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Cultural Studies of the United States
Romancing the Folk: Public Memory and American Roots Music
In American music, the notion of "roots" has been a powerful refrain, but just what constitutes our true musical traditions has often been a matter of debate. As Benjamin Filene reveals, a number of competing visions of America's musical past have vied for influence over the public imagination in this century.
Filene builds his story around a fascinating group of characters--folklorists, record company executives, producers, radio programmers, and publicists--who acted as middlemen between folk and popular culture. These cultural brokers "discovered" folk musicians, recorded them, and promoted them. In the process, Filene argues, they shaped mainstream audiences' understanding of what was "authentic" roots music.
Filene moves beyond the usual boundaries of folk music to consider a wide range of performers who drew on or were drawn into the canon of American roots music--from Lead Belly and Woody Guthrie, to Muddy Waters and Willie Dixon, to Pete Seeger and Bob Dylan. Challenging traditional accounts that would confine folk music revivalism to the 1930s and 1960s, he argues instead that the desire to preserve and popularize America's musical heritage is a powerful current that has run throughout this century's culture and continues to flow today.
Filene builds his story around a fascinating group of characters--folklorists, record company executives, producers, radio programmers, and publicists--who acted as middlemen between folk and popular culture. These cultural brokers "discovered" folk musicians, recorded them, and promoted them. In the process, Filene argues, they shaped mainstream audiences' understanding of what was "authentic" roots music.
Filene moves beyond the usual boundaries of folk music to consider a wide range of performers who drew on or were drawn into the canon of American roots music--from Lead Belly and Woody Guthrie, to Muddy Waters and Willie Dixon, to Pete Seeger and Bob Dylan. Challenging traditional accounts that would confine folk music revivalism to the 1930s and 1960s, he argues instead that the desire to preserve and popularize America's musical heritage is a powerful current that has run throughout this century's culture and continues to flow today.
- GenresMusicHistoryNonfiction
340 pages, Paperback
First published June 26, 2000
3 people are currently reading
170 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
January 3, 2014
Anyone interested in the history of folk, roots, whatever it's called these days, has to read this book and "The Imagined village" by Georgina Boyes, which is the British equivalent. They're both completely essential.
A summary of some of Benjamine Filene's observations:
In the first wave of song collecting (Cecil Sharp and others) the great majority of informants (as they are called) were women. There was a distinction made between women's domestic realm ("more static", so therefore preserving its material with less changes) and the men's public arena, in which the song changes to please its audience. (I didn't know that!)
Sharp intended folk song to be a kind of template for a "national musical idiom", which would not, however, be created by the common people but but the academy - composers like Vaughan Williams, Grainger, Bartok and Ives.
The first folk song promoters in the US were local schools 1900-10. They were followed by state folklore societies. Folk song was not a major priority of these societies at first - dance and crafts were.
The folk song myth, promoted by all these early collectors and popularisers, was that it was cohesive, British in origin, and, of course, entirely white. This myth had real power for several decades. This blocked black music from acceptance as folk. But outside the hand-woven walls of the folk societies, the people - that tiresome rabble - were busily subverting the myth even as it was being prated from the podium.
Sharp (collector by ear and paper) and Lomax (collector by tape recorder), approaching folk from one end of the spectrum, sold their books to the white middle class. Ralph Peer (collector of large denimination dollar bills), approaching from the other, sold his records to the black and white working classes. The two markets did not meet. It took specific actions (e.g. the Harry Smith anthology in 1952, and later on, canvassing for old 78s done by the likes of John Fahey and Dick Spottswood) to get Ralph Peer's records into the hands of the white middle class, who then couldn't believe the treasures they uncovered and immediately began playing the stuff and getting folk songs in the charts. Tom Dooley, you're bound to die. Omie Wise - you too.
Peer wanted to own copyrights, because he knew the real money was there. So he pursued his country and folk artists to get them to create original material. He wanted to move them over from folk to pop. So Peer was always an unwitting and purely incidental folklorist. He was the bull in Sharp's china shop.
