Literary
historian and critic, Emily Lordi, begins Black
Resonance with a theoretical reevaluation. Lordi writes, “I propose a
theoretical revaluation of the relationship between music and writing in black
expressive culture by staging singers and writers as collaborators in the
creation of twentieth-century black aesthetics” (8). This intentional
revaluation prompts a historiographical intervention on the privileging of
black musical traditions over literary practices. Simply put, Lordi advocates
for a musical-literary reciprocity. This dialectical relationship centers Black
women’s “intellectual labor.” Focusing on black women’s performance practices,
across two generations, allows Lordi to intervene on music’s masculinist
musical biases. Through Lordi’s case studies, Black women are not celebrated as
muses for literary work-in a contemporary hood vernacular, “they puttin’ in
that work.” Writing in the tradition of Daphne Brooks’ Bodies in Dissent and Jayna Brown’s Babylon Girls, Lordi exalts Black women’s artistic/technical
aesthetic choices to “value of black women’s creativity…” (4). In addition to
repositioning black women, Lordi makes a novel theoretical and methodological
provocation: “…writings about music occupy the middle space [between literary
and vocal practice]” (5). This provocation allows Lordi to argue that music
writings provide a lexicon to illuminate vocal and literary practices. For the purposes of this blog, I will only
work through two case studies, in efforts to pose some provocations (of my own
that are implicit in Lordi’s project) and consider the interdisciplinary
implications on theatre and performance studies (i.e. my scholarly research).
Whereas I think
vivid lyricism provides an important lens to reengage Smith’s work, I struggle
with (what I perceived as) the generous reconsideration of Wright’s film Native Son. For Lordi, vivid lyricism is
“the practice of exploiting the sound of language to enhance visual description”
(31). Wright’s proclaimed vivid lyricism in Smith’s vocality illuminates how
“social exclusion might yield uniquely intense, musical visions of the world”
(31).
BESSIE SMITH’S BACKWATER BLUES
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4gXShOJVwaM
And for the most
part I was on board with Lordi’s analysis of vivid lyricism in Wright’s work.
In general, I was unclear about two of Lordi’s claims: “Wright’s embodiment of
his protagonist align these female characters more closely with the author” (44)
and “By drawing Wright into alignment with Native Son’s singers, the film
revises Wright’s own performance of black masculinity” (45). By positioning
these women to Bigger/Wright, Lordi posits the film unsettles his carefully
constructed persona of the stoic black male exile. Yet, I was unclear about
that claim based on the notion that “Bessie and Hannah are no longer tethered
to Bigger’s consciousness…” (45). Is this a reflection of Wright’s artistic
intentionality or genre conventions? The development of female characters that
are separate from Bigger’s conscious seems like a genre convention (or maybe
I’m misreading this). Lordi makes this intentional shift in decoupling Wright’s
mis/readings and troubling gender politics in Native Son (fiction).
In Chapter Two,
Lordi couples Mahalia Jackson and Ralph Ellison through the concept of sincere
ambivalence. For Lordi, ambivalence is the integrative practice which conveys
conflicting ideas or emotions (68). These multiple ideas and emotions reflect a
timbre of sincerity that do not alternate but instead coexist. This double-ness
in performance permits the telling of multiple truths.
Mahalia Jackson’s SUMMERTIME/MOTHERLESS
CHILD
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mc2vVPV_ZTQ
Through the “timbre
of sincerity,” Jackson is able to sustain “affirmative and subversive attitudes
towards ‘Summertime’” (79). In
particular, I am interested in how space informs notions of sincerity. Ellison
argued that the church was the location where Jackson should be heard. By focusing
on Jackson’s vocal performance how can we reconsider how blackness and black
aesthetics traverse black spaces and black sites? Even though Ellison advocated
for a reverse crossover effect, by affirm the black church, he misses an
opportunity to complicate the relationship with black space and black
expression. How can the practice of “timbre of sincerity” respond/expand/or
complicate DuBois’ concept of “double consciousness?”
In Chapter
Three, we examine understatement with James Baldwin, Bessie Smith, and Billie
Holiday. Understatement, as a practices, allows for artists to privilege black
listeners. Understatement seems to traffic in phenomenology, because more than
“commonly held assumptions,” understatement is build upon listening and
experience. I push further beyond assumptions because understatement seems
inclusive of experienced abjection and suffering. Can we listen for
understatement in Billie Holiday’s Billie’s
Blues?
Billie Holiday’s Billie’s Blues
Larger Thoughts:
In your
responses, you can address any of the chapters, I will incorporate your
thoughts into my Tuesday presentation. I am also curious about the ways in
which instrumentality, space, and technologies (inclusive of literary writing
practice) form and impact sonic practices. What are your thoughts on this?
