As a part of my research for Early Jazz, I’ve been collecting data points on Sidney Bechet, a clarinetist and soprano saxophonist who pioneered early jazz playing on his instruments. Bechet bounced between hundreds of jobs and gigs during his time, one of them being a part of the pit orchestra for composer Eubie Blake’s La Revue Negre, a review show that performed in France, leading him to interact on several occasions with Blake. When searching for more information about Blake, an article turned up that fascinated me, titled “Colored Artist Doesn’t Seek Much”. In the article, the author -which is not listed and is attributed as anonymous- uses comments from Blake to justify minstrelsy. Blake’s comment that “If the white minstrel be a good actor, then he gives a characterization of the Negro we admire” is used to justify the practice of minstrelsy, and is contrasted with the idea that not accepting minstrelsy is “stirring up hornets” (1).

However, that’s not what Blake intended with his comment. The keyword is “good”, which is relative to the opinions of a specific individual. In using the word “good”, Blake likely means a minstrel performer who makes a good-faith attempt to portray blackness (or whatever that means in the context of minstrelsy). However, the author breezes over this discrepancy towards his own end. The author likely means someone who is purely entertaining; this statement then becomes less about Blake’s own opinion and more about the author using a token person of color to justify his own means.

This source, while infuriating on multiple levels, highlights how complicated and diluted our understanding of historical conversations surrounding the practice of minstrelsy is. While in this article it’s easy to discern how Blake’s words were misused, this is likely the exception and not the norm. There are likely other historical articles that discuss minstrelsy that manipulate and bend the words of people of color in ways that are nearly untraceable in the present day. With this in mind, we need to have a cautious and keen eye as we look towards the past to better understand our history and the discussions around racist practices.

“Colored Artist Doesn’t Seek Much.” Advocate (Kansas City, Kansas) XI, no. 25, February 6, 1925: [1]. Readex: African American Newspapers. https://infoweb.newsbank.com/apps/readex/doc?p=EANAAA&docref=image/v2%3A12AE42418574BA80%40EANAAA-12BF19AEA32ADE60%402424188-12BF19AEB3350DF8%400-12BF19AEE80B6F30%40Colored%2BArtist%2BDoesn%2527t%2BSeek%2BMuch.

When looking at maps in our class, we’ve observed that many conclusions can be drawn from a map regarding the author’s intentions: how they want to use the map, and to what end. Advertisements are no different, and it’s important to acknowledge what an ad is attempting to achieve and how it tries to reach its goal. This furthers our understanding of the author and the context for when it was made. A clear example of this can be found in the 5th Annual American Negro Music Festival Program, held on July 8th, 1944 (1). The program functioned as a flyer to promote the event to potential ticket buyers as well as show audience members what they were in for.

The front cover of the program.

The inside of the program

From our modern-day perspective, the opening cover seems to be disarming and doesn’t give us much information about the concert itself. It’s held at the White Sox Ball Park, a relatively-large venue. The title is specific enough so viewers understand that the festival will feature some aspect of African-American music, but vague enough for viewers not to know which one. Could it be folk? Classical? Jazz? Spirituals? The front cover intentionally gives us no answer.

The back of the program

Then we move to the inside of the pamphlet, and much more is revealed. All of the main acts listed are African Americans who perform inside the European concert tradition and individuals respected in academic circles, or at least the program frames it as such. Names such as Madam Lillian Evanti and Langston Hughes are mentioned. The program also wants to make clear its goals as a social-justice event and goes out of its way to articulate its intentions “to create a keener and more appreciative understanding between all racial groups” (2).

Finally, the last page includes a final call to get tickets and endorses itself with the names of well-known political figures and organizations. Notably, the public figures mentioned are all white. Looking at all of the observations we’ve gathered, we can conclude that this was undoubtedly targeted at white audiences. Every aspect of the planned event and this advertisement appeals to white sensibilities. All of the African American artists listed are noted as excelling at white traditions of opera, poetry, composition, and European music. It makes no mention of Spirituals, Jazz, Blues, or Folk music – all genres that were spreading at a rapid pace among African American musicians. The endorsements come from white authority figures, rather than Black intellectuals and leaders at the time. Langston Hughes was involved with this event and was a prominent Black cultural leader. Why not have him endorse it? The fear was that doing so would scare white audiences away.

