Music, Raman

Reggae

A few months ago, Jamaica made headlines by considering the establishment of an “authentic reggae” certification to distinguish between reggae created by Jamaican musicians and producers and that created abroad. This came around the same time that they asked UNESCO (the cultural organization of the United Nations) to designate reggae as “intangible cultural heritage” and while “government officials, lawyers and artists participated in a conference… to hash over ways of giving Jamaica a competitive advantage from reggae, the homegrown music that long ago went global” (“Jamaica Officials, Artists Hold Reggae Conference”). Clearly Jamaican musicians, the Jamaican government, and many of the Jamaican people are willing to go to great lengths to preserve the bond between their homeland and their iconic style of music. But why is this so important to them?

The musical style of reggae has its roots in the Rastafarian movement, a religious and cultural movement that rose to prominence in Jamaica in the 1930s. In the year 1930, a man named Tafari Makonne or Ras Tafari (Ras meaning king) declared that he was a descendant of King David and had been sent by God to lead Jamaicans of African descent to Ethiopia, a move that had previously been called for by the revered Jamaican cultural leader Maces Garvey. In his self-proclaimed role as the savior of the Jamaican people, Ras Tafari took the name Haile Selassie. According to class resources prepared for a course on the Rhetoric of Reggae at the University of Vermont, “The people who listened to this soon began to call themselves Rastafarians. To these new Rasta’s, Ethiopia became their Zion, and Haile Selassie their Messiah”. The most well known attributes of Rastafarianism are that followers often have dreads, smoke ganja (marijuana), and listen to/write reggae music. All of these practices are rooted in their religious beliefs, and reggae is often used in religious worship.

The person most directly responsible for Reggae’s popularity outside of Jamaica is Bob Marley, who co-led a group called The Wailers that brought reggae music and Rasta culture to the United States and Europe. Their success set off a wave of interest in reggae and paved the way for many other acts to follow in their footsteps. Eventually, reggae became associated “with the ‘peace and love’ philosophy of the hippies, an association that would not die away” (Scaruffi).

Reggae is best known for its heavy emphasis on the second and fourth beats of each measure, its staccato guitar hits, its melodic bass lines, and its use of various assorted percussion instruments. The combination of these elements yields a laid-back, distinctive sound that is unique to and immediately recognizable as reggae. If you have some exams coming up and are looking for a way to kick back and relax, or you just want to hear some really great music, I would highly recommend checking out Bob Marley’s “Don’t Worry About a Thing” (or any Bob Marley song for that matter). Especially while its starting to get cold here in State College, it may be nice to feel like you’re in Jamaica for a little while!

 

Grant, William. “Rastafari Culture The Extreme Ethiopian Rasta Vs. The Mellow Dallas Rast.” Debate Central. The University of Vermont, 25 Apr. 2002. Web. 25 Sept. 2015.
“Jamaica Officials, Artists Hold Reggae Conference.” The Associated Press, 1 July 2015. Web. 25 Sept. 2015.
Scaruffi, Pierro. “A Brief Summary of Jamaican Music.” The History of Popular Music. Print.
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Music, Raman

Blue Skies

When I originally had the idea for this passion blog, my plan was to start with modern music and work backwards. I quickly realized, however, that if I attempted to construct/follow a single storyline spanning centuries of musical development, I would be forced to ignore many styles of music and interesting stories that come with them. Instead, I have decided to make each of these posts more or less self-contained. They will be able to be read in any order and will include as much musical and cultural context as I can find and deem valuable to understanding the work.

To understand the cultural significance of this week’s song, I want to take you back to the year 1926. As Dr. Ken Untiedt explains in his book, First Timers and Old Timers:

Few times, standing so close together, has there been such a sharp line of distinction as that which existed between pre- and post-WWI… The Twenties continued with a material prosperity such as ordinary Americans had not known before. With jobs to be had and good wages, the American people were able to buy cars, radios, phonographs, and a host of labor-saving electrical appliances. They paid to see professional sports. They went to college—and Europe. They borrowed money and they bought things on credit… They lived better than any pre-WWI American society, and they tried to be everything their parents had not.

It was against the backdrop of this cultural revolution that Irving Berlin sat down to write what would ultimately become “ the theme song of that entire decade” (Untiedt): “Blue Skies”.

According to biographer Laurence Bergreen, Berlin composed “Blue Skies” for a friend who was starring in a musical that lacked a closing number. The musical, Betsy, was set to open the following night when singer Belle Baker approached Berlin for the favor; telling him, “even something half-finished by you is better than what I’ve got now, which is nothing!” Berlin finished the song around 6:00 AM and Baker sang it in the show that same night to an “enraptured” audience. The crowd loved the song so much that they demanded twenty-four encores; the twenty-fourth of which featured Berlin himself singing along with Baker (Bergreen).

As one biographer explains it, “’Blue Skies’ was an extraordinary song, the work of a craftsman, who… disguised his intricate artistry under a veneer of utter simplicity.” (Furia) The song combined jazz, a form of musical expression that had come to define the generation, with lyrics that encapsulated the pervasive optimism of the decade. The first verse, in which Berlin explains that “I was blue, just as blue as I could be / Ev’ry day was a cloudy day for me” captures the perceptions of pre-war life, while the ideas that “skies were gray but they’re not gray anymore” and there will be “nothing but blue skies / From now on” speak to the post-war prosperity that Untiedt wrote about.

