Age ideology and decline

It is widely and, in many instances, unproblematically accepted that, in their advanced years, people tend to disengage from popular culture, losing connection with evolving trends and tastes and gradually becoming isolated. Defined as dependents or shut-ins, elders' subjective identities are diminished as they are exposed to both regimes of physical containment and to the reductive discourses that permeate social dialogue. Margaret Morganroth Gullette calls this process ‘“identity stripping”, because it is a story of losing what we had’ (Gullette Reference Gullette2004, p. 130). For Gullette and other critical age scholars, elder subjects are confronted with deterministic authoritative forces as well as being victimised by the language we use to address their age as a condition.

Pertaining specifically to popular music, there is seldom any argument with the assertion that old people must, almost by necessity, like old music, music from their youthful years. While such assumptions may or may not raise the notion of nostalgic yearning (a point to which I will return), the effect can be corrosive, as the elder subject is effectively displaced from present-day sensibilities and dislocated from contemporary cultural forms or practices. For example, describing a concert in the US Northeast region featuring music ‘from the 1910s through the 1950s’, the Belmont (Massachusetts) Council on Aging writes, ‘the seniors were thrilled with the musical selections which reminded them of the days when they were younger and went to area dance halls to see and hear music they understood’ (cited in promotional material for entertainer Patty Carpenter, 2006). The tag-line ‘music you can understand’ was employed by at least one US radio station specialising in song standards (presumably in contradistinction from rock, rap and other youth-oriented popular music genres that dominate the airwaves) and the timeless classics associated with what is commonly referred to as the ‘Great American Songbook’.

Despite its generally positive and upbeat tone, the elder audience members addressed above are implicitly labelled as being irretrievably out of touch with current trends, unable to process the cultural meanings and values that are associated with contemporary pop music. There is evidence to buttress this notion, such as when informants declared on more than one occasion, ‘they don't write good songs like they used to’. The statement is an articulation of taste preferences for older songs and prior compositional, production and performance aesthetics but, in fact, most elders really don't know whether they do or don't ‘write good songs like they used to’, since few actively keep up with new musical forms and recordings.

Yet even when elders express an informed and established preference for music from bygone years, the problem of social labelling emerges when they are deemed incapable of locating music from their past within the present or of making sense of it in relation to time, culture and change. This prescribes a narrowly defined identity for elders, erroneously positioning them within a framework of unyielding nostalgia and a cognitive deficiency that mirrors the social and practical effects of physical ‘erosion’ with which elders often cope.

Such restricted perceptions of elders can be associated with the influence of the ‘decline narrative’. According to Gullette (Reference Gullette2004, p. 7), in today's society ‘ageing equals decline’. She cites the negative influence of decline narratives that are widely circulated and, in their diffusion, function within a powerful discourse of ageism: ‘the meanings of age and ageing are conveyed in large part through the moral and psychological implications of the narrative ideas we have been inserting into our heads, starting when we are very young indeed’ (Gullette Reference Gullette2004, p. 11). Described as such, Gullette identifies the deep-seated ideological character of age categorisation and its relationship to social hierarchies of power and value. Society's powerful decline discourses delimit alternative notions of what it means to age, constraining interpretive options and instilling harmful attitudes toward growing old. Exacerbating the situation is the fact that elders who defy the standard images of decline by failing to conform to the dominant ageing narrative frequently meet with social disapproval, falling under the umbrella of inappropriateness and even deviance; they are not properly acting their age (Laz Reference Laz1998, pp. 85–113).

As this suggests, while attempting to manage the complexities of mental, physical and social transitions, elders must also battle pervasive stereotypes and the harmful impact of derogatory labelling: ‘age (specifically ageing-as-decline) can no longer be omitted from the lists of the great categorical oppressions’ (Gullette Reference Gullette2004, p. 122). If subcultural theorists and cultural studies scholars can analyse youth as a social ‘problem’ or a ‘site of crisis’ (Hall et al. Reference Hall, Critcher, Jefferson, Clarke and Roberts1978; Acland Reference Acland1995), this can also surely be said of elders, especially once they are defined within a discourse of decline or located within the regulatory policies and bureaucratic practices of state management.