Singlehandedly Leadbelly (discovered and promoted by Lomax) overturned the big white folk myth. He showed that folk song in America was American not just British-derived, was black as well as white, and was happening now, not just rooted in the distant past.
The Lomaxes created the cult of authenticity. They presented Leadbelly's performances themselves, and they presented the singers who didn't have a Columbia record contract. Leadbelly was their first authentic folk star. At the same time as ennobling him as a folk forefather, they insisted in a pure unconscious racist way on his uncivilised attributes - he was portrayed as a violent, savage, untamed wild man. His past crimes were recapitulated endlessly. He was made to perform in old prison clothes. Reporters were told he was a "natural" with no idea about money, law or ethics and "possessed of virtually no restraint". They kept him in NYC as their houseboy and chauffeur, and took two thirds of his revenue. When he challenged them they sent him back to Louisiana. The pattern was set for all roots musicians. To be authentic was to be other, premodern, unrestrained, emotive, and especially non-commercial. It was a good trick - if these boys know what a contract is they can't be the genuine folk musicians we though they were!
The Lomax's idea of authenticity meant that they forbade Leadbelly to sing "That Silver Haired daddy of Mine" or jazz tunes, which he wanted to, and instead write political songs. They also toned down his strong accent. Leadbelly didn't mind anything which got him bigger audiences. (Elijah Wald took this idea and applied it to blues singers in general, and wrote a whole book about that called "Escaping the Delta" - not bad.)
The organised left in America ignored folk music until the 30s. They were mostly foreign-born and did not speak English fluently. Never heard of Tom Dooley. Their music drew on Communist Party traditions of Workers Choruses singing self-composed songs. Echhhh! So they were self-contained and did not connect with any other American tradition. The choral music they sang was more akin to art song and was technically difficult. One trained composer of this type was Charles Seeger, father of Pete. He had heard of folk songs, but was dismissive. He wrote in the Daily Worker: "Many folksongs are complacent, melancholy, defeatist, intended to make slaves endure their lot."
With the switch to the Popular Front policy in 1935, in which a broad coalition of groups replaced a Communist-led mass revolution, left culture was redefined, and art was no longer to be used as a crude propaganda tool only, but to bind communities together. That was when it was realised that folk song was the ideal instrument with which to accomplish this.
The left then became the audience for folk's first stars - Leadbelly, Aunt Molly Jackson, Sarah Ogan, Jim Garland, and after 1940, Guthrie.
But the idea did not work. These folk stars of the left never achieved any general popularity. When Leadbelly made commercial records they did not sell - by that time he was entirely passe for the black audience. He was famous without being popular. He was considered sacrilegious by folk purists, who contrasted the late Leadbelly period with the early. He was caught in a limbo.
Filene does not examine what the folk audiences thought of the Ralph Peer records of the 20s and 30s. Were some of them folk? Bascom Lamar Lunsford? Clarence Ashley? But in a world where folk is often caught between the musicolological analysts and the people who still think Richard Thompson plays folk, this is a great book.
A summary of some of Benjamine Filene's observations:
In the first wave of song collecting (Cecil Sharp and others) the great majority of informants (as they are called) were women. There was a distinction made between women's domestic realm ("more static", so therefore preserving its material with less changes) and the men's public arena, in which the song changes to please its audience. (I didn't know that!)
Sharp intended folk song to be a kind of template for a "national musical idiom", which would not, however, be created by the common people but but the academy - composers like Vaughan Williams, Grainger, Bartok and Ives.
The first folk song promoters in the US were local schools 1900-10. They were followed by state folklore societies. Folk song was not a major priority of these societies at first - dance and crafts were.
The folk song myth, promoted by all these early collectors and popularisers, was that it was cohesive, British in origin, and, of course, entirely white. This myth had real power for several decades. This blocked black music from acceptance as folk. But outside the hand-woven walls of the folk societies, the people - that tiresome rabble - were busily subverting the myth even as it was being prated from the podium.
