Editor’s note:Arachnophonia (“Arachno” = spider / “-phonia” = sound) is a regular feature on our blog where members of the UR community can share their thoughts about resources from the Parsons Music Library‘s collection.
Erik Satie (1866-1925) was a French composer whose spare, unconventional, often witty style influenced 20th-century music greatly, particularly in France. Satie’s music represents the first definite break with 19th-century French Romanticism. Closely allied to the Dadaist and Surrealist movements in art, it refuses to become involved with grandiose sentiment or transcendent significance, disregards traditional forms and tonal structures, and characteristically takes the form of parody, with flippant titles, such as Trois morceaux en forme de poire (1903; Three Pieces in the Shape of a Pear) and Embryons Desséchés (1913; Desiccated Embryos), and directions to the player such as “with much illness” or “light as an egg.” Satie was often dismissed as a charlatan by musicians who misunderstood his irreverence and wit.
One of Satie’s most known works are the Trois Gymnopédies (1888). Gymnopédie No.1 (You can listen to it here), for example, is a work of music not too complicated. Regardless, I have always found it to influence me like no other piece. Sometimes, it sets the mood to be quite melancholic while also, in my opinion, sprinkling a vast amount of joy by the end. Other times it could lay a feeling of calmness on the listener, like a break from a hard day at work or a breeze on a hot summer afternoon.
You can check out this book (among others) in the Parsons Music Library if you’d like to learn more about Erik Satie and his work.
Editor’s note:Arachnophonia is a regular feature on our blog where members of the UR community can share their thoughts about resources from the Parsons Music Library‘s collection.
“Why Karen Carpenter Matters” book cover (image: University of Texas Press)
2019 marks fifty years since the release of the Carpenters’ debut album Ticket to Ride (1969; originally released as Offering). Over a fourteen-year career, the Downey, California based brother-sister duo of Karen and Richard released ten albums and were best known for their runaway hits “(They Long to Be) Close to You” (1970), “We’ve Only Just Begun” (1970), and “Top of The World” (1973). Richard handled much of the writing and all of the arranging of their songs, blending easy listening, adult contemporary, and classical stylings together, despite the popularity of hard rock at the time. Richard crafted their songs to bolster the uniquely low and rich voice of his sister. The Carpenters’ signature sound was characterized by the use of multi-tracking to back Karen’s voice with itself to provide harmonies, a technique known as overdubbing. Indeed, it was Karen who was eventually forced out from behind her drum set to become the reluctant star of the group.
The story of the Carpenters is ultimately one of tragedy. As their fame grew, so did the demands of a near-constant touring schedule. This, coupled with increased scrutiny from the media, is speculated to be the cause of Karen’s development of anorexia nervosa. Around the same time, Richard developed an addiction to Quaaludes, a sleeping pill. Although Richard cured his addiction through rehab, little was known about eating disorders at the time that any treatment Karen underwent was dubious at best. She died from complications from anorexia in 1983 at the age of thirty-two.
The Carpenters, 1974 By A&M Records – Billboard Magazine, page 2, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=75866990
In the decades since Karen’s death, the Carpenters’ catalog has been critically re-evaluated several times over, amassing further acclaim alongside greater examination into the Carpenters’ personal lives and a paradigmatic shift in understanding of anorexia nervosa. One such re-evaluation comes in the form of Karen Tongson’s Why Karen Carpenter Matters, released earlier this year. Part-biography, part-autobiography, and part-musicography, it charts not only the life of Karen Carpenter, but Karen Tongson (the author — named for Carpenter) and her lifelong relationship to the music of the Carpenters. A Filipino-American immigrant, Tongson draws inspiration from her own life to examine why the music of the Carpenters endures for people of color, the LGBTQ+ community, and anyone else who has craved the “white normalcy” that middle class suburbanites Richard and Karen seemed to embody. Tongson emphasizes Karen’s well-documented tomboyishness as a form of queer identity, and highlights how Karen, like so many minorities, obsessed over achieving a “white picket fence lifestyle” as a form of validation. Tongson’s writing put to words an understanding I first suspected while watching Fresh Off The Boat with my Japanese-American mother: though their children may only want to escape it, for many immigrants, white suburbia is the dream.
If it wasn’t already obvious, I’m a fan of the Carpenters. Their arrangements were superb and Karen was a generational talent. But even for those who find their music ‘too soft and too white,’ I recommend this book. At 138 pages, Why Karen Carpenter Matters is a brief and pleasant read that challenges some of the predominant assumptions we hold about why we love the music we love.
The Carpenters’ fifth studio album, Now & Then (1973) is also available for check out from the Parsons Music Library.
