Mimetic Extraction and Commodification in the Blues

Written By: Corey Harris

So there was a new breed of adventurers who drifted out at night looking for action with a black man’s

code to fit their facts. The hipster had absorbed the existentialist synapses of the Negro, and for practical

purposes could be considered a white Negro.

- Norman Mailer, “The White Negro: Superficial Reflections on the Hipster.”

Much has been said about the influence exerted upon white mainstream culture by blackface minstrelsy in the 19th century. The demise of the genre and the rise of the blues heralded Black folk’s construction of a popular space in which they sang of their real life experiences. Similar to blackface, the blues in mainstream White culture operates as the space in which racial difference is negotiated and utilized to control blackness and direct its energy according to an artist's own cultural aesthetic and worldview. Such blackness is necessarily divorced from the cultural network that birthed it; rather it is necessarily isolated and excised to perform the work required by those who appropriate it. It is precisely because the cultural and historical context is removed that the music can be considered as an object, a product for consumption that can be endowed with whatever meaning the appropriator chooses. It is akin to separating a child from its parents and raising it in the environment of one’s own choosing. Blackface was a tool to announce or assign social status. It was a sonic, comic slave that was hired out to the benefit of anyone seeking to imitate Black people for entertainment, cultural consumption and economic advancement. Numerous writers have already established elsewhere that the mimesis of Black tradition, whether it be the overt mockery of blackface or the imitation of black blues artists by white blues and rock artists, is the foundation of American popular music. Our goal in the pages that follow is to expose the functionality of blackface and blues mimesis as both a source of cultural raw material and a manner of controlling and appropriating the power of melanated skin - blackness. A central premise is that blackface prepared the terrain for the blues aesthetic that followed it in the 20th century. In fact, the modern ‘bluesface’ (Brooks) stance assumed by so many White artists was indebted in many ways to the blackface genre that preceded it: both are mimetic performances of perceived Black culture that served as the crossing point for large amounts of cultural meaning. When we talk of blues mimesis we mean the myriad gestures, speech patterns, bodily movements associated with African Americans that are isolated, commodified and imitated by non-Black actors with access to the mainstream.

Before we proceed any further, let us agree on a clear definition of what mimesis is. I find Taussig’s explanation to be the most concise: the mimetic faculty, the nature that culture uses to create second nature, the faculty to copy, imitate, make models, explore difference, yield into and become Other. The wonder of mimesis lies in the copy drawing on the character and power of the original, to the point whereby the representation may even assume that character and that power. (xv) Our central focus then is to examine and compare how mimesis functions within the domains of 19th century blackface and 20th century White imitations of Black blues styles. The way both traditions operate is to reinforce White culture as superior by highlighting perceived differences from the Other. In the context of white supremacist culture, both genres also represent a way to control the Other. The social and political power of whiteness means that its mimetic interpretations trump (pun intended) the actual culture produced by the culture being copied. Whiteness alone has the power to bestow authenticity, relegating the original to second class status. As Horkheimer and Adorno observed about German imitations of the Jews they despised during WWII, “It makes little difference whether the Jews as individuals really display the mimetic traits which cause the malign infection of whether those traits are merely imputed. (152)

The goal of mimesis in the case of 20th century White blues and 19th century blackface is not faithfulness to an original but rather power over and control of the original being copied. As we shall also see, both genres operate as resources to be utilized in an “authentic” cultural production resulting in a commodity to be sold for a profit. In this way, Black culture has long served as the drinking well to which the White mainstream always returns in order to quench its thirst. It is the energy source for an entertainment industry that depends upon mimesis to make large profits. Blackness is the Ground Zero of authenticity. In Love and Theft, Lott’s analysis of this dynamic betrays some romantic thinking about the temporary effect of mimesis on power relations between the races when he refers to the practice of whites donning blackface in public processions: The dynamic of the processional mask in these instances thus preserves the ascription of certain detested qualities to “blackness” while momentarily paying tribute to their power… (28) This seems a rather romantic notion; my contention is rather than paying tribute to the power of blackness, these acts reinforce the unique positionality of whiteness as the supreme interpreter and presenter of Black image, sound and gesture. This is simply indicative of a desire to maintain power over Black people and has nothing to do with paying tribute to anyone. Indeed, this is in fact an instance of white supremacy utilizing extracted cultural elements to suit its own imperatives. Mimesis in blues and blackface share some interesting parallels in the manner in which they serve to reinforce differences in race and power rather than eliding them. Even before the days of the British Invasion, when the likes of the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, the Kinks and the Who invaded American eardrums, rock musicians learned their craft by imitating Black blues musicians. They regarded the originators of the genre as bearers of the gold standard, the authentic way to express the music. Louisiana-born Kenny Wayne Shepherd is a young White blues-rock player who has achieved both critical and commercial success in the industry. His 2007 release, 10 Days Out documents his travels around the USA to play with African American blues legends such as Honeyboy Edwards, John Dee Holeman and Henry Gray. The album earned Shepherd a Grammy nomination and coveted authenticity. In 2021 the Blues Music Awards rescinded their nomination of Shepherd for best blues-rock artist.

