According to the New York Times, white rapper Macklemore and his DJ partner Ryan Lewis's “Same Love” was “the first song to explicitly embrace and promote gay marriage that has made it into the Top 40.”1 In 2013, as the Supreme Court of the United States prepared to rule on challenges to the Federal Defense of Marriage Act and California's Proposition 8, which banned same-sex marriage, the track quickly climbed the charts and became a nationally recognized anthem for marriage equality. Despite this generally positive reception, however, the song does not reflect all queer-identified listeners. Macklemore raps, “If I were gay, I would think hip hop hates me,” an assertion that positions black communities as a significant threat to (white) LGBTQ rights. Much like the backlash against black voters following the 2008 passing of Proposition 8, this claim relies on an invented black pathology that locates homophobia in black American culture specifically rather than American culture at large. This article offers a close reading and contextualization of “Same Love” and demonstrates that, rather than combating homophobia in hip hop, Macklemore's lyrical claims actually bolster his strategic performance as a socially and politically aware white rapper, while erasing queer and trans hip hop artists of color from the discourse.

This article examines the music criticism of Nora Douglas Holt, an African American woman who wrote a classical music column for the Chicago Defender (1917–1923) and published a monthly magazine, Music and Poetry (1921–1922). I make two claims regarding the force and impact of Holt's ideas. First, by writing about classical music in the black press, Holt advanced a model of embodied listening that rejected racist attempts to keep African Americans out of the concert hall and embraced a communal approach to knowledge production. Second, Holt was a black feminist intellectual who refuted dominant notions of classical music's putative race- and gender-transcending universalism; instead, she acknowledged the generative possibilities of racial difference in general and blackness in particular. I analyze Holt's intellectual commitments by situating her ideas within the context of early twentieth-century black feminist thought; analyzing the principal themes of her writing in the Chicago Defender and Music and Poetry; and assessing her engagement with a single musical work, Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 4 in F Minor, op. 36. Ultimately, Holt's criticism offers new insight into how race, gender, and musical activity intersected in the Jim Crow era and invites a more nuanced and capacious understanding of black women's manifold contributions to US musical culture.

The history of the well-known spiritual “Sometimes I Feel like a Motherless Child,” is wrapped up in the legacy of the Hampton Students, an ensemble of African American students modeled after the Fisk Jubilee Singers. The song's inclusion in the 1901 edition of Cabin and Plantation Songs as Sung by the Hampton Students solidified its place in the growing canon of spirituals. Although the tune remained in Hampton Institute's repertoire through subsequent printings of Cabin and Plantation Songs, it also entered the art music world, quickly becoming a favorite of performers and arrangers. But even as the tune journeyed away from Hampton, it remained tightly bound to composers, performers, and choir directors affiliated with what is now Hampton University. The story of “Motherless Child's” entrance into Hampton's repertoire around the turn of the twentieth century, its move beyond Hampton, and its later return is the story of the complex racial, cultural, and geographical relationships that have characterized the Institute's history. The telling of this story reveals a networked cast of characters, all invested in the health and growth of African American music in the early twentieth century, crossing paths in Tennessee, Mississippi, Massachusetts, New York, Connecticut, London, and, of course, Virginia.

Ryan's Mammoth Collection is a compendium of fiddle tunes assembled by William Bradbury Ryan. Originally published in Boston in 1883 by Elias Howe, Jr., it has remained in print in one form or another ever since. It has been used as a source of tunes by many generations of fiddlers in different stylistic traditions, but its value as a descriptive document of the repertoire of late-nineteenth-century Boston, particularly the Irish community in that city, has largely been overlooked. Ryan, rather than Capt. Francis O'Neill of Chicago, should be regarded as the first great documentarian of Irish traditional music in the United States.

Current scholarship on music in Jewish life generally views American cantorial training as a postwar process of transplantation, translating a culture decimated by the Holocaust into a higher education program in the United States. Recently available digital repositories of historical materials, however, show at least five organized efforts to establish American cantorial schools between 1904 and 1939. I closely examine these efforts here, which reveal during this period a complicated and active negotiation surrounding the role of the cantor—and music more generally—in American Jewish life. Organizers of these schools engaged in active dialogue with cantorial colleagues in central and eastern Europe, subsequently creating institutional training models that imbued the cantor with a character, history, musical repertoire, and professional lifecycle compatible with the United States’ religious marketplace. Understanding the urge to establish these schools in the first half of the twentieth century, and the tendency to forget or minimize these efforts after World War II, offers insight into the flexibility of musical tradition as it sought to reassert itself on American soil.

Constantly fearful about the fragility of the young republic in the decades following the Revolutionary War, Americans assiduously organized commemorative rituals. While historians have examined these commemorations, music's place in them has yet to be fully understood. By highlighting key themes in cross-regional, cross-racial discourse on commemoration and drawing on rich records preserved from Bennington, Vermont, this article exposes the varied purposes for which Americans used music in commemorations from the 1780s to the 1810s. In early postwar commemorations, Benningtonians used music to emphasize gratitude and virtue and educate local youth about proper behavior. As political rifts developed in the 1790s, community members also used music to articulate contemporary politics in terms of the revolutionary past and exhort their neighbors to take political action. To sustain these practices as new generations matured without firsthand experience of the war, locals used music to cultivate stronger ties to the battle. As Bennington illustrates, music provided a powerful means of shaping Americans’ perceptions of the past to urge them to action in the present for outcomes envisioned in the future, compellingly anchored in terms of gratitude, virtue, and memory.