Editor’s note:Arachnophonia is a regular feature on our blog where members of the UR community can share their thoughts about resources from the Parsons Music Library‘s collection.
As a result, I am excited to explore this book and Cain’s insight about the revival of folk music in the 1960’s that addressed a political shift and new cultural ideologies in America. The book focuses on musicians like Joan Baez, Peter Paul & Mary, and Bob Dylan and is divided into three parts; first, The Background, focused on the emergence of the New Left, second, The Politics, examining the politics of the New Left, and third, The Music, or the soundtrack of the New Left movement. When paging through the book, I was interested in the connection between suburbanization and the emergence of the New Left, and was drawn to the idea of a “prefigurative model” that turns the status quo upside down, where the “last shall be first”. Michael Scott Cain integrates an analysis of American history, culture, icons, music and experiences in an accessible and interesting read. Check it out!
Editor’s note:Arachnophonia is a regular feature on our blog where members of the UR community can share their thoughts about resources from the Parsons Music Library‘s collection.
I’ve chosen to discuss the libretto for The Sound of Music. Growing up this movie, play, and its music were quintessential to my after-school evenings and my sister’s love for the music. She was Maria in our school’s production of this show which inspired my own love for the drama club years later. We would watch this movie over and over until we knew every word and could sing along perfectly. They are very happy memories that I share with my sister; and the rest of my family and I will always enjoy listening to and watching The Sound of Music no matter how many times we’ve done it before.
I love how some of the songs are so intricate and over-the-top (“The Lonely Goatherd”) and some are so sweetly written and simple (“My Favorite Things”). No matter which song from the show you’re playing, they are all different — no two sound the same. Some Broadway shows can be very repetitive and over the course of three hours song after song can become boring, but that was never the case for me with The Sound of Music. In addition, the talent that you need to sing some of the songs is amazing. That’s not to say anyone can’t sing along, but to sing them well requires some major pipes. My sister had this talent and seeing her perform our favorite show was one of the moments she truly knew that music and singing would be her life’s passion.
I think that watching, or even just listening to, The Sound of Music is a must for everyone, even if you’re not into musicals. The story line is so captivating and the music is beautiful. If you’ve never seen it before give it a try! If you’re feeling so inclined after, take out this book and learn some of the songs too!
Editor’s note:Arachnophonia is a regular feature on our blog where members of the UR community can share their thoughts about resources from the Parsons Music Library‘s collection.
This special edition of Arachnophonia features contributions from students in Dr. Joanna Love‘s MUS 235 class: “I Want My MTV: Music Video and the Transformation of the Music Industry.”
In Rap Music and Street Consciousness, Cheryl L. Keyes tracks the development of rap music in the United States from the early 1970s to 2000. Employing the perspectives of ethnomusicology, folklore, and cultural studies, Keyes brings in views from a variety of critics. The book is divided into two parts. Part 1 explores the sociocultural history and aesthetics of rap music. Part 2 provides critical perspectives of rap and explores the representation of rap in popular culture.
Keyes details the start of hip-hop and rap as a youth movement that evolved in the Bronx, New York, in the early 1970s. She defines rap music as a “musical form the makes use of rhyme, rhythmic speech, and street vernacular, which is recited or loosely chanted over a musical soundtrack” (1). In its beginnings, the movement was comprised of disc jockeys, emcees, break-dancers, graffiti writers, and style of urban street culture. In her research, Keyes focuses on disc jockeys and emcees. Hip-hop began with the mixing of pre-recorded hits on two turntables and as it became more competitive, artists started to hire MCs to do vocals over the tracks. The rhythmic aspects of hip-hop caught people’s attention and brought this new style into mainstream media. “Rapper’s Delight” (1979) by Sugarhill Gang became a commercial hit and catalyzed rap’s entry into the popular music industry. By the late 1980s, rap had become a billion dollar enterprise.
With commercial success came harsh criticism and controversy. Many critics often saw rap and violence as synonymous. The media and the right-wing politics of the 1980s amplified the perceived negativity surrounding rap and hip-hop. Ronald Reagan’s rhetoric and ideas spurred division between black and white communities and these sentiments were reflected in the media’s portrayal of African American and Latino youth communities as fraught with violence, crime, and drugs. Rap emerged to combat the negative narrative being placed unfairly upon these communities. Attacks on rap continued, as gangsta rap particularly came under censorship. Critics disputed the artistry of rap; some questioning the sampling of musical tracks rather than the creation of newly inspired works. In Keyes’ work, she situates rap and hip-hop within the context of urban street culture. She defines ‘streets’ as “a subculture of the urban milieu that operates by its own rules, economics, lifestyle, language, and aesthetics” (6). ( A deep understanding of street culture is needed, she states, to mold the discussion of rap and hip-hop.)
