Author Archives: Nicholas Love

Cafe Society: A Place to Hear Good Tunes, Mingle with Cohorts, and Establish Early 20th Century Institutional Racism

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“Cafe Society,” a unique nightclub in New York City from 1938 to 1948, was always known as progressive and innovative. Deemed “the wrong place for the right people,” the club was an open place where black and white Americans could meet, mingle and socialize. The founder, Barney Josephson, sought to not only create the first racially integrated night club, but to hire and showcase primarily African American talents, including famous jazz musician Billie Holiday. While Josephson undeniably contributed to a broader interracial environment, some of the decisions he made, particularly in regards to Billie Holiday’s set, fostered an environment for “white guilt.”

In 1939, Holiday made her debut performance of Aber Meeropol’s “Strange Fruit,” a controversial song centered around the lynching of black slaves, at Josephson’s cafe. In order to create a liberal, interracial club, Josephson turned the song’s performance into an almost ritualistic process, stopping service, having the workers stand motionless and silent, and darkening the spotlight, lighting only Holiday’s face. While there is no question in regards to Holiday’s brilliant, soul-rendering, and enlightening performance of the violent track, there are a few concerns that are raised in the cafe’s setup of the piece.

John M. Carvalho, a professor of philosophy and musicology, addresses the true nature and result of Holiday’s regulated performances at the Cafe Society. In an article about the violent nature behind Meeropol’s text, Carvalho states that:

“Strange Fruit” became a means for white people to use a black woman’s body to absolve their guilt for the “civilizing” crimes of racism, to participate in those crimes, but from the outside and through the medium of one who had been and would continue to be the victim of those crimes.”

Essentially Carvalho is stating how early interracial clubs, such as Cafe Society, allowed for early 20th century white Americans to rid themselves of any past guilt and feel a sense of empowerment for exposing themselves to such raw and honest content. Holiday’s incredible rendition of such a tragic song has a time and a place to make an historic and powerful statement, but it may not have belonged in an early interracial club that had it’s first foot into the door of institutional racism. Carvalho even goes on to state how the sole portrayal of Holiday’s silhouetted face draws some parallels with the blackface performers of the same era. This disturbing connection makes it clear that even in communities that were taking steps forward in terms of equality, activists were unable to completely escape from the trends of the world around them.

As an extra source that dives into the unintended racism of early interracial night clubs can be seen in a CBS documentary entitled “Night Club Boom,” where Josephson is seen adapting a Guadeloupe-an performer’s (Moune de Rivel) performance to “better fit the American stage.” Rather than allowing a foreign musical act to perform in their desired medium, Josephson’s small, deliberate changes advocate a strong sense of appropriation, even in such a positive, forward-thinking environment.

WATCH HERE ->15:15 

http://search.alexanderstreet.com/view/work/bibliographic_entity%7Cvideo_work%7C1793020

Sources:

  • Carvalho, John M.. “”Strange Fruit”: Music between Violence and Death.” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 71, no. 1 (2013): 111-19. http://www.jstor.org/stable/23597541.
  • Night Club Boom. Produced by Home Box Office. http://search.alexanderstreet.com/view/work/bibliographic_entity%7Cvideo_work%7C1793020. 

Why 4 minutes and 33 seconds of silence might just be about as American as music gets

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While considering which art music composer to dive into this week, I became overwhelmed with the infinite details that envelope one of the course’s essential questions,

“What is considered to be true and authentic American music?”.

After nearly 2 1/2 months of research and lectures I still feel as if I have barely scratched the surface of what defines the American sound. Take MacDowell, for example, who felt that he was capturing the true essence of the American landscape by banking on the romanticized notion of the “dying” Native American tribes. Or Gershwin who, while successfully transcribing the musical idiom of jazz into a symphonic setting, borrowed extensively from traditional blues, folk, and jazz genres, creating pieces defined by a diverse and hazy collection of backgrounds and identities. Even artists practicing extended techniques, such as Henry Cowell, relied on East Asian influences amidst his tone clusters and “vanishing chords.”

 

This thought process ultimately led me to the year of 1952, where American experimental composer John Cage composed a piece of music entitled 4’33“. Equally famous as controversial, the piece centers around three movements (intended for any instrument or combination of instruments) that consists of four minutes and thirty-three seconds of silence. While at a surface level this piece could easily be described as a joke (or even be seen as an early example of what the kids are now calling “memes”), I think that Cage’s intentions behind it could potentially bring the silent work to the forefront of that dreaded and loaded essential question.

