In this eloquent cultural history, critically acclaimed music writer Werner (A Change Is Gonna Come) conducts a journey through the lives of three leading musical artists and the ways they used their gospel music training and the vision it provided to transform American popular music. What makes the music of these three singer-songwriters so significant is that each had a vision of helping African-Americans to strengthen their racial identity while at the same time moving to a higher ground the dawning hope for interracial equality that was emerging in the late 1960s. As Werner points out, Wonder, Franklin and Mayfield grew up in impoverished homes while at the same time singing in their parents' or grandparents' churches about visions of a better world. As each singer took that musical vision to the streets, he or she applied it in various ways to the struggle for civil rights and equality. Franklin's music, as Werner observes, incorporated the hopes of Martin Luther King's interracialist dream and themes of the Black Power movement in songs like "Respect" and "Think." By the early '70s, Mayfield, whose early collaborations with Jerry Butler in the Impressions produced some of soul music's most moving moments and one anthem of the Civil Rights movement ("People Get Ready"), produced music that reflected the concerns of the Black Power movement. Mayfield's focus on black identity, pride and power later made itself felt in his powerful protests against drug abuse in "Freddie's Dead" and "Beautiful Brother of Mine." Werner adeptly examines the beauty and power of each singer's music as well as gracefully tracing the ways that their music and their culture influenced each other. Werner's exquisite prose and his richly informed music history offer a deeply felt love letter to three of soul music's greatest.
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As the recent debates over President Bush's and his Democratic challengers' youthful responses to the Vietnam War and its military draft have shown, the cultural battles to own the 1960s haven't faded away, although we're now more than 30 years past that era. Most Americans who were young then have an incessant need to establish not just what happened but what those experiences mean, what they portend for the future of our society. Craig Werner comes from that classic boomer cohort; born in 1952, he was ideally placed to witness firsthand the various mind expansions of the '60s, a formative epoch that he has engaged with his work ever since, in teaching Afro-American Studies at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, and in his extensive writings about pop music.
Werner's previous book, A Change Is Gonna Come (1999), is a kind of textbook both reflecting and expanding upon his courses. It's a comprehensive, many-sourced history of the soul movement in pop music that flourished so brightly in the '60s, and that contributed mightily to a momentous (if temporary) racial integration of American pop culture among young people. A Change Is Gonna Come owed its title to a prophetic Sam Cooke song, a nod to the defining influence of Cooke who, along with Ray Charles, brought the traditions of gospel music into rhythm-and-blues and pop songs in the late 1950s and early 1960s. These artists used gospel styles in a way that prophesied soul as a new kind of beloved community of popular music, analogous to the civil-rights movement of that same time.
Higher Ground, which takes its title from a Stevie Wonder composition, is essentially a triple biography of Wonder, Aretha Franklin and Curtis Mayfield, younger inheritors of the Cooke-Charles pop innovations who then became major soul-music stars of their generation. Werner attributes the vitality of these artists' best music to "the ongoing call and response between the gospel vision and what Ralph Ellison called the 'blues impulse,' " a dialogue that flourished during the cultural ferment of the '60s after two decades of Southern blacks' migration to the cities of the North for the jobs and promise the urban life seemed to hold. The blues aches of the past (and often the present) were now inextricably mixed with the hopeful gospel-soul flavor of the civil rights movement.
Werner relates the three artists' lives in an episodic fashion. He rotates segments from each performer's life, showing how a certain moment in history affected Wonder, Franklin and Mayfield's indiviudal evolution as artists. This structure fits the trio well, as both Franklin and Mayfield were born in 1942, while Wonder followed in 1950 -- thanks to his community's enterprising Motown Records, he was a pop star from the time he was 12 and thus experienced the highs of the '60s on a roughly comparable schedule. Werner is obviously a great fan of each of the three musicians, and provides celebratory if thoroughly considered criticism of their work in Higher Ground.
But Werner is also judicious in detailing these artists' long and sometimes unhappy slides down from those peaks. Aretha Franklin burst forth with the magnificent "I Never Loved a Man the Way I Love You" album in 1967, the triumphant result of then-incandescent Atlantic Records simply letting Franklin be her gospel-piano self after Columbia had tried to shape her great promise into jazz-pop standards. Stevie Wonder mushroomed from child prodigy into Motown's first artist to gain artistic control from dominant label head Berry Gordy Jr., and Wonder used that power to create mature masterpieces like "Innervisions." Curtis Mayfield survived Jerry Butler's departure from the Impressions to score his own hits with the group and then as a solo act, notably with the "Superfly" soundtrack. Yet, except for rare interludes like Franklin's smash mid-'80s comeback with the dance-grooved "Who's Zoomin' Who?" album, none of the three artists experienced significant conjunctions of popular and critical success -- at least at the levels they promised us early on -- after the 1980s began. Mayfield's later story is the most tragic: He was paralyzed by a freak stage accident in 1990, and died almost 10 years later. Both Franklin and Wonder, in different ways, found that gaining extensive popularity and artistic control can take away the edge that created that artistry in the first place.
Werner's skillful job in portraying the lives of Franklin, Mayfield and Wonder falters somewhat on this question of the declines they suffered later in their careers. Werner is a white man, confined to viewing these black lives from the outside, and a liberal who learned his politics and racial guilt in the sainted '60s. (Full disclosure: So is your reviewer.) Werner wants to blame the right wing for his heroes' travails, and does so in Higher Ground's ever-more-obsessive indictment of Reaganism as the destroyer of soul music's gospel-bred hope, among its other ravages of America. Werner's righteous indignation overlooks the possibility that both Reaganism and the decline of soul music's popularity might have been parallel expressions of the same demographic shift, a relentless retreat of white Americans away from urban life and its integration after the triumphs of 1967 became the horrors of 1968. In pop music, young whites embraced, in sequence, the San Francisco scene, country rock, actual country music, singer-songwriters, punk, new wave -- all movements without significant black presence, yet not necessarily bastions of conservatism either. Pop-music styles tend to obey their own (often brief) life cycles, no matter the operable politics of the time; the once-dominant genre of big-band swing jazz lost its popularity during a Democratic administration, after all.
Yet Craig Werner can't help believing in the gospel impulse that informed his subjects' best music, and in Higher Ground keeps trying to find it again in more contemporary pop icons, all the way from R. Kelly ("his musical identity was pure gospel soul") to Werner's designated deus ex machina, Bruce Springsteen, whose "spiritual politics grew directly out of gospel soul." Neither really exemplifies the particularly '60s soul that the musical careers of Aretha Franklin, Curtis Mayfield and Stevie Wonder are all about, an earlier ideal that nevertheless continues to glow brightly in the most hopeful moments at the heart of Higher Ground.
Reviewed by Richard Riegel
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