“Mexilachian,” “Latingrass,” and “Appalatin”: The Holistic History of Appalachian Music

Often when we think of Appalachian music, we envision a white man sitting on his porch playing a banjo. In class we’ve discussed the commercial nature of this narrative that exists in our culture, as well as the work of Rhiannon Giddens, who has worked to counter these generalizations and lack of knowledge about the African American origins of bluegrass music from the Appalachian region. Sophia Enriquez, a professor and musicologist at Duke University, studies Latinx music in the Appalachian region and takes a deeper dive into the culture of music from the American south. 

 

As Appalachian folk music had been established and country began emerging as a popularized genre, Enriquez reminds us that Mexican ranchera music and country music did not develop independently of one another. The 1930s served as “The Golden Age” in Mexico, where cultural products such as movies and music began to define Mexican culture. This is reflected in the development of both ranchera music in Mexico and country music in the United States. The Carter Family is an emblematic example of the important mix of influences that constructed today’s Appalachian and country music, as well as Mexican ranchera and tejano music. The Carter Family, remembered for having helped develop the country canon, moved to Del Rio Texas in 1938 where their music was broadcasted twice a week by Mexican radio station XET, their music being consumed by both spanish and english speaking audiences. 

 

I invite you to listen to the following two clips, comparing the musicality of these two songs that were released in the 1930s: 

 

 

Latinx, especially Mexican migration to the U.S. sky-rocketed in the 1940s and 50s with Word War II, with migrant workers moving to agricultural areas such as North Carolina and Virginia. With this blend of cultures, there was inevitably a mix of musical influences that shaped these two genres during the peak of their popularization. 

Groups today, such as Lua Project based in Virginia, seek to commemorate and raise awareness for this cultural integration that has occurred across generations.  They intentionally represent this through the blend of Mexican ranchera and Appalachian style and instrumentation. Take a listen below: 

 

As we discuss American music and what it means for us today, it is important to critically consider all of the complexities that construct our musical traditions, and what communities we need to shift our attention towards in order to envelop all of the historical narratives that exist in our American history.

 

 

Enriquez, Sophia M., and Danielle Fosler-Lussier. “Canciones de Los Apalaches: Latinx Music, Migration, and Belonging in Appalachia.” Canciones de Los Apalaches: Latinx Music, Migration, and Belonging in Appalachia, Ohio State University, 2021.

The Sculpting of an American Genre: Florence Price’s Legacy

Florence B. Price, a black female American composer, was a successful composer in her lifetime, winning the Wanamaker Foundation Award in 1932 for her Symphony No. 1 in E minor and her Piano Sonata in E minor. The following year, the Chicago Symphony Orchestra performed her symphony. In 1939, her arrangement on “My Soul’s Been Anchored in the Lord” was performed at the Lincoln Memorial Concert in Washington, D.C. Amongst all of these achievements and thus recognition of her talent, her success was still limited by the discrimination and lack of legitimacy that she received based on her race and gender.

In 1941, Florence Price wrote a letter to Russian american composer Serge Koussevitzky, in efforts to request a performance with the Boston Symphony Orchestra, of which Koussevitzky was the music director. In her letter, she expresses her credentials as an American composer, stating: 

“After graduating from the New England Conservatory I returned to my native South to teach. I have an accumulation of scores and manuscripts which during the past few years here in Chicago I have been bringing to light with the result– several performances. Having Colored blood in my veins, and having been born in the South, I believe I can say that I understand real Negro music as well if not better than the kind I studied in the East… Having read that you are particularly interested in American music I am hoping you will give something of mine a trial.” 