Since 2015 photos of Shepherd alongside his car emblazoned with the confederate flag had circulated widely on the internet. There was no public outcry at the time, but in the environment of America’s most recent racial reckoning, the photos received renewed attention. Now, some onlookers were shocked, some likely pretended to be, and others didn’t understand all the controversy. Since the music is necessarily and conveniently divorced from any fraught racial histories (and White people have no historic obligation in America to NOT be racist) a white blues artist can both display a symbol of anti-Black terrorism and confidently claim (according to his own, internal criteria) that he is not racist. Let’s hear from Shepherd in his own words: Shepherd had said that people of all races loved the car. “The confederate flag can be controversial, but not in this case,” Shepherd told the WSJ at the time. “I get thumbs up from everybody, regardless of race. The African-American community created the music that I play; racism is not a part of my DNA.” He told the Wall Street Journal’s reporter that he got the idea to build a replica using a vintage Dodge after seeing a similar recreation at his friend Kid Rock’s house. “The horn plays the first notes of ‘I Wish I Was in Dixie’s Land,’ just like the TV car,” he said. (Baime) No racism here folks (two thumbs up) ! Given Kid Rock’s reputation as a racist and a Trump supporter, if Shepherd aimed to convince people that he wasn’t racist, this most likely had the opposite effect on many observers. Still, Shepard confidently absolved himself of any racist intentions, and he assures us that the fact that the confederate flag is emblazoned on his favorite vintage car (nicknamed “The General Lee”) is ok. Privilege steps up to dictate its prerogatives and definitions. Up is down, right is left, and the confederate flag is fine. This whitewashed blues mimesis functions in a way that allows two diametrically opposed worldviews to occupy the same space, smoothing out any external contradictions. Whiteness assures us that it’s ok, so why wouldn’t we believe it to be true?

In this artificially curated, diluted, and deracinated domain, blues is used as a refined resource which is then processed to fit the economic imperative of the capitalist system, i.e. the music industry. Black music is simply a commodified product to be manufactured and consumed. Blues is often presented as not being specific to Black historical and present realities but rather as belonging to ‘everybody’. It is a raw material, a resource that has been extracted from its natural environment. Ironically, even though the people whose culture produced the music continue to be racialized, the music functions as a performance (stance, accent, dress, vocal style) that is presented as being devoid of racialism but is rather fully dependent upon centuries of constructed racial meaning.

Since only non-whites are racialized and are thus the ‘possessors of race’, then it follows to reason that white people are ‘just people’ i.e. “everybody.” Thus if no Black people are present, then neither is race. Furthermore, if race is not mentioned then there is no racism. This begs the question: if the music belongs to everybody, then why can’t anybody do it? Positionalities and distinctions are thus elided. The useful meat is cleaned from the bone. Square pegs now fit into round holes, and suddenly confederate flags and blues seem to go together just fine. Blues is used to serve a cultural agenda that is opposed to the Black communities that birthed the genre; often those who are opposed to Black people’s political aims are the most fervent blues fans. The writings of Adorno and Horkheimer regarding German anti-Semitism are instructive in this case, showing that one can both imitate and hate at the same time. They detest the Jews and imitate them constantly.