Negative or narrow assessments miss the fact the elders derive considerable pleasure and satisfaction in their common engagements with older popular music forms, whether as performers or as audience members. Comprising an essential facet of the daily lives of elders, popular music offers numerous options for the expression of resiliency while presenting elder individuals with opportunities to enact complex forms of social interaction in the public sphere. In describing youth ‘club cultures’ and aspects of taste and distinction, Sarah Thornton writes that teens ‘generally congregate on the basis of their shared taste in their music, their consumption of common media, and most importantly, their preference for people with similar tastes to themselves’ (Thornton Reference Thornton1995, p. 3). These features are also easily traced onto elder citizens, especially those whose regular leisure practices include attendance at music and social dance events.

Akin to – but not precisely like – youth, retired elders claim substantial leisure time, much of which is filled with practices centred on popular culture and music. Elders enthusiastically pursue musical information and discuss it frequently, reflecting enduring audience and consumer interest into their old age. Music is integrated into the rituals of social interaction among the old in ways that are not unrelated to how music functions among youths. Music, therefore, constitutes an important and complex factor in the negotiation of elders' identities in varied contexts as well as being important in their articulation of value and knowledge and their expression of cultural capital. Popular music and its pursuit are, ultimately, key factors of self-definition among elder subjects.

I do not, however, want to assert that the preference among many elders for generation-specific music is a singular factor of group affinity or taste. It may also signal an expressed desire for continuity in the late stages of the life path. Like many complex and intangible cultural forces, music can provide an anchoring effect and the familiarity of popular songs and recognised performers from earlier eras can help to buttress the elder subject against the unfamiliar, whether such unfamiliarity is due to a move into the new surroundings of an assisted living residence, the disorienting effects of memory loss, the sudden single status of someone who has lost a life partner or a host of other possibilities.

Popular music events also present breaks from the mundane routines that generally constrain elders, offering a variety of options for the expression of self and one's communality. Emphasising the motivations among teens to express their autonomy and in-group engagement, Thornton claims, ‘youth often seek independence from the “tyranny of the home”’ (Thornton Reference Thornton1995, p. 18), suggesting resistance to parental norms and rules. Transferring this to elders, the ‘tyranny of the home’ can be attributed to either the regulating structures guiding retirement residence operations or to the oppressive forces of boredom and loneliness that commonly afflict widows, widowers and domestic shut-ins. Popular music and musical events (such as concerts, sing-a-longs and social dances) thus serve a dual purpose, as factors of self-definition or subjective identity construction and as an outlet for the pursuit of elder-oriented entertainment and leisure in the shared company of peers.

Music and media among elders

Citing social tendencies to dismiss the elderly, Chris Gilleard writes, ‘retired people, it is argued are quite invisible as consumers, they are hidden from the persuasions of the market, defined as consumers only by their receipt of State services’ (Gilleard Reference Gilleard1996, p. 491). Within a neo-liberal framework, as retired, non-working members of society, elders are generally regarded as non-productive and, thus, marginal within the capitalist system of value. Even worse, once conceived as dependents, they are more easily defined as a strain on the social system, and thus a deficit. Those who are of limited financial means (existing on either minimal pensions or annuity payouts, if not dependent on the State) are assumed to be dislocated from many common practices, including the use of cultural commodities.

Lack of consumption alone does not, however, offer sufficient grounds for the attribution of irrelevance. Even when constraining forces delimit elders' popular music purchases there remain diverse contexts within which popular music is accessed and accumulated. As elders readily acknowledge, radio broadcasting is often a welcome option, with most urban centres in North America offering at least one station with a play list aligning with their taste preferences. Many of these stations – often conforming to a ‘music of your life’ format playing ‘adult pop standards’ or ‘oldies’ – are commercial enterprises or else they are public broadcasting affiliates or community-run stations broadcasting in FM. Country music and easy listening formats also figure prominently among the elders of my study.

For elders, television is also a constant presence, offering information, entertainment and virtual companionship. Yet while elders form one of the more loyal television-viewing demographics, there are few specifically music-oriented programmes that they find relevant or appealing, as broadcast and cable TV programming continues to skew toward younger and middle-aged viewers. Public TV broadcasting is one consistent outlet where music programming regularly targets an older viewing audience, with programmes featuring big bands and classic performances by Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennett, Mel Torme and other musical luminaries of an earlier generation. The Lawrence Welk Show remains a favourite among older US viewers and, after 60 years on air (with its 1951 debut on Los Angeles station KTLA and continuing via reruns), the programme is established in the viewing repertoire of many elders. The show still airs on over 250 public television stations, remaining ‘the highest-rated syndicated show on public television, reaching an audience of more than three million households’ (Leland Reference Leland2004, p. A1). As recently as 2004, US viewers of the Welk show ‘outnumber(ed) those for MTV, VH-1 and BET on Saturday nights’ (Leland Reference Leland2004).

