FEEL THE POWER Keep On Pushing
Oct 25, 2011
An interview with author Denise Sullivan, on the past, present and future of protest music.
BY FRED MILLS
Arguably coming of age and hitting its stride during the Civil Rights movement of the sixties, protest music continues to exert its relevance with each new generation - sometimes, to cultures with no obvious connection to those earlier eras. (Hello, Arab Spring.) In her latest book Keep On Pushing: Black Power Music From Blues to Hip-Hop (Lawrence Hill Books), Denise Sullivan traces protest music from its origins through the present, interviewing the likes of Buffy Sainte-Marie, Solomon Burke, Wayne Kramer and Michael Franti while making a strong case for that ongoing relevance.
Sullivan is author of White Stripes: Sweethearts of the Blues, R.E.M.: Talk About the Passion: An Oral History and Rip It Up!: Rock ‘n' Roll Rulebreakers, and a regular columnist for the Crawdaddy! website. In a recent interview she discussed what went into putting her book together, some of the revelations she experienced while writing it, and what direction contemporary protest music might take.
BLURT: Is there anything from your own childhood or teenage years, in terms of intersecting with some of the music or related events, that stands out in your mind re: a foreshadowing that you might one day want to write a book about it?
DENISE SULLIVAN: Back then, message music was in the air and we were lucky enough to have been exposed to it every time we turned on the TV and the Top 40 radio, which as you know, gave equal time to rock and soul. As I remember, folk music was part of California public school curriculum (or maybe I just had some right on teachers). While at home, I studied the liner notes of my dad's jazz records like they were the Dead Sea Scrolls (I thought Nat Hentoff was related to me, I saw his name so much). So this mix of jazz, folk, soul and rock, the artists who made it, and what they stood for, came into focus for me pretty early. I was also a child news hound and everyday, I read the paper, and it was filled with local reports of student, political and black power movement.
What I got from all of it was examples of democracy in action: the student protestors, Marvin Gaye and John and Yoko became like teachers, which later added up to me being well disposed to Horses by Patti Smith, "Hurricane" by Bob Dylan, and the songs of Bob Marley. Those records hit me hard and still do. By the time I got to college radio, I guess it was only natural I'd find my people, among the punk rockers and DJs who segued the Clash with Sugarhill and Stax Records and Gil Scott-Heron.
To have been alive to witness all that we have, from the civil rights, women's rights and gay rights movements, to the births of both punk and hip hop, while watching the world turn from analog to digital blows my mind on pretty much a daily basis. It seemed important to pass on another version of the story and soundtrack of our extraordinary lifetime to the people coming of age right now, as they use parts of it to render changes and innovations of their own.
What was the initial impetus behind your research and the book?
I'd say the lifelong interest converged with a number of other factors, as these things often do. When I finished writing my last book, The White Stripes: Sweethearts of the Blues, there was so much in their story concerning the origins of the country blues and the circumstances of the musicians who played it that I'd left unsaid which lead me to wanting to write a book about rock and race, but I didn't quite know how to approach it, till I was at a book fair and ran into the writer Nelson George. I've admired his work since he was one of the few journalists to cover hip hop in the early ‘80s, and I told him as much, before asking him what he thought about a woman like me writing African American history. He said, "I think more white people should write about it."
Basically, his encouragement gave me the confidence to move forward, as did a few things Solomon Burke said when I interviewed him. I also received inspiration from everything from fine art photography to a mixtape compiled by a friend: At some point, it all added up.
I picture you and Peter Case [Sullivan's partner] talking about a lot of this music as well, given his obvious love for it.
You are right that Peter and I can talk music and trade tracks for days and it helps that I have someone with whom I can bounce around ideas. Certainly, I owe my interest in pre-war blues to him, and I appreciate having a resident expert to check in with on questions of song construction, melody and rhythm patterns. He's the number one supporter of my work, as I am of his.
What were some of the key revelations or biggest surprises you encountered while putting the book together?
It was exciting for me to make the connection that poetry is a big part of the story of freedom music. From the blues and Langston Hughes, to Amiri Baraka and the Black Arts Movement, Allen Ginsberg and Greenwich Village, Len Chandler, Richie Havens and Nina Simone, Gil Scott-Heron, the Rev. Jesse Jackson, H. Rap Brown, and of course the rhymes in hip hop, it's key. Personally, I'm so happy to have made this connection because it opened a door into the world of poetry and now that I've walked through it, I get to explore and enjoy it on a much deeper level than I have before.
"From Blues to Hip-Hop" reads your subtitle: what do you think are the key similarities and intersections between the two song forms, and how would you convince, say, a die-hard John Lee Hooker fan that NWA or Public Enemy might also be relevant to him?
Well, aside from the obvious connection to groove, bold rhymes and extreme wordplay, the voices telling stories have the same depth and feeling, whether poignant or prideful. If you have the desire to get inside the human condition and feel the similarities, or to receive an uncensored, unembellished account of real life, then I'd say a blues fan could definitely dig hip hop and vice versa; they're both soulful forms of expression.
What do you think people from other, not necessarily African-American, cultures might be able to take away from your book? John Trudell, who appears in your book, certainly grasped the parallels between the black power movement and American Indian Movement. What about similarly oppressed groups in Arab countries, for example?
Cultural expression can be personally and politically powerful. Songs have been known to break down walls, open jailhouse doors and have contributed to major movements, from civil rights in the US to anti-apartheid efforts in South Africa. Buffy Sainte-Marie didn't set out to write an international peace anthem, and yet, that's what "Universal Soldier" became; the ball got rolling because she wrote down what was in her heart. As Freedom Singer Bernice Johnson Reagon says, "The songs are free." Where there is music, there is hope.
You mention a number of worthy, sincere, contemporary artists such as Tom Morello who have picked up the baton of protest music. Who else do you think we should be paying attention to?
Nellie McKay, PJ Harvey, and M.I.A. all have important things to say, as does "Born This Way." Plus, now that we have a common cause [Occupy Wall Street, etc.] I expect new anthems will emerge; I'd like to hear the people singing. There is a tradition of writing new words to old melodies and there is power in that tradition. It's important that musicians of all kinds, set the pace with simple songs to go with the movement - so everyday people can singalong.
Duly and absolutely noted because - speaking of Morello - on Oct. 13 he appeared as his alter-ego The Nightwatchman at the Occupy Wall Street gathering in NYC's Liberty Plaza, doing Woodie Guthrie's "This Land Is Your Land" and a few other songs. What was your reaction to that?
Michael Franti and Jeff Mangum were there too. Every important movement, from labor and civil rights to the anti-war movement has had its songs so I expect this one will develop an anthem too, whether it's an old song rewritten or a new one. Music takes people from where they are to where they want to be. When people of all races, creeds, genders and sexual preferences sing together, for one purpose, that's a powerful thing.
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