Live Performance of 4’33”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JTEFKFiXSx4

In a series of revised letters and interviews by Richard Kostelanetz, Cage introduces and defines the purpose behind 4’33”:

“You know that I’ve written a piece called 4’33” which has no sounds of my own making in it…4’33” becomes in performance the sounds of the environment.”

Rather than writing for the sake of originality, Cage composed a piece that does not will any sounds from the composer or the audience, ideally causing both to merely become observers of their surrounding environment. It exemplifies a motion towards the music found behind “nothing” and the acceptance of non-intentional sounds in an artistic setting. While other American composers, including the aforementioned, have borrowed and elaborated on musical elements from a diverse background of sound (often resulting in an unintentional act of cultural appropriation), Cage was the first American composer to create an artistic space that captures an “environment” of sound void of any racial or ethnic infringement.

This is not to say that Cage could consider himself free of any cultural breaches throughout his career (or that this component of composition is intrinsically negative), but 4’33” is an interesting example of a composer temporarily distancing themselves from that reality. Unfortunately, Cage himself deemed 4’33” an unsuccessful attempt at making a non-dualistic structured piece of music (as he created and determined certain set “bounds” of the piece), but it certainly is, if not anything else, a commendable example of how music listeners should take a step back from the world of symphonies and sonatas and enjoy the natural, indeterminate sounds of the world around them.

Sources

Joelyhberg. “John Cage’s 4’33”.” YouTube. December 15, 2010. Accessed November 05, 2017. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JTEFKFiXSx4.

Shultis, Christopher. Silencing the sounded self: john Cage and the American experimental tradition. Univ. New Hampshire Press, 1998.

Roberta Flack and Donny Hathaway: An Album That Deserves Attention

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Over the summer of my freshman year, which consisted of using a large portion of my small paychecks on vinyl, I stumbled upon a Roberta Flack and Donny Hathaway record at a good old fashioned Maple Grove garage sale. Aptly named “Roberta Flack and Donny Hathaway” the 1972 album pins together two young R&B artists from Howard University and consists of an intimate and diverse collection of covered and original songs. While at the time of my purchase I didn’t think much of the record (besides the fact that I knew Hathaway’s famous cover of John Lennon’s “Jealous Guy” and a limited knowledge of Flack’s discography), I quickly fell in love with the ten sweet and sombre duets.

From the perspective of race, identity, and representation of “American music,” this album is a great representation of the assorted genres and influences that existed in the ever increasingly rich world of R&B, soul, and gospel in the ’70s. With a brief glance at the repertoire of covers, this notion immediately becomes apparent.

Track two, the initial recording by the pair, is a gospel tinged, lightly orchestrated cover of Carole King’s “You’ve Got A Friend.” Released around the same time as James Taylor’s sparse, singer songwriter version of the same piece, the song captures the initial spirit of the bohemian middle class that King set up, but extends it to the inner city, lower class communities, by use of the passionate call and response between chemically driven Hathaway and Flack, the driving wurlitzer electric piano base, and the tambourine infused percussion section. Similarly, “You’ve Lost that Lovin’ Feelin’,” a Righteous Brothers cover, replaces the standard Spector “wall of sound” orchestration with wild harmonica lines, funk bass, and ever-increasingly mellifluous harmonies, and adds an extra layer of genre bending licks and sections. With a moody ostinato bass-line  that melds into an exotic verse fully equipped with a traditional Indian sitar and an undeniable trope of Bach’s Toccato and Fugue in D Minor played on harmonica (around 5:40 in the track for all you musical nerds out there), this tune blends a fair amount of culture-crossing musical practices and influences.

You’ve Got A Friend: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7cOqfGPYc-E

You’ve Lost that Lovin’ Feelin’: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c0m812CC4kg

Having only given two of the ten tracks a brief genre-based analysis, this blog post can’t conceivably capture the scope and range of this record. Whether it’s “Be Real Black for Me,” a song that served as an anthem for the 1960’s “black is beautiful movement,” “Come Ye Disconsolate”, a traditional sacred song-turned-gospel arrangement of a well known Thomas Moore hymn, or “Mood,” a breathtaking seven minute classically infused piano duet, Hathaway and Flack’s album of undeniable chemistry demonstrates the far-reaching influence and diversity found in R&B music of the 1970’s.

