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Indian Blues: The Indigenization of American Popular Music Author(s): John W. Troutman Source: World Literature Today, Vol. 83, No. 3 (May - Jun., 2009), pp. 42-46 Published by: Board of Regents of the University of Oklahoma Stable URL: https://www.jstor.org/stable/20621591 Accessed: 13-04-2020 18:06 UTC
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Indian Blues The Indigenization of American Popular Music
Jo/m W. Troutman
Native artists today perform not only at powwows but also in rock and hip-hop clubs. In fact, American Indians have
performed European and African-derived music for centuries. The following essay reveals one facet of this history,
when Native musicians turned the federal government's "civilization" campaign on its head, indigenizing the music meant to detribalize them.
above The Navajo rock band Blackfire
In 1955 anthropologist James Howard cast a dim light over the expressive culture of American Indians, remarking that powwows
reflect a "process by which socio-cultural entities . . . are losing their tribal distinctiveness and in its
place are developing a nontribal Indian' culture."1 He believed that American Indian musical tradi
tions were fast becoming generic, "pan-tribal" per formances that reflected a decreasing vitality and
diversity of songs and dances. Any powwow sing er or dancer would immediately reject his analysis on the simple basis that tribally specific?and clan or family-specific?songs have vastly multiplied over the past century, just as intertribal powwow culture has proliferated to an extraordinary and quite heterogeneous degree. Yet equally profound in growth to powwow culture are the ways in
which American Indians have also manipulated
42 i World Literature Today
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Iand refigured other forms of music, in the process developing new means within expressive culture to perform their identities as indigenous peoples.
Just as the continued expanse of inter tribal powwow culture has facilitated the sharing and development of new varieties of songs and dances, Native singers, musicians, and dancers of all varieties continue to access every available
musical arena, including cyberspace. The Native American Music Awards, or "Nammys," are tell ing: they comprise over thirty genres of music and provide awards ranging from best powwow and Native American Church recordings to best blues and hip-hop recordings. Indeed, many Native musicians have recognized popular music genres as opportunities to expand their tribal, oral
traditions. For example, the 2008 Nammy Record of the Year award went to Blackfire's (Silence) Is
a Weapon. The two-disc set is a tour de force by these veteran "Alter-Native" and punk rockers from the Dine Nation. They describe themselves on their MySpace site as a "traditionally influ enced, high-energy, politically driven group com prised of two brothers and their sister. Born into the heart of a political land dispute area on Black
Mesa in the Navajo Nation, this Family's powerful music reflects the Hopes, Freedoms, and Barriers of today's world." Blackfire in fact tours the world and has gained respect in many circles; their 2002 album One Nation Under featured the last record
ed vocals by punk legend Joey Ramone, and David Fricke, Rolling Stone magazine's premier music critic, has promoted Blackfire in his col umns. (Silence) Is a Weapon consists of one disc of charging, protest rock-n-roll interlaced with Dine chants; the other disc is solely Dine ceremonial vocal and drum songs. Both discs suggest musi cally what it means to Blackfire to be Dine today, and the album demonstrates their extraordinary ability to weave thousands of years of ideas into one musical text. In effect, these artists have refig ured the meaning of what constitutes their tribal, and indeed "Indian," music altogether.
The practice by American Indians of fusing tribally derived music with that of Anglos and African Americans has existed for a very long time. Sacred music in missions and churches
probably provided the first and certainly the longest-lasting variety of this blending of tradi tions, and the genres of American secular, popu
lar music have provided another. In the 1960s and 1970s, a number of Native musicians such as Cree singer Buffy Sainte-Marie, Kaw-Creek
Saxophonist Jim Pepper, and Dakota singer Floyd Red Crow Westerman gained international fame for their rock, jazz, country, and folk recordings. These musicians and others gained an even high er profile in the midst of the Native protest move ments such as the takeover of Alcatraz Island, which captured the national media's attention at that time. Westerman's album Custer Died for Your
Sins, for example, provided an equally scathing soundtrack for Vine Deloria Jr/s groundbreaking
Native peoples for quite some time had been
blowing the saxophone, sawing the fiddle (or
violin), and strumming guitars and mandolins.
