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| Erin
McLean |
Music for Community,
Heroism, and Beauty in Three Contemporary African-American
Detective Novels
In Give Birth to Brightness, Sherley Anne Williams
discusses the need for art and criticism to recognize African-American
heroic traditions and creation of beauty, and not to limit
the conception of art to the merely politically utilitarian
or oppositional. Musical scenes in three African-American
detective novels, Walter Mosley's A Little Yellow Dog,
Valerie Wilson Wesley's When Death Comes Stealing,
and Paula L. Woods' Inner
City Blues, illustrate Williams' point about the
possibilities for transformational, heroic recognition of
the community in art. In all three novels, music is a catalyst
for reflection by the detective on his/her place within
the community and within African-American history and traditions.
Certainly, music can serve as a trigger for memory in any
novel; however, in these three detective novels, outstanding
examples of rich traditions of African-American music inspire
a feeling of solidarity in the detectives toward the larger
African-American community. Music does not merely provide
a background for contemplation; it is a call for recognition
of collective memory and for responsible action within the
present-day community as well. By invoking shared history
and experience through their musical structures, as will
be explored in greater depth below, the jazz and Motown
musicians in each of the novels under discussion provide
motivation for renewed commitment to detection in the service
of justice for the community. In this way, readers can experience
the very real work done by these musicians in the lives
of their listeners, including the detectives, and in those
whose lives the detectives then go on to affect in a positive
way. In addition, as Ralph Ellison, Sherley Anne Williams,
and Walter Mosley explain, African-American art not only
possesses the capacity to express collective pain and struggle
against oppression; it also carries transcendent beauty
and points toward new improvisational possibilities.
Williams prefigures this use of music within the works of
contemporary African-American detective novelists. "Music,"
she writes, "is a metaphor and symbol standing in both its
secular and sacred forms not only for the immediate Black
experience…but for history and heritage and the acceptance
of oneself in a positive and regenerating relationship to
their heritage" (140-1). "Recognizing that Black life is,
in large measure, Black music, several writers have used
the musician as a symbol of the centuries of culture and
tradition which stand behind American Blacks…The musician
does not need to be told that his source is the group, the
Black context; his music already provides that model" (Williams
144). Ralph Ellison writes in Shadow and Act, "The
blues are not primarily concerned with civil rights or obvious
political protest; they are an art form and thus a transcendence
of those creations created within the Negro community by
the denial of social justice" (287).
Mosley's A Little Yellow Dog takes place during the
social and political upheavals in Los Angeles in 1963. Easy
Rawlins, Mosley's narrator, becomes involved in detective
work that leads him to the Black Chantilly, a nightclub
with a jazz band. In the middle of a complicated and dangerous
situation, Rawlins is captivated by the music. He observes,
"Lips sat down and wiped his face. The room cheered him.
Cheered for all the years he'd kept us alive in northern
apartments living one on top of the other. Cheered him for
remembering the pain of police sticks and no face in the
mirror of the times. Cheered him for his assault on the
white man's culture; his brash horn the only true heir to
the European masters like Bach and Beethoven" (180). Rawlins
discovers after some devastating personal losses that he
has for a time been too busy with his work and family responsibilities
to recognize the apparent deep sadness that has stricken
his community. Rawlins performs his detective work at great
risk to himself, out of his feeling of responsibility to
contribute to justice and decency for his family, friends,
and community. The powerful resonance of such ties, which
Rawlins experiences as a listener to this extraordinary
jazz performance, can only strengthen his heroic resolve.
Ellison remarks on the unique power of African-American
music to perform as an active agent, in scenes like this
one from Mosley's novel, and by extension in the culture
at large: "It was the African's origin in cultures in which
art was highly functional which gave him an edge in shaping
the music and dance of this nation" (285). He observes,
"The end of all this technical mastery was the desire to
express an affirmative way of life through its musical tradition"
(229). Very much in line with Ellison's conception of African-American
art, Mosley states, "What I write about are black, male
heroes" ("Interview" 1). In an interview with Gale David-Tellis,
he elaborates as well on his literary representation of
African-American community: "There is the black community
and the purpose of writing about the black community is
that this is something that's not written about. You talk
about black people struggling against slavery, you have
the history of racism. And this is all true but this is
kind of an external view of the black community. An internal
view is the community itself. How much you love that community.
