The Blues: Why It Still Hurts So Good
Although the therapeutic value of music has not been wholly certified in scientific terms, it is nevertheless an accepted premise in our culture, one that Marie Trout explores with as much passion as scholarship in her book The Blues: Why It Still Hurts So Good
. By homing in on a specific genre as her focal point, she's able to credibly illuminate the various themes of that aforementioned premise in such a way her readers will believe as deeply in it as she does by the time they're done reading.
As a matter of fact, apart from the coy subtitle, the point of view(s) Trout espouses in her tome could be applicable to any type of music. Witness the quotes from interviewees on the feelings of camaraderie arising from concert attendance as well as the sensation of deep affinity that arises from hearing recorded blues music: it's the definition of community and kinship, arguably identical to fans of jazz, pop, show tunes, jamband or, arguably, any other genre. It's a facet of the conversation the author wisely references late in the book.
Marie Trout's stiffly academic tone in the early going of The Blues makes for a tough read and not just by the continuous use of the passive tense (even non-English majors may balk). The author is careful not to let a lack for formatting render her prose too dry, but there are points where it seems arbitrary and overdone, giving the impression she's trying too hard to convince. She deserves to have confidence in her perspective because The Blues is as much self-expression as a dissection of artistic expression. In fact, the book takes a wide turn for the better when Marie Trout describes her own state of mind as she dealt with spouse and blues musician Walter's serious illness and, almost simultaneously, begins her dissection of the contemporary phenomenon of blues fandom.
It's to her great credit she utilizes an academic approach in order to rise above the racism that seems to be intrinsic to any such discussion, vis a vis what's authentic blues and what's not. In so doing, she nurtures a healthy dialogue on the pros and cons of the premise at the heart of this book as well as the music itself, and by extension, the musicians who make it. And while she seems to embark a rather wide digression into the national psyches in taking account of wartime and post-war lifestyle of both the United States and Great Britain, her scientific explorations, reaffirmed with reference to more than a few meticulous studies, renders unassailable her philosophical argument(s) about the attraction of blues. In fact, what at first reads like non-sequitur, turns into a most artful setup for Trout's examination of the attraction of blues music to the predominantly white male demographic she references early on. Seminal British musician Chris Barber stands as a case in point. The Blues
constitutes Marie Trout's first extended writing project-she's written more extensively on-line-and while it's a fairly easy read, the book becomes a somewhat stop and go experience at times. For instance, her abrupt use of the vernacular versus her otherwise consistently formal tone makes her references to rock and roll sound forced. The prose gains fluidity, however, as she explores the contradictory nature of the white race's admiration for the blues and the fundamental sources of blacks' attraction to the style (or lack thereof), much of which intersects around mid-point of Why It Still Hurts So Good
Basing her thesis upon interviews and surveys, plus research over the course of 2013 and 2014, all of which is fastidiously documented in the appendage of references, Trout is meticulous in stating and reaffirming both race's cultural perspectives and in doing so she may be making a profound point, intentionally or not; that is, the societal repression and sublimation of emotion of culture in the Fifties and early Sixties correlates psychically, if not physically, with the slavery blacks endured both before and after the Civil War (and even before based on more obscure studies).