Chapter 8, “Visualizing Beats and Rhymes,” will prove most valuable for my individual research. Keyes briefly starts out the chapter discussing how music videos are used as marketing and advertising tools for artists. They serve as a platform for artists to re-envision their music. The first part of the chapter, which I will draw some useful information from, provides a model for analyzing how black youth culture is encoded in rap videos. The second part of the chapter details the video-making process from an interview with director and producer J. Kevin Swain.
In Chapter 8, Keyes introduces the idea of iconic memory, which she defines as “the referencing of place, historical events, and music familiar to hip-hop viewers” (211) and says is unique to rap. Key aspects of iconic memory include visualization of “illustration, amplification, and disjuncture” (212). She focuses some of her discussion on gangsta rap music videos in particular, which is useful since I will be analyzing N.W.A, whose music classifies as gangsta rap. Keyes notes how gangsta rap music videos tried to capture the reality of life in the hood, focusing heavily on the relationship between black youth and the police. Although some critics say N.W.A glorifies violence — which is the reason MTV actually refused to air the “Straight Outta Compton” music video initially — rappers argue that it simply depicts the harassment young black men experience in their everyday reality. She quotes Ice Cube, a member of N.W.A. saying “‘We deal with reality; violence is reality’” (216). “Fuck tha Police” and “100 Miles And Runnin’” were also direct references to police harassment and the repression in young black communities. An important point is how the ‘streets’ influence rap music videos. In the introduction, Keyes notes how video director Hype Williams said that urban street culture informs his directing. “‘The ‘streets’ reflect in all that I do; the camera [lens] is an extension of that’ (1995)” (5). This idea, along with her idea of iconic memory will help shape my discussion when analyzing “100 Miles And Runnin’” and other N.W.A. music videos.
Hype Williams, a prominent rap music video director
Although Chapter 8 aids in my specific analysis of N.W.A.’s music videos, other chapters in the book can provide me, and other researchers, with more contextual context and historical discussion. For example, in Chapter 4, “Expanding Frontiers: Rap Music, 1990-2000,” Keyes discusses censorship of gangsta rap and the wave of concern over First Amendment rights. Also, in Chapter 6, “Issues, Conflicts, and Conspiracies: The Hip-Hop Nation at the Crossroad,” Keyes’ discussion of how materialism plays a role in shaping hip-hop culture will be valuable in my analysis.
N.W.A.’s “100 Miles And Runnin'” music video
As Keyes describes herself, the “nature of this work” is “multifaceted” (13). She was a university student when she began her research and explored aspects of rap and hip-hop by bringing in the voices of critics and artists alike. While other works could perhaps provide a more detailed look at specific topics, Keyes offers a comprehensive base for further research into the musical, visual, cultural, and social aspects of rap and hip-hop. Further, the book contains a “Glossary of Common Rap Music Terms” toward the end. This tool can be helpful to anyone studying the genre.
Author of “Rap Music and Street Consciousness,” Cheryl Keyes
Keyes herself is a black, female researcher who is an outsider in the music industry. In the introduction to this book, she notes how her position as an outsider — and an insider because of her race and gender at times — helped frame her research and fieldwork. By disclosing the positive and negative ways her information gathering was affected by how she was perceived by those in the music industry, Keyes gives an honest account and recognizes her work’s strengths and limits.
Editor’s note:Arachnophonia is a regular feature on our blog where members of the UR community can share their thoughts about resources from the Parsons Music Library‘s collection.
This special edition of Arachnophonia features contributions from students in Dr. Joanna Love‘s MUS 235 class: “I Want My MTV: Music Video and the Transformation of the Music Industry.”
“‘Let Me Ride’: Gangsta Rap’s Drive into the Popular Mainstream” is the third chapter in Loren Kajikawa’s book Sounding Race in Rap Songs. The chapter focuses on how lyrics, imagery, and sound worked in tandem in LA-based gangsta rap. Kajikawa compares Dr. Dre’s work with gangsta group N.W.A. with singles from his solo career to identify the changes in sound, production, and aesthetic choices that allude to different ideas about race and politics.
Kajikawa beings the chapter by quoting Robin D. G. Kelley’s thoughts on the badass attitude emulated by rappers, especially during the Los Angeles Uprising in 1992. He explains that the purpose of inflating their personalities for being violent trouble makers, rappers were able to stand up to the powers and challenges that were oppressing them. This confidence allowed rappers to comment on issues such as police brutality, racial profiling, poverty, and the criminalization of black youth. With this in mind, Kajikawa hones in specifically on the aesthetic changes in Dr. Dre’s music and videos to see the development of such critiques.