You love the way of talking, you love the history, you know
all these things that no one else knows" (1). In a similar
statement, Williams writes, "That pain plays a large part
in Black music is evident in the spirituals, the gospels,
in the raw harshness which has been such an important aspect
in the development of jazz. Yet, there is the beautiful
lyricism of Charlie Parker and John Coltrane which also
expresses triumph and transcendence, the sly humor, the
will to make it on through, to work it on out which are
also expressed in blues, gospels, and spirituals" (143).
Art for Mosley, as for Ellison and Williams, offers an opportunity
for expression and understanding of beauty and heroism within
African-American history and traditions.
In Valerie Wilson Wesley's When Death Comes Stealing,
Tamara Hayle is a working-class independent private eye
and divorced single mother. Contacted by her unreliable
ex-husband De Wayne to investigate the mysterious deaths
of two of his sons born to other wives, Hayle reluctantly
takes on the responsibility. She comes to reject, as DeWayne
does, the rather lazy and stereotyping assumption made by
the police that DeWayne's son Terrence was a junkie who
died of an accidental overdose. Hayle goes to examine Terrence's
room for clues. She observes, "The sheets and pillowcases
were clean, and there were several cassette tapes…[including]
John Coltrane's Ballads lying on…a tape deck. I turned on
the deck, and Trane's 'I Wish I Knew' began to play. Terrence
had probably been playing it when he died. I wondered when
he'd learned to love jazz…I felt a sudden friendship with
Terrence as Trane's wistful tenor filled the room" (32).
By inhabiting Terrence's orderly room like this, Hayle discards
her preconception that Terrence might have died a junkie:
"Junkies don't have shit. They can't afford it. They eat
crap. They don't have sex. Their lives are about nothing
but junk, and whoever Terrence was, he hadn't been like
that when he died. I knew it as surely as I knew my name"(34).
In a novel filled with tragedy and death, Hayle tenaciously
holds onto that which provides beauty and meaning in her
life, primarily her connections with others, her commitment
to family and community. For this reason, her discovery
of her solidarity with Terrence, in large part through their
shared love of jazz, is particularly precious.
As I have mentioned, Hayle is initially very unenthusiastic
about taking the case for her ex-husband. Not only is it
painful to be reminded of the many disappointments in her
relationship with DeWayne, but as De Wayne's sons are killed
one by one, Hayle justifiably fears for the life of her
own son. Her involvement in detection only increases her
vulnerability, giving the killer another reason to want
to hurt her through her son and get her out of the way as
well. Wesley clearly plots the jazz-recognition scene as
a pivotal one in Hayle's character development within the
novel. Hayle, feeling resentful and disconnected from her
estranged ex-husband and to some extent from her son's half-brothers,
recognizes the profound expression of collective memory
and possibility in Coltrane's Ballads, a listening
experience she shares, significantly, with the late Terrence.
Following this realization, Hayle returns to her highly
dangerous detective work, which she had been seriously tempted
to abandon, with renewed fearlessness and dedication. Hayle
realizes, in part because of Coltrane as an active part
of her life, her responsibility to do whatever it takes
to protect her extended family and the precious lives that
make up her community. In this way, Hayle is, like Rawlins,
part of an African-American heroic tradition inspired by
music.
