Langston Hughes: Collector and Fierce Champion of Jazz

Portrait of Langston Hughes by Winold Reiss

In an essay titled “The Negro Artist and the Racial Mountain,” Langston Hughes argues that the road to respect in art spaces for black Americans is not to abandon the artistic traditions and tools that belong to them in favor of the aesthetic standards of white Americans and Europeans, but rather embracing them. In making this assertion, he says “…jazz to me is one of the inherent expressions of Negro life in America…,”1 championing jazz as one of these artistic traditions to be embraced and not diminished. 

Hughes’s deep love for jazz remains consistent throughout his writing, evident in a column he wrote for The Chicago Defender in July 1954. The opinion piece is titled “Hot Jazz, Cool Jazz, Deep Blues, and Songs Help Keep Life Lively,” and in it Hughes discusses his personal record collection and taste in music, particularly jazz. He begins by mentioning that “the most restful records to [him] are the ones that make the most noise.”2 Immediately, there is an informal, familiar tone which makes the reader feel like they’re having a conversation with Hughes as he shares his favorite records when he asks the reader “Do you mind?” that he loves loud music.3 He jokingly laments about how most of his records are on loan to friends and family or “accidentally cracked up,” making himself relatable and accessible to the reader before sharing his opinions.4 His love for particularly women jazz musicians such as Mae Barnes, Bessie Smith, etc. shines through in just how evenly they are represented alongside Duke Ellington and Thelonius Monk in the article. 

He then moves into a defense of jazz as a wealth of education when he states “If you haven’t heard Mae Barnes sing… you need to go back to school and take up race relations.”5 He goes on and lists records he deems essential, and compares them to classic literature, implying that each jazz song holds equivalent learning to these cornerstones of the Western European canon. “Backwater Blues” contains the knowledge of the Book of Job. Ma Yancey’s “How Long, How Long” can only be substituted by the sum of Thomas Mann, Proust, Dostoyevsky, Gide, Hemingway, Tolstoy, McCullers, Ellison, and Faulkner.6 Comparing these records to texts that are widely considered to be required reading by many pretentious academics is an effective strategy, especially because each of these songs only takes a few minutes to listen to, while these books take hours and hours of time to read. Hughes’s assertion that all of that can be communicated by the language of jazz music emphasizes just how important he believed it to be. 

It’s rather an interesting strategy that refers back to his perspective in “The Negro Artist and the Racial Mountain.” In the essay, he laments about a young black poet who had expressed that he “want[s] to be a poet–not a Negro poet.”7 Throughout the essay he discusses a greater trend that he observes where young black people are discarding black art in favor of mainstream, white, Euro-centric art and aesthetic values. He plays to the desire to conform and assimilate to whiteness by repeatedly describing individual jazz songs as more powerful than huge swaths of the European canon, calling in this opinion article on jazz for the young black people who read The Chicago Defender to treat the jazz repertoire the way they treat classic literature.

1 Langston Hughes, “The Negro Artist and the Racial Mountain,” in Keeping Time: Readings in Jazz History, ed. Robert Walser (New York ; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 56.

2 Hughes, LANGSTON. “Hot Jazz, Cool Jazz, Deep Blues, and Songs Help Keep Life Lively.” The Chicago Defender (National Edition) (1921-1967), Jul 03, 1954. https://www.proquest.com/historical-newspapers/hot-jazz-cool-deep-blues-songs-help-keep-life/docview/492945618/se-2.

3 Ibid.

4 Ibid.

5 Ibid.

6 Ibid.

7 Hughes (1999), 55.

Copland, the Writer, On Jazz

Aaron Copland was not just a prolific composer, but also wrote extensively about both his own works and his contemporaries. In a preface to a collection of his writing, he’s described as having “epitomized the ideal of the composer-writer” in his career.1 He also wrote about trends and occurrences in music, particularly American music. One example of this is a short essay from 1927 titled “Jazz Structure and Influence.” 