Kajikawa quotes Murray Forman to explain that “rappers often cultivate and aura of authenticity tied to their respective ‘hoods.” N.W.A. does this with Compton, California to reflect the experience of the black community in LA. Kajikawa states that the conditions of the neighborhood N.W.A. identifies with offers insight into the decisions the group made in the making of their music and videos. From factories closing and laying off employees in the 60s, to rapid population increases in the 70s, to deindustrialization, LA was incredibly vulnerable and enabled by the mobility of capital. With the rise of the automobile industry and the construction of the freeway system, the excitement of newly accessible opportunities hid the isolation and dilapidation of poorer LA neighborhoods, like Compton. As a result, gangsta rap drew inspiration form the crime, violence, underground drug trade, and overall chaos in their community. These issues lead to an aggressive response by the LAPD, who sought to control the violence and sale of drugs with tactics such as search-and-seizure round ups and intimidation. N.W.A.’s adoption of the gangsta persona in their music served as an outlet to use the system that was working against them to make money.
After establishing the roots and influences of N.W.A. and gangsta rap in general, Kajikawa transitions to more of a musical analysis of Dr. Dre’s work with and without N.W.A. In the song “Straight Outta Compton,” Dr. Dre samples a backbeat from the Winstons’ and includes a syncopated snare and bass loop that sounds similar to the commonly sampled “Funky Drummer” by James Brown. Dre includes numerous repeating sounds, 16-count hi-hats, and various instruments like guitar and a horn drone. Though some of the sounds appear to be sampled, Dr. Dre preferred to have studio musicians recreate preexisting parts of songs to allow him more control over the tracks.
Overall, Dre’s production of the song results in a punchy and staccato sound with a noisy beat. The instrumentation, combined with the inclusion of nonmusical sounds like gunshots, sirens, and screeching tires. reflects the lyrics extremely well, as the group raps about the violence and injustices they have experienced in Compton. The music video adds another layer of intensity to the song, matching the beat with jump cuts and shocking imagery. The video depicts the daily struggles of the members of N.W.A. and the black community in Compton in general, highlighting the LAPD’s harsh tactics. Shortly after the release of N.W.A.’s second album in 1991, Dr. Dre split from the group to focus on his solo career, which lead to a change in his sound.
Dr. Dre’s solo album, The Chronic, was released in 1992. Kajikawa notes the harsh shift (and dismissal) of Dre’s past music with N.W.A. Dre openly critiques his former partners in a way to prove his authenticity over theirs. Kajikawa uses “Nuthin’ But A ‘G’ Thang” and “Let Me Ride” to illustrate the changes in sound and production that Dr. Dre implemented. When considering the musical style and visuals of the accompanying videos, there is an obvious shift away from the violent struggles of life in Compton and a focus on the lifestyle and celebration of freedom and mobility. However, Kajikawa notes that the change in tone are found primarily in the music and imagery, as the lyrics still touch on a lot of the same themes. Ultimately, Dr. Dre’s solo album illustrates his success and momentum in society in a way that allowed listeners/viewers to identify with it.
Musically, Dr. Dre’s solo work took on the style of G-Funk, a term adopted from George Clinton’s P-Funk collective. This “freaky” sound drew inspiration from Leon Haywood’s “I Wanna Do Something Freaky To You,” which included a chiller groove and distorted guitar. Dr. Dre recreated (not sampled) the relaxed groove to loop in “Nuthin’ But A ‘G’ Thang.” By adding more percussion, the song lends itself to a danceable feel, which may have helped widen Dr. Dre’s audience. Additionally, Dre often used a Minimoog synthesizer (see photo). Since the use of synthesizers was huge in New Wave and pop music at the time, his music was likely able to transcend demographic lines. The delivery of the vocals in both “Let Me Ride” and “Nuthin’ But A ‘G’ Thang” are also drastically different, departing from the shouting of lyrics heard in N.W.A.’s music to a more conversational and sensual type of rapping. By adapting gangsta rap into “gangsta cool,” Dr. Dre also opened the door to radio play for his music.
Visually, Dr. Dre presents himself to be in a much different position than he was when he released music with N.W.A. In “Let Me Ride,” he illustrates his success by cruising around LA in a convertible, as opposed to being on foot. Instead of tense jump cuts, the video features fades in and out, matching the relaxed nature of the beat. Though some critics claim that The Chronic depoliticized gangsta rap in some ways, Dre definitely knew how to produce music that audiences would want to listen to.