Sharp (collector by ear and paper) and Lomax (collector by tape recorder), approaching folk from one end of the spectrum, sold their books to the white middle class. Ralph Peer (collector of large denimination dollar bills), approaching from the other, sold his records to the black and white working classes. The two markets did not meet. It took specific actions (e.g. the Harry Smith anthology in 1952, and later on, canvassing for old 78s done by the likes of John Fahey and Dick Spottswood) to get Ralph Peer's records into the hands of the white middle class, who then couldn't believe the treasures they uncovered and immediately began playing the stuff and getting folk songs in the charts. Tom Dooley, you're bound to die. Omie Wise - you too.
Peer wanted to own copyrights, because he knew the real money was there. So he pursued his country and folk artists to get them to create original material. He wanted to move them over from folk to pop. So Peer was always an unwitting and purely incidental folklorist. He was the bull in Sharp's china shop.
Singlehandedly Leadbelly (discovered and promoted by Lomax) overturned the big white folk myth. He showed that folk song in America was American not just British-derived, was black as well as white, and was happening now, not just rooted in the distant past.
The Lomaxes created the cult of authenticity. They presented Leadbelly's performances themselves, and they presented the singers who didn't have a Columbia record contract. Leadbelly was their first authentic folk star. At the same time as ennobling him as a folk forefather, they insisted in a pure unconscious racist way on his uncivilised attributes - he was portrayed as a violent, savage, untamed wild man. His past crimes were recapitulated endlessly. He was made to perform in old prison clothes. Reporters were told he was a "natural" with no idea about money, law or ethics and "possessed of virtually no restraint". They kept him in NYC as their houseboy and chauffeur, and took two thirds of his revenue. When he challenged them they sent him back to Louisiana. The pattern was set for all roots musicians. To be authentic was to be other, premodern, unrestrained, emotive, and especially non-commercial. It was a good trick - if these boys know what a contract is they can't be the genuine folk musicians we though they were!
The Lomax's idea of authenticity meant that they forbade Leadbelly to sing "That Silver Haired daddy of Mine" or jazz tunes, which he wanted to, and instead write political songs. They also toned down his strong accent. Leadbelly didn't mind anything which got him bigger audiences. (Elijah Wald took this idea and applied it to blues singers in general, and wrote a whole book about that called "Escaping the Delta" - not bad.)
The organised left in America ignored folk music until the 30s. They were mostly foreign-born and did not speak English fluently. Never heard of Tom Dooley. Their music drew on Communist Party traditions of Workers Choruses singing self-composed songs. Echhhh! So they were self-contained and did not connect with any other American tradition. The choral music they sang was more akin to art song and was technically difficult. One trained composer of this type was Charles Seeger, father of Pete. He had heard of folk songs, but was dismissive. He wrote in the Daily Worker: "Many folksongs are complacent, melancholy, defeatist, intended to make slaves endure their lot."
With the switch to the Popular Front policy in 1935, in which a broad coalition of groups replaced a Communist-led mass revolution, left culture was redefined, and art was no longer to be used as a crude propaganda tool only, but to bind communities together. That was when it was realised that folk song was the ideal instrument with which to accomplish this.
The left then became the audience for folk's first stars - Leadbelly, Aunt Molly Jackson, Sarah Ogan, Jim Garland, and after 1940, Guthrie.
But the idea did not work. These folk stars of the left never achieved any general popularity. When Leadbelly made commercial records they did not sell - by that time he was entirely passe for the black audience. He was famous without being popular. He was considered sacrilegious by folk purists, who contrasted the late Leadbelly period with the early. He was caught in a limbo.
Filene does not examine what the folk audiences thought of the Ralph Peer records of the 20s and 30s. Were some of them folk? Bascom Lamar Lunsford? Clarence Ashley? But in a world where folk is often caught between the musicolological analysts and the people who still think Richard Thompson plays folk, this is a great book.