Sources

Flack, Roberta, Donny Hathaway, Eric Gale, and Billy Cobham, writers. Roberta Flack & Donny Hathaway. Recorded May 6, 1972. East West Records, Vinyl recording.

Koollatter. “Roberta Flack & Donny Hathaway – You’ve Got A Friend.” YouTube. February 01, 2014. Accessed October 30, 2017. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7cOqfGPYc-E.

“Music – Review of Roberta Flack & Donny Hathaway – Roberta Flack & Donny Hathaway.” BBC. Accessed October 28, 2017. http://www.bbc.co.uk/music/reviews/q6cg/.

77GhetooD. “Donny Hathaway & Roberta Flack – You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling (1972).” YouTube. April 3, 2011. Accessed October 29, 2017. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c0m812CC4kg

Jonas Chickering: The Life and Legacy of an Important Historical Figure You Probably Have Never Heard Of

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After spending a solid century or so focusing on issues surrounding settlement, local politics, and a good old fashioned war for independence, the new America was finally ready to tackle “the good stuff” (A.K.A. the development of a nationwide practice of music). While the reforms of sacred music launched efforts to create music based education in schools and the constantly evolving state of folk music struck the heart strings of different American communities and cultures in the early nineteenth century, there still lacked a realistic and affordable market for purchasing family instruments. How, you may wonder, did earnest, well-adjusted middle class early Americans perform their favorite appropriated spirituals and secular but not sacred Billings hymns? The sad truth is: they simply couldn’t…

That is, until our good friend Jonas Chickering entered the musical scene!

Born and raised in the heart of New England, Chickering spent the first chunk of his career in small piano manufacturing partnerships, cranking out around 30-40 pianos a year. It wasn’t until 1830, when he joined forces with a wealthy Boston shipping merchant by the name of John Mackay, that he was able to create an affordable, international market of square, cabinet upright, and grand pianos. Not only did Chickering lay down the base of the American piano manufacturing system, but he also, with the help of cohort Alpheus Babcock, developed a revolutionary one-piece cast-iron frame that gave the piano a higher resistance to the state’s harsher climate and allowed for higher tension in the strings, resulting in richer tones.

My purpose in writing on this seemingly historically insignificant 19th century piano developer and distributor is not to offer a thinly veiled biography, but to establish the importance of Chickering’s work in his time. While singing schools and music education systems spread like wildfire in the late 1700’s/early 1800’s, there still was very few means for the “common” middle class society to enjoy music through practice and performance. Especially in an era of America where folk music was being compiled and distributed into the hands of individuals, Chickering’s development and market for an affordable, durable piano was crucial in a time that lacked professional and amateur musicians alike. Since Chickering’s company became a global business in 1851, it is estimated that the amount of piano’s sold to individuals has gone from 1 in 4,800 Americans to 1 in 252 by the year of 1910. This is absolutely vital to the stories of countless musicians, including Pete Seeger, who was inspired by folk music that was performed by his parents at a young age. Chickering helped music become a common, daily occurrence in an average American household, and as a result is partially responsible to the pianos located in my own and most, if not all, of the consumer’s of this blogpost’s childhood homes.

As a closing statement for the story of Chickering, I feel as if it’s worth mentioning several primary sources that disclose to us the appreciation and praise that fellow musical visionaries had for the piano maker’s impact. Louis Moreau Gottschalk, an influential and well known pianist and composer in the 19th century says the following of Chickering’s piano:

“I like their tone, fine and delicate, tender and potetic.” [addtionally, it allowed him to achieve] “tints more varied than those of other instruments.”

In addition to receiving praise from fellow musicians and prestigious honors (his square piano won a medal and was displayed at the Great Exhibition in London in 1851), Chickering received a posthumous tribute in the equally booming sheet music market. In a publication of a piece entitled “Funeral March, Op. 10 in C Minor: Composed as a Sincere Tribute of Respect To the Memory of Jonas Chickering,” composer William R. Babcock offers his condolences not only through music, but with an additional portrait, a not to his family, and a humbling illustration of angels surrounding his grave. It is clear that Chickering not only gave the gift of music to countless Americans, but was also praised on the quality and impact of his work.