In the essay, Copland aims to contribute to analytical and critical writing about jazz, a field of study which had just begun to emerge. The essay’s general thesis argues that jazz’s main contribution to music as a whole is its rhythmic innovations. He begins by consulting a few different sources for a definition of jazz, including composer Virgil Thomson and music critic Henry O. Osgood’s book, So This Is Jazz. Both of the definitions emphasize rhythm, and the central function of “‘a counterpoint of regular against irregular beats.’”2

Copland continues to build on these assertions by pinpointing a particular type of syncopation that is unique to jazz. He traces the development of this jazz rhythm through spirituals, ragtime, and the foxtrot. He asserts that “Modern jazz began with the fox trot,”3 and identifies a specific rhythmic motif, pictured below. By putting it over four quarter notes, “the play of two independent rhythms…” creates “a molecule of jazz.”4 He clarifies later that polyrhythms themselves were not invented by jazz, but that “the polyrhythms of jazz are different in quality and effect… The peculiar excitement they produce by clashing two definitely and regularly marked rhythms is unprecedented in occidental music.”5

The “molecule of jazz” pictured in Copland’s essay.

Copland then moves into an analysis of the ways in which this identifying aspect of jazz has “achieved a new synthesis in music.”6 This is also where his rhetoric begins to feel problematic for a modern day reader. Copland posits several times that jazz is “so difficult for ordinary ears” that these polyrhythms only appear a few measures at a time in contemporary music, and goes on to credit Gershwin as having written the “most original jazz song yet composed.”7 These statements indirectly communicate a belief that jazz’s rhythmic complexity places it above music “developed among primitive races.”8 Also, he places a white man at the pinnacle of achievement in a genre that he even describes as having Black (specifically African-American) origins. He provides some nuance when he argues that European composers have “exploited it as an exotic novelty.”9 However, his concluding statements describing jazz as “indigenous, music an American has heard as a child,” and encouraging American composers to draw on it as a musical resource, are ignorant of the actual Indigenous music of the Americas, as well as the institutional racism in America that complicates the use of jazz by white composers as inspiration and source material.10

1 Kostelanetz, Richard. “Preface.” In Aaron Copland: A Reader : Selected Writings 1923-1972, by Aaron Copland. New York: Routledge, 2004.

2 Copland, Aaron. “Jazz Structure and Influence.” In Aaron Copland: A Reader : Selected Writings 1923-1972. New York: Routledge, 2004, 83.

3 Ibid, 84.

4 Ibid, 85.

5 Ibid, 87.

6 Ibid, 85.

7 Ibid, 86.

8 Ibid, 86.

9 Ibid, 87.

10 Ibid, 87.

Music Education and Forced Assimilation at United States Indian Boarding Schools

The first off-reservation boarding school in the U.S. for Indigenous students, Carlisle Indian Industrial School, was founded in 1879 by Henry Richard Pratt in Pennsylvania. The founding of the school was overseen by President Rutherford Hayes, under the Indian Civilization Act (ICA), that incentivized the so-called “civilized” education of Indigenous children. Carlisle’s strict, military-style modes of discipline and focus on vocational training that funneled students directly into underpaid manual and domestic labor jobs became a blueprint for several such boarding schools across the country.1

Since the recent archeological discoveries of mass graves at the former sites of these schools across the US and Canada, the legacy of these institutions designed to “kill the Indian, save the man,” in Pratt’s words, is being examined again with a mind towards restorative justice, acknowledging how these modes of “education” and assimilation were not just physically violent, but also mentally and spiritually violent.2

One would not necessarily expect music to play a central part in the violent assimilationist education of these boarding schools, but a 1915 book giving detailed instructions, down to how much time in the school day should be spent on a subject, for boarding school curriculum suggests otherwise. The book features a chapter outlining the music curriculum, which is extremely telling of the strict assimilationist thinking that was the guiding force for these boarding schools. 

The first paragraph seems innocent enough, touting the broader educational benefits of music training, but it quickly takes a turn. The author(s) of this guide state that the first step in a proper musical education is “to permit the pupils to hear only good music.”3 What exactly they mean by “good,” is quickly outlined by a long list of operas such as Aida and William Tell, as well as works from the Western classical canon by composers such as Mozart and Haydn. They also add that “Patriotic songs, as ‘The Star Spangled Banner,’… should, of course, receive special attention.” 4

Repertoire suggestions in 1915 book.

