[Inspired by the
anniversary of Charlie
Parker’s death—on which more in Thursday’s post—this week I’ll be
AmericanStudying some figures and issues related to the very American musical genre of jazz.
Please share your own responses and thoughts for a swinging crowd-sourced
weekend post!]
On white America’s
troubling and exploitative yet potentially productive obsession with black
culture.
The trope of
African American cultural trends entering the American mainstream through white
imitations is a very familiar one: from the
high five to graffiti
to rap
music, and right up through twerking
and numerous other 2014 trends, the pattern is as clear as it is
consistent. Yet I don’t know that the pattern was ever more central to American
culture and society than in the 1920s heyday of the Jazz Age, a period overtly
named (by none other than F.
Scott Fitzgerald, natch) for an African American cultural genre. Obviously
New York City only comprises one part of America, and Harlem only one
neighborhood within that city—yet as the endurance of Fitzgerald’s name for the
era suggests, the entire period came to be and often still is associated with
precisely that city and community; and more exactly, I would argue, with the
large crowds of (mostly) white Americans who descended on Harlem to enjoy its jazz clubs and
scene.
No single figure
better encapsulates that trend than Carl
Van Vechten, who rose to fame as a patron and photographer of the
Harlem Renaissance, and no single work does so more clearly than his novel Nigger
Heaven (1926). As that excellent linked New Yorker article indicates, Van Vechten knew full well that his
title would be a controversial one, and went ahead with it anyway—partly, it
seems, because of his belief that he had “succeeded in getting into most of the
important sets” of Harlem African
Americans (as he wrote in a 1925 letter to his friend Gertrude Stein about the
novel-in-progress), and thus that he had a pass to use such a word; and partly,
I would argue, because he knew that the title would draw more attention to the
novel, and thus help it make a significant splash (which it
certainly did). Which is to say, even though Van Vechten undoubtedly and
genuinely supported the Harlem Renaissance and the broader Harlem community, it
seems clear to me that he likewise exploited the place and its art and identity
to advance his own career and success.
Yet at the same
time, it’s difficult to argue that the Harlem Renaissance, and specifically the
period’s jazz artists and performers, did not benefit significantly from the
interest both illustrated and generated by folks like Van Vechten. In order for
musicians and artists to survive and succeed, after all, they need enough
support (of all kinds), as well as the kinds of publicity and attention that
can increase audience awareness and support. I don’t know that Louis
Armstrong, King Oliver, Duke Ellington, and their many 1920s peers could have
gained enough support from within the Harlem or African American communities alone
to achieve the broad and deep levels of success, prominence, and influence that
they did—and I do know that American music, culture, and identity would be
significantly impoverished if it did not include those artists and many others.
That effect doesn’t in any way mean we can’t still analyze and, if appropriate,
critique the attitudes and actions of Van Vechten or any of those Jazz Age white
audiences; but as we do so, it seems to me that we must also thank them for
doing their part to help bring these jazz artists, and their community and
period, into our collective consciousness and national story so fully.
Next jazzy connection
tomorrow,
Ben
PS. What do you
think? Jazzy connections you’d share?
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