How they came to those instruments and to
these new styles of music becomes particularly
revealing when we consider the ways in which
the practice of music had become so divisively,
politically charged in Indian Country in the late
nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. 1969 "Indian manifesto" of the same name. While
some performers were more subtle than others, popular music concerts and recordings provided extraordinarily powerful and far-reaching oppor tunities through which Native peoples could deliver politically charged anthems before audi ences of many thousands, dramatically raising the profile of issues facing indigenous peoples.
Despite the attention that this wave of Native artists received in the 1960s and 1970s, the embrace of secular, popular music by Native peoples, and its potential for expanding opportu nities for expressing tribal and Native identities, has a history that stretches back to long before the late twentieth century. Native peoples for quite some time had been blowing the saxo phone, sawing the fiddle (or violin), and strum ming guitars and mandolins. How they came to those instruments and to these new styles of
music becomes particularly revealing when we consider the ways in which the practice of music had become so divisively, politically charged in Indian Country in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.
May-June 2009 1 43
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Over the course of several decades in the
nineteenth century that were comprised of intense
and often brutal efforts by the federal government
to force Native peoples from their homelands and hunting grounds and onto small reservations, the government began to increasingly adopt the view that American Indians must individually "assimi late" into American society if they were to survive at all. Administrators within the Office of Indian
Affairs (oia) took it upon themselves to determine
exactly what that "American society" meant, and in turn what it was about "Indian society" that seemed such a hindrance to their assimilation
agenda. As OIA officials drew lines in the sand in the late nineteenth century, surveying and then selling off reservation lands once protected by treaties, they also surveyed expressive culture, determining which forms were satisfactory for the making of a model American citizenship, and
which challenged the OIA agenda of detribaliza tion. Not unexpectedly, most dances deemed "Indian" by the OIA were blacklisted in orders passed between 1882 and 1923.
Dance restrictions were varied and created
unique circumstances on each of the reserva tions throughout the country, but the OIA was particularly concerned to prohibit a number of both ceremonial and social dances that had gained incredible currency during that period among tribes in the Northern and Southern Plains. Those
dances, namely the Sun Dance, the Omaha Dance, and the Ghost Dance, appeared to the OIA as facilitators of tribal or intertribal celebrations
of indigeneity (although in their own parlance, they typically, and synonymously, referred to them simply as "savage," "heathen," or "Indian" dances). The dances seemed to threaten the OIA officials mostly because they seemed foreign and un-Christian, because they were organized by Native people themselves, because the songs were typically sung in tribal languages, because they
were often associated with communal events such
as "giveaways," and because they seemed to cel ebrate the clan or tribal ties that the government was attempting to sever. Local OIA agents indeed struggled during those years, with few successes, to dismantle all utterances of expressive culture
that they considered antithetical to their goals of breaking tribal bonds and liquidating remaining tribal estates. On the reservations of the Northern
Plains, the raiding of dance halls, the arresting of dancers, and the withholding of treaty-guaranteed rations?not to mention the atrocities committed
by the Seventh Calvary upon Big Foot's band and their traveling companions at Wounded Knee in 1890?all figured into the government's arsenal of curtailing various expressions of cultural practice. Indeed, the assault on tribal customs was quite expansive at the time, but also expansive were the creative efforts by tribal peoples throughout the continent to resist such assaults.2 Because of their
arduous defense of these songs and dances, inter tribal powwow culture and Stomp Dances, among other such expressive practices, flourished in the twentieth century rather than withered away in
response to the assimilation agenda. That assimilation agenda, however, was
waged in multiple arenas, not just that of the reservations. Beginning in the mid-nineteenth century, Native children were increasingly placed by government agents and missionaries into fed eral Indian and mission boarding schools. Keeping in line with the assimilationist philosophy that defined for the OIA the ideas of what constituted
uncivilized "Indian" music, the OIA boarding school curriculums included instruction only in what it construed as "civilized," European-derived forms of music. In their study of Native American education, K. Tsianina Lomawaima and Teresa
L. McCarty have argued that in fact the boarding school administrators sought in this manner to contain, control, and otherwise manage all aspects
of life for the students through purging any influ
ences they considered dangerous and oppositional to their goals; the schools were "arguably the most
minutely surveilled and controlled federal institu tions created to transform the lives of any group
of Americans. The schools [were designed to] neu tralize the Native languages, religions, economies, polities, family structures, emotions, and lives that seemed to threaten American uniformity and
national identity."3 Every expression of music was therefore highly politically charged because the civilization agenda of the OIA depended entirely
44 i World Literature Today
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9 .^WtjJHIB^^MI^P^ff^^'' ^^^^^B left A music c'ass at tne
lKmffBg^^m^fBB^m^^ ^^^^^^^^^H many schools
^^B^^^^^^^^^^^9^MPP0fl|jjHj^ to threaten ^^&^^^^^^^^Hj^^MflH|^^^^/; '' y^/^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H American uniformity and
ffmKB^U / / I ! '* '"^VHHP identity."
