Whose Blues?: Facing Up to Race and the Future of the Music

by Adam Gussow

Mamie Smith's pathbreaking 1920 recording of "Crazy Blues" set the pop music world on fire, inaugurating a new African American market for "race records." Not long after, such records also brought black blues performance to an expanding international audience. A century later, the mainstream blues world has transformed into a multicultural and transnational melting pot, taking the music far beyond the black southern world of its origins. But not everybody is happy about that. If there's "No black. No white. Just the blues," as one familiar meme suggests, why do some blues people hear such pronouncements as an aggressive attempt at cultural appropriation and an erasure of traumatic histories that lie deep in the heart of the music? Then again, if "blues is black music," as some performers and critics insist, what should we make of the vibrant global blues scene, with its all-comers mix of nationalities and ethnicities?

In Whose Blues? , award-winning blues scholar and performer Adam Gussow confronts these challenging questions head-on. Using blues literature and history as a cultural anchor, Gussow defines, interprets, and makes sense of the blues for the new millennium. Drawing on the blues tradition's major writers including W. C. Handy, Langston Hughes, Zora Neale Hurston, and Amiri Baraka, and grounded in his first-person knowledge of the blues performance scene, Gussow's thought-provoking book kickstarts a long overdue conversation.

Genres: Music, History

332 pages, Paperback

Published October 19, 2020

About the author

A professor of English and Southern Studies at the University of Mississippi, Gussow is also a blues harmonica player and teacher. He has published a number of books on the blues, including Mister Satan’s Apprentice: A Blues Memoir (1998), Seems Like Murder Here: Southern Violence and the Blues Tradition (2002), Beyond the Crossroads: The Devil and the Blues Tradition (2017), and Whose Blues? Facing Up to Race and the Future of the Music (2020). His longtime musical partnership with Sterling "Mr. Satan" Magee is the subject of an award-winning documentary, Satan & Adam (2018), which screened on Netflix for two years. These days Gussow performs with his trio, Sir Rod & The Blues Doctors, which features Magee’s nephew, singer Rod Patterson. Gussow's newest book is My Family and I: A Mississippi Memoir (2025)

Reviews

[elin · Rating 3 out of 5]

I love blues music. I love a lot of music, but blues is one that speaks to me deep down. It's the emotion and power. It's raw expression, at least early on, as sometimes it's too polished for me in more modern recordings. Give me Blind Lemon Jefferson telling us about John the Revelator any day of the week. I also fall hard for the storytelling of the blues, as it reminds me of my own cultural background in music with Scots-Irish ballads. As a historian, I want to know your story. Blues invites me in for a while to give me that glimpse.

This book does this, too, but takes me on a journey into the past, back to the present, and into the future of blues music. We even take a trip around the world. All to find does anyone own the blues? Can the blues be owned?

What is interesting to me is how blues "lost" its original audience with the arrival of soul music. This section, it's "Bar 3," was the best part for me. Going back and forth in the development of what we call the blues. The music is ultimately a Black art form, and at some points perhaps carried by white audiences to keep it alive. I do wonder though if that's because of the power of a white voice in this society? This is touched on later in "Bar 4" mentioning why we know Johnson and not Carr. Myth building is huge in history. The book digs into this idea even more as we continue reading because there have been Black voices championing the blues and using the blues, but as has often happened throughout history, and even sadly in present day, is that non-white voices are ignored.

Loneliness, romantic hopelessness, homesickness...there are other feelings associated within blues music, but these stood out to me as part of that connection. Sometimes we say the same things but I'm our own dialects. I love when world's collide and we recognize shared experiences. The author does this well, even if he isn't saying it directly. Another piece that I want to explore more now that I've finished the book is literary blues. I hadn't made the connection, but that's exactly what it is.

Overall, I found myself nodding along with what I knew about the genre, but equally found myself excited over new musicians to listen to, new books to read, and uncovered histories of which I wasn't aware. The purpose of reading is to learn and discover, which this book certainly did. The book ends at an odd place. I wanted more of a conclusion, even if the author feels like they cannot answer the question of who owns or can claim the blues. Yes, the blues can be reinvented and reinterpreted, but the lack of a strong ending to this book left me wanting. I'd enjoyed the book, got into its groove, but then the bottom fell out.

