The “Authentic” Authenticity: Complexities within Music of the Black Atlantic

Authenticity, in relation to art, is often defined as original, suggesting the absence of a fake or a copy. While it can be helpful to label different pieces of work as “authentic” in order to suggest that they hold a degree of acceptance and worth, authenticity gets further complicated in the history of music. As music moves across bodies of water and travels from coast to coast, technology, politics, and the social ramifications of race relations get mixed and stirred as much as the unique sounds of black Atlantic music. In this paper, I will explore the discourse surrounding authenticity as it relates to black Atlantic music and determine the effects of black musical history on modern and future black music. I will argue that our current conception of authenticity must be reshaped in order to accurately represent the fluid characteristics of black Atlantic music.

THE PARADOX OF AUTHENTICITY

Describing an object as authentic labels it as worthy of acknowledgement. It suggests that it is completely unique, a brand new idea that was created without the influence of features that define a different object. In a modern context, the word has become overused to the point of illegitimacy. Arguably, there is nothing that exists without the influence of something that came before it, as everything borrows to some degree from those that came before them. As it relates to art, it will always be drawn from elements that the artist takes inspiration from, rendering it incapable of strict authenticity. We can take one example of this by looking at Baraka’s definition of blues in his piece “Blues People.” He writes:

“And even though ragtime, dixieland, and jazz are all dependent on blues for their existence in any degree of authenticity, the terms themselves relate to a broader reference than blues. Blues mean a Negro experience, it is the one music the Negro made that could not be transferred into a more general significance than the one the Negro gave it initially.”

Baraka explains here that blues exists as an authentic black experience, making it completely unique. But his argument that ragtime, dixieland, and jazz share a degree of authenticity because of their association with blues is complicated. Blues itself even draws from many forms of African music, religious songs, and slave songs. Within this definition, blues cannot even be considered truly authentic, neither can the music that comes out of it. When it comes to looking closely at the music of the black Atlantic, it is not beneficial to attempt to describe it in the field of “authenticity” because in doing so, we place it within a linear transgression of time. As we have seen throughout and across different genres of the black Atlantic, black music does not exist on this horizontal plane. Rather, it is a circular, floating, mix that reaches into the future, present, and past simultaneously.

THE INFLUENCE OF RADIO AND RECORD LABELS

Authenticity is largely reliant on the things that we choose to canonize. Music that gets shown to the world is the music that is remembered for generations. The reality of this process, however, is that music is carefully curated and decided by people with the power to do so, who ultimately decide for us which music is going to be consumed and when. The process of recording quickly became politicized in this way. Recording companies, primarily run and operated by white men, held the power to refuse to record or release music from certain artists. This has led, over time, to the silencing of many BIPOC, female, queer, and disabled musicians. Black music can be traced throughout this history, cut off from the luxury of high scale production and marketing that was given to their white counterparts. Samba music from Brazil was one of these genres that comes from black people and black experiences. Bossa nova, a slowed down, white-washed version of samba, however, is the music that gets treated with respect and honor in the canon of Brazilian popular music.

Girls from Ipanema gave us an insight to what Rio de Janeiro looked like in the 1960s when samba was running rampant and bossa nova was getting its start. It also tells the history of samba and bossa nova, mirroring the white-washed historical narrative that leaves the contributions of black people and black history hidden away in the hills. By looking at the characters whose stories take place at the forefront, we can watch as these political and social dynamics play out on the screen as they have, and continue to, play out throughout history. The first few shots welcome us into Rio following the opening sequence. A plane flying above the beach, cars driving in front of a bay of yachts, people relaxing and playing together, a single boat drifting along with the movement of the waves. There is a focused narrative that we can tell is going to be told - one of laughter, joy, sunny days and walks on the beach. This idealized version of Rio marketed to the audience is a specific choice made by the director about which story is going to be the primary one. Pravas writes:

“I contend here that both grammars constitutive of mesticagem [symbiosis and synthesis] simultaneously fetishize and disavow Afro-Brazilian people and their cultural expressions, as the political use of carnaval parades and samba discloses. In the case of Afro-Brazilian performance practices in Brazil, it is evident that the state has historically fetishized popular culture at the same time that it has displaced or prohibited its political import for black peoples.”

