Recently, our class has been reading The Lyre of Orpheus: Popular Music, the Sacred, & the Profane by Christopher Partridge. It's by far the most academically dense book in our reading list, but it nevertheless gives some valuable insights into what makes popular music so appealing. Partridge argues that there are two primary elements of popular music that do this: transgression and romanticism. Today, I want to talk about transgression. Or, perhaps I need to talk about it.
I'm a metalhead and have been for the past few years. For a while, I didn't ask questions of myself regarding why I was so attracted to the world of heavy metal. It's a pretty abrasive genre with a lot of unwelcoming qualities, though I've always found it a thrilling sounds with lots of variety and excitement in its various corners. The readings from this class have done a lot to help me understand the general appeal of heavy metal, and thus why I like it so much. Sylvan's Traces of the Spirit had an entire chapter devoted to metalhead culture, which I appreciated very much, but while Partridge doesn't speak about metal only when he talks about transgression, his book has helped a lot in giving me terms to use when I think about what's awesome about heavy metal. For example, Partridge speaks about the distinction between sacred and profane. He talks about the "impure sacred", that which deals in serious topics but is social taboo. The impure sacred would include things like death, pain, suffering, the macabre, the terrifying, sadness, and so on. Many of these are part of our daily lives, yet they are sequestered away from acceptable modes of living our day to day lives. Many artists such as Patti Smith and Nick Cave have explored transgressive ways of doing music by engaging with topics such as these and critiquing how mainstream society deals with them. Metal is, in my opinion, the ultimate music of transgression. Many artists explore uncomfortable topics and uncomfortable sounds, but metal is where those elements are taken to their most extreme forms. The lyrics may deal with flat-out disgusting topics in gory detail, often dealing in moods of rage, aggression, and misanthropy. Coupled with the harsh noises of down-tuned guitars, loud drums, and guttural vocals, metal can sound downright hellish. Partridge looks to death metal as one of these extreme expressions of transgression. The lyrics are incredibly taboo. The sounds are abrasive. The music dives straight into the realm of the impure sacred and revels in getting covered in it. So now, I'm asking myself, does this line up with the way I feel about metal? In many respects, it absolutely does. Metal is a jolt to the system. It demands you leave the space you were just in and enter a new one. It's a space of thrills and excitement, one that wouldn't be possible if it was in the realm of the exclusively sacred, the exclusively socially normal. Metal embodies transgression. It seems I am a seeker of transgression on some level, if I listen to so much of it. Partridge and others are helping me tremendously to understand not just what makes metal so appealing generally, but what makes it appealing to me. Understanding my personal taste more deeply, I believe, will help me to relate to others about what kind of music they like and why any music appeals to anyone.
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For the first twenty years of my life, I wrote off country music. I didn't like the sound (too cliche). I didn't like the lyrics (ditto). I didn't like how emblematic it sounded of growing up in the South, an element of my identity I've always wrestled with. I liked a couple of Brad Paisley songs, and yeah, I guess Johnny Cash was cool. It's only been in the past year that I've realized that the world of country music is much more diverse and powerful than I gave it credit for. This started to change last year when I was introduced to an artist named Jason Isbell. After hearing glowing recommendations from a music critic online I followed, I decided to listen to his album Southeastern. And I was blown away. From the first song, "Cover Me Up", Isbell pulled me in with his expressive voice, somber tones, and captivating songwriting. And the rest of album was pretty damn good too. Recently in class, we've been talking about country music, and even though I've found a country artist I appreciate tremendously, I must admit I'm still incredibly new to the genre. We listened to songs by Sturgill Simpson, Brandy Clark, John Prine, and Don Williams. We've also heard a little bit of Pistol Annies and Kacey Musgraves. Our professor's suggestions have also included Margo Price and Chris Stapleton. And through folks like these, more songs have entered my regular rotation. We've also discussed quite a bit about why country is so powerful and why it resonates with so many people. Chiefly, I've learned, there are two reasons. One is that country has always been used to tell stories. The genre lends itself incredibly well to the use of narrative. The second is that country is about authentic people. It doesn't present its figures as glamorous, but real. Country knows how to articulate personal struggle, heartbreak, love, and the details of everyday life. This, I think, is why country has always been the music of working-class people. Because the world of country mirrors theirs on some level. People from Small Town, Arkansas can find themselves easily in the words and sounds of people like Randy Travis, Waylon Jennings, and Reba McEntire. I'm hoping from here on out that I pay more attention to country music and resist the temptation to write off the whole genre because of some of its worst figures (bro-country is still awful in my eyes). People like Jason Isbell and Johnny Cash have important stories to tell. They may not always be my stories, but they are the stories of people around me. I owe it to my community to pay attention. Our class has recently turned to reading a book called Good Booty: Love and Sex, Black and White, Body and Soul in American Music by NPR's Ann Powers. Powers actually visited the campus of my college last semester while I was abroad. It's a shame I missed her. Anyhow, one of the chapters intriguing me most is the third - "Let It Breathe on Me: Spiritual Erotics". It's a chapter all about the emergence of gospel as a popular art form in America. Powers links the sound of gospel directly to the need for artists and writers like Thomas Dorsey to channel what Audre Lord calls the "erotic power" of music to spiritual longing. Gospel, after all, is the merging of expressive musicality with unmistakably Christian praise. I haven't listened to much gospel at all in my life, and so it was something of an eye-opening to read about the genre in Powers' book. The first song I listened to in the chapter is the song that Powers claims began the Golden Age of Gospel, which lasted from the 30's to the 50's. It was Dorsey's hit "Take My Hands, Precious Lord" performed by soprano Marion Williams. The song takes the religious sentiment of hymns and injects it with a sound rooted in blues and jazz. Williams' voice, supported by Dorsey's piano accompaniment, is simple yet powerful. The lyrics, telling of reaching out to God for help through the hardships of life, are beautifully emoted by Williams, who effortlessly carries the tune through an authentic longing for the divine. I'm trying to imagine how this song must have sounded to a Christian audience who'd felt the sensual pull of popular music but didn't want to abandon the church completely for the realm of the secular. It must have been a godsend. Powers points to other songs like Mahalia Williams's rendition of "I Will Move On Up a Little Higher" as examples of the confluence of erotic power and Christian praise. What's really capturing me as I listen to these songs is the audacity of the vocals. Williams, Jackson, Dorothy Lee Coates, and others, are willing to reach into the limits of their voice, reaching for their highest notes as if God is found at the top. And as I think about the combination of blues/jazz with religion, I'm wondering why I haven't attached to gospel. I've been interested in the mystique of music in the sacred for a long time, yet gospel is a foreign world to me. I'm realizing the connection between the undeniably sexual aspects of popular music with how my own faith can be expressed. Powers and these singers are convincing me that I've been ignoring the erotic power of gospel for far too long. |
AuthorSam Coker Archives
April 2018
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