It may be helpful to consider John Coltrane's mastery of
his art form, which sets a mood of contemplation, memory,
and recognition, and thus has such a profound effect on
Hayle as a listener. No matter what diverse skills Coltrane
acquired, which groups he became involved with, or even
which genre of music in which he created, the sound he attained
through his love of ballads is always evident (Grove "Music"
3). Coltrane's sound, as it comes through beyond the other
instruments in its clear, personal way, calls for active
engagement by the listener. Ballads by their nature have,
as well, a melancholy or sorrowful feel about them. Hayle
has an immediate emotional response to Coltrane, one that
shapes her impression of Terrence's personality, as a fellow
listener. Indeed Gunter Lenz describes "the urgency of Coltrane's
playing as a 'cry for community'" (319). Music causes the
detective to recognize her deep connection to another person,
one from whom she initially felt alienated because of his
presumed illicit activity.
Detective Charlotte Justice experiences a very similar musical
epiphany in Paula L. Woods' Inner City Blues. An
African-American homicide detective for the LAPD at the
time of the riots following the Rodney King beating, Justice
has the extremely stressful task of both solving violent
crimes and dealing with sexism and racism within the police
ranks. In one poignant chapter, she attends a funeral for
a fallen gang member. Gang violence, Justice wryly notes,
provided booming business for the funeral industry. Too
Smooth Sanders, a young man perhaps fourteen years old,
takes the microphone at the service. Justice remembers,
I could read the words 'Royals' [a gang] and 'Big Dog' artfully
cut into his head, a personal tribute to the deceased…No
one was prepared for Too Smooth's musical homage to Big
Dog by way of Marvin Gaye, another brother brought low by
drugs.
Too Smooth's solo selection, 'Inner City Blues,' delivered
a cappella with an icy-voiced plaintiveness, reflected Marvelous
Marvin at the height of his genius when he captured the
pain of my youth and evidently that of this congregation
as well. When Too Smooth cried out the refrain of the song,
I was forced to acknowledge the connection between me and
these young men and women. Eastside or Westside, South Central
or South Bay, there were things that bound black folks beyond
the superficialities of skin color or hair texture. It was
memory and culture resonating from within, from the way
we grieve to the music that had everyone bobbing their heads
in the chapel's late afternoon gloom. (148)
At the time of the funeral during which this vocal performance
takes place, Justice, haunted by the murders of her husband
and baby daughter thirteen years before, has been confronted
anew with the full horror of that event when their fugitive
killer, Cinque Lewis, is himself found murdered. Justice
works to solve the crime while at the same time fending
off outrageous racist conduct from a bigot in the police
department and attempted rape by another policeman. Justice's
resolve in returning to work each day and night, despite
the mayhem in the streets, the unspeakable losses in her
past, and the relentless pressures of her work environment,
is evidence of her astounding strength of character and
commitment to justice. Despite her tough demeanor, which
is of course necessary for surviving her job and her personal
life, she feels great empathy and solidarity with the larger
African-American community. The moment of her active listening
to Too Smooth Sanders' heartbreaking rendition of Marvin
Gaye's "Inner City Blues" is the perfect crystallization
of this fundamental aspect of Justice's character. Justice
reveals throughout her narration of the novel her deep investment
in African-American art, history, and tradition; her commitment
to fairness and her heroic resilience and strength are ever
an expression of those concerns.
Paula Woods' own deep appreciation of Marvin Gaye's music
informs this scene and her choice of "Inner City Blues,"
from the 1971 album What's Going On, as the title
for her novel. She explains, "When I was thinking of titles
for my novel, I naturally turned to his music. When I began
to think about the layers of meanings around the song 'Inner
City Blues,' - crime in our communities, Charlotte's lingering
depression over tragedies in her life, the infamous 'thin
blue line' of police officers…it just all fell into place"
(Osbourne 1). The lyrics of "Inner City Blues" are incisively
relevant to the social chaos at the time of the L.A. riots:
"Crime is increasing/Trigger happy policing/Panic is spreading/God
knows where we're heading."
Marvin Gaye overcame an abusive home and the racial tensions
in Washington, D.C. to become among the most important musicians
of the Motown era. Gaye used his art to explore social problems,
such as poverty, racism, and war. What's Going On
combined musical variety with soulful lyrics about social
and personal issues (McCarthy 1,3). Gaye helped introduce
the use of popular musical devices into rhythm and blues.