This show, even as men are not the focus, still depicts them in positions of power. What is perhaps the stark difference between white men and women in this show is their ability to freely create and in return, sustain themselves financially. As the owner of a record company, Roberto gets to decide not just who gets to create records and sell them, but also where that money is going to go, how it is going to be invested, and what sort of image he wants to protect. Chico, as one of the musicians who is lucky enough to have a record deal, also gains the ability to create a career from music and live off the money it makes him. He has the power not just to create music, but even name the genre. History making is once again in the hands of white men. The men begin to take on the role of this political control, deciding who and what gets to be recorded and distributed.

“This ritual of status reversal has been progressively transformed through the commodification and spectacalization promoted by federal and municipal governments and the show-business industry since the 1930s. This process is probably what has made samba so appealing (and available for consumption) to people such as myself and to the vast Brazilian white middle class who claim that samba is a symbol of their national identity,” writes Pravaz.

It is industry and power dynamics that make samba available to the vast public, popularizing the genre to the general (and white) public. We compare Roberto and Chico to Cap’s character, who although he is a musician is not making the same amount of money and does not have access to the same opportunities as Chico. Yet it is Cap who has introduced Chico to the sounds of samba and invited him into a space that serves as inspiration for him. Parvaz says, “I believe that Haroldo’s discourse performs a subtle tension between the recognition of difference and its erasure, but in a way that is different from the common construction of mesticagem as national identity. When he says that ‘samba is the universe of the sounds and memories that our black ancestors brought from mother Africa’ and claims that these traits ‘enrich the cultural patrimony of the Brazilian people’, he is emphasizing the symbiotic relationship implicit in mesticagem, yet by making clear the African ancestry of samba, and the black sociability implicit in it, Haroldo is also reclaiming samba for the Afro-Brazilian community.” The mixing that occurs between Cap and Chico is a recognition of this difference, but also serves as an example of the erasure. Chico creates a new genre out of what he hears from Cap and Cap’s story sits in the wings while Chico’s takes off.

Parvaz explores the reasoning behind the white-washing of Brazilian history in his interviews. One woman responded, “This is part of a policy started here in Brazil since the beginning of the [twentieth] century, that had as its objective the whitening of the population. It was said that through mixture the black characteristics would be lost, diluted until only white features remain.” This is not the racial democracy that Brazil has been argued to be, but rather a space that finds itself projecting a white narrative. In the show, Chico and Malu’s trip to the hills puts into perspective the ways in which their narrative takes the main focus away from the people that live there. Adelia does not welcome Malu warmly when she sees that Chico brought her to the hills, upset that Malu is in a space where she does not belong. She has an acknowledgement in this scene that Malu’s mere presence is the beginning of taking away something that is special to her and to her entire family knowing that by Malu being there, this process of mixing will begin to lead to erasure of black characteristics. Adelia ends up apologizing to Malu for coming to this conclusion, in doing so, glossing over the complicated dynamic that emerges from the intermingling of the two. Looking back to the history of Brazil, we see the same grappling with mesticagem and its relation to a culture that stems from African traditions and the desire to protect and preserve those traditions.

Girls from Ipanema showed us visually the ways in which Brazilian music became popularized as a white-presenting genre. However, it is samba and the contributions of black artists that made the genres what they are. Authenticity can be hard to track, because of historical moments like these where the truth is covered up or altered to project a different narrative.

LEGACY

The power dynamics of authenticity continue to have long lasting effects on the way that black music is immortalized today. By taking a look at the way that we document history and its key players, it is crucial to recognize the multiple influences that can be had on a certain genre or location. For example, Michael Veal’s piece titled Fela: The Life & Times of an African Musical Icon does a great job at introducing the reader to Fela’s character by providing a personal and musically focused account. He provides a lot of detail regarding the politicization of the music Fela created and the way Fela draws inspiration in order to pioneer the afrobeat genre. However, his definition of afrobeat as “a heavily politicized, African-American influenced variant of the Nigerian dance-band highlife tradition, or conversely, as a “re-Africanized” form of African-American funk music” (Veal 11) leaves out a huge aspect of the genre which draws on lots of different inspirations and work in tandem to create a unique sound. Veal’s definition of afrobeat leaves out the influence that Latin and Afro-Caribbean music styles have on Fela’s sound and that when we take a closer look at his music, his life and periodization, and his legacy we can find that different forms of black music actually exist in a way that allows for mixing and collaboration rather than a simple cause and effect form.

