It took me a while to be able to write this post, as it took me some time to be able to read more than a few pages at a time of Nick Tosches’ Where Dead Voices Gather, his biography of minstrel performer Emmett Miller.  While the story Tosches is telling is compelling and definitely of interest to a longtime student of American music such as myself (I’ve been unknowingly preparing for this class for well over a decade now), I have a very difficult time with Tosches’ own attitudes and opinions, which he liberally inserts into the text.  Particularly, his defense of the institution of minstrelsy, which constitutes much of the introductory portion of the book, reads in turns as hypocritical, tone-deaf (ironically for a man of such depth of musical knowledge–boy, does he never let you forget how much more than you he knows about music), and condescending.  On one hand, he condemns critics of minstrel singing of pretension, of not truly understanding what it was really about, and of couching their criticisms in academic language. On the other, Tosches himself possesses a grandiose vocabulary, and often uses a difficult word where a simple one would suffice.  More than once, I found myself rolling my eyes at the text, and even swearing at Tosches out loud.  In particular, the passage in which he lists the various black blues artists who got their start in minstrelsy, and even mentions that Frederick Douglass was known to enjoy a minstrel song or two–Douglass’ opinions on the institution of minstrelsy were much more nuanced and complex than that, a revelation Tosches conveniently saves for a later passage–reeks of the tired line “I’m not racist, some of my best friends are black!”  As the book begins to settle in to tell the story of Emmett Miller’s life, Tosches still cannot help but insert himself and his opinions into the text at length.  While his study of Miller’s life and music, his pursuit of the long-elusive facts of this influential yet enigmatic performer’s existence, and his command of the relevant knowledge and context are all impressive, not to mention that the story is a good story and one that begs to be told, Tosches comes off as an overly opinionated, self-important blowhard.  I can only hope that as the book progresses, Tosches finds less of a need to tell the reader what they should think about the story he’s telling, but I’m not optimistic.  Still, the story of Emmett Miller is one that is not only worth telling, but in the context of American music and culture, which apparently owes no small debt to Miller, needs to be told, and that’s enough to keep me reading.

Let me begin by saying that in the last class discussion, while we were covering the topic of Idealism vs. Realism, I don’t believe I expressed myself well.  I really did sound like a “wishy-washy idealist” to quote Prof. O’Malley.  So, by way of explanation of my beliefs, here goes: I in no way consider myself an idealist.  While I do feel emotionally moved by things and seek those things out, I don’t believe that those things represent some kind of Platonic ideal, as there is far too much accounting for taste among people, and finding something that the whole world agrees upon would be impossible.  I’m very individualistic in this regard, as I think that people should absolutely seek out things and experiences which they find an emotional connection to, but that it would be a fruitless endeavor to try and apply that to a universal standard. When I listen to a song, and am moved by that song, that feeling comes just as much from how that song relates to my own life, other songs I’ve heard, my beliefs about the quality of the musicianship, and experiences I associate with listening to it than it does from a visceral, emotional reaction.

That aside, I think it’s really cool that in what is ostensibly a music history class, we are discussing topics as diverse as realism vs. idealism, the advent of writing and the way it made humans think differently, and the extent to which the advent of digital technology and computing has been similar to that earlier development. As much as I look forward to listening to music, talking about music, and learning about that music’s history and development, I’m happy with the direction the class is taking so far.  My foreknowledge of and passion about about the subject of American music history—which, I still can’t believe how lucky I got in choosing this section of the class, given that I didn’t know that would be the topic—means that while I eagerly anticipate those discussions, I am also happy to delay them while we lay this broader contextual groundwork over which the topic of American music will be laid.

I find it interesting that a class on music history began discussing something that i think of as a distinctly contemporary issue: the loudness war–the increasing tendency for producers to use compression and limiting to decrease the dynamic range of popular music, making it sound louder even at comparable volumes.  However, as we delved more into the topic, I came to understand that it’s the continuation of a trend that has been going on since the earliest days of music recording.  As early as the 1950s, recording engineers, artists, and producers were using new microphones, multi-track mixing techniques, and instruments like the electric bass to change the sonic profile of recordings, creating a sound that was flatter in response than the records that had come before and were peaked in the mid-range.  It’s hard to say exactly why the trend has continued to the extreme in modern recordings, which now ignore mid-range for maximum bass and treble, but the fact remains that those records sound louder, even when played at the same volume.  It’s harder to ignore loud music, it grabs your attention on the radio on on your stereo.  It seems to me that producers were afraid of sales falling behind if their records were quieter (or at least had more dynamic range) and followed suit.  Many modern bands have gone back on this trend, but generally those bands are not making popular, radio-friendly music and therefore stand to lose much less.  I think that the loudness war represents the triumph of commercial over musical interests in the pop music recording industry. Are we really so lazy that we can’t hear the difference, that we as music consumers won’t demand music with dynamic range, which my own ear finds inherently more pleasing?  One of my classmates made a point in class that when every instrument is at the same volume, it’s possible to focus on different aspects of the song with each listen, but I feel that sentiment is countermanded by one in the video Prof. O’Malley emailed to the class: “The producer doesn’t control the volume knob, you do.”  Loudness for loudness’ sake means a loss of clarity and nuance in recording, and de-emphasizes musicianship. I can’t say I know what the solution to this issue is, but I know it’s one of the main reasons I don’t spend much time listening to current pop music. I hope that as the class continues we delve more into the implications of this issue and look at what might be done going forward to, in my view, improve the sound of music in the future.

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