Following these narrow and purposefully Euro-centric repertoire guidelines, the author(s) go on to list aesthetic guidelines for the training of the pupils’ voices. The very first rule stated is “Always insist on a good, smooth, sweet, light, pure tone.”5 Soon after that, it’s also stressed that the pupils “Pronounce all words clearly, so that a listener can understand them.”6 These two guidelines emphasize the enforcement of Euro-centric standards for musical training, as well as complete assimilation to the English language and abandonment of Indigenous aesthetics and language.

With strict guidelines to teach and enforce the European classical canon as the musical ideal, Indigenous children, often as young as four years old, were completely cut off from not only their home and family, but also the musical culture they would have otherwise been surrounded by and raised in. The violence lies not only in hundreds of deaths of children that were torn from their homes, but the systematic way in which they had their culture and traditions torn from them, and the Indigenous music and languages that were lost in the process.

1 Ferris, Jeanne. 2021. “‘LET THOSE Children’s Names BE KNOWN’: THE PARADOX OF INDIAN BOARDING SCHOOLS.” News from Native California 35 (2): 26–32. https://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=aph&AN=154090702&site=ehost-live.

2 Ibid.

3 Bureau of Indian Affairs. 1915. Tentative course of study for United States Indian schools. Prepared under the direction of commissioner of Indian affairs. Available through: Adam Matthew, Marlborough, American Indian Histories and Cultures, http://www.aihc.amdigital.co.uk/Documents/Details/Ayer_386_U5_1915 [Accessed October 26, 2023].

4 Ibid.

5 Ibid.

6 Ibid.

Violent Notation: Harvey B. Gaul & Black Spirituals

Harvey B. Gaul was an organist and composer in the early 20th century. He worked in various church music positions across the country, but was based in Pittsburgh for 35 years of his career, and was a central fixture of the music community in the city. He is even memorialized by the Pittsburgh New Music Ensemble’s composition contest, which bears his name.1

During his prolific career as a composer and church musician, Gaul arranged a few spirituals/folk songs of African-American origin. There are two such examples that I found. The first is a song titled “Ain’t It a Shame,” which is published alongside another song under the larger title “Negro [sic] Dialect Songs.” The other is called “South Carolina Croon Song.” This latter work cites a lyricist named Will Deems, but I was unable to find any information about him. Although definitely not a unique case in his time, Gaul’s arrangements demonstrate perfectly the idea that using notation to transcribe non-Western classical music can be a violent act.

Title and Subtitle from “Ain’t It a Shame” sheet music.

What struck me about the first tune was the title of the larger work, which attributes these songs to Black Americans. Yet the credited arranger being Gaul, and the origin being as vague as an entire race, Gaul is the only one who benefits materially from the publication of this tune. Any sense of giving credit through this title is overshadowed by every other aspect of arrangement. The use of the word “dialect” also seems to other this song by distinguishing the way that Black Americans speak and sing from the way that White Americans do. The subtitle for the tune also labels it as a “semi-spiritual.”2 This appeared odd to me, as it has religious themes, and there’s nothing I have noticed about the tune that would disqualify it as a spiritual. There is an overall sense from these elements of the sheet music that the tunes are not taken entirely seriously as worthwhile music. 

Note about the origins of the “South Carolina Croon Song”

The “South Carolina Croon Song,” despite the title not referring to dialect in the way the other tune does, features lyrics that are notated to indicate the vernacular speech of Black Americans in the south. “Don’ yo’ hear yo’ pappy play de banjo chune?”3 is just one example of this. The sheet music also features a note at the bottom of the first page that says, “Sung by an old Mammy on a South Carolina Plantation on the Back River.”4 This is just plain lazy citation. This woman is not named, and the descriptor “old Mammy” could very easily be interpreted as a diminutive. The written elements of this arrangement already demonstrate a lack of respect for the origins of the music that is being exploited by Gaul.