upon the close monitoring of every musical utter ance emanating from both the reservations and the
boarding schools. Boarding school teachers, matrons, and super
intendents all got in on the act, training Native boys and girls in the arts of "civilization"?com prised, of course, of Euro-American composi tions, instrumentation, and musical theories. Brass
marching bands served to regiment and discipline the boys, considered unruly and unrefined in their Indianness. Various bugle calls ordered the daily existence of the boys and girls, blaring musical commands to rise, march, eat, learn, work, study, pray, and sleep every day?some twenty-nine bugle calls filled the grounds of Carlisle Indian School from 6:00 a.m. to 9:00 p.m.4 Girls practiced piano in order to rehearse the parlor duties of a future of domesticity. Boys and girls together sang hymns, and some learned to perform the scores of Bach, Mozart, and other European composers that were considered the pinnacle sonic achievements of white civilization. To the eyes and ears of OIA
officials, music was indeed politicized in this era of American Indian history.
Musical education in the schools was often
quite elaborate, despite the fact that most of the school administrators remained alarmingly unable or unwilling financially to provide for the basic medical and nutritional needs of the students.5
Many of the schools in the early twentieth century maintained thirty-member mandolin orchestras, glee clubs, harmonica orchestras, string quartets, choral ensembles, jazz bands, and of course large brass bands to perform martial music. Ostensi
bly these musical organizations were a terrific PR tool, demonstrating to the non-Indian public through city park and parade performances how the government was succeeding in "civilizing"
Many of the schools in the early twentieth century
maintained thirty-member mandolin orchestras, glee clubs,
harmonica orchestras, string quartets, choral ensembles, jazz
bands, and of course large brass bands to perform martial
music. Ostensibly these musical organizations were a terrific
PR tool, demonstrating to the non-Indian public through city
park and parade performances how the government was
succeeding in "civilizing" the Indians.
the Indians. They were also designed to inculcate decidedly middle-class, white American cultural values among the students.
In this way, thousands of American Indians
in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries
gained a familiarity, if not fluency, in Euro-Ameri can derived instruments that included pianos and stringed parlor instruments as well as the saxo phones and cornets. From the schools, hundreds of Native singers and musicians toured the country in all sorts of ensembles, from the Indian String Quartet to the Blackfeet Tribal Band to the Nez Perce Harmony Chiefs. Following their departure from the schools, in the first few decades of the
twentieth century many like Blackfeet horn player Joe Morris formed all-Indian jazz bands while
May-June 2009 i 45
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John W. Troutman is
Assistant Professor in the
History and Geography
Department at the University
of Louisiana at Lafayette, where he teaches courses
on American Indian history
and American popular
culture. His first book, Indian
Blues: American Indians
and the Politics of Music,
1879-1934, is forthcoming
in May from the University
of Oklahoma Press.