In both eras, it is clear that Dr. Dre signifies different musicians and relevant cultural topics in his music via sampling and his lyrics. I found this source extremely helpful in gaining a better understanding of the regional history of rap, as well as the influences that shaped the nature of the lyrics and style heard in much of the rap music during the 80s and 90s. My paper aims to compare the ways in which different rappers have used music and videos to comment on issues surrounding racism, and this chapter offered a musical analysis that will help me better analyze the musical elements of other rap songs. Additionally, learning more about how Dr. Dre recreated songs as opposed to sampling straight from the track furthered my knowledge regarding how new artists pull from older artists to create something with a deeper meaning. Sampling continues to be a huge part of rap music today, so knowing more about the process and intentionality of it all is significant in understanding why certain samples are included in songs. Ultimately, I believe this source could help students looking to establish a deeper understanding of the musical styles and aesthetic choices of gangsta rap, as well as help students learn more about the significance of these deliberate choices.
Today’s installment of Arachnophonia is by Music Library student library worker, Eve (class of 2020) and features a 2012 Bob Dylan biography. Thanks, Eve!
I associate Bob Dylan with family; I grew up hearing my Dad play Dylan recordings and listening to my older brother singing classics such as “Blowin’ in the Wind“. This summer, my love of Bob Dylan was rekindled when I lived in Utah, as songs such as “Tangled up in Blue” and “Shelter from the Storm” were the perfect soundtrack for road trips with friends. In addition to loving Dylan’s music, I am interested in him as a counterculture icon, political figure and individual, and particularly want to learn more about his role in the Civil Rights movement and Vietnam War.
Bob Dylan “goes electric” and inspires controversy at the Newport Folk Festival 1965
As such, I am excited to explore The Ballad of Bob Dylan, a biography written by Daniel Mark Epstein. The book uses four formative concerts to examine Dylan’s rise to fame, his shift from folk to rock music, and more personal aspects of his life and character. It includes interviews with those close to the singer-songwriter such as Nora Guthrie and Ramblin’ Jack Elliot, as well as lyrics from Dylan songs and poems. While there are many biographies about this “voice of a generation”, The Ballad of Bob Dylan is accessible and comprehensive, allowing it to be the perfect read for a budding Dylan fan.
Editor’s Note: “Spider Sounds” invites members of the University of Richmond community to share their thoughts about items in the Parsons Music Library’s collection. The links included will take you to the library catalog record for the item in question, or to additional relevant information.
Today’s installment of “Spider Sounds” comes courtesy of UR Music Department faculty member Dr. Gene Anderson. Dr. Anderson is the author of a number of articles about early jazz and the analysis of wind music. He has been kind enough to share a review of a recent biography about Louis Armstrong’s early career entitled Louis Armstrong: Master of Modernism. Thanks, Gene!
The main thesis of Master of Modernism, which focuses on the period between Armstrong’s departure from New Orleans to join King Oliver’s Creole Band in 1922 to his successful transition into the swing era in the early 1930s, is that the trumpeter’s success “depended on his ability to skillfully negotiate the musical and social legacies of slavery,” and whose career, “can be understood as a response to these interlocking trajectories.” The fulfillment of such a thesis demands nothing short of a cultural history of the period, which Brothers eloquently and compellingly provides. Although the author contributes few new revelations to Armstrong’s well-known life story, he furnishes the most coherent narrative of these years to date by adding details and filling in chronological gaps by means of little-known archival photographs, first-person recollections from contemporaries and primary sources like black newspapers and periodicals.
Armstrong, armed with an exceptional ear, extraordinary memory and a nascent ability to read music, left his hometown with a thorough grounding in black vernacular music—its blues-infused aspects of collective improvisation, freak and obbligato playing (“playing second”) having been fostered variously by plantation music, the heterophonic singing of the Sanctified Church, King Oliver’s “monkeyshines” or “ragging the tune” to Manuel Perez’ leads, and the hawking of wares by street vendors, Lorenzo and Santiago. Most importantly, he was immersed in what Brothers calls the “fixed and variable model” of performance which “became the key ingredient in Armstrong’s mature style.”
Brothers concludes his investigation by summarizing the characteristics that made Armstrong a great melodist. The author’s stances on a few controversial issues have been addressed by others, but this exquisitely written and exhaustively researched work stands as an invaluable addition to the literature and will very likely come to be regarded, with its companion, Louis Armstrong in New Orleans, as the definitive study of Armstrong’s early career.