Finally, what was most striking evidence of the violence of Gaul’s notation of these tunes was the recording I found of White American contralto Kathryn Meisle performing “South Carolina Croon Song.” In the citation, it even indicates that perhaps Will Deems was a pseudonym for Gaul, and not a real lyricist. The recording creates this romanticized vision of the “old Mammy” singing this tune on the “Back River.” The mournful orchestral accompaniment, and the distinctly operatic style of singing are all evidence of a desperate attempt to take a folk tune and cram it into the Western classical tradition. Gaul’s transcriptions are gross misappropriations of these tunes, beyond any justification of preservation or appreciation. 

5

1 Library of Congress. “Harvey Bartlett Gaul (1881-1945).” Accessed October 12, 2023. https://www.loc.gov/item/ihas.200185354/.

2 “Aint It a Shame : Negro Dialect Song.” Chicago, Ill. : Clayton F. Summy, 1927. Blockson Sheet Music. Temple University Libraries. https://digital.library.temple.edu/digital/collection/p15037coll1/id/5202.

3 “South Carolina Croon Song.” Boston: Oliver Ditson Company, 1922. Vocal Popular Sheet Music Collection. University of Maine. https://digitalcommons.library.umaine.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=5657&context=mmb-vp.

4 Ibid.

5 Library of Congress. “South Carolina Croon Song,” October 7, 1924. https://www.loc.gov/item/jukebox-71482/.

Black Newspaper Critics and Bluegrass

In March of 1969, the Osborne Brothers, a bluegrass duo from Kentucky, released a record called “Yesterday, Today and the Osborne Brothers.” The album was half vintage, half contemporary bluegrass tunes, including re-recordings of the duo’s greatest hits. The same month, a review of this album appeared in The Minority Report, which was an underground African-American newspaper based in Dayton, OH. The reviewer, Mike Hitchcock, was writing during the time of the folk revival of the mid-20th century, and he notes this in the opening paragraph: 

“The latest issue of Rolling Stone…is chock full of stuff about bands like Pogo,…Crosby, Nash and Stills, and the word from people on the West Coast is that country music is rapidly becoming where it is at.”1

Hitchcock does clarify, though, that he doesn’t believe the Osborne Brothers are “happening” yet, and are rather on their way to reaping the benefits of this folk revival.2 The review is framed as an early discovery of this up and coming group (though they had been well established in bluegrass as a genre), and credits the largely black readership of the newspaper with being a driving force in a bluegrass revival, due to the genre’s roots. 

Bluegrass Discography: Viewing full record for Yesterday, today & the Osborne Brothers

Cover of ‘Yesterday, Today & the Osborne Brothers’

One of the main ways Hitchcock does this is through his emphasis on the live performance aspect of the genre of bluegrass. He recounts how one of the more traditional songs on the record is “the kind of thing you used to hear at the Ken-Mill when all the boys were too drunk to fight anymore and not drunk enough to go home and somebody would put a quarter in the request box…”3 Demonstrating the community aspect of this genre is how Hitchcock asserts it as popular and integral for his reader base, which are largely Black Midwesterners.

His focus on the communal roots of bluegrass music being evoked through traditional songs that are recorded for a commercial audience contrasts the condescending reaction to bluegrass from the wider public that he observes. The example given by Hitchcock involves general condescension at the University of Chicago Folk Festival, where bluegrass was described as “quaint and ethnic.”4 To Hitchcock, this is precisely the reason that although they are making progress towards popularity, bluegrass musicians are still largely not considered “hip.” He directly ties this to the socioeconomic and racialized origins of bluegrass when he asks the rhetorical question: “After all, what do [n-words] and hillbillies know about music?”5

In addressing the fact that bluegrass is a music traditionally enjoyed and made by Black people and poor White people, and yet is on the rise in universal popularity contrary to previous resistance at the idea, Hitchcock is documenting an important cultural dialogue around folk and popular music. We now craft arguments such as his to give equal stake in the popularity and commercial uses of bluegrass to all who were/are the originators and curators of the genre.