The only other thing I would say as a negative about the book is when bluegrass is mentioned early on. It's an interesting take on bluegrass, but actually, bluegrass has very African roots. It should be a far more inclusive genre of music. I understand the larger point being made, but without Africa, without enslaved Africans, bluegrass wouldn't have its banjo. Historically this reads wrong to me. All of this being said, as a banjo picker, I'm going to have to find a patch for my case that reads, "bomb-ass 'grass."

Thank you to NetGalley for early access to this book in exchange for a review.

[J Earl · Rating 5 out of 5]

Whose Blues?: Facing Up to Race and the Future of the Music by Adam Gussow is a compelling account of the history of blues with the emphasis on race and who, if anyone, truly "owns" the genre.

I found this book to be almost like several books in one, and they all worked well together to create the larger book. As the title makes clear, this is about opinions, namely who owns the blues. But to even begin to have the discussion, several topics need to be openly and honestly looked at. The underlying topic, race, is one that is rarely discussed honestly in this country, particularly by whites. Gussow offers a history of race in the US from, to the extent a white man can do so, the perspective of blacks. This brings to light the extent of the harm of Jim Crow rather than the usual idea that it was simple discrimination. No, it was government sanctioned terrorism and the effects are still with us today, as is the government sanctioned terrorism, just dressed differently.

The presentation of the two main viewpoints, what he calls black bluesism and blues universalism, are accomplished with respect for each view while pointing out both strengths and weaknesses in each. In doing so Gussow presents a history of the United States as well as a history of the blues. More importantly, he highlights where these histories impact each other. Perhaps the strongest aspect of the book is how Gussow weaves these various threads (add in the music as music, audience reception, the economic world of the blues industry, internationalism) together without getting so far into one that we lose sight of the others. These areas all interact and to discuss any in isolation is to ignore far too much.

As a life long blues lover I found myself questioning what I may have unconsciously thought or believed about the music, the artists, and the history. My introduction to the genre was when an older man gave me his records when I was about 6 years old, so in 1964. He lived down the road and I used to visit him and listen to his stories and he indulged my curiosity and love of music. Those records included BB King, Howlin' Wolf, Big Maybelle, Big Joe Turner, and many more. For a young boy, that was quite an education. Since that time I have found myself returning to the blues whenever I wanted or needed grounding. So I had a long personal history to think about as I read this book and I wasn't always pleased with what I realized.

My view, in case anyone cares, is neither of the dominant views or, to put it another way, a little of both views mixed together. Whose blues? When I am listening to them, they're mine, but not exclusively and not really even primarily. I think that the history, of the blues as well as of the culture and society within which it was created, has to always be in one's mind when thinking about the music. I don't play so I can't speak to musicians playing it. I also think, as an art form, it is meant to speak to as many people as possible. But not in a colorblind noncontextualized manner. Let me offer an analogy. I can read a novel that is about a character facing both familial problems alongside societal racism. I read the book as a whole with an eye toward the sociological message. That said, I may also relate very strongly with some situations the character experiences. In those moments I am also bracketing the sociological aspect while I empathize with the character on a personal level. There is certainly empathy on the bigotry as well, but that often manifests as a "what can we do to make things better" feeling (or, frankly, anger). But on the more personal level where the similarities exist I am personally engaged and invested because I can feel that part of the character's overall angst. I may not know or feel some parts but what I feel I feel strongly. I think in a very rough way that the same is true of the blues. I know I can't truly feel the full depth of emotion that goes into the blues, but I can genuinely feel the parts that speak to our common experiences. And that feeling is both deep and genuine. So, who owns the blues? All of us and none of us. As a white listener, I am at least one step removed from ever gaining a full understanding, other than an intellectual understanding, of what the blues responds to. But that does not minimize what I do feel and understand. I'm not sure I did a good job of expressing my views very clearly, but don't hold that against the book. Gussow writes far better than I do.

Okay, stepping off my soapbox, I highly recommend this to fans of music in general as well as fans of the blues. I also recommend this to readers who like history, the stories and facts Gussow presents about the Jim Crow era is alone reason enough to read the book. Even those who might not want to think too deeply about the music they love will still find a lot here to appreciate and probably some artists that will be new to you.

Reviewed from a copy made available by the publisher via NetGalley.