Also, how does Lordi use of musical writing alter how we listen? Is something
lost when vocal performance is structured through literary analysis? Furthermore,
in thinking about Nikki Giovanni and Aretha Franklin, in relation to the Black
Arts Movement and Etta James relationship with Jean Grae, how can these sonic
reconsiderations benefit contemporary artists like Lil’ Kim? Lil’ Kim’s artistic
skill has always been challenged due to the acknowledgment that Biggie wrote
her earlier lyrics. However, focusing on her sonic performance could
potentially reframe discussions typically shaped by visual performances (ex.
clothing and sexuality)..
Lil’ Kim Video
Larger
Implications of Lordi’s work in my field
In the field of
theatre and performance studies, I am currently interested in Branden
Jacobs-Jenkins’ (BJJ) An Octoroon (2014).
BJJ’s contemporary play is a revisionist adaptation of Dion Boucicault’s The
Octoroon (1859) about racial
anxieties regarding miscegenation. It is important to mention that BJJ
maintains Boucicault’s plot, characters, and dramaturgical structure (form). Textually,
it is clear that BJJ is challenging the racist and sexist underpinnings that
traffic Boucicault’s Victorian melodrama. But what is interesting is the way the sonic articulates itself
in BJJ’s contemporary adaptation. During the prologue of this contemporary
reenactment, A$AP Rocky’s “Fu*kin’ Problems” plays. In thinking through this
play, Lordi’s Resonance presents a
divergent opportunity to ponder about the relationship with sonic performances
with dramatized literary works. Although there will not be enough time to
discuss this. I think this pushes the parameters of musical-literary reciprocity.
“A$AP Rocky’s “Fu*kin’
Problems”
Thanks Le'Mil. Tomorrow I'm interested to hear more of your thoughts on the various terms Lordi proposes: "timbre of sincerity;" "understatement"; "haunting"etc, and whether these might supply us with a working vocabulary and conceptual apparatus that might help us to read/listen to other texts/performances. Is it possible to look for haunting in (or be haunted by) Beyonce's "Formation," for instance? Looking forward.
ReplyDeleteBlack Resonance highlights twentieth century black aesthetics that are heavily related the forms of resistance and black arts movement of the 20th century by musicians in varying degrees. When thinking about this book, it reminds me of the saying that just being black in America is its own form of resistance. With this logic, anything that comes from black artists is an act of resistance. In reference to Le'Mil’s larger thoughts section about instrumentality, space, and technologies and the way they form and impact sonic practices, I see the ways that these forms balance off one another. Sonic practices are influenced by evolving technologies. These technologies alter the way we are able to interact with sonic practices. Aretha Franklin’s voice is strong enough in its self, but to see her perform takes you to another level of interaction with the music and with her as a musical legend. (See Aretha Franklin perform A Natural Woman at the Kennedy Center Honors, especially when she tosses off her fur https://youtu.be/XHsnZT7Z2yQ). Aretha Franklin is seeing as classic and an old guard, but there is something refreshing about her every time we see her perform in a contemporary settings. She gives the calming of someone who reminds us of our grandmothers, but also shows us the empowerment of black women. We hear it in her voice and we see it in her performances.
ReplyDeleteWhat’s interesting about juxtaposing Etta James and Lil Kim is a level of respectability politics and grittiness of black women performers. Jean Grae sampling (also recently Flo Rida) Etta James, brings attention to someone who has been marked as a taboo artist and the opposite of black womanhood respectability. In Toni Morrison’s work, Etta James is seen as someone who is challenging expectations of women, she is seen as gritty. Even in her twilight years, after Beyonce’ sung “At Last,” James was not afraid to be gritty and threaten Beyonce for attempting to overshadow her. This same grit is seen in contemporary beef between Lil Kim and Nicki Minaj, in which Lil Kim also wants the respect that she is deserved as an originator of a style of performance. We can see both in the literature and the responses to these artists that even infamous black women can be pushed as an afterthought. I am interested in discussing how the Black Arts Movement is dependent on our relationship to sonic practices. If Black Culture (all art forms, music, visual art, performances, literature) is seen as being on the cutting edge, can we ever discern a Black Arts Movement separate from the consistent evaluation of blackness?
-Candice C. Robinson
The critical approach presented in "Black Resonance" is an elitist one. In the name of an all-mighty “western canon,” Emily Lordi frames certain personalities and their performative styles as valuable within an oppressive multimodal system ⎯Modernity⎯ that has systematically negated and excluded non-white knowledge arguing that these intellectual constructions lack nationness or only speak to a group of initiated people. So far in the semester we have focused on readings originated as a sort of critical inquiry at Columbia University (Emily Lordi also got her PhD at Columbia). Should we consider this a critical school only focused on the afro-sonic in the United States? If so, what strategies should we develop to interrogate these theorists (funded and/or employed by private institutions) from our “public university hermeneutic horizon”? What is the teleological investment of these theorists when they insist on understanding the sonic as a condition of the literary? Furthermore, why should we value the literary or the sonic at all, especially when we are already aware that only the initiated and privileged ones can literally READ such cultural productions? Is it possible to formulate an alternative modernity that rejects the literary or the sonic as foundational mediums? What is the place of working classes in the formulation of a possible sonic modernity? We already know that literary modernity, as configured in the literary field, negates the humanity and socioeconomic value of working classes, whose coexistence with technology is an unequal and exploitative relation.