There is no anti-Semite who does not feel an instinctive urge to ape what he takes to be Jewishness.” (151)

From my own observations as a performer on the blues scene for the last 25 years, there are many White blues fans who identify as politically conservative. In their conditioned embrace of a specific, isolated aspect of Black culture - the music - they are usually opposed to Black political aspirations and indifferent to the realities of anti-Black racism. Several online blues groups have been known to block users who post against police brutality or anything in support of Black rights. Often the reason given is that they don’t want to deal with “politics.” Enjoying the blues is fine, but focusing on the historical and contemporary reasons why Black folk have the blues is widely deemed an offense. Yet these same people enjoy the blues immensely, to the point of paying for lessons, splurging on guitars, and attending expensive festivals, blues cruises, and concerts around the world. Miming Black speech patterns is a crucial part of any blues performance, the goal being not to imitate perfectly, but rather simply to imitate and call attention to difference. Sometimes the line between imitation and mockery becomes a very slippery slope. Hearing white musicians approximate the speech and singing style of imagined old, southern Black folk when you actually grew up around real old, southern Black folk? As the youth today say, “it just hits different.” The irony is that a successful, young, white blues musician is credited with more authenticity than actual Black people who grew up listening to the music during the time that it was popular.

The miming of blues voice and style by the mainstream also fulfills the need for authenticity. There are blues fans who are fervent Trump supporters who are active in blues groups on FB and other online forums. The members clearly love the genre and have invested time and money into their passion. Focusing on Black pain just gets in the way. However, these same people will enthusiastically mime their way through a performance to the extent that they become a different character. When Rick Estrin, the singer and harmonica player for the California-based blues band Little Charlie and the Nightcats gives an interview, he presents as a late middle aged white man, replete with the expected accent and mannerisms. However, once he ascends to the stage to perform, his speech changes drastically to the point that it almost resembles a speech impediment. It becomes clear that the goal of such mimetic displays is to approximate the style and orality of an old Black man. The impression given is one of possession, being inhabited by a puppet master. It is notable that in this case the puppetmaster both creates the spirit doing the possession and provides the body that is to be possessed. It is as if the blackface is just under the surface, the unspoken, inside joke that everyone gets and no one needs to mention. The antiquated mode of dress and mannerism evoke the days of hipsters and zoot suits: mid 20th century urban culture of Black and Chicano youth. Anachronism meets mimetic impulse. Elements are displaced, reassembled, and repackaged. Mailer’s White Negro pays us another visit. This is another manifestation of a long relationship between White and Black culture whereby the White imitation of a blues displaced from Black cultural ethos is transformed into a commodity. This unmooring ultimately allows for easy consumption, appropriation, and repetition by White players. Similar to the implied, artificial melanin of the blackface minstrel’s cork, the ‘black’, coded mannerisms are used like a raw material which is then processed according to the dominant culture’s imperatives.

To be clear, I am not proposing that Shepard or others like him are contemplating their positionalities or always consciously utilizing the blues in this way. My central purpose here is to expose the operating dynamics of the situation as a whole, its operating principles. How can we examine and compare the functionality of blackface and its offspring, the blues in the context of power relations between Black and White?

Writer and musician Elijah Wald provides a pointed critique of pop singer Amy Winehouse, saying that the late Jewish/British singer trafficked in:

a kind of vacuous nostalgia that ‘‘reviv[ed] black musical traditions outside of their original cultural context’’ so ‘‘that the cultural past may be resurrected not to be celebrated or reworked, but to be replaced by new narratives that enshrine white experience and benefit white musicians. (G. Wald 1999, 156)

Of course, Winehouse did not innovate this behavior; this path had already been trod by myriad artists such as Bix Biderbecke, Jimmy Rodgers, Elvis, Gene Vincent, and Janis Joplin, who built their styles on what Daphne Brooks called “sonic bluesface” and what I have called “aural blackface.” Can we imagine a modern blues or jazz singer blacking up their face in order to more fully ‘inhabit’ their ‘role’? The image is ridiculous, no? The anticipated social outrage notwithstanding, this would be totally unnecessary. Although blackface is no longer popularly accepted (its use has largely shifted to the realm of a delicacy privately indulged in secret parties), we are still haunted by its ghost: all of the mannerisms, gestures and repetitions that accompanied the blackface performance are already embedded within the popular culture. It is notable that not only is the visual blackness of the ‘captured’ skin to be controlled during performance; Black gesture, mannerism and orality are also valuable resources to be isolated, re-imagined and re-employed. The effectiveness of the genre lay largely in the interplay between the mimicry of melanated skin (using the artifice of burnt cork makeup) and the constant repetition of re-imagined Black modes of speech and behavior. These are the key elements, the raw materials that comprise a successful mimetic display, an effective blackface performance.