1“The Osborne Brothers. Buy a Nickel of Bluegrass Baby.” Minority Report (Dayton, Ohio) 1, no. 4, March 15, 1969: 5. Readex: African American Newspapers. https://infoweb.newsbank.com/apps/readex/doc?p=EANAAA&docref=image/v2%3A12A7ECD8048E2975%40EANAAA-12BA755320D4E840%402440296-12BA7553513015E0%404-12BA7553CDFFFFE8%40The%2BOsborne%2BBrothers.%2BBuy%2Ba%2BNickel%2Bof%2BBluegrass%2BBaby.

2 Ibid.

3 Ibid.

4 Ibid.

5 Ibid.

Bessie Smith’s “Chicago Bound Blues,” the Chicago Defender, and the Great Migration

Although usually not properly credited, women have always made music, from nuns composing hymns to today’s pop icons. Blues music is no exception. Bessie Smith recorded the first ever commercial blues records in 1922, and her sales success set up that decade to be one where women dominated the genre.1 She was one of the most successful Black performing artists of her day,2 and her success marks the beginning of the genre of “race records” marketed to the African-American audience by early recording companies. Six years previous to Bessie’s first recording session, the Chicago Defender (a major Black newspaper) had begun a campaign for major record companies to record Black artists. Once the genre had taken off commercially, the paper began to feature ads for these records, including over a hundred ads for Bessie Smith’s music alone.3 

Portrait of Bessie Smith by Carl Van Vechten

The emergence of blues as a commercial music genre in the 1920s happened to coincide with the Great Migration, where thousands of Black Americans left the South to move to northern cities in search of jobs, motivated by the false promise that Northerners would be less racist. This became a predominant theme in the blues music the Defender advertised, including Smith’s music. Smith was extremely critical of the Migration in her music, which makes the paper’s fervent support for her a bit odd, since the Defender’s founder actively promoted the Great Migration.4 Mark K. Dolan argues that these ads for blues music about life “down home” in the South is the paper’s invitation for Black Americans in the North to participate in the cultural memory of the violence and pain that these songs express, and as the Migration revealed itself to be an empty promise, they became a source of shared nostalgia. 

Smith’s critical perspective can be seen in the song “Chicago Bound Blues” from 1923, recorded in the same year by Ida Cox. In this song he sings about her man leaving to find a job in Chicago, leaving her behind: 


“Mean old fireman, cruel engineer
Mean old fireman, cruel engineer
You took my man away and left his mama standing here.”5

In the final verse, she nails home the immense pain that the Great Migration has caused her by separating her from her man: “Red headline in tomorrow’s Defender news…’Woman dead down home with the Chicago Blues.’” Smith even directly references the Defender in her criticism of the Migration.6

Yet, the newspaper’s ads imposed an imagined, romanticized South as the setting for all of these songs, positing it as something far away and imagined, nostalgic and yearned for, and yet still a site that is predominantly characterized by the pain and tragic themes expressed in blues music.7

Eventually, the Defender realizes the potential for the romanticization of a “lonely wayfarer” character in the Delta blues performed by Black men, and the ads for male singers’ music soon overwhelm those for female performers. The political and sexual agency found in blueswomen’s music is silenced before it even has a chance to be properly heard.

1 McGuire, Phillip. “Black Music Critics and the Classic Blues Singers.” The Black Perspective in Music 14, no. 2 (1986): 103. https://doi.org/10.2307/1214982.

2 Meckna, Michael. “Smith, Bessie.” Grove Music Online, May 24, 2022. https://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/grovemusic/display/10.1093/gmo/9781561592630.001.0001/omo-9781561592630-e-90000315175.

3 Dolan, Mark K. “Extra! Chicago Defender Race Records Ads Show South from Afar.” Southern Cultures 13, no. 3 (2007): 107.

4 Dolan, 107.

5 Genius. “Chicago Bound Blues (Famous Migration Blues).” Accessed September 28, 2023. https://genius.com/Ida-cox-chicago-bound-blues-famous-migration-blues-lyrics.