[Dubi · Rating 3 out of 5]

Whose Blues tackles the question of whether the blues should be strictly for black artists, black audiences, and the black music business, or whether white artists and audiences have a legitimate claim without automatically being guilty of cultural appropriation. Black bluesism vs. Blues universalism. Of course, the genie has been out of the bottle since black audiences largely abandoned the blues sixty years ago, during which time white artists and audiences have kept it alive starting with the Blues Revival.

The first part of the book, in which Adam Gussow lays out both sides of the argument -- along with a healthy (although unfortunately incomplete) history of both the blues and the revival -- is quite interesting, if a bit overly academic. But as we go along into the heart of the matter, a number of problems emerge:

1. Gussow himself is white, a teacher at Ole Miss of classes in Blues Literature, and also a blues harmonica player and teacher with a sizable YouTube following. He tells us in the introduction that he plans to propose an answer to the title question that lies somewhere in between the two sides. Which is of course a foregone conclusion, because you know he has to justify some white participation for his two areas of expertise to matter.

But that's not the problem -- the real problem is that he never offers a concrete answer, unless it's when he says that blues music is for everyone (now a global phenomenon, no longer an American issue based on race relations), but blues literature can only be written by black writers. But this raises another problem:

2. Blues literature? I can appreciate that there can be such a thing as blues literature, and I now plan to educate myself in it, and I can appreciate that Gussow has enough scholarship in the subject to teach it and write about it in depth. But really, we're talking about music here -- the debate is about where the music came from and where it should go. Some acknowledgement of blues literature would be appropriate, but there are three full chapters out of twelve, 70 of 277 pages, specifically on literature, and it is also discussed extensively elsewhere in the book. Meanwhile:

3. You won't find the names Blind Blake, Gary Davis, Willie McTell, Fred McDowell, or Blind Boy Fuller, and only scant mention of John Hurt or Bill Broonzy, or any of the black musicians in their acoustic Piedmont blues tradition like Keb' Mo, Eric Bibb, Guy Davis, or Dom Flemons, all still working, or any of the white revivalists directly or indirectly mentored by Davis, like Jorma Kaukonen, David Bromberg, Dave Van Ronk, Ry Cooder, et.al.

Whose Blues? Not my blues! I'm an acoustic blues player myself, the next generation mentored by the guys who studied with the Rev (Jorma, Bromberg, Woody Mann, Stefan Grossman, Roy Bookbinder, et.al.). How do you talk about the blues revival without ever mentioning Jorma, probably the foremost white blues artist of the past half century who plays both acoustic and electric? These guys are readily available for interviews and have written extensively themselves, Gussow could have gotten direct observations of their views on the matter.

A full chapter each for Langston Hughes and Zora Neale Hurston but not a single mention or only fleeting mention of dozens upon dozens of blues artists. I mean, kudos to Gussow for miraculously acknowledging the new generation of black blues players like Jerron Paxton and Quon Willis, but how can you write a book about the blues and not once include Blind Blake? I'm not looking for a completist compendium of every musician who ever flattened a third, but if you can devote an entire subsection to a Japanese harp player whose name you don't even know, how do you leave out the entire Piedmont Blues style (except for Sonny Terry)?

4. And if the central issue is going to be cultural appropriation of black music, what's been going on with jazz, soul, disco, hip-hop, etc.? Surely it's worth some comparison to see whether the issue extends beyond the blues -- either it should, or it shouldn't be an issue in blues.

I've spent half a century taking musical sides -- Beatles vs. Stones in the 60s, disco vs. punk in the 70s, synths vs. strings in the 80s, grunge vs. hip-hop in the 90s, and who knows what not in the 00s. Over the past ten years I've discovered an easier, less stressful way of life in music -- if I like it, I play it. Period. This summer, I've learned songs by Irving Berlin, Fats Waller, Ravel, Ray Charles, Jorma (always Jorma), Blind Blake, Jethro Tull, Iz Kamakawiwo'ole, Porno For Pyros, and the Shins. I'm from Eastern European Jewish ancestry, so even the British folk tradition underlying Tull is cultural appropriation for me, let alone the various forms of African American roots music that is at the heart of my repertoire, and even Iz's Hawaiian, alongside classic folk and rock.