 

SOURCES

Babcock, Wm R. “Funeral March.” 164.019 – Funeral March. | Levy Music Collection. Accessed October 23, 2017. http://levysheetmusic.mse.jhu.edu/collection/164/019.

Crawford, Richard. Americas musical life: a history. New York: W.W. Norton, 2005

Cynthia Adams Hoover. “Chickering.” Grove Music Online. Oxford Music Online. Oxford University Press, accessed October 23, 2017, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/subscriber/article/grove/music/05571.

Folk Music Music Meets Grunge

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As a “wannabe” angsty, young 8th grade student, “MTV Unplugged in New York” by Nirvana was naturally one of my all time favorite albums. Whether it was the infectious bassline of “Come As You Are,” the absurdity of “Dumb,” or the haunting string arrangements found throughout “Man Who Sold the World,” each track managed to capture the various heartthrobs of a fourteen year old; but none hit me quite as hard as the show’s closing piece, “Where Did You Sleep At Night.” The song encapsulates a vague description of deceit, murder, and sorrow which is inspired and rooted in the 1944 recording by the equally soulful and troubled Huddie “Leadbelly” Ledbetter, a virtuosic 12-string blues and folk guitar player.

While there have been an endless supply of covers and renditions of this folk tune by artists of notable merit (including Dolly Parton, Pete Seeger, Joan Baez, and Chet Atkins), few have managed to achieve the emotional integrity and commercial success of Leadbelly and Nirvana’s recording, and I believe that, through the core elements of “folk” music, and the personal backgrounds of the artists, a connection can be made between the two interpretations.

NIRVANA:                       https://youtu.be/iUSW7dYZM9w 

LEADBELLY:                   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PsfcUZBMSSg

From the work of the Lomax family to the later tunes of Bob Dylan, folk songs have transformed from a collection of songs that define a culture or generation to the production of individual songs that center around the sentiments and reactions of the performer. Both Nirvana’s 1994 and Leadbelly’s 1944 recording of “Where Did You Sleep At Night” embody the latter of the stages. Using a lyrically simplified version of the original tune, “In the Pines,” which dates back to the 1870’s Southern Appalachian region, Cobain and Ledbetter achieve impassive recording style that is rooted not in the story, but in the personal and stony mood behind the piece. While Leadbelly employs a simple acoustic guitar accompaniment, deadpan call-and-response, and free, vibrato filled vocals, Cobain implements a sparse, electric guitar-string arrangement, dry, hoarse vocals, and stark cadences that reach a similar aura of sheer misery and suffering. By delivering personal and unique renditions of the same folk tune, Leadbelly and Cobain successfully open themselves up to any and all listeners, accessing the bare human connection that lies at the heart of the American folk movement.

Additionally, in a musical genre that often undergoes revivalist movements, artists must consistently be able to deliver unique and intimate takes on “traditional folk tunes.” When analyzing the personal backgrounds of Leadbelly and Cobain, parallels can be drawn that inevitably contribute to their passionate and distinctive performances. Cobain, who lived a tragic life of depression and severe drug abuse, had consistent run-ins with the law, while Leadbelly was incarcerated multiple times, pleading guilty for charges of murder and attempted murder. After considering the half-century time gap and cultural differences between the two artists, it would be ridiculous to compare any background information, however, a common coping mechanism exists in both individual accounts: music. After receiving a guitar from his uncle at the age of twelve, Cobain used music throughout his life to combat and express himself through any personal, family, and drug related obstacles. Similarly, Leadbelly used music as a means to escape and assert his redefined self after years spent in various prisons. In a 1954 article for the Chicago Defender, Langston Hughes summarizes Leadbelly’s musical journey.

“Well, I guess you know there was once a singer named Leadbelly, and he was a penitentiary boy, and he sang his way free. I guess you know he got locked up again, but he got out singing. And he sang songs from here to yonder. He sang himself great. He sang himself famous.”

https://search-proquest-com.ezproxy.stolaf.edu/hnpchicagodefender/docview/492889401/fulltextPDF/586FDC9CDF9142A0PQ/1?accountid=351

Through these mental and life altering difficulties, Leadbelly and Cobain both created profound and unique music that inspired and touched the hearts of their respective audiences. One only needs to go as far as a Southern Appalachian tune such as “Where Did You Sleep Last Night” to see the emotional core that connects an entire community in a folk-based tradition.

