Blues of many colour - Canadian Blues

Blues of many colour

Written by John Taylor

Issues of race have long been cause for controversy within the blues community. Few would disagree that the black experience in the earlier part of the century gave birth to the blues; indeed, if one accepts the common claim that W.C. Handy was the father of the form - "St. Louis Blues," being the earliest documented example of a song to employ the term in its title - the argument is conclusive; Handy was black, as was the shadowy figure whose mournful melody and eerie guitar work Handy based his famous composition upon.

Issues of race have long been cause for controversy within the blues community. Few would disagree that the black experience in the earlier part of the century gave birth to the blues; indeed, if one accepts the common claim that W.C. Handy was the father of the form - "St. Louis Blues," being the earliest documented example of a song to employ the term in its title - the argument is conclusive; Handy was black, as was the shadowy figure whose mournful melody and eerie guitar work Handy based his famous composition upon.

And in the music's infancy it was almost exclusively a black art form, generally dismissed by whites as crude and primitive.

I'll leave it to my esteemed colleague and co-CanadianBlues columnist, the encyclopedically knowledgeable Steven C. Barr, to trace the music's evolution over the years; but somewhere along the line, likely as a result of the so-called "folk boom" of the sixties when college students began embracing roots music with zealous abandon, the blues began crossing over, gaining widespread acceptance in white society. The factors in play were myriad; on one hand, the young were searching for something real, somethi ng honest, in a world that, under the unprecedented threat of nuclear annihilation, must have seemed very frightening indeed. Too, the blues had become urbanized, had developed a danceable beat, yet still there remained a sense of something larger, deeper, something that spoke of timeless truths more meaningful than the fluff that constitutes most pop music. And as the very foundation of rock 'n' roll itself, the blues became fodder for endless exploration and elaboration by many a rock band whose members grew up far removed from the cultural milieu from whence it came.

At the same time young blacks began distancing themselves from music often perceived as old-fashioned, music that reminded them of a very painful past many thought best forgotten. Times had indeed changed, and tastes were changing with them.

And so, to a very large degree, the blues became the province, if not entirely of white musicians, then to a large degree of white audiences. And that trend has continued; look around at any blues show, and chances are the audience is disproportionately weighted on the white side.

None of this would matter in the least, of course, were it not for the issue of 'cultural appropriation.' Some claim that whites have stolen the blues, have co-opted black culture, by extension implying (either directly or indirectly) that white people have no right to sing the blues.

There may well be some validity to the claim, if one considers the case of comfortable, middle-aged and middle-class white musicians singing songs about 'pickin' cotton under the Mississippi sun.' Given that such songs were born of real suffering, real oppression, the idea is nothing short of ludicrous. And really, how many bands have covered "Got My Mojo Working" without the faintest idea what mojo is, nor a clue what "John the Conqueroo" [sic] means? Doesn't it, at the very least, behoove artists who p erform these works to do their homework, to gain an understanding of the significance of these references within their cultural context?

Still, were the blues restricted solely to its earliest themes it would be the dry and dusty stuff of museum exhibits. And dry and dusty it's certainly not. As a form of folk music - of and by the people - the blues has evolved along with society. It's nothing less than a musical expression of life itself, and to remain a vital art form must be both timeless and as contemporary as today's headlines, must reflect the emotional tenor of our times. And like it or not, these times are shared by all, black a nd white and every other conceivable hue in the human rainbow.

The popularity of the blues has always been cyclical. During it's lowest ebb, it was the near-fanatical support of European fans who virtually kept the music alive, and stories abound of black American musicians who, lacking respect and recognition at home, found the climate much more supportive overseas.

Lately it seems the blues are branching out even further. Canadian Harry Manx, born on the Isle of Man, having studied for five years in India, is incorporating eastern influences into his blues - and his music is much the richer for it. Just recently we've seen the release of a compilation disc of blues performed entirely by First Nations peoples. And in the past few years I've had the pleasure of hearing discs by blues bands from as far away as Italy, Sweden, and Denmark, many of which have been the eq ual of any domestic recording.

Do these artists have a 'right' to sing the blues? I believe so. Why? Because they understand that blues covers the full emotional spectrum. That it isn't always, or doesn't have to be, about issues of slavery, oppression, and poverty. That what matters is that it comes from the heart and soul. That it be, above all, honest and true.

Blues is a curiously cathartic mode of expression. While its subject matter is often dark indeed, it's not, contrary to popular misconception, a depressing form of music, nor is it about wallowing in misery. As a form of near-therapeutic release, blues is ultimately all about leaving player and listener alike feeling better. Don't we all need that?

And as one of the most direct and compelling expressions of what's in the human heart, does it really matter in the end who's playing, who's singing? Regardless of colour and culture and conditioning, despite our differences and the cruelty we so often visit upon one another . . . don't we all, in the end, share the common heartbeat of humanity?

Copyright 2002 John Taylor

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