So the blues debate is not much of a debate for me. I like it, I play it. If anyone wants to challenge my right to play it, good luck with that, I'm going to play it anyway. I try to do what I can for the cause -- for example, teaching audiences that if you change "babe" to "boss" you understand what they were really singing about, as in Blind Blake's (yes, that Blind Blake) Chump Man Blues (kudos again to Gussow for the discussion of signifiers, although it came way late and was too short).

Still, I found Whose Blues a fascinating read for the most part, despite the problems outlined above. I'm sure blues enthusiasts and especially players will feel the same way. Probably too academic for casual readers, though. Thanks to NetGalley for providing an advance reader's copy in exchange for an honest review (sorry if this review is a little too honest).

[James Klagge · Rating 5 out of 5]

While blues music was originally produced by black folk as an expression and reaction to their suffering, by the late 1950s it was appreciated by the white folkies and by the mid-1960s it was appreciated and produced by white rockers and then blues rockers. As the decades have passed, the audience for blues music has become increasingly white, as have the performers. Is this a bad thing? Or an acceptable or even a good thing? This book addresses those, to me, fascinating questions. It is written by a white man, though one who has had his down-and-out years, and who has become an expert blues harmonica player and who apprenticed with black bluesmen. Is the blues a universal art form open to all, and benefiting from such broad exposure, or is it a black art form owned by blacks for the benefit of blacks. The author finds proponents of both sides and makes their cases in a persuasive fashion. But he ultimately comes down on the universalist side--though he always tries extra hard to acknowledge black history and include black performers and encourage black audiences in his own work. Toward the end of the book he recounts his own engagement with global blues experiences and performers and his own work encouraging performers from a range of backgrounds. I found his case to be interesting and well-done. I am myself a fan of blues music for 50 years now, and a sort of connoisseur. Being white I suppose it is in my interest to accept his perspective, but I hope I am doing so honestly.
However, I do see something in the other side, and it comes from my own experience as a longtime member of a small African-American church, for 22 years now. I joined the church, after having been part of white liberal protestant congregations for decades, because I felt I had much to learn from people of another background. I hope also I had something to offer, but that was not my purpose. I think Black folks have suffered enough from white folks having "a lot to offer" and essentially taking over. I think this is the dynamic that the black blues exclusivists fear and reject. I have become involved in this church very much with the desire to learn from a different perspective. And I would say it took maybe 5 years to really become a part of the church--on their terms, not on my terms. I felt accepted, but I also realized that in accepting me they were taking a risk. Because all-black experiences are increasingly rare for black people, now that we are in many ways beyond segregation. I learned about this partly through the book Why Are All The Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria?, which was very important for me. By accepting me as a part of the church they were putting that important and increasingly rare all-black experience at risk for themselves. (I was not the first white member of the congregation, but I was the first white person not related by marriage in the congregation.) Over the years there have now been a few other white people join this church, but I think they have all come with the same understanding that this is a sacred space. There was a white couple that had a different understanding, and luckily they left. So it is an honor to be accepted in this way, and I think the author of the book approached the blues with that same sense of reverence. But the reality is that the blues has grown far beyond being a black sacred space, and it is best defended and appreciated as a black gift to the world. I'm not sure where things stand with black churches, but I think they remain a sort of sacred space that should be respected as a valuable and endangered black possession.

[Sam Motes · Rating 5 out of 5]

The author struggles with two competing paradigms of the blues with the first being blues universalism versus the second being blues as of and for black people.

The first is all about the blues being for everyone and the later argues that the blues should not be appropriated by white people who have not been through the existential generational journey in the words of Cornell West “blues soaked world” first hand to truly feel the soul churning call of the blues. As one half of the blues duo “Satan and Adam” the author leans on his white harmonica blues man stripes earned beginning on the streets of Harlem to the world wide blues journey he went on with the mighty Sterlin Magee aka Mr Satin. For the second paradigm the author leans on not only being deeply respectful of the blues forefathers due to being a Professor sharing his love for the blues with generations of young minds but also leaning heavily on voices outside of the music directly such as Dubois, Hurston, West, Hughes, Ellison and many others who speak deeply about what it means to be black in America from days long gone but still echoing impacts into the the bitter battles of today.