This was the first of several correspondences to Koussevitzky, of which he never responded. In 1941, the Boston Symphony Orchestra performed strictly white male compositions, such as Tchaikovsky, Pierné, Sibelius, and interestingly, Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue. This presents an interesting conversation, considering the topic of an American genre, and what those ideals entailed during Koussevitzky’s time as a conductor and music director. In Price’s correspondence, she explicitly states that her positionality as a black woman allows her to distinguish “real Negro music,” and offers him an opportunity to present “a fusion of [antebellum music and rag-time and jazz that proceeded], colored by present cultural influences.” Yet, the same year, Rhapsody in Blue was composed by white male composer George Gershwin was programmed at the BSO, demonstrating jazz and blues influences in a classical context but representing the prioritization of white male artistry. This seems to be reflective of the deliberate actions that were being taken during this time to sculpt an image of American classical music. While black music styles like jazz and blues were infiltrating the classical music scene, it was only being attributed an “American music” that excluded talents like Florence Price based on gender and race. 

Florence Price’s Quartet for Strings premiered at the Boston Symphony Orchestra in the 2016-2017 season, and her works have been performed there nearly every year since. One can hope that we are carving a new sculpture of who is encompassed in the American genre. 

 

Martin, Roland. 2023. “Florence Price | Composer, Pianist, Symphony, & Biography | Britannica.” Www.britannica.com. October 25, 2023. https://www.britannica.com/biography/Florence-Price.

“Performance History Search.” 2014. Bso.org. 2014. https://archives.bso.org/Detail.aspx?UniqueKey=79913.

“Image 3 of Letter from Florence B. Price to Serge Koussevitzky; 1941 September 18.” 2015. The Library of Congress. 2015. https://www.loc.gov/resource/musska.musska-100182/?sp=3&st=image&r=-1.305.

 

The Utility of Commercial Art: The Story of the Chicano Cultural Sculptor

Rubén “Funkahuatl” Guevara took on many personas as he developed his musical career, which reflects the many different ideas about Chicano identity that circulated throughout pop culture during the 60s and 70s, as well as the transformation of Chicano representation in music with the beginning of the Chicano Movement. Rubén in particular brings up an interesting conversation about commercialism, and how in his case used it to spread an image of Chicano presence in American music beginning with “doo-wop”, a variation of blues and rock and roll, especially as he began performing on television shows. Shindig! was a variety show that aired from 1964 to 1966, in which he performed with artists such as Bo Diddley, Tina Turner, and other African American blues artists. In order to be on the show, Rubén had to incorporate a stage name, Jay P. Mobey, which you can see in the video below: 

 

 

The changing of his name from Rubén Guevara to Jay P. Mobey suppressed his identity as an Mexican-American on the stage, and when the show ended in 1966 he sought to re-invent himself as Chicano, and began singing with Frank Zappa in Ruben and the Jets. With this group as well, he blended with the sounds of the time, now immersing himself in the R&B and rock of the 70s. In 1974, Ruben and the Jets released an album called “Con Safos.” Con Safos means “with safety,” and was a tag that was written on the graffiti throughout Los Angeles to indicate to others not to cover their work. This album cover positions Guevara in the center of the picture, with depictions of artists outside of a liquor store in L.A. “Viva la Raza” is written on the wall, a phrase used during the Chicano movement to signify their reclamation of Chicano heritage, culture, language and race. Guevara’s music once again blends with similar sounds of the period, this time rock and roll, but uses his avenue as a popular artist to promote Chicano presence in the music scene. 

Finally, it is interesting to see such a radical change in sound and image as he went through his life and musical career. After Ruben and the Jets dispersed, Rubén recorded a song called “C/S” with a group called Con Safos, which explicitly discusses the Vietman War, and prejudice against Chicanos and their reclamation of their heritage. This song was published in 1983 in an LP called “The Eastside Renaissance.”

 

I encourage you to listen to all three of these stages of Ruben’s career and journey with his Chicano identity.  Rubén’s adaptability to popular genre could be perceived as un-original or commercial, but I think it ultimately represents the journey that many Mexican-Americans experienced throughout the Chicano movement in terms of establishing and celebrating their identity and culture in the United States. 

 

It is important to note that it wasn’t until the beginning of the Chicano movement that “chicano” was an appropriate word to describe Americans of Mexican descent. Chicano comes from the Nahuatl word xicano, which represents the reclamation of indigenous heritage of the Mexica peoples, who lived in the southwest region of present day United States. 