Want to read
December 5, 2014So I "read" it in the cynical grad school sense of the word--meaning that I read the introduction and the conclusion and did some skimming in the middle. The book seems to deserve a more careful treatment than this so I'm putting it back on the "to-read" list for a future look. In the meantime, got to keep up with class reading!
May 13, 2022
Anyone who knows me knows my deep love of this brand of folk/roots music, not only because the music is good, but also for its deep cultural and historical significance and richness. This book, assigned for a graduate history seminar, was special to read because it traces how public memory of the past was shaped by these folk singers, and how a whole genre of music dedicated to social justice and progress pushed to make the world a better place for all
April 14, 2023
really really interesting. written in a way that’s easy to read and understand, and i learned so much about american musical history. definitely recommend!
February 15, 2019
This book doesn’t concern my area of study, yet I found it captivating and easy to read. It was fun and interesting and I learned a lot. After reading this book, I’ve listened to some of the artists discussed in this book now and I can’t believe I was missing out on so much. The main theme of this book is the changing definition of “authenticity” which determines who could be considered “folk.” Here are some of the topics covered in this book: Lead Belly, Muddy Waters, Leonard Chess, Willie Dixon, the New Deal, Pete Seeger, and Bob Dylan.
July 7, 2015
You will be amazed at the high level of scholarship that Filene put into this book. The bibliography is staggering and the footnotes are actually really interesting, relevant and well-organized. In fact, the entire book is organized in a way that makes it easy to understand and yet conveys a wealth of complex data. This author presents correlations but is very careful not to shape everything into one pointed conclusion that fits a simple view of history. I was both surprised (because other books about folk music have slipped into reverence of a particular performer or heavy-handed partisan reporting) and delighted (Finally! A book that gives me a framework in which to think about "folk music" but doesn't try to dictate what exactly to think). Filene keeps one eye always on the world he is in and how the factors of race, class, poverty, wealth, and respect were being utilized (often possibly commodified) by his subjects. I appreciate that cultural and civil awareness so much.
I had a little trouble staying focused as I read through Chapter 4 because it was talking about so many different people and their commercial interests. It's a necessary chapter, but I felt it was not as neatly organized as the rest of the book. There was a lot of different people, relationships, business interests, and government interests to talk about and I just don't find that as riveting as the specific histories of Lead Belly, Alan Lomax, Willie Dixon, Bob Dylan, or Pete Seeger.
I highly recommend this book to all who love learning more about music, recording technology, cultural scholarship, cultural appropriation, civil rights, and public memory.
I had a little trouble staying focused as I read through Chapter 4 because it was talking about so many different people and their commercial interests. It's a necessary chapter, but I felt it was not as neatly organized as the rest of the book. There was a lot of different people, relationships, business interests, and government interests to talk about and I just don't find that as riveting as the specific histories of Lead Belly, Alan Lomax, Willie Dixon, Bob Dylan, or Pete Seeger.
I highly recommend this book to all who love learning more about music, recording technology, cultural scholarship, cultural appropriation, civil rights, and public memory.
October 28, 2008
This is an enjoyable overview of folk music. Filene looks at the roots of the genre, discussing perceptions of authenticity and explaining the early commercialization of folk artists. His profiles of individual artists, such as Lead Belly, show the degree to which folk, which is often taken to be a very organic type of music, is actually controlled by capitalist forces. As a result, we see a complicated system where revolutionary music is made available to the masses by powerful corporate interests, leaving one to wonder if it is possible for revolutionary music to be popularly available.
May 30, 2014
Well-written and accessible. He's not writing an academic book here, so don't expect one (for example, I wish he'd defined "public memory" more clearly and related it to the different materials more explicitly), but it's an interesting and useful read. Recommended.
October 11, 2016
A great work of American history, documenting the formalization of what we consider to be folk music.
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews