18-03-2012, 12:08
nice article from popmatters
The popular music of the â60s is ostensibly among the most acclaimed collective bodies of music of the 20th century. Although often depicted as a counter-cultural force for social change, the music has still become formally and informally institutionalized as among the greatest popular music ever recorded. Though authors and critics like John Strausbaugh and Jim DeRogatis legitimately question the validity of such institutions as the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Rolling Stone magazine, I maintain that such organizationsâthough more involved in criticism than historyâcan nonetheless shape perceptions of what music holds up over time as part of a popular music canon. These institutions heavily feature artists and recordings from the â60s. So little can dispute that in mainstream venues of popular music criticism, the music of the â60s looms large in its perceived quality and significance. And likewise, rock history textbooks devote significant space to the decade.
However, historically the popular music particularly in the decadeâs second half is additionally significant because it illuminates largely unexplored terrain of race in music. During this era both rock, as opposed to earlier rock ânâ roll, and soul, as opposed to earlier rhythm & blues, gained significant prominence commercially and culturally. In the â50s, rock ânâ roll had been a hybrid form popularized by both black and white artists, albeit unevenly: while white artists and producers received a disproportionate share of money and chart success due to âcover tunesâ and other forms of exploitation (as Reebee Garofalo explains in her article Crossing Over: From Black Rhythm & Blues to White Rock âNâ Roll), many whites still saw the music as threatening for its multiracial audiences and hybridized content, as well as its significant roots in African-American popular music. Simultaneously, rhythm & blues flourished, albeit with less commercial success among mainstream white audiences, with the rise of a host of independent record labels. The sound of rhythm & blues contained more âblues, jazz, and pop elementsâ than the heavy gospel influences that went on to mark soul music.
But during the â60s these overlapping genres separated over more defined racial lines. The hybrid rock ânâ roll became rock, known for several new features, as author Maureen Mahon explains in her essay, âAfrican Americans and Rock ânâ Rollâ:
Performers began to write their own material, and the subject matter expanded as references to cars and love were complemented by poetic commentaries on politics and everyday life. Musicians began focusing on producing albums intended to make conceptual and artistic statements, and rock became a site of authentic self-expression. [â¦] White artists and fans dominated the scene, and the majority of young African Americans focused on soul music.
Alongside these developments, and with the rise of the Black Power Movement, soul music became known as an extension of concepts of black pride and self-determination. So soul, too, was racialized, not only for its artistsâ ideologies but also because of the genreâs stylistic features derived from black gospel music.
To be sure, black rock musiciansâincluding Jimi Hendrix, Sly Stone, and Arthur Lee of the group Loveâas well as white soul musiciansâincluding instrumentalists in the racially integrated bands playing on recordings of singers like Aretha Franklin and Wilson Pickettâexisted during the â60s. Further complicating matters, in the late â60s and early â70s, soul musicians like Isaac Hayes and Curtis Mayfield recorded the kinds of concept albums associated with white rock artists. These contradictions could potentially render meaningless the categories of white and black music, especially given that the history of American music is interracial, as authors like Ronald Radano have argued.
However, the two genres were largely viewed and marketed as produced by and for separate races. As Mahon writes, âBy the end of the 1960s, rock was in place as a white youth-oriented form distinct from its parent rock ânâ roll. With few exceptions, black men and women were confined to the clearly demarcated field of black musicâ. This perception of rock as white and soul as black continues today in music historiography, including in rock history textbooksâ descriptions of some artists. In particular, descriptions of the Beatles and Bob Dylan, exemplify how various texts construct whites as helping turn rock ânâ roll music into âartâ. For soul, James Brown and Aretha Franklin are routinely listed as the most important figures of the eraâs music, not only in these textbooks but also in works by critics and historians like Nelson George, Craig Werner, and Cornel West.
