FOR THE BROTHAS: AN INTRODUCTION

It must have been about 20 years ago when I first began thinking about creating a "Cultural Salon" as a reaction to the mundane social circles In Washington D.C. The richness of intellectual and artistic interchange had died, college friends had moved, the internet had not yet become the phenomenon it now is... I romanticised about the Salons of the mid to late 1800's in Paris, London and Berlin and the cultural dynamo of the Harlem Rennaisance. I was fortunate enough to meet a gentleman, an artist who lived and traveled with James Baldwin... Jimmy he affectionately called him, and he spoke often of their small cottage in southern France and of the many Artists, Poets and Luminaries that dropped in to chat and relax. Well, the impressionists, cubists, modernists, etc. all hung out together famously in those days and shared their ideas with one another creating a creative greenhouse in a world that was rapidly changing. I longed to have lived in those times, to have met Cassat, Rodin, Ellington, Fitzgerald, Baker, Balwin, well I did finally meet Baldwin and others purely for the joy of intellection upon the arts. This was in the late 1980's and by the mid 2000's I happened to run into a friend of mine from Hampton University who had been living in New York since he graduated in the early 90s. Well, I was surprised to hear him comment that in all of the wonder that is New York he never met anyone who ever really had anything interesting to say about art, literature, architecture, science, fashion or anything... I was so surprised to hear this since it had also been my experience. Well here I am in 2011 attempting the Virtual Salon...

Thursday, July 18, 2013

THE SOUND OF SURPRISE?



THE SOUND OF SURPRISE?



I was listening to Lisa Stansfield singing one of her golden and sultry ballads and wondered what happened to the genre of “Sexy and Sophisticated, Romantic, Grown-Up Music”?  Just where did it disappear to?  For those of us fortunate enough to remember when these beautiful musical testament’s to the art of love were freshly minted we have only to go to the nearest Sirius channel or CD compilation. But the younger generation knows almost nothing of this genre of music because theirs is mostly focused on vain and vulgar proclamations of sexual prowess, animosity, violence.  Looking toward my friend I realized that unlike my generation, theirs has no “Grown, Sophisticated and Sexy” music to mature into.  It is difficult to believe these teens and young adults will continue listening to the same juvenile beats written in a kiddie and teen vernacular when they enter their late thirties and forties.  Will they graduate from the world of bubble gum and day glow coloured sneakers and reversed baseball caps to the hand-crafted, batik’ed and hand-embroidered sophistication of Neo-Soul?  Or will they continue to be obsessed with a changeless realm of music narrowly focused on being pseudo ghetto and gangsta when they are pushing their fifties, sixties and up?



The younger generation seems to have rejected love, in the sense that former generations have known, treating is as a weak, transient and vulnerable thing not a strong, lasting and empowering thing.  In its place they celebrate sex as if it were a conquest in some surreal video game in which one wins by having the most freaky and dispassionate sexual encounters.  This is a generation of “Sexual-Gamers” whose approach to love is more like Pac Man, gobbling up all the players and scoring points in an endless game of acquisition without ever doing anything purposeful or resourceful with the spoils like establish a long-term, functional relationship for example.  The most obvious hypothesis, and therefore the least likely, is that this generation has never been taught the virtues and subtleties of love by their forbears.  But we know the human experience to be one of universal enlightenment.  Love has a way of being discovered notwithstanding race, ethnicity, sex or intellectual capacity; it is as germane to our being as the very chromosomes that pre-design each and every cell of our bodies. 



The death of love songs means only one thing when viewed from the eye of the historian who understands the nature of the beings known as mankind.  When this generation begins to mature it will tire of a music that fails to respond to the insights, hopes and yearnings of mature men and women who have lived rich and full lives and need music that is written on a level they can relate to. Men and women entering their forties and above will want music that mirrors the beauty, pain, struggle and triumph of their own lives; an experience far removed from a ten performer on stage or a  grown-up, ghettoized minstrel working with third grade lyrics. They will find it odd and disconcerting that their children can relate to the same vintage they do… they will desire something far more complex which separates them from their offspring.  One day they will see beyond the meaningless, banal and insincere sex, the easy money, the bling and flash, the childish temper tantrums, threats and ranting’s, the bragging and posturizing, the whole over-commercialized fantasy will evaporate in lieu of the constructs of the real world.  Suddenly they will realize that nothing in the lyrical content of the popular machine has prepared them for the reality of love and all its complexities.  Suddenly they will discover that in spite of the vulnerability and potential volatility they have a genuine need for love and companionship, for intelligent and artful intimacy, and they do have a need to consummate their desire to fulfill their sexual and emotional passions with one very special human being or with a chosen few.  There will be a revival of romantically sophisticated music, it is certain and when this trend manifests itself not only will it open up a new/old door of musical interest and creativity but it will fill the world with a new and lovely sound of surprise!




Written by D. Vollin


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