call and response/antiphonal development

We explored today Ellison’s interest in antiphonal forms to link an individual musician/orator/writer with an audience. I wanted to share links to two blog posts that help us grasp this connection more concretely. First, the post I shared on Zoom:

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And second, a jazz-centric post from Lincoln Center’s blog. This one is more relevant in some ways, since the IMs performances in chapters 12 and 16 are jazz-like in their improvisiatory riffing, their lack of a “blueprint” as Peetie Wheatstraw has it:

https://www.jazz.org/blog/playlist-call-and-response/

 

NYT article on blackface

Fascinating article about the persistence of blackface in our own era. As I’m sure you know, there have been numerous scandals recently exposing incidents of whites “blacking up” at parties: VA Gov. Ralph Northam, for example.

This article looks at something more subtle: the range of uses of blackface, ranging from utterly uncritical and exploitative to extremely self-aware and critical uses (e.g., Spike Lee’s brilliant film Bamboozled). The whole enterprise resonates powerfully with Ellison’s novel, which features many encounters with the culture of minstrelsy and blackface, taking very seriously its appeal to a wide range of subjects (including Mary Rambo, as we’ve seen already).

PSA: as CUNY students you all have access to the New York Times for free. Use it: it’s basic mental equipment for navigating the complex world we live in!

 

Ellison and music

As I’ve mentioned a few times, music is incredibly important to Ellison. He attended Tuskegee on a music scholarship, he was an obsessive collector of records, and he grew up in Oklahoma in the “swing era” amid musicians like guitarist Charlie Christian and band leader Count Basie. He was a bit old, in a sense, for the “bebop” that emerged in the 40s and rose to dominance in the 50s via players like Charlie Parker, John Coltrane, Dizzy Gillespie, and Miles Davis, but he was a cogent critic of this emergent style and its fingerprints, so to speak, are on Invisible Man in various ways. Here’s a quick tour through some helpful musical contexts for the novel:

[for those interested in a deeper dive, there’s lots of scholarship on this topic. You might start with some of the interviews with prominent scholars on this site]

Peetie Wheatstraw was a real blues musician who called himself “the devil’s son-in-law.” Peter Wheatstraw in the novel is a bit more urbane and ironic, arguably, than the Peetie of this track, but you can at least catch the flavor of the Southern “Delta blues” tradition that Ellison references via the name here:

Peetie Wheatstraw – Devil’s Son-In-Law

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Charlie Christian was Ellison’s contemporary and also from Oklahoma City. He is a bridge figure between the swing era and bebop whose playing helped bring the electric guitar from its place as a “rhythm instrument,” playing chords as a harmonic foundation for the solo instruments, to a place as a solo instrument in its own right. Here’s his “Solo Flight”:

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Charlie Parker and Dizzie Gillespie are often pointed to as Godfathers of bebop, whose velocity and melodic invention radically reshaped jazz music, especially (to quote Invisible Man) by exploring the “uncertain extremes of the scale” (259). Here both do just that, in a wild ride that shows off the sheer velocity of the music of this moment:

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NYRB article on blackness and basketball

I wanted to share this fascinating article on the NBA and the black image in popular culture by the Asian American writer Jay Caspian Kang. He really digs into some of the issues that Ellison deals with in his novel and, from another angle, the impetus to critique one’s own position as a writer engaging blackness that Rankine and Loffreda discuss. For me, Kang is doing an exemplary job here of exploring his “racial imaginary” and linking that exploration to antiracist work without resorting to cliches or feelgood nostrums.

Ball Don’t Lie | by Jay Caspian Kang | The New York Review of Books

Claudia Rankine poem

Thanks to Aleks for posting it in the Zoom chat today. I’d missed it when it came out, but wow: this is one of the best responses to the rise of Trumpism and the white resentment that enables it that I’ve seen:

“Sound & Fury”

Poetry: “This is what it means to wear a color and believe / the embrace of its touch.”

 

Also interesting that it references Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury (and perhaps Macbeth, from which Faulkner took the title). I’m teaching The Sound and the Fury now, as it turns, out, so I’ll have to share with that class as well.