Just as the song belonged to one quintessential twenties form of expression, jazz, it also found its way into another that arose from the postwar prosperity: movies. In 1927, when The Jazz Singer became the world’s first feature length motion picture with synchronized dialogue, Al Jolsen sang “Blue Skies” as one of six songs featured in the film. The lyrics and story of “Blue Skies” paint a vivid picture of life in post-war America and the state of the collective consciousness. Looking back, modern audiences hear the statement “nothing but blue skies / from now on” and cringe, knowing how soon that optimism will be decimated by the Depression it helped to cause. Even still, “Blue Skies” managed to freeze a moment in time and preserve it for future generations in a way only music can.


 

Works Cited:

Bergreen, Laurence. “Heartbreak House.” As Thousands Cheer: The Life of Irving Berlin. New York, NY: Viking, 1990. N. pag. Print.

Furia, Philip, and Graham Wood. Irving Berlin: A Life in Song. New York: Schirmer, 1998. Print.

Ogren, Kathy J. The Jazz Revolution: Twenties America & the Meaning of Jazz. New York: Oxford University Press, 1989.

Untiedt, Kenneth L. First Timers and Old Timers: The Texas Folklore Society Fire Burns On. Denton: University of North Texas Press, 2012. Project MUSE. Web. 14 Sep. 2015. <https://muse.jhu.edu/>.

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Music, Uncategorized

I See No Changes

In my first post, I promised to use this blog to explore the ability of music “to unite communities and preserve cultural identities across geographic and generational barriers”. I spent a lot of time considering the different forms this exploration could take and decided that I wanted to let the music speak for itself to the extent that I am able. Each week I will post a song, either to stand on its own or to represent a style/type of music, then offer some context for the time in which this song was written and some notes about its relevance to the progression of music and society as a whole.

This week I attended ID, a play commissioned by Penn State that was being performed at the Penn State Downtown Theatre Center. The play illustrates ways in which Black Americans struggle with their identity in a society that labels them “Black” first and “Americans” later, and offers a look into the life of an undercover police officer who shoots an unarmed black teen and struggles to understand the fear and animosity he harbors to those who look different than he does. As the play unfolded and the message became clear, I was reminded of a song.

The song I am thinking of talks about police shooting black men, mass incarceration, and war in the Middle East: three topics that have made headlines over the last year and are sure to find their way into the 2016 election cycle. Almost clairvoyantly, the twenty-three-year-old song begins with the line “I see no changes”.

The song that I kept thinking of in the audience of Id was Tupak Shakur’s “Changes”.

2PAC – Changes

When Tupac sat down to write “Changes”, the assault of Rodney King by Los Angeles police officers was still a recent memory, unemployment was nearing record highs, and race relations were tense. He references several other recent events directly; including the conflicts in the Middle East and the murder of Black Panther Party co-founder Huey Percy Newton.

Tupac would not live to see the song released. As he seems to predict in the last four lines, he was killed in a drive-by shooting at the age of 25. His murder remains unsolved.

When I listen to “Changes”, even as a white man, I feel as if I’m being transported back to 1992 as seen by Tupac Shakur. His frustration with the system and the state of our country is palpable, and it’s even sadder now because, two decades later, “I see no changes”. We may have a Black president, which Tupac’s America was not “ready” for, but other than that, nearly all of the social ills Tupac mentions still plague our country today.

When Tupac says, “the penitentiary’s packed, and it’s filled with blacks” and “both black and white / are smokin’ crack tonight”, I think to the report from the Brookings Institute that concluded that “Blacks remain far more likely than whites to be arrested for selling drugs (3.6 times more likely) or possessing drugs (2.5 times more likely). …even though Whites … are actually more likely than Blacks to sell drugs and about as likely to consume them”. When Tupac says, “Cops give a damn about a negro? / Pull the trigger, kill a nigga, he’s a hero”, I think of Michael Brown, Walter Scott, and Eric Harris. When I think of Rodney King, I think of Freddie Gray and Eric Garner.

I was not alive in 1992, when Tupac wrote and recorded this song, but when I hear it I feel like I am there. That is the power of music. Before I saw ID, I had a chance to have lunch with NSankou Njikam, the play’s writer, and he told us that he was inspired when he learned the literal meaning of the word respect: “to look again”. When I hear “Changes”, I look again at my America and see that, in several horrifying ways, it really is the same as Tupac’s. As he states at the end of the song, “some things will never change”: let’s just hope he’s wrong.

 

Works Cited:

“”Changes” Lyrics.” 2PAC LYRICS. N.p., n.d. Web. 11 Sept. 2015.
“Huey P. Newton.” Bio.com. N.p., n.d. Web. 11 Sept. 2015.
“Rodney King.” Bio.com. N.p., n.d. Web. 11 Sept. 2015.
Rothwell, Jonathan. “How the War on Drugs Damages Black Social Mobility.” The Brookings Institution, 30 Sept. 2014. Web. 11 Sept. 2015.
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