As many soul searching questions do the author does not dare to give a foolish answer of which is the correct paradigm but rather helps to bring the reader along on a journey on the path closer to awakening through the more beautiful truths in the act of deliberately struggling with the moral dilemmas within ourselves as we strive to see the world through others eyes. This is a critical read for any lover of the blues no matter which side of the divide you are on.

[patrick Lorelli · Rating 4 out of 5]

Whose Blues? That was the question when the book opened, but as you read and the more you get into it you find that the question is really never answered. Was that the intent of the author who knows, for me the blues is for the person who is listening to it and it touches them. Like any music, not everyone likes or allows themselves to really feel the music.
The music the words and tone do not care about the color of your skin, it is what is inside of you when you hear the song, the person playing the tune. Especially when you lost a loved one, the blues was there for me. When I am happy it is there for me as well. I got into the blues when I was nineteen after buying a Fats Domino Record on the old one from the fifties. One side had all of the hits my father-in-law said listen to side “B” after I did, I was hooked and started looking for and collecting blues records glad I did because now they are hard to find. I would even buy them without covers or sleeves for I knew what they were history about life, it is about the songs the words.
Yes, the author talks about some artists wish he would have talked about more of the different artists and about some of the newer ones, Keb Mo who has some really good songs, plus a brand-new man King Fish who for a young man is really good. Overall a good book just thought it could have been more. I received this book from Netgalley.com I gave it 4 stars. Follow us at
www.1rad-readerreviews.com

[Tom · Rating 5 out of 5]

There is a comment below which comes down to, essentially: "I play guitar and know the names of a lot of blues musicians. You didn't mention all of them and failed entirely to affirm my mastery of this genre." My point is that if you are looking for a book which will namecheck all the people that your guitar teacher has mentioned and will more or less confirm that the blues is this cool thing from Mississippi, this is not your book. Like most 'experts' on the blues, I too play guitar, have brilliant taste in the music, and can wax endlessly about the various styles late into the night. Which is why I really loved this book. It challenged me. It made me think about my own reaction to this music and forced me to abandon some romantic notions. The chapters on the three writers were brilliant. The chapter on mentorship is revelatory. This isn't a comfortable read if you are a long time blues fan but it is an important one. Your attendance at festivals and your LP purchases have political implications. You can't simply say, 'I love the blues but I'm not interested in identity politics.' You don't love the blues then, you love a performative notion of your own creation. What is happening in America right now is connected the blues and Gussow's book strikes exactly the right note for the world we find ourselves in.

[Michael Lortz · Rating 5 out of 5]

Very good interesting read. I would give it a 4.5 but I have to round up for Goodreads. Prof Gussow is well versed in the Blues history and scenes. His thoughts on Blues culture and Blues emotions are also worth reading. However, there were some holes in his theories that I was hoping would be addressed. For example, where he says Blues Conditions and Blues Feelings are no longer produced by Black performers in Blues music, he doesn't mention that these social messages went to Soul music (Marvin Gaye's What's Goin On? is a Blues album in feeling) and then to hip-hop (The Message by Grandmaster Flash discusses Blues conditions, for example. Also Nas's Bridging the Gap (2001) and the documentary Godfathers and Sons (2003)). Hip-hop has also sampled a lot of Blues beats and riffs continuing its impact in Black music.
I see where Gussow was going and he did a great job, but it would have been an A+ had he done a little more research into where the elements of the Blues went. Instead, I give it just an A.

[Dave Murray · Rating 5 out of 5]

A wonderful book that needed to be written

A history of blues music and culture that I suspect most blues enthusiasts, certainly me, are ignorant of. Blues poetry, who knew?

Years ago on a now forgotten tv show, Keith Carradine sang a song that stuck in my mind and I have searched the internet in vain to find. "I'm free, white and twenty-one. I've got no right to sing the blues" were words in the song. Much of the book gives credence to that idea, or at very least why some say that with some legitimacy. But here we are in a world where the blues is a worldwide thing with talented blues musicians wherever you go.

The blues may not have been intended to be a gift to the world, but it was. Who's blues is it? We are left to decide, but where it came from cannot be denied and should not be ignored or forgotten. This book tells that story in a way that is both educational and a pleasure to read.

[Edward Sullivan · Rating 3 out of 5]

Learned and provocative but not especially absorbing.