While the seeking of white approval is disappointing from our present-day perspective, it doesn’t undercut the concert’s historical intentions of racial justice. At the time, putting together an event at this scale that featured Black musicians and artists was highly unusual, and likely a huge risk for all financially invested parties. However, this does not permit filtering black art through a white lens, especially not in the present day. If we seek to dismantle implicit racism that events like these perpetuated, we must acknowledge the impact it had (good and bad) to avoid making the same mistakes.

(1) Evans-Tibbs collection, Anacostia Community Museum Archives, Smithsonian Institution, gift of the Estate of Thurlow E. Tibbs, Jr.

(2) Evans-Tibbs collection, Anacostia Community Museum Archives, Smithsonian Institution, gift of the Estate of Thurlow E. Tibbs, Jr.

Charles Ives is a difficult pill to swallow. As a student studying music composition, I have been confronted with Ives and the larger body of atonal music he contributed to on several occasions; its merits as a stylistic choice, its place in academic circles, and whether to incorporate it into my own music. Each time I look at his work and read his thoughts on the arts, his philosophy towards music, and his demeanor in discussing it, his rhetoric perpetuates my disdain towards him.

Composer Charles Ives staring stoically off into the distance…

The Selected Correspondence of Charles Ives includes an exchange of letters between Ives and Henry H. Bellamann, a music critic who in April of 1921 receives a copy of Ives’ second piano sonata (1). He conveys in a letter his enjoyment of the piece, his plans to include it in his lectures, and requests for more information on Ive’s first piano sonata to relay it to audiences.

In Ives’ response to his letter, he gives Bellamann advice on possible ways to include Concord Sonata in his lecture and conveys his curiosity about how audiences react. He says “The first movements I find are severe tests for the listener as well as the player” (2). This statement could not possibly be more descriptive of the 17-minute-long first movement of his second piano Sonata, titled “Emerson” (3). His word choice, describing his music as a “test”, irks me in every wrong way imaginable. With this, he implies that listening to the movement is a rite of passage that denotes a listener or musician’s value.

Ives also appears to have the temperament or insecurity of a child (probably both). Ives receives a letter from colleague Percy Goetschius. While Goetschius makes clear his interest in Ives’ work, he does not withhold his criticism. As Goetschius states that “to my mind, these classic methods are correct ones [Ives adds between the lines ‘for soft eared cissies and aural cowards…” (4). While this does display a lack of impulse control and reveals deep insecurities about himself, this also suggests that Ives views his music as impervious to criticism, so much so he would rather write this intrusive thought down than keep it to himself.

We have talked a lot in class about the identity of American music. There is no denying the fact that Ives’ music is American. He was a composer who lived and worked in the United States, attempting to pioneer his own brand of music, so debating this is irrelevant. The question that remains is whether Ive’s music – and his contributions to atonal music – is something we want to perpetuate in the present day. If we answer this question from the perspective of the general public the answer is laid bare. The general public likely has no interest in performing his music, as seen with trends in popular music.

However, academic circles appear to be interested in continuing to engage with Ive’s music, as seen in courses that equip students to analyze post-tonal music, and new composers building upon Ive’s harmonic language in chamber and orchestral settings. If academic institutions choose to identify Ive’s work as a vital contribution to American western-classical music and worthwhile building upon, they must acknowledge that doing so deepens (both consciously and subconsciously) notions of self-deserving elitism, and encourages others to be recalcitrant to criticism of their work.

(1) Owens, Tom C, and Tom C Owens. 2007. Selected Correspondence of Charles Ives. 1st ed. Berkeley: University of California Press. https://doi.org/10.1525/j.ctt1ppr8v.

(2) Pg 84. Owens, Tom C, and Tom C Owens. 2007. Selected Correspondence of Charles Ives. 1st ed. Berkeley: University of California Press. https://doi.org/10.1525/j.ctt1ppr8v.

