Cold, red October is for settling in at night with some music – jazz – with the windows open, a light rain falling and the curtains fluttering in a lazy motion. Ah!
By the late 1970s, I was transitioning from rock to folk and jazz. My first forays into jazz had been my parents’ dusty 78s in the basement: Benny Goodman, Glenn Miller and Artie Shaw.
At the time, I was also delving into the writings of Jack Kerouac and The Beats, which led me to the jazz of the 1950s. Quintets and bebop replaced big bands and swing. Berets and sunglasses replaced Shaw’s signature white tuxedo.
In case you’re wondering, this short music lesson leads somewhere: The act of cultural appropriation, or the adoption or adaptation of cultural output associated with a particular racial or ethnic group by persons outside that group.
For the past several years, cultural appropriation has been a heated issue, leading some to point angry fingers at others: “That’s our music, clothing, or art, not yours!” “Cancel culture” is the next step down for those who dare to cross a line.
However, cultural appropriation is not a great evil. It is usually the very mechanism by which culture is created, primarily by and for the individual. Cultural appropriation is a creative force, and the jazz world of the 50s has many examples.
Callen “Cal” Tjader was the son of vaudevillians who settled in California in the early 20’s. After serving as a medic in the Navy during World War II, Tjader began experimenting with Latin-infused jazz, mastering that form and style on the vibraphone, despite the fact that both of his parents were of Swedish descent. was he wrong Listen!
For decades, I’ve been an Ella Fitzgerald devotee. She was black but had a remarkable career performing songs by Irving Berlin, Cole Porter, George Gershwin and Johnny Mercer. All white. Was she guilty of cultural appropriation? If so, do we “cancel” Ella Fitzgerald?
As for Johnny Mercer, he was born in Savannah, Georgia in 1909. As a young man, he immersed himself in the black culture of his time and area. He had black playmates; he sneaked into local black church services for sermons and music; and he bought recordings of black performers, Louis Armstrong for one, from black businesses in Savannah.
Indeed, you can hear the influence of black music in Mercer’s hits like “Blues in the Night,” “That Old Black Magic,” and “Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate the Positive.” As a result, Mercer enriched American popular culture for everyone.
Admittedly, the world of ’50s jazz contains a sharp problem regarding cultural appropriation. Lord Buckley was not a musician but a comedian and social commentator. He affected the dress and demeanor of an English aristocrat, but when he launched into one of his jazz-infused hipster monologues, he often adopted the vocal mannerisms of an ultra-hip black street philosopher-poet.
However, some black artists of his time found his performances demeaning. While I’m frankly sympathetic to his detractors, I still laugh at Buckley’s high-speed monologues like “The Hip Gahn” (about Mahatma Gandhi), “Governor Slugwell” (about American politicians) and “His Majesty, Cop” (in, well, the police).
Because of ignorance, fear, and the Internet, we live in a divisive and isolated world made up of micro-states whose boundaries are defined by race or ethnicity, sex or gender, or simply by our own petty prejudices and misunderstandings. personal to the world. . Many of us spend our days and nights with our faces fixed on our smartphones, but are we really communicating with each other?
Cultural appropriation, seen here as a creative act, allows such boundaries to be transcended. Knowledge of others different from us can be gained, dialogues can be established and respect for our different cultural differences and practices can be cultivated.
Since music is auditory, perhaps an image is needed here. Culture is like a flowing river composed of sights and sounds, words and colors, movements and forms. Its shores, its borders are open to all. Dip it into your cup, drink deeply, and then share it with someone.
John Vukmirovich is a writer and book reviewer in the Chicago area.
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