The 1746 Ephrata Codex, a 972-page music manuscript in the Library of Congress, is the central document of this study, which locates and identifies several eighteenth-century composers who were solitary sisters and brothers of the Ephrata Cloister in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Ephrata was an insular, mainly celibate, Pietist, Sabbatarian, ascetic community, which, at its height in the 1740s and 1750s, was home to approximately 300 individuals. Like many German diaspora societies in colonial Pennsylvania, it produced devotional prints and manuscripts. Ephrata is unique because most of its spiritual texts and music were written by and for its inhabitants. More than 130 extant Ephrata music manuscripts in libraries, archives, and collections in the United States and United Kingdom comprise a corpus of over 1,500 hymns, composed according to rules mandated in an original music theory treatise. The concept of authorship at Ephrata was complicated: Communal creative activity frequently existed alongside calls for individual recognition, evidenced by name attributions found in printed hymnals and music manuscripts. The solitary sisters’ agency and creative activity at Ephrata brings an added nuance to the discussion of authorship and credit, drawing attention to the contributions of women as creators, a notable exception to the male-dominated sieve of music history. The 2020 release of Voices in the Wilderness, an album of new Ephrata hymn transcriptions, is connected to this article. Recorded in the Ephrata Meetinghouse, or “Saal,” the room for which the music was composed, it provides a new perspective on Ephrata's composers, compositional methods, and performance practice.

In the world of Irish traditional music, Paddy Cronin from Sliabh Luachra in the southwest of Ireland is regarded as one of the tradition's exceptional fiddle players. Although his music exhibits many characteristics of the Sliabh Luachra tradition, it also has other elements and features, primarily from the Sligo style. A pupil of Pádraig O'Keeffe (the “Sliabh Luachra Fiddle Master”), Cronin emigrated to Boston in 1949 and lived there for approximately forty years. Before he left Ireland, he had been familiar with the music of the Sligo masters, such as Michael Coleman and James Morrison, who had gone to the United States many years before him. In Boston Paddy met and played with many of the great Sligo musicians, and also had the opportunity to hear music in other styles, including that of Canadian musicians, whose use of piano accompaniment he admired greatly. This article considers his music before and after he left Ireland, and compares him to Coleman and Morrison by considering their respective performances of the reel “Farewell to Ireland.”

This article examines early pedagogical experiments in opera on television that were meant to attract new audiences in the 1950s. The aesthetics of early television have often been thought to run contrary to opera, particularly in its grander iterations, but I argue that television producers capitalized upon the traits of early television to personalize opera, both on and off screen. Comparing two NBC pedagogical initiatives—a 1958 Omnibus program starring Leonard Bernstein and the 1956–57 visits of the NBC Opera Company to Saint Mary's College (South Bend, Indiana)—I explore how these efforts were meant to approximate the opera fan's experience as well as prepare audience members to enter the opera house. Ultimately, although opera on television failed to secure a strong foothold in the 1950s, it helped to re-envision the ways in which American audiences could relate to the art form and set the terms for the Metropolitan Opera Live in HD broadcasts today.

Closely related to both film noir and the woman's film, 1940s female gothic pictures combine suspense and mystery with a focus on the subjective experience of the female protagonist. This article discusses the use of music and sound in the cinematic female gothic tradition, focusing upon two historically located films that form part of its “gaslight” subgenre: Experiment Perilous (dir. Tourneur; comp. Webb, 1944) and The Spiral Staircase (dir. Siodmak; comp. Webb, 1946). In both films, the positioning of the female lead is mediated by the presence of a medical discourse revolving around her professional and romantic relationship with a male doctor, whose knowledge and authority also allows him to function as an unofficial investigator into the woman's persecution at the hands of a serial murderer. The female gothic soundtrack is a crucial element in the creation and communication of this gendered discourse, articulating the shifting position of characters in relation to issues of crime, criminality, and romance. Musical and vocal control reinforce the doctor's dominance whilst allying his presentation with that of an emasculated killer, and create and contain agency within complex constructions of female victimhood.

Chicago's Grant Park Music Festival, a free classical music series, provides a case study for exploring how music festivals contribute to the musical life of cities. Each summer, the Grant Park Music Festival Orchestra and Choir perform dozens of free performances at the Jay Pritzker Pavilion in Millennium Park and in residential neighborhoods. In 1935, James C. Petrillo, head of the Chicago local of the American Federation of Musicians, initiated the festival, then called Grant Park Concerts, to employ musicians during the Great Depression with funds from the federal Works Progress Administration. Changes in the city's cultural policies, its demographics, financial support, and expectations for how the festival serves the community have impacted how it programs its season and seeks audiences. Based on archival research, this article focuses on how the festival as a civic institution creates a listening public invested in particular narratives of Chicago as a dynamic city through programming music in public spaces. Looking at Grant Park Music Festival from contemporary and historical angles provides insight into how changes in aesthetic and social values, funding for the arts, and urban planning shape the way a festival engages with the city.

This article argues that deaf musical knowledge became epistemically excluded from systems of musical thought in the United States as the result of a battle between two competing philosophies of deaf education in the nineteenth century: manualism and oralism. It reveals how oralist educators explicitly framed music as exclusively involving “normal hearing”—and thus as outside of deaf knowledge except through technological intervention—by drawing on ideas about eugenics, race, and authenticity. Ideas about morality and technology also colored views of deaf musicality in the United States, shaping the reception of deaf music-making throughout the twentieth century until today. This article tells the story of how deaf music-making came to be forgotten and discovered, again and again, in the U.S. consciousness. By way of conclusion, I suggest that in order to address the epistemic exclusion of deaf musical knowers, we must carefully attend to what deaf epistemologies bring to music studies.