(Dena鈥檌na) had never heard powwow singing before attending an Indigenous music conference in Toronto in 2008.

She was born north of Anchorage, Alaska, where powwows just started appearing in the last 25 years. At the conference, she was drawn to the singing voice of (Mescalero Apache, Irish, Chicano, German). The pair discovered they had a lot in common, eventually marrying in 2009.

鈥淚t鈥檚 a beautiful thing, how I鈥檝e learned about powwows through participating with John-Carlos over the years,鈥� Bissett Perea said. 鈥淲e have invitational dance forms in Alaska. But as more of a newcomer who doesn鈥檛 know all the things about powwows, it鈥檚 been good for me to be able to ask questions to John-Carlos.鈥�

The pair recently joined the faculty at the 91爆料: Bissett Perea is an associate professor of American Indian Studies and an adjunct associate professor of music history and Comparative History of Ideas; Perea is associate professor and interim head of ethnomusicology, adjunct associate professor of American Indian Studies and Comparative History of Ideas. This quarter, they are co-teaching a new iteration of 鈥淧owwow Cultures in Native North America.鈥�

While a powwow course existed in the past, this is the first time it鈥檚 an interdisciplinary offering between American Indian Studies and the School of Music. The course will cover historic and contemporary powwow practices through a variety of activities, including participation in the annual 聽and interactions with powwow musicians, dancers and organizers.

鈥淭he class changes from instructor to instructor,鈥� Perea said. 鈥淓verybody鈥檚 going to have their own take on it. We鈥檙e looking forward to entering that discussion, especially considering we are still new to town. We want to use this not just to talk about how we鈥檝e experienced powwow music and events, but also to take the opportunity to be able to learn more about how these events have functioned in the Seattle area.鈥�

The class will cover musical elements and style as well as history and context. Both instructors are trained in music 鈥� Perea in ethnomusicology and Bissett Perea in music history 鈥� and are jazz musicians. Being affiliated with the School of Music at the 91爆料 is a milestone, Bissett Perea said, because 鈥渇or a long time, Native music wasn鈥檛 seen as music.鈥�

鈥淚t鈥檚 important to us that we demonstrate Native ways of doing research and music history and ethnomusicology,鈥� Bissett Perea said. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a different approach, with different kinds of attention paid to politics of citation and presence. It鈥檚 intellectual work, but it鈥檚 also physical. It鈥檚 emotional and it鈥檚 spiritual. It will be a tall order, but hopefully by introducing students to powwow 鈥� this beautiful structure that is always changing and always reinventing itself 鈥� they’ll want to ask more questions and take more classes and continue the conversation.鈥�

Whether the students come from Native American, Indigenous or other cultural backgrounds, Perea said, they鈥檙e taking the course because of a shared interest in music and dance. His goal is to foster an appreciation for powwow music, especially in those students who have yet to experience it. He once wrote a book chapter on the different ways people have called powwow noise. In his time as a powwow singer, he鈥檚 been yelled at and even had the cops called on him while teaching.

鈥淭hat speaks to a lot of fear in how people get socialized, not just around powwow music but a lot of Native music,鈥� Perea said. 鈥淚t’s not noise. Hang out with me for 10 weeks, and by the end of it, you’ll be surprised. I can show you that it’s as organized as anything else you’re listening to. But whose organization are we stressing out about? What is it that our ear needs to know? I want students to walk away not just knowing what a powwow is, but also having been changed through learning how they might relate to it.鈥�

When Perea attended the annual 91爆料 Powwow last year for the first time, he saw things he鈥檇 never witnessed before. That, he said, is part of the greatness of powwows: Something new can quickly become tradition. That鈥檚 why the class doesn鈥檛 have a textbook, and why it won鈥檛 look the same from year to year.

鈥淛ohn-Carlos and I share an endless curiosity,鈥� Bissett Perea said. 鈥淲e鈥檙e always learning. That鈥檚 one of things that keeps us in this profession.鈥�

Washington is rich with urban and rural Native communities, Bissett Perea said, and there are specific histories surrounding migration, urbanization, tribal law and federal policies that have impacted Native peoples. Giving attention to how powwow arrived in cities like Seattle is important, especially to Native students who might not know their history.

鈥淎 lot of these students are figuring out the specificities of who they are, who their peoples are and where they’re from,鈥� Bissett Perea said. 鈥淚t’s an invitation to dig deeper, to have permission to celebrate being Native. For non-Native students, it’s an invitation be in better relations with the original stewards of these lands.鈥�

Ahead of the course, the pair built a calendar of upcoming powwows in the area, which students will be able add to. They鈥檝e listed events within a 100-mile radius, finding more than a half dozen in April and May alone. They also plan to encourage students to participate, volunteer or attend the 91爆料 Powwow.

鈥淚 say to my students, 鈥業鈥檓 going to tell you this one way, but then you鈥檙e going to go to the powwow this weekend and somebody鈥檚 going to describe it a different way,鈥欌�� Perea said. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 the point. It鈥檚 all the meanings together. It’s holding multiple, sometimes conflicting thoughts at the same time. That鈥檚 what it means to do this thing.鈥�

For more information, contact Jessica Bissett Perea at jbperea@uw.edu or John-Carlos Perea at jcperea@uw.edu.