As Lesley Cooper and Helen Thomas have observed, older individuals ‘often have their own record collections, collected over a lifetime …’, displaying active engagement and discerning taste in their musical consumption (Cooper and Thomas Reference Cooper and Thomas2002, pp. 702–3). Yet transitions in modes of musical distribution and sales have altered the primary means of accumulating music and elder residents of assisted living residences are less likely to continue buying recordings into their advanced years (confirming at least part of Gilleard's assessment). In most cases they are slower to make the transition to comparatively newer configurations such as digital music downloads. According to Elizabeth, the activities coordinator at the Quiet Trails residence, ‘90% of the residents are past the stage of buying things for themselves’, acknowledging that family gifting constitutes a crucial source of popular music among elder citizens.

As senior partners or adult children from the ‘Boomer’ generation take on care-giving responsibilities, they generally see to it that their elder family members are provided with both material and cultural goods. This can include buying them clothing (ensuring that elder relatives continue to ‘look good’ and maintain a certain personal style), as well as purchasing media and cultural commodities such as book and magazine subscriptions, televisions, cable TV hookups, radios, CD players and CDs. Music purchases by family members are an essential source of new music commodities in the lives of many elders, including those who reside in their own homes as well as those in assisted living environments. These purchases may be based on the known tastes of an elder relative (music that is a confirmed preference) or it can be based on assumptions about age-appropriate material or music that generally corresponds with the elders' generation.

For instance, family members buy catalogue CD releases that adhere to a particular moment of an elder's life (such as a packaged Greatest Hits collection by the UK war-time songstress Vera Lynn or recordings of dance bands such as those of the US bandleader Glenn Miller or Canadian Guy Lombardo) or they may buy newer releases for those who are in their eighties or nineties that in some way correspond with a particular aesthetic or form, such as that of the big bands or crooners (including the popular Tin Pan Alley and American Songbook recordings by artists such as Cindy Lauper, Joni Mitchell, Carly Simon or Rod Stewart, among others).

Most elders' facilities have public spaces where residents congregate together or with guests. There is commonly some sort of electronic stereo component available in these common rooms. At Quiet Trails the stereo was accompanied by a collection of vinyl LPs and a smaller selection of cassette tapes and CDs that had been donated to the facility by residents (the residences' music collections are often assembled pursuant to the death of their owners). Musical repositories in elder living facilities can provide insights into age-based taste preferences and aesthetic ideals. The LPs and CDs at this residence were highly representative of music from the 1930s through the 1970s, mainly encompassing easy listening, vocals, pop, country and western and big band genres.Footnote ²

While the room was regularly used for family visits and occasionally as a public reading room at Quiet Trails, over roughly 20 research visits I did not observe anyone playing music on the system. Despite the ready accessibility of these recordings, several crucial factors can also impinge on the capacity for musical enjoyment among residents. Limited auditory ability (due to hearing loss or faulty hearing aids) diminishes musical pleasure and, as I witnessed on many occasions at various residences during the research phase, failing dexterity complicates the most basic physical processes such as handling vinyl albums, cassette tapes or CDs, or operating a stereo component. The desire to listen to music may, therefore, be thwarted by physical limitations but, under the best circumstances, residence attendants or family members are willing helpers.

It is important to acknowledge that a growing number of elders also express their musical tastes and a keen desire to access music in new ways that are entirely consistent with wider social trends, belying the notion (held most notably among younger people and commercial enterprises) that elders fail to stay apace of modern developments. According to the Pew Internet and American Life Project, the practice of online music downloading is rising among those of the third age (between 65 and 73 years); the figures for those aged 74 or older are lower but holding steady, with the reasonable likelihood that online activity among this group will gradually increase as well (Pew Research Center 2010).Footnote ³ At http://www.seniorsite.com, a website dedicated to elders' lifestyle issues, music consultant Pat Boone (a former US teen music idol who is 77 years old at the time of this writing) offers his expert recommendations about popular music with his ‘top picks’ listed in the ‘Crooners’, ‘Big Bands’ and ‘Songbirds and Great Groups of the ’50s' categories. His role as a taste arbiter is predicated on his established reputation and success as a singer associated with these genres and, due to his age, he serves as a trusted intermediary. While Wi-Fi options were not available in my research sites and are undoubtedly limited in most assisted living residences, it is reasonable to assume that, in time, this will emerge as a salient institutional selling point. Computer skills and internet awareness are, thus, evolving among elders with preliminary research indicating that popular music is a regular focus among elder internet surfers much as it is among the general population.

