quoted in Moscowitz, 2015)

This leads to the second important relationship, that of acoustic territories and the economics of musical labor. The battle over New Orleans’ acoustic territories emphasizes the integral role that musical labor plays in the city’s economy, particularly as it relates to tourism. Attempts to impose excessive regulations on musical performance further marginalize working musicians’ opportunities for cultural expression, but they also limit their opportunities to work and to earn compensation. At present in New Orleans, this economic disenfranchisement is exacerbated by the devaluation of musical labor and increasing housing costs, a perfect storm that stands to diminish one of the key elements of the city’s tourist economy.

Finally, the case of New Orleans underscores the relationship and efficacy of grassroots organizing around contested acoustic territories. In explicating the concept of acoustic territories, Labelle (2014) points out that “sound is shared property onto which many claims are made, over time, and which demand associative and relational understanding” (p. xxiv). Such associative and relational understanding is crucial in navigating the contested terrain of acoustic territories. Understanding music as part of this broader, relational system underscores its value within that system, beyond simple exploitation of music esthetics in tourism and marketing materials.

In the absence of this broader understanding of music’s multifaceted role, music and performance risk becoming a mere footnote to the complex cultural, political, and economic tapestry of New Orleans. Recall that the VCPORA-penned noise ordinance was set for a Council vote until opposition by musicians, MaCCNO, and other advocates reached critical mass with a protest at City Hall. Comprised of and representing monied interests with substantial financial and political capital, and greater access to resources, groups such as VCPORA have greater power and sway in public policy debates, often to the exclusion of the culture bearers, musicians, residents, and laborers impacted by such policies. But effective grassroots organizing has the potential to facilitate a more nuanced, relational understanding of acoustic territories and the sounds that inhabit them, as recent events in New Orleans demonstrate. Local DJ Melissa Weber (who performs under the moniker “DJ Soul Sister”) stresses this point, contending that policies such as the noise ordinance need to be “written by people who understand that musical culture in New Orleans comes from the bottom up” (quoted in Woodward, 2013). The grassroots resistance that MaCCNO helped to coalesce facilitated the kind of broad, relational understanding of sound and music discussed by Labelle (2014). Whereas the self-interested policies drafted by VCPORA sought to impose restrictions on music and performance from the top down, the grassroots advocacy led by MaCCNO ensured that musicians, business owners, and community advocates had a legitimate voice in recent decision-making processes regarding New Orleans’ acoustic territories.

Sound—and more specifically, music—are inherently rooted in place; they both shape and are shaped by their surroundings, reflecting and molding the locale’s cultural identity (Cohen, 1998, pp. 277, 287; Labelle, 2014, p. 59). When debates over acoustic territories threaten cultural expression and musical labor, culture itself is at stake. Ultimately, recent episodes in New Orleans, including the city’s Master Plan, Central Zoning Ordinance, and most visibly, the noise ordinance, provide a template for musicians and cultural advocates in cities where music is deeply rooted in the local culture and economy. The recent debates in New Orleans have yielded a deeper understanding of acoustic territories and their stakes, showing the grassroots advocacy required in battles over acoustic territories, which are in effect acts of cultural self-preservation.