When he isn鈥檛 lecturing at the 91爆料 or pursuing his doctoral studies at the University of California, Davis, (Quinault) co-hosts a global Indigenous radio show with Kevin Sur (K膩naka Maoli) on KEXP.

Every Monday between 3 and 5 a.m., he welcomes listeners to , playing cross-continental Indigenous music from a variety of genres. After sunrise, Johnston can be found in the 91爆料鈥檚 Department of American Indian Studies, teaching classes like 鈥淯nited States/Indian Relations鈥� and 鈥淐ontemporary Indigenous Environmental Issues.

For someone who fell in love with music as a child 鈥� learning how to play Metallica riffs and listening to everything from virtuosic guitar to jazz 鈥� studying and amplifying Indigenous sound represents a full-circle moment.

鈥淚鈥檓 interested in what Native music does, meeting Indigenous people where they鈥檙e at and conveying the authentic love for sound and music that comes through in their songs,鈥� said Johnston, whose doctoral work in Native American studies at UC Davis focuses on Indigenous sounds and music. 鈥淚t鈥檚 not just like 鈥榯raditional music鈥� that we play on the show. It鈥檚 hip-hop and metal and jazz. There’s just as much of a sort of semantic potency to that as there is in the songs that our ancestors made.鈥�

Johnston was raised in Taholah, Washington, on the mouth of the Quinault River. He graduated in 2015 from the 91爆料, the only school he ever wanted to attend, with a degree in American Indian studies. He saw the department as a way to cultivate a home away from home.

鈥淚t was kind of hard reckoning with the idea that all land is Indigenous land, and the 91爆料 sits on the dispossessed land of the Coast Salish peoples,鈥� Johnston said. 鈥淏ut I always give thanks to and gratitude toward the people that animate the Native presence in Seattle, including the American Indian Studies Department. The Quinault and other Coast Salish peoples have interacted for thousands of years, so the lands and waters we鈥檙e on here are familiar to my ancestors.鈥�

After earning his bachelor鈥檚 degree, Johnston worked as an outreach coordinator for the Department of the Interior鈥檚 as well as a Native youth suicide prevention coordinator for the Seattle Indian Health Board. Needing a change, he then decided to pursue a graduate degree at UC Davis.

Originally, Johnston planned to focus his graduate studies on environmental law and policy before enrolling in law school. That all changed when Johnston met (Dena鈥檌na), an interdisciplinary music scholar who then worked at UC Davis and is now associate professor of American Indian Studies at the 91爆料. Bissett Perea鈥檚 Indigenous-led and Indigeneity-centered work changed Johnston鈥檚 perspective and pushed him to focus his work on Indigenous sound and music.

鈥淏issett Perea鈥檚 work as a musicologist awoke this thing in me, which was this musicality that I’ve had my entire life,鈥� Johnston said. 鈥淚’ve always, always loved music, and I’ve always thought deeply about it, too. She showed me those ideas and that way of thinking was possible through an Indigeneity-centered lens.鈥�

On Bissett Perea鈥檚 suggestion, Johnston applied for a lecturer position at the 91爆料. Ten days after he was offered the job, another opportunity arose. A friend alerted Johnston that KEXP was hiring a global Indigenous radio DJ. Johnston had never DJed before, but the station was seeking applicants with both scholarly and musical backgrounds. Johnston checked both boxes and, as a bonus, he brought basic knowledge of audio production.

鈥淜EXP has a global audience,鈥� Johnston said. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 one of the most humbling things ,is for them to trust me to take the reins and show our thousands and thousands of listeners these Native artists that I love. It鈥檚 an absolute joy. It鈥檚 one of my favorite things I鈥檝e ever done in my life.鈥�

When he hosts, Johnston offers his perspective on what it means to be an Indigenous musician. Indigenous musicians have been invisible contributors to the musical canon of every genre, Johnston said, and representing their genuine, authentic love for both Indigeneity and music ties in with the name of the show: Sounds of Survivance.

鈥楽urvivance,鈥� a term coined by American Indian studies scholar , represents a combination of survival and resistance. It鈥檚 about the continuance of Indigenous stories, and the renunciation of narratives centered around tragedy and victimhood.

鈥淭hat鈥檚 sort of the ethic of the show,鈥� Johnston said. 鈥淚t鈥檚 demonstrating: One, we鈥檝e always been here. Two, we鈥檝e always been making songs. Three, these songs are really beautiful. Let me show them to you.鈥�

Johnston aims to play a part amplifying an Indigenous legacy of sound and artistry that鈥檚 been intentionally obscured.

鈥淚t鈥檚 refusing to let ourselves be erased,鈥� Johnston said. 鈥淲e mobilize using the same processes that our ancestors did. They gave us this gift of being able to create song, and so we decided to use it. It鈥檚 self-determining. It鈥檚 personal and collective sovereignty over the ways that we want to sound.鈥�

For more information, contact Johnston at tmaj@uw.edu.