Let us also remember that blackface as a popular entertainment genre endured for more than sixty years in the United States. Accompanied by widely disseminated, printed advertisements, the genre became thoroughly ingrained in popular culture to the extent that even when blackface fell out of favor, the repetition and exaggerated mannerisms that were associated with blackface persisted. Thus a slightly modified aesthetic arose that was established on an older foundation. My point here is that such mimetic behavior persisted in a somewhat modified fashion as “bluesface”, a new type of aural blackface (sans cork) that did the same work of mocking, cultural borrowing, and power displacement when presented as an authentically White expression by numerous blues and blues-rock performers. Blackface was so highly effective that by the 20th century the performance of imagined mannerisms, gestures, and vocal imitations in mimetic performances of Black blues repertoire was the key to establish authenticity among white performers and listeners. The work had already been done. Blackface laid the stones in the pathway to the blues.

Lawtoo’s conception of mimesis as akin to contagion is especially apt at this juncture. He noted that:

mimesis shares some characteristics with viruses: it is linked to reproduction, it infiltrates human bodies in imperceptible ways, and above all, it renders subjects vulnerable to a type of affective contagion that is amplified by proximity with others: anxiety, fear, panic, but also new mimetic gesture and positive emotions like solidarity, compassion, and sympathy. (1)

Considering Lawtoo’s observation, it should perhaps come as no surprise that the correlation of the blues with a virus is common among blues players and aficionados. In many players’ origin stories one often hears about how one first “caught” the blues “bug”. Usually this is attributed to being in congress with others who share an interest in the music, thereby reinforcing group solidarity and increasing the intensity of the “affliction.” Going further, there is a binary nature to the virus rhetoric that is typically encountered when discussing the blues, such that blues is cast both as a poison (i.e. the song,“I'll Never Get Out Of These Blues Alive”) and a cure (John Lee Hooker’s famous lyric, “The blues is a healer all over the world”). This is clearly suggestive of either a creeping toxicity or a restorative homeopathy whereby a small dose leads to assimilation of the contagion and acquired immunity. This is also akin to the idea of ‘the hair of the dog that bit you’ as an antidote to a dog bite. The enduring nature of both blackface and blues mimesis is a testament to their multivalent powers to influence culture and intergroup political relations.

In Brook’s bluesface concept the collision of the two terms is fitting, since both function mimetically in their respective eras as the foundation of any claim to cultural authenticity. Having been excised from history and culture, and vacated of specific cultural meaning, blues is transformed into a tool, a marker of American authenticity to be used and consumed by all for the economic gain of a few. Blues mimesis is in this way a vital proving ground, the bootcamp for popular music. It is indeed a ‘face’, a posture that is assumed in order to gain authenticity. Looking at the larger historical dynamic, the long history of Black bodies and intellect in service to Western capitalist enterprises is the precedent for regarding blues as something anyone can do, regardless of race. Implicit in the act of assuming this face is the idea that the music is not necessarily regarded as a product of Black culture, thus supplanting any claim of cultural or ethnic ownership. Following this conception of musical terra nullius then, it must be that the products of Black creative and intellectual labor do not belong to them but rather to ‘everybody’, i.e. white people with the organized political and socio-economic agency to reinforce this claim. Black folk were just ‘the help.’ Thus, if the music belongs to no one, then anyone can claim the agency to decide who and what is (or isn’t) genuinely blues, right?

