When Black music and dance traditions became popular in Paris in the 1920s, the ensuing negrophilia caused an artistic divide as prominent as the geographical divide created by the Seine.
This division is comprised of two primary perspectives. Some agreed with Jean Cocteau, believing that jazz and the dance traditions that had come with it were the key to rebuilding a French artistic identity after World War I. Others considered this newfound fascination with Africa™ repulsive, and compared it to an epidemic, a sickness, and a plague.
Others still held a more moderate perspective. In a commentary on Black dance, André Levinson holds two main claims. First, his commentary on Josephine Baker perpetuates a textbook example of the Jezebel stereotype: a sexually promiscuous and manipulative Black woman. Levinson describes Baker as “an extraordinary creature of simian suppleness – a sinuous idol that enslaves and incites mankind,” a statement which shows a literal fetishization of both Black art and the people that perform it and a disconcerting objectification of Baker as he compares her to an idol. This further links to the Jezebel stereotype by drawing parallels to the false prophet idea and idol worship. Whether intentional or not, Levinson connects Josephine Baker (i.e., Black music and dance) with the fall of a civilization (i.e., French culture) through the idea of her somehow being lesser culturally and socially. Second, Levinson considers rhythm to be a cornerstone of Black music (as well as other “lesser” musics). In fact, he praises “the undeniable rhythmic superiority of these Negro dancers…” but then he attributes it to “their irrepressible animality.” That is one backhanded compliment. He then also warns against “[jumping] to the conclusion that because of this extraordinary rhythmic gift the Negro dancer or musician should be taken seriously as an artist.”
Levinson’s essay, along with other related readings (especially those in which French writers equate Black American culture with African culture despite significant differences) shows me that no matter how many French artists wrote long-winded love letters to Black culture professing their admiration and appreciation for this new trend in music and dance, no matter how much they thought they loved this amalgamation of two continents’ worth of culture, the French did not love Black culture. They loved a palatable-to-white-audiences, essentialized imitation of Black culture that they saw through their blue, white, and red glasses.
…
Thinking about how negrophilia in 1920s Paris connects to my experience with music today, I am drawn to a quote from Levinson’s article: “Rhythm is not, after all, an art in itself.”
In that context, Levinson was rationalizing his previous statement, which was in admiration of the rhythmic capabilities of the Black dancers he had watched. After all, if rhythm isn’t “an art in itself,” then these dancers are not better artists in any capacity than the (white) French musicians that he was familiar with.
That sentence exemplifies many of the issues I have with the system of musical instruction that I have been a part of for nearly my entire life. Imagine this scene: an average, classically-trained, probably white, undergraduate music student is asked to play jazz. (Why do I suddenly have the score to Psycho stuck in my head? Weird.)
I can’t play jazz.
I don’t know how to improvise.
It’s not really my “thing.”
To many of us, jazz is something unfamiliar, but rather than acknowledging that and trying anyway, we shy away from the challenge. Jazz musicians can handle that. We’ll stick with our good friend Mozart.
I’m not saying that this is entirely based in racism, but I do think that among classical musicians, the concept of classical music being inherently superior to jazz and other popular genres (really anything not Western Classical “art music”) remains common today, albeit often in a much more subtle form than in Levinson’s article. This concept is based on the ideas these old French guys write about, and it is further ingrained in us by the focus of degree programs on very specific kinds of music, even within the Western European Classical Music canon.
When we say Jazz is not my style, what we really mean is that we are uncomfortable, and we don’t want to confront that. We want to hide behind our scores, the scores that prove our competence because we can decipher their language, the scores that reinforce our elitist notions of what “true” musicianship is because if you can’t read sheet music you must be a lesser musician, the scores that… maybe need to be put away, once in a while?
When we criticize these 1920s Parisians for their fetishization of Black music, dance, and people, we ignore the fact that we too express these beliefs, even if our expression is less overtly racist than theirs. When we say:
I listen to everything except country and rap.
or
Singers can’t count, but it’s okay – they don’t need rhythm.
or
All rock/pop/rap music is based on the same four chords.
And we mean:
Country and rap are lesser art forms and even though I have definitely never listened to Swedish grunge metal I am going to call out these two extremely broad genres because everyone knows that they are worse.
or
Rhythm doesn’t matter as much as harmony or melody anyway – if you’re close enough, that’s great.
or
The lack of harmonic variety in this rock/pop/rap song makes it less valid as music than the Brahms symphony I was just listening to, even though the song is driven by something else – rhythm and lyrics are not as hard as harmony.
Then perhaps it is time for us to reevaluate why we say these things. Not everyone has to perform or even like every genre, but when we as a culture imply that anything we are unfamiliar or uncomfortable with is inherently less valid and not worthy of study or discussion, then we are doing what Levinson does, just in 21st century language. Especially considering the significant portion of popular music genres that are performed by BIPOC and/or LGBTQ+ artists or that are heavily “inspired” by these cultures, it is important to not fall back into the elitism and racism that was in Paris in the 1920s.
We don’t all suddenly need to master the genres we don’t already know. We don’t even all need to like them. What I am saying is that we absolutely should not immediately discount them because of their genre and cultural origins – that’s sooooo 1920s Paris!