(3) Ives, Charles. n.d. “IVES: Piano Sonata No. 2 ‘Concord, Mass’ (Henck)”. Hong Kong: Naxos Digital Services US Inc.

(4) pg 67. Ives, Charles. n.d. “IVES: Piano Sonata No. 2 ‘Concord, Mass’ (Henck)”. Hong Kong: Naxos Digital Services US Inc.

Using the search term “Burleigh” in the Library of Congress’s National Jukebox archive, what was initially meant to yield results pertaining to H.T. Burleigh presented a search result far more interesting to me: a recording of a piece titled “Indian Snake Dance” by Cecil Burleigh. The recording captured Toscha Seide on Violin and Francesco Longo on Piano (1). The record is shown in the picture below (2).

Almost immediately after finding this recording, the question of authenticity and cultural representation came to mind. As a student in this class with prior musicology experience, this piece screams cultural appropriation and misrepresentation. The piano accompaniment for the main theme is a misguided attempt to imitate the sound of the drum in Native American pow-wow music. The violin attempts to mimic voices, dancing around the beat, similar to how a western trained ear might perceive Native American singing. However, rhythmic subdivisions in the violin are too clean. This in combination with the low 5ths in the left hand creates a caricature that mocks its original source. Beyond its initial theme, it abandons its facade of representing Native American culture and adheres to its western classical musical heritage for the rest of the piece.

What’s ultimately disappointing about this recording and database entry is the lack of context surrounding it. Not everyone listening to this will have attended higher education institutions, let alone studied musicology. Those who don’t have the same background knowledge have to rely on the information provided on the page. The hyperlinks included in the entry are simply labels that pull up more loosely related content, and if you click on the composer’s name, you’ll find that “Indian Snake Dance” is his only recording in the database. There are no liner notes, no information about the piece. It was only through my own independent research that it became abundantly clear that Cecil Burleigh has no apparent cultural ties to Native Americans. He was immersed in western classical music, studying at Klindworth-Scharwenka Conservatory in Berlin, the Chicago Musical College, and playing violin professionally (3).

If these materials like “Indian Snake Dance” -from relatively unknown authors- are made easily accessible to the general public, one would hope there could be more context surrounding these recordings. Those unlike myself, unwilling to do independent research, will lack the understanding required to explore the questions of authenticity beneath the surface level of this piece.

(1) Burleigh, Cecil, Toscha Seidel, and Francesco Longo. Indian Snake Dance. 1923. Audio. https://www.loc.gov/item/jukebox-670039/.

(2) Burleigh, Cecil, Toscha Seidel, and Francesco Longo. Indian Snake Dance. 1923. Audio. https://www.loc.gov/item/jukebox-670039/.

(3) Lowens, Margery Morgan. “Burleigh, Cecil.” Grove Music Online. 23 Feb. 2011; Accessed 8 Nov. 2022. https://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/grovemusic/view/10.1093/gmo/9781561592630.001.0001/omo-9781561592630-e-1002092891.

In class on Thursday, I mentioned potential issues with the readings from Krehbiel and Jackson. While differing in their overall intentions and attitudes towards African American music, both step into pitfalls we often see with early ethnographic and ethnomusicology research: they try to engage with other cultures from an “academic”, western-central perspective. Rather than engaging with spirituals on their own terms, they attach western concepts of musical ownership and authorship to an aural tradition that was communally shared amongst African Americans.

A photograph of Fisk University

A contrary model for how we might engage with spirituals comes from Booker T. Washington. In an address on behalf of Fisk University -a historically based black university in Nashville, Tennessee- Booker T. Washington contextualizes what Fisk Day (May 19, 1905) signifies, relating it to “The Songs of Our Fathers”, and titles it as such. Washington starts his address by invoking the image of slaves coming across the Atlantic and connecting it to what he views as the cultural significance of Spirituals. “…It is from these songs of our fathers, that their children of past generation… have received the inspiration that has imbued them with courage to have faith that right may win…” (1). Washington continues this line of thought with a literary analysis of a preacher, quoting and alluding to well-known hymns and spirituals without needing to mention them by name.  He contextualizes them, inviting people to think about the spiritual in the mindset of a slave. “What encouragement to the patiently waiting slaves had been the faith songs that had banished the sight of the auction block, the separation of mother and child, father and mother…” (2).