Consider the case of Black blues guitarist and vocalist Chris Thomas King. He grew up around his father’s local juke joint in Louisiana, the renowned Tabby’s Blues Box and Heritage Hall. He learned the genre the traditional way under the tutelage of his father. In 2018 King submitted an album to be considered for the Grammy awards. Amazingly, the committee rejected the album on the grounds that it wasn’t blues and King was not a blues artist, case closed. Blues fans and musicians were stunned. A legacy blues performer from the deep South was now being told by a white committee in Los Angeles that he didn’t belong. An entity outside of the African American blues community exercised their gatekeeping power to arbitrarily decide what is the nature of blues authenticity. It became glaringly obvious that Black performers had no power within the mainstream to determine what may be deemed essentially blues.

But how did this door get swung open so wide? Prior to the 1960s, the concept of the white blues singer was unknown. Though white businesses profited from Black talent since the industry’s beginnings, they could not control the Black aesthetic nor bestow authenticity. Black people alone decided who best represented their musical culture. The grassroots Black artist was not feted at Carnegie Hall but rather plied his trade throughout the deep South on the African American ‘chitlin’ circuit’, a network of Black-owned entertainment venues that provided increased economic opportunity and music for Black patrons. However, the advent of the 1960s folk/blues revival meant that increasing numbers of white people in the US and Europe were exposed to this previously obscure music, resulting in increased outside investment and control of the industry. White folk now had their own horse in the race. Following a long history of the mimetic relationship between Black culture and the white mainstream where the former is continuously exploited for the economic and psychological benefit of the latter, the sounds of blackness found in the blues were adopted and appropriated for white consumption.

King acknowledged this ongoing dynamic in a 2018 article he penned about his Grammy experience in which he touched upon the power of the copy to supplant the original and assume the status of authenticity. He wrote that even the great Mick Jagger seemed to be perplexed as to why his fans would rather listen to the Stone’s cover of a Slim Harpo song than the original. Obviously, the fact that Slim Harpo was relatively unknown in the UK, combined with the wealth and white privilege of the English group meant that their version became the definitive version for their listeners. In this manner, the copy becomes the authoritative version, unmooring the original from its essence and redirecting its power for uses specific to the needs of this drastically different demographic than the Black southern listeners of Slim Harpo. As King wrote:

In 1964, for their debut album, the Rolling Stones recorded “I’m A King Bee” by Baton Rouge, Louisiana, trailblazing bluesman Slim Harpo. A few years later, in 1968, Mick Jagger, in his first in-depth Rolling Stone magazine interview said, “You could say that we did blues to turn people on, but why they should be turned on by us is unbelievably stupid. I mean what’s the point in listening to us doing ‘I’m A King Bee’ when you can listen to Slim Harpo doing it?” The irony was, Sir Mick Jagger and Keith Richards’ new album sounded like their earlier albums, but their early albums were ostensibly rock and roll, not blues. However, we in the African American blues community always knew the appellation “rock and roll” was a veiled segregationist term meaning African American blues created by whites for whites.

King’s observation reveals the authority of whiteness in the imitation and presentation of the Other. Although the Stones rose to stardom imitating their idols such as Howling Wolf, Muddy Waters, Chuck Berry and other Black bluesmen, a large majority of mainstream America was totally ignorant of these blues icons until the Stones crossed the Atlantic and introduced White America to the Black peasant music in its own backyard. Being that these listeners were hearing these sounds from the English group first, it was the Stones’ versions of these songs that carried the most authority among their fans. As Greg Tate observed, “The same market forces that provided Caucasian imitators maximum access to American audiences through the most lucrative radio, concert, and recording contracts of the day also fed out whatever crumbs Black artists could hope for.” (3)

Returning to the case of Kenny Wayne Shepherd, it is indeed remarkable that although his nomination for the Blues Music Award was rescinded because of his past association with the confederate flag, this did not in any way jeopardize his perceived authenticity. Contrast this with Chris Thomas King, whose music the Grammy blues committee refused to even categorize as blues. It didn’t matter that King was raised in the blues tradition by a father who ran a renowned local juke joint; he had musically transgressed against the prevailing White definition of blues. In fact, The Blues Music Awards had no problem with Kenny Wayne Shepherd’s association with the confederate flag until the daughter of blues legend Muddy Waters wrote a (now deleted) Facebook post entitled, “The Way My Daddy Looks At a White Man Winning a Blues Foundation Music Award While Waving A F*****g Confederate Flag.” The Blues Foundation who gave out the awards were behind the ball and decided to sacrifice Shepherd to save face. The nomination was rescinded in the ensuing public outcry while Shepherd was seen by many White fans as an innocent victim of the “woke” leftist mob. The point of this exercise is not to prove or disprove whether Shepherd is a racist.