 

SOURCES

Bibek Acharya. “Where did you sleep last night-Nirvana-MTV unplugged.” Youtube. Dec. 11, 2016. Accessed October 16, 2017. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iUSW7dYZM9w

“Kurt Cobain.” Biography.com. April 28, 2017. Accessed October 16, 2017. https://www.biography.com/people/kurt-cobain-9542179.

Hughes, L. (1954, Sep 04). Slavery and leadbelly are gone, but the old songs go singing on. The Chicago Defender (National Edition) (1921-1967) Retrieved from https://search-proquest-com.ezproxy.stolaf.edu/docview/492889401?accountid=351

Sessionsinthedesert. “Leadbelly – house of the rising sun.” YouTube. March 08, 2008. Accessed October 16, 2017. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y5tOpyipNJs.

Weisbard;, Eric. “A Simple Song That Lives Beyond Time.” The New York Times. November 12, 1994. Accessed October 16, 2017. http://www.nytimes.com/1994/11/13/arts/pop-music-a-simple-song-that-lives-beyond-time.html?pagewanted=all.

What Makes the Blues So Doggone Hard to Define

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In a quest to find the “bluesiest of blues” tracks, I recently took a deep dive into my ten-year-old iTunes library, and all that I found was sheer bewilderment. How can tracks along the lines of  “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” by the Rolling Stones and “Layla” by Eric Clapton be on the same “bluesy” spectrum as Muddy Water’s “Mannish Boy” or Ray Charles “What’d I Say?” Or even more specifically: how can any of these songs be placed on a level playing field when they all contain elements of different genres ranging from rock-n-roll to folk to jazz.

I think that this can partly be understood through the notion that “blues” music has served largely as a marketing term over the years, and while it undoubtedly has certain roots in the oppressed African American community, it has since transformed into countless different forms and styles. In order to approach this broad claim, I think one doesn’t have to look any further than the headlines, advertisements, and recordings of one of the original “blues queens:” Mammie Smith.

http://search.alexanderstreet.com/view/work/be%7Crecorded_track%7Cli_isrc_723723519221USY9R0910356

Through her rendition of Perry Bradford’s “Crazy Blues”, Mammie Smith reached near-overnight stardom, becoming one of the first first recorded African-American “jazz-blues” singers. The song, which tells a somber story concerning unrequited love, may lyrically display a “romantically blue” atmosphere,” but the instrumentation and vocal performance tell otherwise. Rather than a rhythmically ambiguous, anguishing melody sparsely accompanied and improvised upon, the track contains a tight band, consisting of sweeping trombones and light, gliding clarinets, evoking more of a comical and polished sound. Along similar grounds, while Mammie Smith sings with great conviction and soul, she seems to performing in a relaxed, theatrical style with a masterful contralto voice. With an overall recording style leaning more towards a light-hearted and professional popular music medium, “Crazy Blues” demonstrated it’s marketing prowess by spreading across the U.S., earning both Smith and Bradford a fortune.

Smith’s “blues” act serving as a marketable genre can also be seen through her performances alongside her “Jazz Hounds Orchestra.” In the Savannah Tribune’s January 22, 1921 issue, an article is written in anticipation for Mammie Smith’s live performance at the Savannah Auditorium, describing her show as being

“…greeted by capacity audiences at every point, in one city alone she sang to an audience of over 11,000 paid admissions.”

 

Whether or not W.C. Handy’s famous stories of “discovering the blues” in the poor, rugged country is embellished and romanticized, serving audiences as large as these requires a hip, spirited, and theatrically expanded sound that is initially and popularly defined as “blues” in the music of Mammie Smith. The article even goes on to describe Smith’s shows as containing a wide set of acts, including a “well known juggler and a celebrated ventriloquist,” which only further emphasizes the performance-based, comical, and marketable basis of the early 1920’s “blues.”