As a musician himself, Veal talks in depth about the musicality behind afrobeat music and connects it to his thesis in order to emphasize the African-American funk influence. While Fela’s music (especially his later work) has lots of funk elements like the inclusion of horns such as trumpets, saxophones, and trombones and the call and response aspect of which funk and soul music is known for, Fela’s songs actually combine a lot of sounds from early and contemporary genres that provide the sound Fela is engineering. Listening to Fela’s song “It’s Highlife Time” the background rhythm is filled with drums that are reminiscent of Latin music and the calypso genre. Similarly, in his song “Lagos Baby” Fela adopts a sound that sounds close to reggae and other musical genres coming out of the Caribbean. This is no accident and by only focusing on the soul and funk elements of Fela’s songs, we would miss out on the numerous other influences that he draws upon, giving his music the depth that we know of.

Influence can also be attributed to the environment that Fela grew up in. Veal hints at the relationship between Fela and his mother, a social activist during her lifetime. He writes, “from her he probably internalized an antagonism toward authority, a distrust of the Nigerian ruling classes, and a derisive wit, along with an early exposure to Marxist rhetorics, Nigerian nationalism, and the ideology of Pan-Africanism.” Veal then applies all of these factors to his thesis by saying:

“This basic model was later enriched by his experience of African-American nationalism and black power during the 1960s. The African-American cultural-nationalist model inspired him to elaborate his political philosophy in an uncharacteristically (for Africa) oppositional fashion, probably derived from the racially polarized rhetoric of the African-American civil rights struggle.”

These statements from Veal suggest that Mrs. Kuti simply laid a foundation for Fela which would not be built upon until his exposure to African-American nationalism. I would argue that the environment that Fela grew up in would have much more of an impact on Fela than just introducing him to these ideas. Rather, Fela would have inherited the same strong antiauthoritarian attitude as his parents. Veal’s argument also leaves out the transpositional nature of music and ideas by implying that African-American nationalism did not stem from ideas that circulated around the black Atlantic. Rather than the linear timeline that Veal’s theory exists on, I would suggest that nationalistic, antiauthoritarian, and Pan-African ideas flow across the seas flowing and mixing, just like the music that embraces them. These concepts are more dynamic than Veal suggests and they would draw from so many black experiences, including early African activists like Mrs. Kuti or Latin and Afro-Caribbean activism and protests.

Fela’s legacy and success itself also suggests that it exists on a different timeline than the one that Veal writes about. The undulating and fluctuating nature of music reflects a black experience that is in search of a place to be expressive. As an artist, Fela attempts to combine the elements that he finds worthy of illustrating this unique experience while still offering cohesion. His music is reflective of the very nature of the exchange and reciprocity that we have discussed.

Fela starts his music by building up sounds, layering multiple voices, yet still keeping the song cohesive for usually a long stretch of time. Michael Veal’s chapter fails to notice this collaboration of African voices by choosing to focus on other aspects of Fela that suggest his music is representative of distinctly African-American ideas. By framing Fela’s work in this way, Veal’s piece leaves out a lot of other voices.

History is immortalized in the way that we write about it. Historians today still carry the power to be a part of the canonization of different musical icons. But in the search of deeming an artist or a genre as “authentically” anything, we leave out the many ways that they are influenced by different cultures and sounds at different points in their careers.

THE FUTURE

Black music, after being pushed into the shadows for so long, searches for a new future. Space is given to certain genres of music over black music, so black musicians must try to find space where they are welcomed and allowed to be free. Lover’s rock in London during the 80s shows us the ways that black music has been pushed out of most spaces and its ability to find space and connection by being together. In 1979, Janet Kay’s “Silly Games” was released.In Small Axe, we get a sense of what this popularity looked like and how young black men and women in London would engage with the song. By looking at scenes from the show in conjunction with Lisa Palmer’s piece titled “Erotic politics, lovers rock, and resistance in the UK,” we will be able to get a better understanding of how one song can be integral to a uniquely black experience.