Music, docile bodies and institutional efficiency

Assisted living or full care facilities are institutional in every way; while they are commonly called ‘homes’ (a term that is problematic for many of the elder inhabitants who surrender their ‘real’ homes, often at the urging of their children), they also exist either as State-funded entities or as private and corporate for-profit enterprises. In each case, they adhere to regimentation and bureaucratic norms that are structured upon an array of official (i.e. State/legal) policies, in-house rules and regulations and, importantly, a rigid scheduling process. In a classic example of ‘docile bodies’ (Foucault Reference Foucault1977, pp. 135–69), elders are exposed to the disciplining regimes of the institution, closed off from the outer world and from one another through a series of spatial and regulatory partitions. In such facilities, the recreation roster corresponds to what Foucault identifies as ‘the control of activity’ that encompasses the objective of maximising efficiency and enhancing the productive use of time (Foucault Reference Foucault1977, pp. 149–56). It is the responsibility of the activities coordinators to establish a schedule offering an array of games, informative lectures, musical performances or sing-a-long sessions that ideally engage the facility residents. In this role, the activities coordinator exists as an authoritative gatekeeper, deciding what kinds of activities are desirable for the elder resident-clients and, in terms of musical content, what types of musical performances are most appropriate. These events are measurable and the number of activities executed on a monthly basis constitutes a valuable element of promotion and marketing, as does the number of elder attendees.

Despite appearances to the contrary, however, residents are quite active during the daytime, engaged with medical appointments, family visits, trips to the hair salon or shopping forays. Many elders also enjoy their afternoon naps (explicitly citing this as an ‘activity’) that impinges on the scheduling of musical events. The activities coordinator Cathy at the Scandinavian Rest Home explained that evening concerts are generally better attended than are those scheduled in the afternoon due to the elders' rather hectic schedules. At another facility, The E.I. Smith Home, however, most of the concerts were scheduled during the late afternoon when visiting family members would accompany their elder relatives to the performances.

In my research observations, residents at each facility were wheeled into the performance rooms by the staff whether the elders cared for the music or not, raising the question of whether the events are truly for the residents (as the facility professes) or if the routinised assembly of an audience is an exercise that justifies the organised musical event. Occasional comments by recreation coordinators or facility staff implied that the booking of the performances constitutes the a priori rationale for an assembled audience and, as the residents were escorted to the events or as they slowly made their way on their own (a process that can take up to 45 minutes and that is repeated after the session ends), there were audibly resentful mutterings from the staff about the complex logistics of executing the performances. Conversely, one resident at Quiet Trails – Helen – also expressed her frustration at the performances' format and length, complaining that the programmes are restrictive, impeding her pleasure and activity: ‘when I'm in my room’, she said, ‘I usually get up and walk around. But this is a whole hour of sitting’ (19 February 2008). For her, it is attending the musical performance itself that constitutes ‘doing nothing’.

Stephen Katz (Reference Katz2005, pp. 121–39) probes the emphasis on ‘busy bodies’ when he suggests that activity is associated with the profile of the well-adjusted elder subject (a point enunciated by staff at several residences when they spoke slightly disparagingly about residents prone to sleeping through musical performances while subtly praising those who tapped their fingers or toes to the rhythm, sang along or even danced). The approach adopted by many assisted living residences adheres to the ageist and neo-liberal ideology of decline by assuming that old age introduces ever-widening spans of time that are not used productively and are, therefore, squandered. While there may be government policy imperatives addressing mandatory recreation and leisure activities in assisted living residences, this was never raised by the activities coordinators at any of my research sites (nor do job postings for coordinators explicitly identify State-mandated criteria for the positions). The entertainment activities are not generally offered for cultural edification or uplift (although in some instances there is an attempt by performers to explain the history and social context of various songs or to offer details about the composers or original artists), nor are they necessarily about entertainment at all; rather, the musical events either constitute a standard component of client services (i.e. promoted as part of the paying residents' package) or they are imposed in the belief that idle subjects are bored, unhappy or otherwise wasting their time when unoccupied.