Five rock history textbooks were found that contain language opposing rock and soul artists as white and black. They arguably exist on a spectrum from the most problematic and racist (Joe Stuessy and Scott Lipscombâs Rock and Roll: Its History and Stylistic Development and Paul Friedlander and Peter Millerâs Rock & Roll: A Social History) to the most progressive and anti-racist texts (John Covachâs Whatâs That Sound? An Introduction to Rock and Its History) with two sources mixing both problematic and progressive descriptions (Michael Campbell with James Brodyâs Rock & Roll: An Introduction and Katherine Charltonâs Rock Music Styles: A History)
Stuessy and Lipscombâs text contains at least one arguably racist and incorrect construction opposing rock and soul, especially supported in descriptions of the Beatles and James Brown: rock is more complex, while soul is simpler. Words the authors use to highlight the Beatlesâ impact include ârevolutionaryâ, âinnovativeâ, âauthenticâ and âexperimentationâ, and though the authors give Bob Dylan a much shorter section within one chapter, âFolk Music and Folk Rockâ, they sometimes describe Dylan in similar terms, including ârevolutionaryâ.
To be fair, many critics and historians have made such claims, which seem benign on the surface. But contrasting the language here to that ascribed to soul music illuminates the opposition between complexity and simplicity. In the chapter, âSoul and Motownâ, some descriptions are fair, including saying Aretha Franklin âhas a remarkable rangeâ, but others, specifically for James Brown, are just plain wrong. For example, a statement like âBrownâs songs are among the simplest and most basic in all of popular musicâ may hold true for Brownâs melodies, but it ignores the complex interlocking rhythms present in much of Brownâs most acclaimed work. While Stuessy and Lipscomb go on to call Brownâs style âpercussively rhythmicâ, in the same sentence they characterize it once again as âsimplified [and] repetitiveâ. So despite its undeniable significance for many African-Americans, at least Brownâs music does not earn the language of value that the authors ascribe to the Beatlesâ and Dylanâs music, when one could reasonably claim that Brownâs music was revolutionary, innovative, and so forth, but for its rhythmic, not melodic, content.
While Ronald Radano, unlike other ethnomusicologists like Portia K. Maultsby, legitimately questions the idea that rhythmic complexity is an inherent feature of African-American music, the authorsâ construction of Brownâs music is arguably still racist because it reads Brownâs music as less complex than, and therefore inferior to, that of the Beatles and Dylan. An alternative construction could highlight both genres as complex, but with rock as more complex melodically and soul as more complex rhythmically. Such an alternative would not set up a binary of value, with one genre valued over, while still acknowledging the undeniable differences between rock and soul artists.
In Rock & Roll: A Social History, Paul Friedlander (with Peter Miller writing the chapters on music after the â80s) sets up an opposition that might not seem a racist construction of value, but is one nonetheless: specifically, rock is intellectual and of the mind, while soul is emotional and of the body. While based on some correct ideasâafter all, the music of Franklin and Brown undeniably contains strong emotionsâthis construction subtly mirrors racist ideas of whitesâ superiority over blacks, as extended into music constructed as white and black.
Although Friedlanderâs text does not contain such overtly racist language as philosopher George Wilmelm Friedrich Hegelâs infamous writings arguing that blacks are âdominated by passionâ and by irrational âsavagery and lawlessnessâ, Friedlander constructs soul music as more physical and less rational than rock. In the lengthy chapter on the Beatles Friedlander, like Stuessy and Lipscomb, highlights the groupâs originality and innovative experimentation. The construction that â[t]he Beatles enabled the discussion of rock and roll as artâ is in play. In the chapter on Dylan, Friedlander stresses Dylanâs original and influential lyrics: âHis fusion of the folk/protest heritage with abstract lyrical style had an extraordinary impact on the form and content of 1960s folk and rock musicâ.
And again, this language seems benign, but contrast these ideas with the language characterizing soul music artists: Brownâs âflamboyant and acrobatic physical movesâ and âthe raw emotionality of his vocal style, focus on rhythm, and physicality in performingâ emphasize soul as of the body more than the mind while not acknowledging the innovative experimentationâto name one characteristic for which Friedlander praises the BeatlesâBrown incorporated into this âfocus on rhythmâ. So once again, Brownâs music is not given the constructions of value that the Beatles and Dylan are given. Additionally, Friedlander, however accurately, notes the âexplosive, soaring, passionate vocalsâ in Franklinâs music but without constructing it as possessing the same level of value as the Beatlesâ and Dylanâs music.
So while soul does contain emotion and physicality, the lack of value assigned to soul in relation to such traits is why I object to these descriptions. An alternative would be to posit that rock is of the mind, while soul is of the mind and body: soul artists did make emotional music but also were involved in processes seen as of the mind, including rhythmic experimentation in Brownâs work. This alternative does not value either genre more than the other and seems accurate when applied to the Beatles and Dylan and to Brown and Franklin.