The first time that “Silly Games” is heard in Small Axe, the camera opens to three women cooking to prepare food for the night. They sing along to the song together, adding ingredients to their dishes, dressed in protective hair bonnets and long aprons. The scene provides a sense of comfort and understanding to a black audience, this sort of comradery and preparation being a familiar experience for many. While it is clear that the women are anticipating the night to come, their impromptu performance also serves as a rehearsal for the night. They practice the lyrics and work on the high note, all to prepare for the song when it plays at the party. Knowing that the song was guaranteed to play that night is just one of the ways that this scene is suggesting space and place for young black men and women in lover’s rock.

When “Silly Games” begins playing at the party, the partygoers are ready. Both men and women join the dancefloor, grab a partner, and sway to the music. The couple gets impossibly close, an intimate act between the two, feeling the music between them and throughout the room. Lisa Palmer explains moments like these in her piece saying, “At this moment, the erotic interplay of black female and male bodies would engage in a ‘slow wine’, an open, erotic and public display where couples dance together. However, rather than this moment being engineered exclusively for women, it was in reality eagerly anticipated by men and women alike. The ‘slow wine’, sometimes known as ‘big people dance’ due to its erotic nature, blurred rather than reinforced the gendered boundaries of the dancehall space” (Palmer 183). This slow wine scene in Small Axe is amplified by the song “Silly Games,” as it’s popularity encourages this moment to occur. Everyone knows the lyrics, everyone knows the song is about to play. Men and women are ready to have this experience on the dancefloor and it too, provides a sense of identity and place for the partygoers. Expectations are understood at this party and traditions are upheld. Through the music of lovers rock, these young black individuals make a space for themselves.

The song continues to play for around twelve minutes. In this stretch of time, the DJ alters the song in a few different ways to give it new life and encourage this intermingling of men and women. Dropping out the lyrics or portions of music, the partygoers are encouraged to sing along to the song. This is another activity that requires knowledge that only a certain group of people have access to. The moments of prep for the women in the kitchen, the group of men who set up the equipment for the party - all of these show how rehearsal and preparation is crucial for this event. People know what to expect and they have an amount of social capital that allows them into the space and grants them acceptance among their peers. Lisa Palmer argues that this togetherness is more than just people dancing at a party. Rather this party, fuelled by the genre of lover’s rock songs like “Silly Games” provides black men and women an identity as a collective. She writes, “Our intersecting experiences can pull together the complexities of location, sexuality, race, and gender alongside an engagement with love and decolonising politics that permits lover’s rock not to be simply antithetical to roots and culture but engaged in a much more dialogic and discursive relationship with notions of freedom and black liberation within the social contexts of black people in Britain and beyond” (Palmer 187).

Small Axe shows to its audience the way that lover’s rock provides a space and identity for black men and women. Lisa Palmer tells her readers that because of this, the genre is highly politicized and complicated. These pieces prove the way that lover’s rock and songs such as “Silly Games” play a crucial role in the black experience.

It is music where people search and look for these joint connections between one another. It is hard to define something as “authentic” that brings so many people

CONCLUSION

In conclusion, we have talked about the ways that black music from the Atlantic including samba, afrobeat, and lovers rock point to a black experience that calls for a collective mixing of ideas and traditions rather than a typical projection of one genre influencing another. Authenticity suggests that time is moving on this linear scale and therefore, black music lies outside the confines of the “authentic.”

Works Cited

Baraka, Blues People, Harper Periennial. 1999.

Veal, Michael. Fela: The Life And Times Of An African Musical Icon. Temple University Press, 2000.

Lisa Amanda Palmer (2011) ‘LADIES A YOUR TIME NOW!’ Erotic politics, lovers' rock and resistance in the UK, African and Black Diaspora: An International Journal, 4:2, 177-192, DOI: 10.1080/17528631.2011.583454

Natasha Pravas (2008) Hybridity Brazilian Style: Samba, Carnaval, and the Myth of “Racial Democracy” in Rio de Janeiro, Identities: Global Studies in Culture and Power.