[Mary M. · Rating 4 out of 5]

As did many folks of my generation--coming of age in the late '60's & early '70's--I became acquainted with The Blues in kind of a backward fashion. From loving the music of Led Zeppelin, Janis Joplin, & Bonnie Raitt, among others, I worked backwards to the sources of much of their inspiration, & in the case of Led Zeppelin, outright thievery. A harmonica-playing friend introduced me to the music of Sonny Boy Williamson (II), the cantankerous fellow who stole his name from another player. Soon I was buying records of BB King & others & through the decades attending concerts & festivals.

So, I am really part of the intended audience for this book. Gussow (a white professor & harmonica player & teacher) attempts to answer the question of his title--Whose Blues? & lays out a stark dichotomy. In the face of overwhelming control of blues music--concerts, festivals, cruises, & support of performers--by white folks, there is one view that blues music "belongs" to Black folks, the descendants of the originators, men who traveled about the south in the post Civil War/early Jim Crow era trying to evade the brutal economy of share cropping in the south.

At the opposite pole is the belief, pretty obviously Gussow's from the beginning, that The Blues belong to everyone, and that that now includes a global audience & accomplished players from all over the world. That isn't to say that he doesn't criticize the glorification (& financial success) of a select number of performers (many of them white) at the expense of other, more locally-based performers (many of them Black).

In reality, there is no putting this genie back in the bottle. What we can do as fans, is be more thoughtful consumers. Study & understand the origin of the genre & its founders. Understand its contributions to so much of the rock canon. Seek out festivals or concerts that include performers (both Black & white) whose names you won't recognize, but will give you a good show.

[Hank Stone · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was asked to review this book for the Portland Folkmusic Society, and it was published in Local Lore, their newsletter in Jan/Feb 2021...

Whose Blues? Facing Up to Race and the Future of the Music
by Adam Gussow
The University Of North Carolina Press
reviewed by Hank Stone

As a white senior citizen songwriter with an appreciation for all genres of music, I've long wondered how the Blues, which everyone agrees is a creation borne of African-American experience, has become dominated by whites, as seen at any blues festival or in the record sales charts. While the originators and longtime purveyors of the tradition, like Bessie Smith, Robert Johnson, Muddy Waters, and B.B. King, are venerated, it's hard to find young black musicians who want to follow in their footsteps. What is going on here?
In his new book, “Whose Blues? Facing Up to Race and the Future of the Music,” Adam Gussow offers an insightful look at this phenomenon. He is uniquely positioned to have knowledge of the history of the music as well as its current social status. Not only a professor of English and of southern studies at the University of Mississippi, who's written four previous books, he's also an ace harmonica player and instructor who knows the best players on the scene, as well as the ins and outs of the music business.
Gussow starts by examining two opposing views about the genre. One maintains that “Blues is black music!” while the other argues, “No black, no white, just the blues.” He illuminates the fears of the first camp that black history will be erased if people of color forsake this vital art or cede its future to those who are unaware of its roots. With extensive quotes from writers like W.C. Handy, Langston Hughes, Zora Neale Hurston, August Wilson, Amiri Baraka, and many others, Gussow illustrates the complex history of the Blues and of the Black experience, and shows how many of the popular ideas about it are the results of mythologizing biographies, and legends propagated by record companies, critics, and fans. Those who are angry about cultural appropriation are justified in their fears of this vital genre being erased of any connection to its origins in the slavery and Jim Crow eras, to become just another “feelgood” groove music and a competitive sport emphasizing technique over feeling. But others stress the need for any art form to constantly re-invent itself, which requires opening up to new blood and fresh ideas.
Professor Gussow helps to clarify the issue and define the terms of the discussion by asking, what do we mean by “the Blues”? Breaking it down into separate notions- blues conditions, blues feeling, blues music, and blues ethos, his analyses are never dry and academic. He writes confidently in two worlds, as both a scholar and a performer.
I've worried about my own possible complicity in exacerbating this issue, as one of the blues-inspired songs I've written, “Robert Johnson Knew,” borrows liberally from one of that artist's songs. And it's complicated for Gussow too, as a white man who was mentored by black performers and now has his own students from around the world, many of them from Asia, who bring their own cultures into a kind of blues fusion. Whose Blues, indeed, are these? There are no easy answers given here, but this book adds much value to the conversations not just about music, but about America's ongoing struggles with race relations in these transformative times.