In the former instance, the recreation programme provides tangible evidence of a facility's professionalism and viability. The presence of a full-time activities coordinator and an ambitious recreation roster are deemed desirable characteristics of any facility, emerging as a crucial selling point for prospective elder clients and their families. Indeed, the depth and range of recreational programmes and musical events among competing facilities might be considered distinguishing factors in the market. Of the residents, individual solitariness is regarded as a negative feature in need of revision and the musical performances comprise an enforced sociality, an activity that is not particularly concerned with the residents' experience. Facility managers do not, therefore, justify the musical events on the grounds of aesthetic quality or audience/client satisfaction but on the mere fact of their occurrence.

Performing appropriately

Virtually all assisted living residences and full care nursing facilities book musical acts to perform for residents and their guests, yet in my research sites, the musicians performed exclusively on a volunteer basis (a curious fact, considering that musical activities comprise a facet of client marketing and promotion). In Canada and the US, there is a small contingent of professional musicians whose livelihood is structured upon regular gigs in assisted living residences where they perform Tin Pan Alley songs from the 1920s–1940s, popular standards, modern classics or old-time country numbers for elder residents (Domrzalski Reference Domrzalski1999; Leland Reference Leland2005, p. A15).

Organised musical activities generally feature performances by amateurs including school ensembles or choral groups, soloists and small bands. Some activity programmes include music classes for inexperienced elder musicians and band rehearsals for experienced players, leading to the growth of over 100 ‘New Horizons’ bands with more than 5,000 senior participants across the US and Canada who play classical, Dixieland jazz and popular music spanning several decades (http://www.newhorizonsmusic.org/).

The emphasis in each of my research sites was on a small and circumscribed group of musicians that performs for members of their own general age group – elders playing for elders. As is commonly the case within other localised popular music scenes, it is not rare to encounter elder musicians who play in various configurations, sitting in with one another's bands or performing in fluctuating group settings in the absence of one or two regular members. According to the Quiet Trails activities coordinator, Elizabeth, there is a core of roughly nine bands that she regularly works with; my research at the various residences in the community corroborates this figure for fully established groups (I personally saw performances by eight different units across the city and was aware of one other regular band that also performed frequently) and that the number is considerably larger if duos and solo performances (especially involving popular music sing-a-longs and hymn sessions) are included. The bands tend to circulate among the city's various assisted living residences and nursing facilities, constituting a musical circuit that has them in each venue approximately every month or two.

The musicians maintain contact and connection with their audiences through ongoing patter between songs, with most extending casual greetings to those they know, calling out to them in a friendly ‘how do you do?’ and ‘how are you keeping?’ manner interspersed with jokes and witty asides. For example, Kurt, the 85-year-old fiddler and singer with the Old Time Promenaders exclaimed, ‘if you liked it, next time bring someone you like. If you didn't like it, bring someone you don't like and make them miserable’ (22 February 2008). The local context and long-term community habitation also reinforces the sociability between the musicians and elder residents, since in essence they are often performing for their friends and former neighbours. At one performance by the Highway 69 Country Band, a member in his late sixties addressed his own mother, a resident at the facility, recalling his musical formation in the neighbourhood where he was raised: ‘we musta played that song 800 times in your basement. There wasn't much else to do so we spent our time playing guitars between all the houses’ (3 March 2008).

The musicians that I interviewed explained that they benefit from several key factors in the local environment: the small scale of the elder music scene means that there is considerable interaction among the musicians. With only a handful of assisted living residences where they regularly appear, it is not rare for the musicians to swap references and other details among their fellow performers. In this context, the activities coordinators also know most of the musicians and are very receptive to their sharing information and performance dates. Thus, the social network among elder musicians is efficient and communicative.

Age is crucial point of identity among the performers in the study. They see themselves as a distinct group based on their experiences in the world (for instance, as war veterans) and, without disparaging youth, they acknowledge that they feel privileged to have a deep range of historical points to cite and that they have been able to accomplish much. For them, age is certainly not something to be taken for granted or taken lightly and I heard several informants quote Bette Davis's famous utterance, ‘growing old is not for sissies’. Most of the musicians I interviewed explicitly cite their longevity as musicians as a point of pride (and, at times, amazement) and this, too, emerges as a factor that distinguishes them from younger performers, since they have grown old in relation to many musical styles, seeing the rise and fall of aesthetic trends and pop culture movements. Their tastes and musical familiarity spans seven decades in some cases and they are comfortable discussing and playing across historical eras and associated genres.