Over the last century, different musical and social trends have led the blues market to a wide array of strains and styles, spanning from Jagger to Charles. While folklorists can still only speculate any folk-based or cultural roots of the “blues” that were picked up by early visionaries, the beginning of the 1920’s “blues”-mania is centered around the highly marketable and popular form of soulful and lively tunes, including Smith/Bradford’s “Crazy Blues.”

Link to news article:

http://infoweb.newsbank.com/iw-search/we/HistArchive/?p_product=EANX&p_theme=ahnp&p_nbid=J57Q58LNMTUwNzU5MTQwNi4yNzM1ODU6MToxMzoxMzAuNzEuMjQyLjUx&p_action=doc&s_lastnonissuequeryname=20&d_viewref=search&p_queryname=20&p_docnum=4&p_docref=v2:11CCCBEC43F62EDE@EANX-11E7581B13A079A0@2422712-11E7581B1F220C08@0-11E7581B4FA109A0@Mamie%20Smith%20and%20Her%20Jazz%20Hounds.%20Appear%20at%20Auditorium%20February%209th

Sources

Kernfeld, Barry Dean. The new Grove dictionary of jazz: Smith, Mammie. Vol. 3. London: Macmillan Reference Ltd., 1997.

The Savannah Tribune. “Mammie Smith and her Jazz Hounds. Appear at Auditorium February 9th.” The Savannah Tribune (Savannah, Georgia), January 22, 1921, 11E7581B13A079A0 ed.

Sultry Divas. Recorded September 30, 2008. Columbia River Entertainment, 2008, Streaming Audio. Accessed October 10, 2017. http://search.alexanderstreet.com/view/work/be%7Crecorded_cd%7Cli_upc_723723519221

Wald, Elijah. Escaping the delta: Robert Johnson and the invention of the blues. New York: Amistad, 2005.. 

How An Architectural Interior Designer Captured the Evolution of the African American Spiritual

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It isn’t often that an architectural interior designer from Detroit with a battery-operated reel-to-reel tape recorder captures a vitally important moment in history, but Carl Benkert, a man who happened to fit the aforementioned description, managed to accomplish just that. In the year of 1965, when the Civil Rights movement was in full swing, and protesters were marching from Selma, Alabama to the State Capitol in Montgomery for access to the voting registration, Benkert recorded live freedom songs, chants, and speeches that were released in a documentary-album, “Freedom Songs: Selma Alabama.” One of the tracks (found in the hyperlink above), titled “Steal Away, Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen” caught my attention as it captures the spirit and constant evolution of the complex African American Spiritual.

While other musical traditions in North American such as Sacred Colonial Songs or American Indian music contain a strong and definitive presence of responsorial singing, African American spirituals have a unique take on the matter that seems to maintain traction throughout the 19th and early 20th century. Known as the “singing man” by many, spirituals have generally been led by one singer who introduces melodic material that is then repeated and varied upon by the “congregation,” or participants. In Benkert’s recording, Hosea Williams, a Civil Rights leader and member of the Souther Christian Leadership Conference, acts as this “singing man,” providing the melodies of two spirituals, which are answered by his fellow protestors. In addition to this call-and-response style comes an element of improvisation and variation that has been present throughout the history of spirituals. Author of 1867’s “Slave Songs of the United States” William Frances Allen touches on this subject, describing how “there is no singing in parts as we understand it, and yet no two appear to be singing the same thing.” This improvisatory tradition can be found in “Freedom Songs: Selma, Alabama” through the various declamatory vocables, including a man shouting “Come on,” and the distinctive bass and soprano voices.

SUDDEN AND WILD TANGENT: BUT WAIT, AREN’T THESE PERFORMERS SIMPLY LOWERING THE THIRD AND THE FIFTH TO ACHIEVE THESE VARIATIONS? NO, I’M GLAD YOU ASKED.

While using buzzwords such as “loose harmonies” are decent descriptions for the Western-oriented reader, listening to varied live music is the best way to capture the true distinction found in African American music. By comparing two saxophone players from different backgrounds, such as Kenny G. and Charlie Parker, we can quite easily see the emotional, personal, and distinct differences that cannot be captured through Western imitation or transcription.

END OF SUDDEN AND WILD TANGENT.