The popular music of the â60s is ostensibly among the most acclaimed collective bodies of music of the 20th century. Although often depicted as a counter-cultural force for social change, the music has still become formally and informally institutionalized as among the greatest popular music ever recorded. Though authors and critics like John Strausbaugh and Jim DeRogatis legitimately question the validity of such institutions as the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Rolling Stone magazine, I maintain that such organizationsâthough more involved in criticism than historyâcan nonetheless shape perceptions of what music holds up over time as part of a popular music canon. These institutions heavily feature artists and recordings from the â60s. So little can dispute that in mainstream venues of popular music criticism, the music of the â60s looms large in its perceived quality and significance. And likewise, rock history textbooks devote significant space to the decade.
However, historically the popular music particularly in the decadeâs second half is additionally significant because it illuminates largely unexplored terrain of race in music. During this era both rock, as opposed to earlier rock ânâ roll, and soul, as opposed to earlier rhythm & blues, gained significant prominence commercially and culturally. In the â50s, rock ânâ roll had been a hybrid form popularized by both black and white artists, albeit unevenly: while white artists and producers received a disproportionate share of money and chart success due to âcover tunesâ and other forms of exploitation (as Reebee Garofalo explains in her article Crossing Over: From Black Rhythm & Blues to White Rock âNâ Roll), many whites still saw the music as threatening for its multiracial audiences and hybridized content, as well as its significant roots in African-American popular music. Simultaneously, rhythm & blues flourished, albeit with less commercial success among mainstream white audiences, with the rise of a host of independent record labels. The sound of rhythm & blues contained more âblues, jazz, and pop elementsâ than the heavy gospel influences that went on to mark soul music.
But during the â60s these overlapping genres separated over more defined racial lines. The hybrid rock ânâ roll became rock, known for several new features, as author Maureen Mahon explains in her essay, âAfrican Americans and Rock ânâ Rollâ:
Performers began to write their own material, and the subject matter expanded as references to cars and love were complemented by poetic commentaries on politics and everyday life. Musicians began focusing on producing albums intended to make conceptual and artistic statements, and rock became a site of authentic self-expression. [â¦] White artists and fans dominated the scene, and the majority of young African Americans focused on soul music.
Alongside these developments, and with the rise of the Black Power Movement, soul music became known as an extension of concepts of black pride and self-determination. So soul, too, was racialized, not only for its artistsâ ideologies but also because of the genreâs stylistic features derived from black gospel music.
To be sure, black rock musiciansâincluding Jimi Hendrix, Sly Stone, and Arthur Lee of the group Loveâas well as white soul musiciansâincluding instrumentalists in the racially integrated bands playing on recordings of singers like Aretha Franklin and Wilson Pickettâexisted during the â60s. Further complicating matters, in the late â60s and early â70s, soul musicians like Isaac Hayes and Curtis Mayfield recorded the kinds of concept albums associated with white rock artists. These contradictions could potentially render meaningless the categories of white and black music, especially given that the history of American music is interracial, as authors like Ronald Radano have argued.
However, the two genres were largely viewed and marketed as produced by and for separate races. As Mahon writes, âBy the end of the 1960s, rock was in place as a white youth-oriented form distinct from its parent rock ânâ roll. With few exceptions, black men and women were confined to the clearly demarcated field of black musicâ. This perception of rock as white and soul as black continues today in music historiography, including in rock history textbooksâ descriptions of some artists. In particular, descriptions of the Beatles and Bob Dylan, exemplify how various texts construct whites as helping turn rock ânâ roll music into âartâ. For soul, James Brown and Aretha Franklin are routinely listed as the most important figures of the eraâs music, not only in these textbooks but also in works by critics and historians like Nelson George, Craig Werner, and Cornel West.
Five rock history textbooks were found that contain language opposing rock and soul artists as white and black. They arguably exist on a spectrum from the most problematic and racist (Joe Stuessy and Scott Lipscombâs Rock and Roll: Its History and Stylistic Development and Paul Friedlander and Peter Millerâs Rock & Roll: A Social History) to the most progressive and anti-racist texts (John Covachâs Whatâs That Sound? An Introduction to Rock and Its History) with two sources mixing both problematic and progressive descriptions (Michael Campbell with James Brodyâs Rock & Roll: An Introduction and Katherine Charltonâs Rock Music Styles: A History)
Stuessy and Lipscombâs text contains at least one arguably racist and incorrect construction opposing rock and soul, especially supported in descriptions of the Beatles and James Brown: rock is more complex, while soul is simpler. Words the authors use to highlight the Beatlesâ impact include ârevolutionaryâ, âinnovativeâ, âauthenticâ and âexperimentationâ, and though the authors give Bob Dylan a much shorter section within one chapter, âFolk Music and Folk Rockâ, they sometimes describe Dylan in similar terms, including ârevolutionaryâ.