Most of the older band members in the community have also known one another for a very long time and in many cases they have previously performed together, either in informal jams or in performance settings. In one of the more musically accomplished groups, The Buddies Band, the two guitarists had played together since their high school days, a period of over fifty years (and, as they noted with a certain pride, they have each owned their current instruments for almost as long). The Old Time Promenaders features a couple who have been married for sixty years. In yet another instance, several players in the band called the Valley Geezers spoke respectfully about having played alongside a musician of considerable local repute when he was just a promising teenager in the early 1950s, as well as joining him onstage during the heyday of his career; they still regularly accompany him in gigs at the assisted living residences.

The band repertoires frequently overlap, facilitating spontaneous regroupings to fulfil the gigs; during my research I observed several key personnel exchanges, usually involving movement across bands by the most proficient players (especially members of the Buddies Band and the Good Times Band) whose capacity to adapt musically was the highest. This level of musical comfort and easy interaction is, ultimately, predicated on longstanding friendships as much as musical prowess or shared tastes. Furthermore, as retirees the musicians remain quite flexible; if another ensemble requires an additional accompanist to fill out its roster, it is relatively easy for someone to sit in on the session at short notice.

In a related manner, the longevity of friendships, shared age and a widespread agreement about what constitutes desirable or appropriate music for their elder audiences contributes to considerable commonality in repertoire and song selection among the elder musicians. In many settings, the musicians only needed to confirm which key the songs were played in. Country ballads proliferate, which is in keeping with the music culture of the region. But the local repertoire is also replete with jaunty Tin Pan Alley tunesFootnote ⁴ and popular song ‘standards’ as well as the occasional traditional jig or reel, especially if there is a fiddle player on the stand. Spirituals, most notably country gospel numbers, are regularly included in the local repertoire, adhering to the tastes of some among the audiences such as Franny, a resident at the Scandinavian Rest Home, who explained to me that her favourite music is ‘popular music with religious themes’ (25 February 2008).

In some cases there is an attempt to integrate slightly more recent country tunes or up-tempo rock ‘n’ roll songs, but these are rarities and are not particularly well received by audiences. There is, however, considerable repetition as the musicians tend to tap into a common song list. The repetitive aspect is exacerbated by the fact that bands circulate through the facilities on such a regular basis; even the jokes are recycled, as the activities coordinator Cathy noted with a chuckle at a performance by the Old Time Promenaders: ‘I could tell these jokes by heart. They're the same ones every month’ (22 February 2008). Several of the bands boast of an impressive song list (with the Promenaders claiming a repertoire of 195 songs), yet they return to their own favourites frequently or replay tunes requested by the audience (sometimes playing the same song twice in a given hour-long performance).

The activities coordinators do not actively intervene in the repertoire decisions of the bands; they seem grateful that they can maintain their music programmes using volunteer labour. But they do offer perspectives and opinions from time to time that indicate their preferences for the facilities. At the Scandinavian Rest Home, Cathy leaned over to me during a performance by the Old Time Promenaders, whispering, ‘they shouldn't try to do too many kinds of songs’, when they seemed to stretch beyond their comfort level and musical ability on one tune. The band clearly flubbed a few verses of a song they were admittedly attempting for the first time, eliciting a cringe from the coordinator. Later, when they played a brief medley of old-time jigs and reels, she smiled approvingly, stating, ‘that's what they do best’ (22 February 2008).

The members of virtually all of the groups are quite adamant that the music in their repertoires should remain relevant to their primary audience members whose ages generally range from the seventies to the nineties. According to Judy, the 68-year-old pianist and vocalist who performs in residences with a smaller group, Vintage Wine, and at seniors' social dances as a member of the Good Times Band, the repertoire consists exclusively of songs from the 1930s to the 1950s. There is the occasional arrangement adapted from a contemporary recording that might find its way into the set list (such as Michael Bublé's version of ‘The More I See You’, with a distinctive bass and vocal arrangement), but the band relies on jazz ‘fake books’ (texts offering basic musical notation) that offer quality arrangements of ‘the great standards’.

As Judy states: ‘We don't do anything that's modern out there today because of the audience, of course.’ The ‘of course’ here is most telling; it signals the apparent obviousness of the repertoire/audience dynamic, reinforcing Judy's certainty in the appropriateness of the material she plays, although the period she describes also perfectly encompasses the years of musical formation among the band members themselves. Judy excludes herself and her colleagues from full consideration by identifying audience desire and expectation as the repertoire's driving force.

