Leadbelly

NOTES:

The scenes from the re-enactments of Leadbelly's story are striking. The March of Times Newsreel production makes me think of a term I'm not sure is correct: the term, exceptionalism, where narratives that are few and far between are tactically used to dispel certain harsh realities amongst the public consciousness. It seems that Leadbelly's story may have been especially fascinating to the American newsreel viewers because it is a narrative that is dramatic enough to fit within the racial narrative of the time - he is characterized, understood, and made comfortable within White American media. The snapshot of the stage scene where Leadbelly says his lines, acting as "himself," to the patriarch character, Alan Lomax, is especially fascinating. The composition of the frame exposes the dynamic while keeping it hidden in plain view. What else is hidden in plain view? 

Anthology of American Folk Music

NOTES: 

Anthology, from the mid 17th century, meaning 'flower' + 'collection' via anthos + logia

The songs in the anthology strike familiarity, giving contemporary popular music some context. As a whole collection, it is difficult to imagine it was compiled in 1952, before its aftermath. When consuming contemporary music on a daily basis from place to place, I find that I overlook the connections between music and the dimensions of time and place, fetishizing the commodity like a free packet of sugar. 

The idea of commoditization is not new to me, but the realization of it comes slowly. This week, I was introduced to the idea that space can be succinctly framed by the words, be here now. In being, in place, in time. As simple and mundane as that sounds, I find it very difficult to acknowledge it in day to day experiences; the cues deflect. Maybe there later. 

Back to the idea of the flower collection, Harry Smith's Anthology of American Folk Music offers a collection of precious, homegrown pieces that make up a powerful arrangement of texture and color. A poem by Czeslaw Milosz comes to mind. 

By the Peonies, 1945

The peonies bloom, white and pink.
And inside each, as in a fragrant bowl,
A swarm of tiny beetles have their conversation,
For the flower is given to them as their home.

Mother stands by the peony bed,
Reaches for one bloom, opens its petals,
And looks for a long time into peony lands,
Where one short instant equals a whole year.

Then lets the flower go. And what she thinks
She repeats aloud to the children and herself.
The wind sways the green leaves gently
And speckles of light flick across their faces.

Mississippi John Hurt

NOTES: to come

Appalachia II - the British balads

NOTES: Some points from the reading on Cecil Sharp via Mike Yates - the idea of isolation from the city and the intimacy between landscapes that are far apart - basically, the idea of geographical distance as a static measure versus cultural distance as an intimate relationship. First, the sentiment on isolation:

"Mr Sharp told of rescuing English folk music; how he and his associates, seeking out persons untouched by the on-rush of education, had entered the workhouses and jotted down the songs of old peasants now living on the parish.  No one under 70, he said, had yielded a song worth the taking.  Another twenty years and English music would assuredly have dissolved in sophistication ...  By Mr Sharp's definition a new folk music is impossible without a complete reversion to a feudal state.  This is true, because folk music is the product of an unselfconscious peasantry; a peasantry which refuses to transmit the eccentricities of any individual; which simply omits and forgets what does not belong to the spirit of the people ...  But this is a doleful theory to propound to Americans who feel the urge of nationality.  How can we have any folk music?  We are in the clutches of compulsory education.  The farest backwoods farmer has a phonograph with records of Rubinstein's melody of F and Mischa Elman's richly sentimental reading of Dvorak's humoresque ...  Thus Mr Sharp leaves us to a barren fate, not possessing a folk music and not able to get one." (Campbell)

Second, the sentiment on intimacy:

I have been very interested in the wild flowers and ferns, comparing them with our English ones.  It is quite exciting to find every now and again exactly the same flower growing under precisely the same conditions as in England. (Sharp)

It's interesting to me the positions of isolation and connection between two seemingly distinct places, such as a "the city" and "the country." One is not itself without the other. 

What is the value of folk music outside of being an historic resource if it is not part of a future. The question Campbell asks, does "Mr. Sharp leave us to a barren fate, not possessing a folk music and not able to get one?" What does it mean to posses a folk music? In Sharp's case, it meant collecting and recording it for "posterity's sake." 

Sharp recognizes "exactly the same flower growing under the precisely the same conditions as in England." I think this observation may have something to do with this question of cultural adaptation and migration. I'm still left with a lot of questions about how this fits into our often global framework today - speaking and framing in global terms that are not clearly placed. 

A passage from Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451 comes to mind:

"How may of you are there?"
"Thousands on the roads, the abandoned railtracks, tonight, bums on the outside, libraries inside. It wasn't planned at first. Each man had a book he wanted to remember, and did. Then, over a period of twenty years or so, we met each other, traveling, and got the loose network together and set out a plan. The single most important thing we had to pound into ourselves is that we were not important, we mustn't be pedants; we were not to feel superior to anyone else in the world. We're nothing more than dust jackets of books, of no significance otherwise."

Appalachia

NOTES: The category of images that appear in a Google search are the following -

People Of
Mountains
Poverty
Rural
Modern People Of

Appalachia seems to be viewed from the external as a marginal place and people - far beyond the outskirts of urban centers, modernity, and economic power. I'd like to attach this idea to something I'm exploring in another class - creating a framework to understand urban-rural dialectics. In many cases, the idea of rural is arbitrarily considered a condition of marginality.

I'm particularly interested in this framework and its problems because my family comes from a tradition rooted in what is considered marginality. My parents and all of their known ancestors are Hakka, which is a clan that comes out of the Yellow River area in China in the 13th century. They were known to flee from empirical rule by migrating to and from marginal lands, bringing with them the bones of their ancestors. Hakka means "guest" and traditionally insinuates poverty. Living on what was considered the margin afforded Hakka people freedom to maintain their own identity and language, a characteristic I think is related to the position of Appalachia.