For instance, his 1968 duet with Tammi Terrell, "If This
World Were Mine," is an early example of the changing use
of instrumentation and different rhythmic subdivisions in
soul music. His flowing melodic sense and ornamentation
add increased interest to the relatively simple musical
form (Grove "Soul" 1).
During this time period, marital problems compounded the
negative effects of Gaye's addictions, causing him to become
more withdrawn from the public. His building disappointment
would help to form the foundation for What's Going On.
The loss of Tammi Terrell to a brain tumor hurt Gaye to
the point that he refused to sing in public (McCarthy 3).
The steady incidence of troubles in his life likely provided
emotional impetus to his songs protesting injustice. The
lyrics of "Inner City Blues" are composed of cries about
war, poverty, crime, police corruption, and an inequitable
social structure in general. Gaye did not merely sing about
these issues; he was deeply disturbed by them. Mounting
anxieties about such problems led him to a state of severe
paranoia. Gaye's soulful singing style arose in part from
issues that deeply troubled his soul (McCarthy 3). Gaye's
"Inner City Blues" thus provides not only the title of Woods'
novel, but the perfect, succinct expression of its multiple,
interconnected themes of loss, of deep personal and societal
troubles, and of concern for the community.
African-American writers have often looked to both the style
and content of African-American music for inspiration: "Alice
Walker…said in 1973: 'I am trying to arrive at that place
where black music already is; to arrive at that unselfconscious
sense of collective oneness; that naturalness, that (even
when anguished) grace'"(qtd. in Lenz 281). Mosley, Wesley,
and Woods share Walker's appreciation of the importance
of musical expression to an understanding of character,
community, and history. Williams beautifully describes the
socially symbolic acts performed by African-American musicians:
"When he touches, both in technique and emotion, the roots
of his own past and the past of his Black listeners, putting
them all in touch with the heart's ache and the heart's
ease of that group experience, he makes a black light to
shine within himself and within them. And it is that light,
transitory as it is, which binds them all together" (142).
Williams' poetic description of the far-reaching power of
music perfectly describes the way music works as an active
agent in the lives of the three detectives. All experience,
through music, a deep feeling of connection and solidarity
with the larger community of African-Americans, not only
in the present but through history. The understanding of
self and community gained through African-American music
informs the socially committed performance of detection.
The musician, whom Williams describes as "the Black hero
as light bearer" (135), manages to transcend day-to-day
conflicts and differences and to beautifully express both
survival and triumphant possibility. |
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| Works
Cited |
"Coltrane, John:
Music & Life." New Grove Dictionary of Music and
Musicians II. 2002. 8 Dec. 2002
David-Tellis, Gail. "BookMuse Interview with Walter Mosley."
BookMuse.
4 Dec. 2002
Ellison, Ralph. "Shadow and Act Ch. 2: 'Sound and
the Mainstream.'" The Collected Essays of Ralph Ellison.
New York: Modern Library, 1995. 227-87.
"An Interview with Walter Mosley." Bookbrowse.
4 Dec. 2002
Lenz, Gunter H. "Black Poetry and Black Music; History and
Tradition: Michael Harper and John Coltrane." History
and Tradition in Afro-American Culture. New York: Verlag,
1984. 277-327.
McCarthy, Timothy P. "Marvin Penze Gaye." The Scribner
Encyclopedia of American Lives. Vol. 1: 1981-1985. 8
Dec. 2002
Mosley, Walter. A Little Yellow Dog. New York: Pocket,
1996.
Osbourne, Gwendolyn E. "Meet Paula Woods." Mystery
Reader. 4 Dec. 2002
"Soul Music: The 1960s." New Grove Dictionary of Music
and Musicians II. 2002. 8 Dec. 2002
Wesley, Valerie Wilson. When Death Comes Stealing.
New York: HarperCollins, 1984.
Williams, Sherley Anne. Give Birth to Brightness.
New York: Dial, 1972.
Woods, Paula L. Inner
City Blues. New York: OneWorld, 1999. |
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