We should be wary of any politics that denies humanity in its arts.
Retranslating the Blues | Lessons of Babel (The Hedgehog Review)
Soon would come other interpreters more acutely attuned to those witty, earthy, and defiant currents of the blues, including the novelist and essayist Ralph Ellison and the critic Albert Murray. “Not only is its express purpose to make people feel good, which is to say in high spirits,” wrote Murray in his 1976 book Stomping the Blues, “but in the process of doing so it is actually expected to generate a disposition that is both elegantly playful and heroic in its nonchalance.”2Later in the century, in his 1998 book Development Arrested, geographer Clyde Woods formulated the idea of “blues epistemology” to explain how the music both named and critiqued the conditions of black people in the Mississippi Delta. Describing the creators of the blues as “sociologists, reporters, counsellors, advocates, preservers of language and customs, and summoners of life,” Woods argued that the poetry and force of the blues had the power to compel social change—which, despite the powerful persistence of the old planter culture, is exactly what it did.
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Why did it take me so long to see the radical spirit at the core of the music? When black southerners of my generation moved from blues to Black Power, we lost a piece of ourselves in translation. In an effort to embrace the shock of the new and resist the ways white supremacy continued to control our relationship with our native region, we failed to see what Albert Murray would have called the signifying power of the blues, a power derived in large part from its sheer life-affirming resilience and endurance: because, quite simply—to speak of them in plural, as both the mood and the music, and the mood transformed by music—the blues are always there. The blues are not an anesthetic intended to numb the pain of oppression. They are a force enlivening the listeners, lifting them up and driving them toward renewal.
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In response, now may be the time to take what has been lost in the translations of the blues and recover its real value as instruction on how to survive, thrive, and move forward—and to do so with a certain sly humor and insouciance that subverts the schemes and dreams of those who want to bring back an imagined past that will provide even less to those whom it promises most. We of the South have been here before. The blues recognized evil in the world—often speaking of it as the devil himself—and the blues called that evil out. Writers and thinkers, artists and musicians, must do the same today. Because, like it or not, we are all now living with at least one foot in the Old South.
Even up here in Indiana, even amongst white people, we're seeing evil running loose, we're all getting hit with the stick of oppression, whether from our fellow human beings or from an indifferent universe. Those of us whites who think the way out of oppression is not oppressing others need to learn from the blues.
The right-wingers of MAGA offer us no hope of beauty, no music that lets us endure their vagaries of existence.
The reality is that there is no such interest or taste among the current right-wing American oligarchs like Peter Thiel or Elon Musk, much less the proletarian online new right, unlike their Gilded Age forefathers. There is no evidence of any new institution-building or universities that are meant to last, or of a desire to indulge in deep pursuit of foreign art, ethnography, archaeology and literature, as imperial era oligarchs did. The current aspirational counter-elites are therefore neither good nationalists nor competent imperialists. That the Morgan Library in New York has some of the best Persian and Mughal literature, woodcuts, and paintings, curated from all over the Middle East and British India, by tenured librarians like Belle Greene, a mixed-race woman in the 1920s, is precisely because of that European-style ‘civic-nationalist but race neutral’ liberal cosmopolitanism; an instinct despised to the core by the new populist and localist right, who simply do not care about any of that.
The new right's hollow aesthetic (Engelsberg ideas)
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