6 Ibid.

7 Dolan, 110.

Tribute or Treading on Toes? Percy Grainger and Black American Folk Music

Australian-born composer Percy Grainger had just moved to the United States in 1915 when an editorial article on Black American folk musics was published in Current Opinion, a quarterly magazine focused on literature and current issues, extensively citing Grainger as “a recognized authority on folk music.”1 The author’s reasoning for bestowing the title of “authority” was that much of Grainger’s career as a composer was characterized by his extensive use of folk music, particularly British folk tunes, in his works. The article goes on to recount many of Grainger’s opinions on Black American music and musicians, which generally attempt to characterize him as a champion of the marginalized. The caption under his portrait states that Grainger believes that “Especially worthy of preservation… are the folksongs of the American negro [sic].” In 1915, the readers of Current Opinion would’ve likely agreed with this characterization, but several sentiments expressed by the author as well as in Grainger’s quoted statements leap out as problematic to today’s reader. 

Picture by John Sargent

The author, who remains unnamed by the publication, begins the article by comparing African-American folk tradition to folk traditions from the British Isles, stating that many scholars have “arrived at the conclusion that the origin of the music of the colored [sic] race in America was in the British Isles.”2 This statement of the prevailing opinion credits white colonizers with the musical traditions of Black Americans, drawing a racialized line through music in the United States, and then continuing to delegitimize the music attributed to Black Americans as simply imitations of White3 European folk musics. From here, the author seems to try to assert that Grainger rejects the idea that the Black American tradition is somehow lesser than, and is rather interested in preserving all folk musics, regardless of origin. The author mentions Grainger’s telling of a story about a British composer, Frederick Delius, whose music was influenced by the work songs he heard running his father’s plantation in Florida. Grainger seems here to be championing the influence of Black American music on the predominantly White world of classical music. However, the author then goes on to quote Grainger’s description of his theory of three steps in the development of music. 

 

To Grainger, the first step is “traditional old songs and melodies of the people,” also referred to as folk music. Next, there is a transition from the folk to the “vaudeville,” or popular music that serves the sole purpose of entertainment. Lastly, there is the transition into the world of classical music, which Grainger refers to as the “‘world game.’” Again, Grainger has fallen into the trap of the prevailing race divide in music that still persists to this day. In this three-step theory, he posits Western classical music to be a universal ideal of music expression, the eventual evolution of all musics, regardless of cultural origin. As well, by asserting that Black Americans are behind White Americans and Europeans in their development of music expression, Grainger again devalues Black American music in his attempt to advocate for the preservation of Black American folk music as a legitimate genre of music. 

Broadly, the Current Opinion article on Grainger’s perspectives of Black American folk music, despite some evidence of good intentions of preservation and legitimization, ultimately advocates for the assimilation of Black Americans into a Western musical culture that both the author and Grainger believe to be superior. This sentiment is not unusual for the time, as all non-Western musics were largely considered to be primitive, and this prevailed in early ethnomusicological study by scholars such as Frances Densmore. It is also expected of Grainger, as private correspondences reveal that was an advocate for “milder theories of eugenics,” and “Nordic racial (and artistic) superiority.” It’s crucial to understand how these opinions prevailed in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, not just within the academy regarding study of musics outside of the Western classical tradition, but among leading composers and performers, as well as the general populace. Recognizing past structural flaws and how they came about allows current and future musicologists to deconstruct the racialized structures and Eurocentrism in the study of music.

Notes

1“PERCY GRAINGER’S TRIBUTE TO THE MUSIC OF THE AMERICAN NEGRO.” Current Opinion (1913-1925) OL. LIX., (08, 1915): 100. https://www.proquest.com/magazines/percy-graingers-tribute-music-american-negro/docview/124777222/se-2. 

2 Ibid.

I capitalize White when referring to it as a race, as other race categories are also usually capitalized (i.e. Black, Hispanic, Asian, etc.). I believe the lowercase spelling reinforces Whiteness as the default race.

4 Ibid.

5 Ibid.

6 Ibid.

7 Gillies, Malcolm, and David Pear. “Grainger, (George) Percy.” Grove Music Online. 2001; Accessed 21 Sep. 2023. https://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/grovemusic/view/10.1093/gmo/9781561592630.001.0001/omo-9781561592630-e-0000011596.