Editorial note: Adapted from Indian Blues: American
Indians and the Politics
of Music, 1879-1934, by
permission of the author and
the University of Oklahoma
Press. Copyright ? 2009 by
the University of Oklahoma
Press (oupress.com). All
rights reserved.
others like celebrated Creek-Cherokee singer Tsianina Redfeather Blackstone performed semi classical compositions at the Metropolitan Opera and the Hollywood Bowl. Of course, though they were introduced to new musical forms and ideas,
few actually bought into the premise of "civiliza tion" (versus their own supposed "savagery") that the government hoped they would invest in. Rather, they developed their own meanings for the new music they performed, quite often derived their own pleasures from it, and in doing so many developed new ways to demonstrate through this music the pride in their tribal and Native identities
that the government had sought to eradicate. Some of these musicians used their new
forms of musical training and resultant audience access to publicly criticize the federal government,
predating the musician activists of the 1960s and 1970s by decades, and their efforts did not go unheard; savvy to the new, cutting-edge tech nological opportunities that the early twentieth century provided them, they could broadcast their
music and messages to potential audiences of mil lions through the advent of radio technology. One such artist was the Yakama-Cherokee tenor singer Kiutus Tecumseh.6 Tecumseh regularly toured the country in the 1920s and 1930s, gaining incredible
exposure along the way. In 1929, for example, he embarked upon a massive U.S. tour, singing at radio stations in thirty-three major cities from New Orleans (wsmb) to Boston (wnac) to Salt Lake (ksl). He was broadcast live on the radio on all but
13 days of the 128-day tour.7 Tecumseh sang semi classical and popular songs of the day, and he knew that he was considered by booking agents as novelty entertainment for non-Indian audi ences, as an "Indian singer." Yet, unexpectedly for his audiences, he would often chastise the federal
government, for example, in its pessimism toward
Native intellectual ability, which largely prohib ited opportunities for Native people to seek higher education. Concerned about the welfare of Native
students, he also routed his American tours so that
he could visit them in as many boarding schools along the way as possible. Newspapers such as the Washington Post covered his criticism of the OIA's penchant for giving jobs to whites over qualified Native applicants, and he took Yakama land claims cases to the commissioner of Indian
Affairs.8 These musical performers expressed the
modern concerns of Native peoples in unprec edented ways; such public access had never been available to Native people before, and many such as Tecumseh took full advantage of it.
Popular music arenas provided Native musi cians like Tecumseh new opportunities not only to join in public conversations on Indian policy but also to develop new ways of expressing their tribal and indigenous identities in the modern world. The legacy of those early boarding school students and their rejection of government detribalization objectives is witnessed in the decades since, as Native peoples have proliferated tribally derived dances and songs as much they have innovated the genres of American popular music. Indeed, Blackfire's cultural and musical inheritance, as
well as its contribution in those veins, runs as deep as the knowledge and experiences of the Dine peo ple and as wide as the thousands upon thousands of American Indians who first began experiment ing with new musical genres long, long ago.
University of Louisiana at Lafayette
1 Clyde Ellis, Luke Eric Lassiter, and Gary H. Dunham, eds.,
Powwow (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2005), ix.
2 For a detailed examination of this resistance, and of the poli
tics of American Indians in popular music from the period,
see John W. Troutman, Indian Blues: American Indians and the
Politics of Music, 1890-1934 (University of Oklahoma Press,
2009).
3 K. Tsianina Lomawaima & Teresa L. McCarty, "To Remain an
Indian": Lessons in Democracy from a Century of Native American
Education (Teachers College Press, 2006), 2-3.
4 Annual School Calendar, U.S. Indian School, Carlisle, Pennsyl
vania, "15-16" (Carlisle Indian Press, September 1915).
5 These shortcomings were detailed in an independent govern
ment report published in 1928 that reported vastly insufficient
medical care and nutritional foods available to boarding
school students. Subsequently many of the schools were
closed as the OIA placed a new emphasis on day schools.
Institute for Government Research, "The Problem of Indian
Administration," in Studies in Administration (Johns Hop
kins Press, 1928).