Elizabeth, the activity coordinator at Quiet Trails where Judy's band performs monthly, maintains that familiarity largely translates into suitability for a senior residence and this is her guiding principal when booking acts. She claims that the elders in her charge tend to dislike original material that is ‘never connected’ to anything that they know. That the resident audience members sing along with recognised songs and the old chestnuts in the repertoire is, for Elizabeth, the verification that she is booking age-appropriate music for the residents' enjoyment.

Mickey, the 84-year-old drummer in the Good Times Band (and who plays occasionally with other groups), agrees that audience familiarity constitutes the core requirement of each band's repertoire:

For Mickey, then, the most appropriate music is that which presents a transposable potential, linking the past and the present through musically initiated recollection, a common, if limited, means of conceiving of how elders apprehend the music of their youth.

Despite Mickey's attitude toward nostalgia, however, some of the residents that I interviewed were not entirely comfortable with the terminology. They were not ignorant of the fact that ascribing what Kimberly Smith terms ‘mere nostalgia’ to the recollections of elders often dismisses the validity of their memory; Nostalgia is too frequently defined in conservative terms, yet it may also function strategically to delimit the emotional and psychological damage inflicted by a society that invests value in modern phenomena and that increasingly secludes and marginalises its elders.

Smith argues that being dismissed as nostalgic ‘threatens to silence the often quite legitimate complaints’ in this case, of elders (Smith Reference Smith2000, p. 519). ‘We should recognise’, she continues, ‘that remembering positive aspects of the past does not necessarily indicate a desire to return there. Remembering the past should instead be seen as a way to express valid desires and concerns about the present – in particular, about its relationship (or lack of relationship) to the past’ (Smith Reference Smith2000, p. 523). The contracted interpretive options foisted upon elders (by various agents, including activities coordinators at assisted living residences) and the labels associated with nostalgia can, however, be revised by considering how a preference for older musical forms might be informed by sentiments such as: this is my preferred aesthetic now as it was then, but I'm not trying to reclaim or revisit anything. Within my research, the expression of musical preferences often unfolded in a retrospective frame as let me tell you about that time but it also frequently emerged within the narrative, I like this music. It still connects with where I am now.Footnote ⁵

There was a notable tendency among elder musicians to describe songs in relation to their historical origins, addressing the social conditions in which a given song was released. This often included descriptions of hearing tunes during their own teen years and locating themselves within a moment in time. In another context, the elder musicians offered details about their bands, discussing the musicians' deep experience and pedigree and the evolution of their repertoires. For Kurt, the 85-year-old leader of the Old Time Promenaders, the music he plays corresponds to historical moments among his age group, punctuated by various social and political events or stages along the life path such as high school, marriage and retirement. Such commentary is rife with references to teen dances, radio broadcasts and the cultural contexts within which music from the past was made meaningful. Allusions to World War II also arise frequently, such as when Kurt described the Vera Lynn hit ‘(There'll be Bluebirds Over) The White Cliffs of Dover’ to the audience as ‘an oldie I remember from the Second World War’ (22 February 2008).

The discourse of age is evident in the bands' names (references to age and vintage quality abound) and is deeply ingrained in the stage patter among virtually all of the bands, with jokes about and references to their own ageing and physical status (heart attacks, strokes, cancer, joint replacements and other elements including the whitening of hair, or its loss). Such exchanges suggest a deliberate form of stagecraft whereby elder musicians establish compatibility and affective simpatico with their audience peers. Not only do they share musical and other cultural references, but age itself emerges as a prominent unifying force that is articulated through multiple discourses and frames of reference. This is not a matter of unqualified nostalgia but a context for group cohesion and mutuality. Here, rather than a pejorative decline narrative that permeates much cultural commentary, elders wield the discourse of age and ageing in ways that express shared values and insider recognition, often accompanied by a wily sense of humour.

The Wednesday social dance

It is fitting to identify dance here for it, too, is an important facet of elders' existence. Dance is often encouraged by physical therapists to enhance muscle strength and stability and psychologists support its therapeutic role in advancing social bonding and overall quality of life. While social dancing may be unviable for all seniors, it is a much valued leisure practice, especially among the young old (those in their sixties and seventies) (Neugarten and Neugarten Reference Neugarten and Neugarten1996, p. 47). Members of the Good Times Band, the larger jazz-oriented ensemble introduced at the beginning of this paper, however, regularly perform for a dance audience that is largely comprised of the old old (aged 75 years or older) (Neugarten and Neugarten Reference Neugarten and Neugarten1996, pp. 47–8), with at least one regular couple in attendance being in their nineties. The band has a gig at the local military veterans hall each Wednesday between May and October, with the dance occurring from 2 to 4 p.m., followed by a light dinner for those who wish to prolong their outing. With a token one-dollar cover charge, these events attract what one dancer estimated to be roughly 50 to 75 people on a regular basis.