What is most notable about this story is that at no time did Shepherd lose any perceived musical authenticity because of his stated affinity for the ‘Stars and Bars.” There was no perceived contradiction between the blues and the confederate flag. His music is still considered to be solidly representative of the blues tradition by fans and journalists. The selectivity of blues mimesis allows a musician like Shepherd to both eat his cake and have it too. Having extracted the essential elements of blues via mimesis, White artists can enjoy their participation in a Black musical genre and continue to perpetuate symbols of white supremacy without having to fully confront the complicated history that it represents. From the blackface era until today, the isolation and commodification of Black culture have been a lucrative business and a crucible for producing cultural stereotypes, maintaining difference, and controlling social perceptions of blackness. I agree with writer Greg Tate when he highlights the economic imperative woven throughout this endeavor:

. . . capitalism’s original commodity fetish was the African auctioned here as slaves, whose reduction from subject to abstracted object has made them seem larger than lie and less than human at the same time. It is for this reason that the Black body, and subsequently Black culture, has become an hungered-after taboo item. (4)

Blues mimesis in mainstream popular culture often means reduced opportunities for Black artists, since their economic production is tied to the tastes of the majority: numerous, paying white listeners exist who either don’t care if the artist isn’t Black or have a preference for white performers who can adequately reproduce the sound of the genre. Having been shorn of Black cultural baggage, blues sounds and stances are directed to serve a mainstream cultural imperative which nonetheless relies upon the genre as the ultimate bearer of authenticity. As the mimesis of blues styles advances, one wonders. . . are Black people even needed anymore? Their interpretation and positionality of the blues was never sought after; White interpretations only needed to be good enough to satisfy other White people, who represent the large majority of the market. The future of Black representation in the blues is uncertain.

The cold, hard reality is that uncontrolled mimesis within a racist and capitalist system necessarily leads to economic disenfranchisement for Black blues performers. The manner in which mimesis is conducted, by extracting the music from the greater history and interests of Black people and disrobing it of cultural elements, is economically disruptive to Black communities. Thus the dynamic mimics a typical capitalist, industrial scenario where raw materials are extracted (think of cocoa, diamonds, bauxite, bananas) from local communities at little cost. The product is then transformed and sold on the market with a large share of the profits going to those who “discovered” or “developed” the particular artist. Mimesis can be a tool for good or for bad, depending upon the environment in which it is employed and who is deploying it.

To the extent that perceived white culture (i.e. rock n’ roll) appropriates Black musical sound for its own uses, I agree with Paddison who asserts that “mimesis can be seen as an impulse, a mode of ‘identifying with’ rather than necessarily as ‘imitation of’ or ‘representation of’ something external to itself.” (127) Indeed, many White blues artists earnestly participate and are invested in a blues scene that gives their lives meaning and provides them with a few extra dollars. Many of them chose to enjoy the genre unconsciously, avoiding grappling with difficult issues of race and history. Of course, playing music is a good thing, and we have all learned by copying our favorite artists at one time or another. There is nothing wrong with imitation in and of itself. However, given white supremacy and the historic political and economic realities of the music industry, the artists whose positionality and success has bestowed upon them a certain level of authority would be well advised to advocate for justice in the industry. This work has only just begun.

Bibliography

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8. Lott, Eric. 2013. Love and Theft: Blackface Minstrelsy and the American Working Class. N.p.: New York University Press.

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10. Rick Estrin and the Nightcats. n.d. “Rick Estrin and the Nightcats - An Inside Look.” YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GEXmbNBQcFw.

11. Rick Estrin with Little Charlie and the Nightcats 1992. n.d. “American Blues.” YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=alyirpPUNQg.

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13. Taussig, Michael. 1993. Mimesis and Alterity: A Particular History of the Senses. N.p.: Routledge.