6 Tecumseh was originally named Herman W. Roberts, but he
changed his name and I have followed his preference here.
7 "1929 Radio Broadcasting Itinerary, Chief Tecumseh," author's
collection.
8 "Chief Holds Whites Responsible for Race," Washington Post,
November 24,1930.
46 i World Literature Today
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- Contents
- p. 42
- p. 43
- p. 44
- p. 45
- p. 46
- Issue Table of Contents
- World Literature Today, Vol. 83, No. 3 (May - Jun., 2009) pp. 1-80
- Front Matter
- Editor's Note [pp. 3-3]
- Letters
- Many Worlds [pp. 4-4]
- Winter's Voice: Bei Dao [pp. 4-5]
- Notebook
- Auckland Writers and Readers Festival [pp. 7-7]
- Highlights from the Neustadt Prize Conference [pp. 8-9]
- New Books [pp. 10-10]
- International Crime &Mystery
- Mr. Monk &the Pleasing Paradigm [pp. 11-13]
- "WLT" Interview
- "I Insist on Happiness": A Conversation with Opal Palmer Adisa [pp. 14-17]
- Fiction
- Remote Control [pp. 18-21]
- Poetry
- Two Poems
- Some Day in a City as Hectic and Crowded as Harare [pp. 22-22]
- We Fall Only to Allow Powerful Spirits to Rise [pp. 23-23]
- Three Poems
- Lalu' / Your Name [pp. 24-24]
- From the Palm of My Hand [pp. 25-25]
- Six Variations on Love [pp. 25-25]
- Neustadt Section: Patricia Grace: The 2008 Neustadt Laureate
- [Introduction] [pp. 26-27]
- The World Where You Are: The 2008 Neustadt Lecture [pp. 28-31]
- Headlights [pp. 31-34]
- In Honor of Patricia Grace [pp. 34-36]
- Reading Patricia Grace [pp. 37-39]
- The Neustadt Prize [pp. 40-40]
- Special Section: Indigenous Popular Culture
- [Introduction] [pp. 41-41]
- Indian Blues: The Indigenization of American Popular Music [pp. 42-46]
- Indigenous Comics in the United States [pp. 47-49]
- 䥮摩来湯畳⁓瑯物敳⁒敡捨楮朠潵琠瑯⁴桥⁗潲汤㨠乥眠婥慬慮搠䴁ů物…乡瑩癥⁁浥物捡渠䍩湥浡猠孰瀮‵〭㔴�
- Currents
- The Detective Novels of Qiu Xiaolong [pp. 55-58]
- World Literature in Review
- Review: untitled [pp. 59-60]
- Review: untitled [pp. 60-60]
- Review: untitled [pp. 60-61]
- Review: untitled [pp. 61-62]
- Review: untitled [pp. 62-62]
- Review: untitled [pp. 62-63]
- Review: untitled [pp. 63-64]
- Review: untitled [pp. 64-64]
- Review: untitled [pp. 64-65]
- Review: untitled [pp. 65-66]
- Review: untitled [pp. 66-67]
- Review: untitled [pp. 67-67]
- Review: untitled [pp. 67-68]
- Review: untitled [pp. 68-69]
- Review: untitled [pp. 69-69]
- Review: untitled [pp. 69-70]
- Review: untitled [pp. 70-71]
- Review: untitled [pp. 71-71]
- Review: untitled [pp. 71-72]
- Review: untitled [pp. 72-73]
- Review: untitled [pp. 73-73]
- Review: untitled [pp. 73-74]
- Review: untitled [pp. 74-75]
- Review: untitled [pp. 75-75]
- Review: untitled [pp. 75-76]
- Review: untitled [pp. 76-76]
- Review: untitled [pp. 77-77]
- Review: untitled [pp. 77-78]
- Review: untitled [pp. 78-79]
- Review: untitled [pp. 79-79]
- Erratum: Macquarie PEN Anthology of Aboriginal Literature [pp. 79-79]
- Outposts: Literary Landmarks &Events [pp. 80-80]
- Back Matter