 

 

Puerto Rican influence during the Harlem Renaissance

Caravan, composed by Juan Tizol and Duke Ellington, is the most covered jazz standard in history, with more than 500 covers. But what does this song represent? 

The Jones-Shafroth Act of 1917 granted US citizenship to Puerto Ricans, which led to a surge of Puerto Ricans immigrating to the US, especially to New York through Ellis Island. Many Puerto Rican musicians were recruited, due to their talent and ability to read music, to play in jazz clubs and theater pit bands in Washington D.C. and New York, primarily catering to black audiences. “Circa 1920, except for the leader, the entire pit orchestra of the legendary Howard Theater in Washington was composed of Puerto Rican musicians, and it included Tizol” (Serrano 90). In an interview with Patricia Willard in 1978, Juan describes his experience moving to the United States in 1920, working factory jobs in New York in order to save enough money to buy an instrument and make a living. He eventually encountered Duke Ellington when he went to Howard Theatre in Washington D.C. several years later.  The experiences of Puerto Rican immigrants during this time is often characterized by poverty, hardship, and racial discrimination, and it is important that this is not overlooked, especially when considering the vital role that Puerto Rican jazz musicians contributed to the cultural production of an American genre. Juan Tizol was a composer and played trombone in Duke Ellington’s Big Band from 1929 to 1953. Tizol was born in San Juan, Puerto Rico in 1900, and came to the United States in 1920 with some musicians he was playing with in a Puerto rican municipal band at the time. Many Puerto Rican musicians would travel between New York and Puerto Rico, since there weren’t very many opportunities to perform jazz on the island at the time, and it was emerging more prominently in places like New Orleans and New York. Others were recruited to play in the Harlem Hellfighters during WWI. It is important for us to recognize the role that Puerto Rican musicians played in developing jazz, as they were intentionally intertwined in the jazz music scene during a time of intense cultural production. 

Considering this, It was interesting to read that Tizo’s compositions fell under the genre of “exotica”, which is characterized by ideas of “distant, mythical and mystical lands” (Serrano 89). It was also mentioned that Tizo had originally included “Porto Rico”* in the title of several of his compositions, including “Porto Rican Girl” dedicated to his sister Remedio. Before publishing, the title was changed to “Moon Over Cuba” since she had moved to Cuba… While there is no definitive reason for this change, it is interesting to consider the narrative of distance and otherness that is preserved in the edited titles of his songs. ‘Porto Rico’ was included in several other of Tizo’s original titles, but were changed before they were published. What is demonstrated by the intentions to separate Puerto Rican identity from Tizol’s compositions? Does it give us insight on the marketing strategies during the time? Is it reflective of the attitudes towards Puerto Rican citizens living in the United States? When considering an American genre such as jazz, it is important to recognize all of the musicians that contributed to the narrative of the art, and the circumstances that they endured. What does this reflect about the narrative that has been created about American music, and who is included in it? 

*In the Treaty of Paris in 1898 they changed the name of Puerto Rico to ‘Porto Rico’, in efforts to make it easier to pronounce for Americans. It wasn’t until 1932 that they changed it back to the original spelling and the spelling they always had used on the island. 

Serrano, Basilio. “Juan Tizol: His Talents, His Collaborators, His Legacy.” Centro Journal 18, no. 2 (2006): 82–99.

Juan Tizol oral history interview. Retrieved from https://doi.org/doi:10.7282/t3-3r99-0749

