Hi everyone! So I might be showing my age here, but do you all know about mixtapes
and what a massive cultural phenomena they were? In the post-reel-to-reel post-
eight-track days -- I'm mostly talking the 80s here --
the popularity of the cassette meant that people could for the very first
time readily create their own playlists at home. And this was huge in youth
culture at the time. CDs and mp3s took over not long thereafter, but the concept
of the mixtape endures in our preference for playlist-style listening today. I
mention this, because one thing that comes up in this week's readings is
Harry Smith's 1952 "Anthology of American Folk Music." Which, among other things,
probably invented the idea of the mixtape. More broadly, I really don't
think it's possible to overstate just how influential these three, and later
four, volumes of recordings were. Each generation that encounters them has a
different take away, but it's always a big one. Like for the listeners of the
1950s, it spawned national interest in folk that would go on to shape the
entire social consciousness of the 1960s. Some, like music journalist Mark
Richardson, believe that the 1997 reissue of the anthology had a lot to do with the
subsequent turn toward the weird, freak, and free folk music of the early 2000s.
But most concretely, the original publication of the anthology represented
just one person's take on selecting music and presenting it in a certain way --
and that concept is actually really big. In her book about 78 collectors, Amanda
Petrusich says, "previously, these tracks were islands -- isolated platters of
shellac that existed independently of anything else." Even flipping over a 78
required disruptive action. Shifting the medium from the one song per side 78 to
the long playing vinyl album allowed, finally, for songs to be juxtaposed in
deliberate ways. It's possible now, of course, to dump all 84 tracks onto one
digital playlist, and experience the entire anthology uninterrupted, but I
still prefer to it knowledge the demarcations between its
three sections -- to play it as Smith did. Harry Smith, this avant-garde filmmaker
and record collector, curated a listening experience, and in some ways that meant
that the music became a little bit his. You all have probably made
your own playlists before, and we usually feel a little bit of a sense of
ownership or authorship in that. And in the case of the anthology, another part
of experience it is the physical artifact itself, with the artwork, and it
was very like unusual, and poetic notes from Smith. He was actually awarded a
Lifetime Achievement Grammy and '91, and what he said upon accepting the award
reveals that he definitely knew the impact that the anthology had had.
Because he said, quote, "I'm glad to say that my dreams came true -- that I saw
America changed through music." So through his personal selection of 84
performances recorded between 1926 and 1933,
Harry Smith highlighted early black blues and white country music, Cajun
recordings, hymns and sacred music, and more -- put together in some kind of loose
framework that single-handedly redefined folk music. And sure, there were, and are,
other compilations of various folk musics, but Smith's project seemed to
have a personality and in of itself -- just like its creator it was a little bit
intellectual, mysterious, and witty, in a kind of deadpan way. Many people have
written about the anthology of American folk music, and there's a great article
in The New York Times from back when it was reissued in 1997. In it, the author
Tom Piazza supposes that despite the obvious significance of race
in the collection, Smith resolutely avoided mentioning it. So the rationale
for listening to a track on the anthology was not that it represented
the voice of a particular ethnic group, which is, of course, what can make
recordings compelling to some listeners, but rather, they all represented
a kind of collective strangeness, passion, and mystery -- these feelings that Smith
seems to point to as universal human traits. In the 1950s, at a time when
powerful currents of standardization and assimilation were everywhere, when
America was asking itself in, not always good ways, what it meant to be American,
here came this musical cultural paradox in the form of vinyl records, and it
energized a new generation of performers and folklorists. I've linked Piazza's
article below, and I'd recommend reading it. I'd also recommend listening to the
samples, especially critically and imaginatively this week. Of course Harry
Smith's anthology is only one piece of the puzzle in the Lornell chapter for
this week, but as you work, try and imagine how odd and mind-blowing it is
to first hear those tracks from the 1920s and 30s, and see how you can trace
those sounds in the ones of the folk revivalists. Also, in case you're
curious, there is a physical copy of the anthology of American folk music in the
library at ETSU, if you want to see it for yourself. I happen to be borrowing
this one from Professor Roy Andrade, who keeps it in his office,
and would probably happily let you take a look at it.
So, enjoy the reading, and really sit with the recordings and next time you listen
to, or create a playlist, think about the 1952 mixtape man himself, Mr. Harry Smith.
Have a great week!