Many elders cite the ‘music of their generation’ as a major draw to social dance events, with the standards reconnecting them with their youth, leading some dancers to identify themselves as a subculture of ‘recycled teenagers’ (Cooper and Thomas Reference Cooper and Thomas2002, p. 697). While dancers commonly cited reminiscences of their youth as a facet of their experience at the dances they also explained that dancing allows them to inhabit elements from past experiences through bodily enactment and physical recall; they literally reproduce motions that are deeply ingrained in their muscles and memories. Furthermore, recognising the band's musical selections, knowing the proper dance steps and understanding the symbolic meanings or codes of etiquette and exchange within the public dance milieu function as a kind of cultural capital, producing grounds for bounded in-group identification among elders.

As Cooper and Thomas explain, the ‘modern sequence’ dance genre (based on a series of standard moves) is particularly well suited to older dancers with either full or partial mobility and who are cognitively alert or prone to very minor memory lapses. The music and dance styles favoured at the weekly dance are consistent with classic dance band arrangements and ‘sweet’ music from the swing era, which is highly familiar and much loved by elder audiences. Drummer Mickey sets only one criterion for the band's set list: ‘always danceable’. Elaborating on what this means, he calls it ‘the Guy Lombardo beat, if you get my drift. It's a businessman's trot I guess they call it. They can either dance, or jive or walk and it all fits in … If we played a rock they'd look at us like we were crazy.’

Bill, the 75-year-old vibraphonist and bandleader, describes how he perceives the appropriate dance tempo: ‘They love that shuffle rhythm. We do something like ‘Around the World’. It's written as a waltz but we do it as a shuffle rhythm and they just love that thing; they dance forever to that. It's the rhythm. …’ To give an example of the arrangement, Bill sings a passage and the distinction emerges between the waltz arrangements associated with the recordings by Frank Sinatra, the McGuire Sisters or Jimmy Wakely and the smoother shuffle rhythm of the Nat King Cole Trio.

Mickey implies that there is a symbiotic relationship between the elder musicians on the stand and the elders on the dance floor, creating an almost mystical, intuitive understanding of what the dancers will appreciate: ‘They don't ask us to play anything’, he explains. ‘We know kind of; we're geared to their whims and tastes.’ For him, the repetition associated with a regular performance schedule and a high volume of regular/repeat attendees allows this innate mutual understanding to evolve. Band members contradicted Mickey, however, with pianist Judy describing how ‘the band also watches what they're dancing’, while Bill refers to the occasional audience request, especially for a well-known and well-liked song such as ‘Spanish Eyes’.

Mickey identifies one important factor when he acknowledges that sometimes the band's tempo and arrangement might be influenced by a general notion of ‘what they're capable of doing on the floor’, adjusting rhythmic structures according to physical capacities and overall dancer stamina or skill. According to Bill, ‘they request a lot of polkas and in order to dance a polka you've gotta be able to move’, whereas Judy notes, ‘sometimes they do like to dance fast numbers, believe it or not. That surprises me because sometimes I'd prefer to perform a nice foxtrot … They like Latin music and we like it too.’ All of the musicians voiced an awareness of the much-heralded physical benefits of consistent and more vigorous dancing, convinced that this was a subtle factor in their decision to accommodate faster tempo songs and more energetic arrangements from time to time.

The appropriateness of up-tempo selections does not solely depend on a reading of the dancers' abilities or stamina, either, as Bill and Judy each revealed. When discussing the obvious challenges of the polkas, Jim carefully related that the drummer Mickey ‘still really pushes the rhythm’, hinting at the challenges this poses. In Judy's description of the exertion associated with the Latin cha-cha-cha or mambo numbers, she acknowledged that, despite his continued excellence behind the kit, ‘poor old Mickey really has to drum away on his rhythm’ on songs like ‘Sway’ or perhaps ‘Papa Loves Mambo’. As the oldest member of the group, Mickey, it seems, is gradually being cast within the decline narrative. His limitations are asserting themselves and the other band members are unable to circumvent the powerful force of a socially sanctioned and ubiquitous discourse of decline. It would be safe to assume that when Mickey – or any of the band members – can no longer keep up, maintain the pace, or perform as is expected, the appropriate thing to do would be to leave the group.Footnote ⁶