Formation of an American Identity during the Great Depression

Immigration has always been a point of contention in the United States, because it proposes the discussion of who is American and who is included in the American identity. White settlers in the 1920s were legally considered American, since they had lawful access to citizenship, but there were so many others who contributed to the production of American culture: producing economic commodities, music being one of them. Throughout the 1920s and the Great Depression, Mexican immigrants were recruited to work in the Southwest of the United States participating in the railroad, mining, and agricultural industries. Music is able to depict the commonality of experiences, but also differentiate these conditions for Mexican immigrants and white people during the 1920s and 30s. Tracing back to the medieval myth of Cockayne or Cucaña, which speaks of a utopia where hardship does not exist. Songs such as “The Big Rock Candy Mountains” and “La Ciudad de Juaja” that describe the idealizations of life during the Great Depression, allow us to understand what living conditions and their respective hardships were like for White workers and Mexican immigrants. For example, in “The Big Rock Candy Mountains” Harry McClintock describes “cigarette trees” in comparison to “La Ciudad de Juaja,” Pantaleón Ramos and Manuel Treviño describe “árboles de tortillas, ramos con jarros de atole” (trees of tortillas, [and] branches with cups of atole*) (*a warm drink of Mexican origin.) The common use of the word tree, to describe natural resources and abundance, and the idealizations of what there would be abundance of help us to understand the different priorities of what is necessary, or brings pleasure to each of these groups of people. In this case, tobacco versus culturally traditional food. In both of the songs as well, they mention punishment for work. In “La Ciudad de Juaja” the lyrics say “allí le dan de palos al que quiera trabajar (there they beat those who want to work)” and in “The Big Rock Candy Mountains” the lyrics mention “they hung the jerk that invented work.” I think the most important conclusion to draw from each of these songs is that there was (to an extent) a common experience of mine and railroad workers during the Great Depression. While it is important to recognize that Mexican migrants experienced different and additional challenges due to people “honragados dishonest* ” taking advantage of immigrant labor and language barriers, the similarities in each of these songs creates a sense of identity based on the hardships that were experienced in these working conditions during this time period of American history. Another thing that I thought about while writing the title for this post, was the relevant role that work culture plays in American identity today. Again, it is important to note that these conditions look different for different groups of people, and I don’t intend to neglect the complexity of America’s job industry or make a statement that encompasses all Americans, but there is some validity in that the United States has become a place for work, and has come to define many American experiences.

*honragado is no longer a word used in the Spanish dictionary but was used in the lyrics of this song in the 1930s to describe a deceiving person. A current translation of “dishonest” would be deshonrado. 

 

Translation of “La Ciudad de Juaja” Part II

Corridos y Tragedias De La Frontera- CD 1: La Crisis1994., edited by Chris StrachwitzArhoolie Records. https://search.alexanderstreet.com/view/work/bibliographic_entity|recorded_track|390149.

 

 

Who defines America’s Musical Identity?

“Can any composer ever purge himself entirely of foreign influences?” is the question that David Ewen presents while discussing the birth of the “first coherent musical expression to be produced in America” in a 1933 issue of The Musical Times. It is important to keep in mind that Ewen is exclusively referring to European influences amongst the compositions of young white male composers that make up the New School of American Music, and is implying that American music must be purged of its diverse influences to be considered legitimately American. This question seeks to justify the dismissal of black American jazz contributions while claiming originality, but still reflects the ongoing question: what is American music?  Ideals such as autonomy, originality, white purism and “self sufficiency [to] preclude the exotic” are all discussed by Ewen and the new school of composers in New York. One of the founders of this new school, Aaron Copland, claimed early in his career that “jazz-idiom was the native musical tongue of his country,” but later digressed and recognized that “it is certainly not an interpretation of all America.” There is some truth in this statement, but in the search for what constitutes “indigenous” (word choice by Ewen) American music, neither Ewen nor Copland in 1933 propose the envelopment of Native American or Latin American influences in the search to define a holistic American musical identity, perpetuating the ethnocentric discussion of who is encompassed in American music. 

Attached below is Louis Gruenberg’s, “The Daniel Jazz” which Ewen describes as being successful in producing “an original musical tongue such as we have not heard in the music of any other composer.” Ewen also describes moments [in the composition] of the volcanic and savage passion so characteristic of the negro,” which I find to be so interestingly juxtaposed with claims of originality from a white male composer. This piece reflects the pertinence of black american jazz influence that white composers took on as “originality” throughout the 20th century. 

(Throughout this post I tried to prioritize quoting the language that was used throughout Ewen’s feature, because I think it contributes to the sense of white purism that is infused in his discussion of what he claims to be musical innovation.) 

David Ewen. “The New School of American Music.” The Musical Times 74, no. 1088 (1933): 881–83. https://doi.org/10.2307/918504.