ReplyDeleteThese are my questions and thoughts. Today I am a polemist for the sake of my mental health. Greetings to all!
-Francisco
p.s. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iEWyptUvOtY
I was drawn to Lordi’s chapter on understatement because in it she articulates an aesthetic quality I’ve always been deeply moved by but never quite had words for. Backwater Blues emerges as the key example of what she calls understatement, especially the verse that receives so much attention from critics and listeners, the one that ends “’Cause my house fell down/Can’t live there no mo’.”
ReplyDeleteIn the readings of this piece that the chapter works through, understatement is found in the particular coming-together of words, voice, and accompaniment. While I was interested in Lordi’s purported methodological focus on specific vocal practices, there were times when I thought she could read each vocal piece with a little more detail. Understatement, as she sees it in Backwater Blues, seems to be limited to that affecting quality of detachment when singing heartbreaking lyrics and its contrast with the piano accompaniment. But what about other vocal practices that define this piece? For example, Smith only includes one wordless melisma in the whole piece, the kind of riff so characteristic of what would be identified contemporarily as R&B-type singing. Why not see that as another aspect of understatement? Because she is so restrained in this kind of riffing/ornamentation, the one that remains feels wrenchingly powerful. There are other things to read, too.
As I expressed back on the first day of class, I have a strong internal resistance to the idea that literature can provide some kind of “explanatory” power for music, or that music requires literary interpretation to be legitimized or “made sense of.” So although in this chapter James Baldwin is positioned as a “better” interpreter of Bessie Smith and Billie Holiday, I don’t find myself sympathetic to what he’s doing either. It seems that on the one hand, he recuperates the work of Smith and Holiday to be a part of a badly-needed African-American history, but on the other hand, he also simplifies and naturalizes their techniques in a way that minimizes their creative power and agency. Not good enough, Baldwin. I’m especially put off by Baldwin’s desire to be the person who really “gets” their music the most. Lordi corrects this by saying that it actually “depends on listeners’ ability to apprehend the disastrous reality that Smith’s and Holiday’s songs encode, and to appreciate the singers’ capacity to manage that disaster with style” (110). In addition to being really struck, in light of my recent incapacitating injury, by what it means to “manage disaster with style” (seems like a nice idea, but doesn’t disaster by definition disallow “style?”), the key word in this sentence, to me, is “encode.” This is an admission, or at least an acknowledgement, that the emotional content of the music is not necessarily self-evident, or obvious, or “natural,” but as an encoding needs to be decoded.
The thing is that I don’t see this concept of understatement as limited to music sung by black women, and neither do I see it as limited to music. I think of the heartbreaking understatement in Hemingway’s short fiction (the power of what’s not said), or acting in which the actor’s restraint—holding themselves back—is the source of the scene’s emotional impact. It’s the opposite of gushing. I come back again and again to the idea that no art form is necessarily obvious or self-evident in its impact to everyone: we have to know something about how to interpret it first.
Laura
Great thoughts. I was also drawn to the discussion of understatement--in particular because it gives us a vocabulary to talk about an aesthetic practice performed by musicians, writers, and other artists, while attending to the specificity of each form. I think Lordi here is also trying to avoid an essentializing turn, that is, the point is not to argue that understatement is a uniquely black aesthetic practice, but rather to attend to the ways understatement is at work in this particular archive. Your point that "no art form is necessarily obvious" is key here; these artists seem to be insisting that encountering black art requires special forms of social knowledge (in opposition to historical assumptions about black performance being immediately decipherable as "pure" expression.)
DeleteI also share your concern about the assumption that literature provides an explanatory framework for music. Part of the reason I'm teaching this class is not only to debunk this, but to explore how and when this assumption pops up and to examine how it is a product of certain historical moments/assumptions, or even individual authors. I'm recalling Lordi's claim (or warning) about reifying ideology as truth. At the same time, I find it interesting to explore the full range of writerly explorations with music (and musical engagement with writing), and to ask what was a stake for Baldwin in approaching music this way, and what kind of art did it allow him to produce. This doesn't mean to accept his mode of engagement as truth, but to examine its problematics and possibilities.
In terms of our own "best practices" as critics, I liked Lordi's inclusion of Nancy's work on listening (and it reminds me of a similar discussion you pointed to in the Weheliye text) Here, listening "straining toward a possible meaning, and consequently one that is not immediately accessible"(101). If we are to adopt this as a critical orientation, we might propose that the point of critical language is not necessarily to make music accessible, but to preserve some of music's ambiguity, while acknowledging that meaning-making is a collaborative process that unfolds across media. This suggests a different relationship between writing and sound than legitimization implies. However, it still necessarily entails risk. I think the concern you raise allows us to be self-reflexive about this danger.