Race Music

Covering the vast and various terrain of African American music, this text begins with an account of the author's own musical experiences with family and friends on the South Side of Chicago. It goes on to explore the global influence and social relevance of African American music.

Into the newly-settled (in 1910) Mississippi Delta country comes Sam Schwartz, a Russian immigrant, one of the many wandering Jewish peddlers who comb the backwoods of the American South, a man fleeing an oppressive country and a painful past. He experiences an emotional rebirth with Leafy, a black Delta woman. Race Music (the original term for blues recordings) is the story of Sam and Leafy's relationship, of the family they start and of a love betrayed - a betrayal that has consequences that will span fifty years and reach all the way from the Delta to Chicago's South Side. Delta music - the blues - is always in the background. Celebrated figures like Charlie Patton and Bessie Smith and the fabled Robert Johnson are encountered as they create the Delta's truest history and cultural legacy.

Race, Music, and National Identity is the first book-length study to examine closely the portrayal of jazz in American fiction during the most critical and dynamic years of the music's development. The principal argument suggests that the discourse on jazz was informed largely by a broad range of anxieties endemic to the turbulent decades of the mid-twentieth century. As the United States faced a new crisis in either foreign or domestic policy, writers and intellectuals often used jazz as a forum to change both the public's understanding of the musical tradition as well as the nation's understanding of itself. In many ways, the rise of jazz from low to high art was a product of this discourse. The study relies on a close reading of several notable authors including F. Scott Fitzgerald, Langston Hughes, Eudora Welty, Ralph Ellison, and Jack Kerouac but also responds to a broad range of popular writers from the decade whose contribution to the discourse on jazz has been largely forgotten. This book provides an insightful glimpse into how the United States negotiates and ultimately understands its own cultural artifacts. Paul McCann is an English Professor at Del Mar College.

"A specter lurks in the house of music, and it goes by the name of race," write Ronald Radano and Philip Bohlman in their introduction. Yet the intimate relationship between race and music has rarely been examined by contemporary scholars, most of whom have abandoned it for the more enlightened notions of ethnicity and culture. Here, a distinguished group of contributors confront the issue head on. Representing an unusually broad range of academic disciplines and geographic regions, they critically examine how the imagination of race has influenced musical production, reception, and scholarly analysis, even as they reject the objectivity of the concept itself. Each essay follows the lead of the substantial introduction, which reviews the history of race in European and American, non-Western and global musics, placing it within the contexts of the colonial experience and the more recent formation of "world music." Offering a bold, new revisionist agenda for musicology in a postmodern, postcolonial world, this book will appeal to students of culture and race across the humanities and social sciences.

Long a favorite on dance floors in Latin America, the porro, cumbia, and vallenato styles that make up Colombia's música tropical are now enjoying international success. How did this music—which has its roots in a black, marginal region of the country—manage, from the 1940s onward, to become so popular in a nation that had prided itself on its white heritage? Peter Wade explores the history of música tropical, analyzing its rise in the context of the development of the broadcast media, rapid urbanization, and regional struggles for power. Using archival sources and oral histories, Wade shows how big band renditions of cumbia and porro in the 1940s and 1950s suggested both old traditions and new liberties, especially for women, speaking to a deeply rooted image of black music as sensuous. Recently, nostalgic, "whitened" versions of música tropical have gained popularity as part of government-sponsored multiculturalism. Wade's fresh look at the way music transforms and is transformed by ideologies of race, nation, sexuality, tradition, and modernity is the first book-length study of Colombian popular music.

A factory town. Smoke. The smell of the river. Of rust. To a steady pulse, the city dances to music, to drugs, to desire. And to murder. It's the pulse of a hot-jazz race opera played in 5/4 rhythm to the tune of a .45 automatic. If he were just another dead black man, who would care? But he's not. He's Eddie Devine. The sexiest man on God's green earth. He marches for equality. He screws women. He sings. That most of all. He could have been at the top. Instead, a maid finds him on the bottom, on the floor of a hot-sheet motel. A bullet in his heart. It's 1963: a president just had his head blown off, people are taking to the streets to protest. To die. In a city of too many murders, this is one too many. As long as Devine's killer remains on the loose, rumor and suspicion feed a growing fire. The police scramble. The people simmer. Any second now, the entire city will explode. Until then, the city continues its dance to the Downbeat of Death.

Mamie Smith's pathbreaking 1920 recording of "Crazy Blues" set the pop music world on fire, inaugurating a new African American market for "race records." Not long after, such records also brought black blues performance to an expanding international audience. A century later, the mainstream blues world has transformed into a multicultural and transnational melting pot, taking the music far beyond the black southern world of its origins. But not everybody is happy about that. If there's "No black. No white. Just the blues," as one familiar meme suggests, why do some blues people hear such pronouncements as an aggressive attempt at cultural appropriation and an erasure of traumatic histories that lie deep in the heart of the music? Then again, if "blues is black music," as some performers and critics insist, what should we make of the vibrant global blues scene, with its all-comers mix of nationalities and ethnicities? In Whose Blues?, award-winning blues scholar and performer Adam Gussow confronts these challenging questions head-on. Using blues literature and history as a cultural anchor, Gussow defines, interprets, and makes sense of the blues for the new millennium. Drawing on the blues tradition's major writers including W. C. Handy, Langston Hughes, Zora Neale Hurston, and Amiri Baraka, and grounded in his first-person knowledge of the blues performance scene, Gussow's thought-provoking book kickstarts a long overdue conversation.

Race and music seem fatally entwined in a way that involves both creative ethnic hybridity and ongoing problems of racism. This book presents a sociological analysis of this enduring relationship and asks: how are ideas of race critical to the understanding of music genres and preferences? What does the 'love of difference' via music contribute to contemporary perspectives of racism? Previous studies of world music have situated it within the dynamics of local/global musical production, the representation of nations and ethnic groups, theories of globalization, hybridization and cultural appropriation. Haynes adds a conceptual and textual shift to these debates by utilizing world music as a lens for examining cultural imaginaries of race and analytical nuances of racialization. The text offers a view of world music from 'within,' building on original, qualitative, interview-based research with people from the British world music scene. These interviews provide unique insights into the discursive repertoires that underpin contemporary culture, and will make a significant contribution to the mainly theoretical debates about world music.