A photograph of Booker T. Washington

In concluding his address, Washington makes the penultimate argument that Fisk day honors “the sacrifices, loving devotion and a belief in the possibilities of a despised people…” (3). While this address does not have the academic citations or research behind it that Krehbiel or Jackson exhibit in their writing, it serves as a model for how to engage with spirituals. Rather than focusing on the who, what when of spirituals, Washington focuses on the why and how which is all the more relevant to understanding the musical and cultural practice.

(1) “The Songs of Our Fathers. An Address Delivered on Fisk Day during the Louisiana Purchase Exhibition.” Plaindealer (Topeka, Kansas) VII, no. 20, May 19, 1905: [3]. Readex: African American Newspapers. https://infoweb.newsbank.com/apps/readex/doc?p=EANAAA&docref=image/v2%3A12A7EF1A4AC47F2D%40EANAAA-12C8B913302F6748%402416985-12C8B9134BFB71A0%402-12C8B913A0F80C58%40The%2BSongs%2Bof%2BOur%2BFathers.%2BAn%2BAddress%2BDelivered%2Bon%2BFisk%2BDay%2Bduring%2Bthe%2BLouisiana%2BPurchase%2BExhibition.

(2) “The Songs of Our Fathers. An Address Delivered on Fisk Day during the Louisiana Purchase Exhibition.”

(3) “The Songs of Our Fathers. An Address Delivered on Fisk Day during the Louisiana Purchase Exhibition.”

December 19-20th 1979, Students participate in Las Posadas.

The photograph on the left features students, portraying the characters of Mary and Joseph, participating in Las Posadas (1). Las Posadas is a Christian pageant tradition practiced throughout Latin America and Spain as part of the Las Posadas tradition. Based on the New Testament, the pageant lasts nine days and focuses on Joseph and Mary and their search for a place to stay in Bethlehem (2). While the subject matter of the tradition is not of much intrigue and doesn’t connect to the course content, its role in the colonization of Latin America does.

The Las Posadas tradition dates back to the 16th century with the Augustinian missionaries’ conversion of the Aztecs. The pageant tradition coincided with the celebration of the birth of the Aztec god Huitzilopochtli, which occurred at roughly the same time and shared the same amount of cultural weight as Christmas did to the missionaries (3). This served as a bridge between the two cultures and made Christianity easier to teach to the Aztecs.

This puts our cultural understanding of the traditional Las Posadas song in a predicament. We understand that the song was part of a larger tradition aimed at converting the Aztecs, along with other indigenous cultures. This thus westernized them and made them easier to conquer and assimilate. However, one cannot deny the fact that the Las Posadas tradition has been a part of Latin American culture for roughly 500 years, and has different cultural connotations and intentions now compared to then. Seth Nolan notes that Las Posadas has “…become a community affair with friends, relatives, and neighbors gathering together to share in a tradition that has come down through the years” (4). While the reckoning of these two identities associated with this song doesn’t present a clear answer, the ethical and moral debate it sparks around historical context and cultural significance is important.

(1) “Las Posadas Student Procession.” In The American Mosaic: The Latino American Experience, ABC-CLIO, 2022. Image. Accessed December 13, 2022. https://latinoamerican2.abc-clio.com/Search/Display/1922421.

(2) Nolan, Seth. “Las Posadas.” In The American Mosaic: The Latino American Experience, ABC-CLIO, 2022. Accessed October 3, 2022. https://latinoamerican2.abc-clio.com/Search/Display/1329879.

(3) Nolan, Seth. “Las Posadas.” In The American Mosaic: The Latino American Experience, ABC-CLIO, 2022. Accessed October 3, 2022. https://latinoamerican2.abc-clio.com/Search/Display/1329879.

(4) Nolan, Seth. “Las Posadas.” In The American Mosaic: The Latino American Experience,