To be fair, many critics and historians have made such claims, which seem benign on the surface. But contrasting the language here to that ascribed to soul music illuminates the opposition between complexity and simplicity. In the chapter, âSoul and Motownâ, some descriptions are fair, including saying Aretha Franklin âhas a remarkable rangeâ, but others, specifically for James Brown, are just plain wrong. For example, a statement like âBrownâs songs are among the simplest and most basic in all of popular musicâ may hold true for Brownâs melodies, but it ignores the complex interlocking rhythms present in much of Brownâs most acclaimed work. While Stuessy and Lipscomb go on to call Brownâs style âpercussively rhythmicâ, in the same sentence they characterize it once again as âsimplified [and] repetitiveâ. So despite its undeniable significance for many African-Americans, at least Brownâs music does not earn the language of value that the authors ascribe to the Beatlesâ and Dylanâs music, when one could reasonably claim that Brownâs music was revolutionary, innovative, and so forth, but for its rhythmic, not melodic, content.
While Ronald Radano, unlike other ethnomusicologists like Portia K. Maultsby, legitimately questions the idea that rhythmic complexity is an inherent feature of African-American music, the authorsâ construction of Brownâs music is arguably still racist because it reads Brownâs music as less complex than, and therefore inferior to, that of the Beatles and Dylan. An alternative construction could highlight both genres as complex, but with rock as more complex melodically and soul as more complex rhythmically. Such an alternative would not set up a binary of value, with one genre valued over, while still acknowledging the undeniable differences between rock and soul artists.
In Rock & Roll: A Social History, Paul Friedlander (with Peter Miller writing the chapters on music after the â80s) sets up an opposition that might not seem a racist construction of value, but is one nonetheless: specifically, rock is intellectual and of the mind, while soul is emotional and of the body. While based on some correct ideasâafter all, the music of Franklin and Brown undeniably contains strong emotionsâthis construction subtly mirrors racist ideas of whitesâ superiority over blacks, as extended into music constructed as white and black.
Although Friedlanderâs text does not contain such overtly racist language as philosopher George Wilmelm Friedrich Hegelâs infamous writings arguing that blacks are âdominated by passionâ and by irrational âsavagery and lawlessnessâ, Friedlander constructs soul music as more physical and less rational than rock. In the lengthy chapter on the Beatles Friedlander, like Stuessy and Lipscomb, highlights the groupâs originality and innovative experimentation. The construction that â[t]he Beatles enabled the discussion of rock and roll as artâ is in play. In the chapter on Dylan, Friedlander stresses Dylanâs original and influential lyrics: âHis fusion of the folk/protest heritage with abstract lyrical style had an extraordinary impact on the form and content of 1960s folk and rock musicâ.
And again, this language seems benign, but contrast these ideas with the language characterizing soul music artists: Brownâs âflamboyant and acrobatic physical movesâ and âthe raw emotionality of his vocal style, focus on rhythm, and physicality in performingâ emphasize soul as of the body more than the mind while not acknowledging the innovative experimentationâto name one characteristic for which Friedlander praises the BeatlesâBrown incorporated into this âfocus on rhythmâ. So once again, Brownâs music is not given the constructions of value that the Beatles and Dylan are given. Additionally, Friedlander, however accurately, notes the âexplosive, soaring, passionate vocalsâ in Franklinâs music but without constructing it as possessing the same level of value as the Beatlesâ and Dylanâs music.
So while soul does contain emotion and physicality, the lack of value assigned to soul in relation to such traits is why I object to these descriptions. An alternative would be to posit that rock is of the mind, while soul is of the mind and body: soul artists did make emotional music but also were involved in processes seen as of the mind, including rhythmic experimentation in Brownâs work. This alternative does not value either genre more than the other and seems accurate when applied to the Beatles and Dylan and to Brown and Franklin.