Another simple means which connects spirituals of the 18th and 19th century and the civil rights movement is the purpose behind and use of biblical texts. As put in the Crawford text, many original spirituals fashioned traditional biblical stories into songs of a “sober dignity and moral force” that were sung in ways that “condemned slavery, affirmed faith in God, and tapped the depths of human souls.” In other words, found not in our beloved textbook, spirituals were transformed in ways that signaled and led the ways for racial equality. To see such iconic pieces as Steal Away and Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen still being presented and utilized in a constant fight for equality during the March to Montgomery is a testament to the inherent emotional core of African American spirituals.

In describing the spirituals recorded during the Montgomery March, Benkert captures the idea behind this musical “core”:

“The music was an essential element; music in song expressing hope and sorrow; music to pacify or excite; music with the power to engage the intelligence and even touch the spirit.”

 

SOURCES:

Crawford, Richard. America’s Musical Life: A History. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, Inc., 2001.

Freedom Songs: Selma, Alabama. Folkways Records, Streaming Audio. Accessed October 3, 2017. http://search.alexanderstreet.com/view/work/bibliographic_entity%7Crecorded_cd%7C72058. 
KennyGuille. “Kenny G – Titanic (My Heart Will Go On).” Youtube. Dec. 28, 2007. Accessed Monday, Oct. 2. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qzUJphkVZs
 Kirkland, W. M.. “Hosea Williams (1926-2000).” New Georgia Encyclopedia. 23 December 2016. Web. 02 October 2017.
rgsmusicargentina. “Charlie Parker – Ornithology.” Youtube. Jan. 23, 2017. Accessed Monday, Oct. 2. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z2tvlp7RnlM

William F. Cody: A Brief Story of America’s First Potential Sell-Out

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After The Songs of Hiawatha was “dropped” in the 1850’s, there was a general divide in the act of preserving, viewing, and conceiving the Native American-European settler dynamic in the late 1800’s: one that was rooted in trivializing various tribes, and one that focused on a scientific interest in Native American culture. While notable musicologists, such as Alice Fletcher, focused on the latter of the divided cultural conquests, American bison hunter/showman William F. Cody, a.k.a. Buffalo Bill, led the charge on the belittlement side of the coin with his “Buffalo Bill’s Wild West” variety show. With a bison-hunting career that quickly turned into a celebrated and brief scouting stint with the Fifth Army, Cody was slowly transformed into the star-studded cowboy he is considered today through various “vaudeville-esque” shows, inexpensive pulp-fiction magazines, and investments in hotels, mines, coal and forms of tourism.

Although Cody was known as a strong supporter of the “fair” treatment of Native Americans, his entire career was based off of creating a romanticized, Western-based reality that exploited countless stereotypes. This notion can find it’s needed support in the study of Cody’s entire career as a sell out, cowboy performer, but I, in an attempt to showcase the extremity of trivialization, will prove my point with the cover page of an 1881 Wild Bill dime novel entitled: “Heroes of the Plains.” One of the first details to take note of is in the front-piece title page, where a descriptive list of the characters is given. Listed in bold and bright text towards the top of the page is a list of seven white, heroic character names, while the only mention of the “celebrated Indian fighters” is found in much smaller text below in the “and other” category of characters. Cody, while exploiting his respect for the Native American community by referring to their characters as “celebrated,” also is clearly portraying the white, American cowboys as the heroes of the story, giving the Native Americans the stereotypical role of the villains. 19th century Americans east of the Mississippi lacked the cross-cultural contact between Native Americans and Europeans, and it was through these trivial, typecast “Buffalo Bill” adventure stories that they developed a misconstrued conceptual framework of the various tribes and cultures. This “heroes vs. villains” theme can also be seen through the artwork displayed on the cover page. While the two stars of the story, Wild Bill and Buffalo Bill, are presented in ornate, golden frames, the only Native American shown clearly is brandishing a threatening dagger towards a hunched over, white settler, defending himself from an attack. In a devastatingly bloody history of white men conquering, conforming, and destroying Indian tribes, it’s hard to imagine a Native American as a “savage foe,” but in a culture built upon shows such as Cody’s, it is still, to this day, a reality.

 

Bruel, James. 1881. Wild Bill and Buffalo Bill. Heroes of the plains, or, lives and wonderful adventures of Wild Bill, Buffalo Bill… and other celebrated Indianfighters.” http://www.americanwest.amdigital.co.uk/Documents/Details/Graff_467