[…] The Negro could rarely afford the sophisticated inhibitions of civilization, and so he kept for his survival the art of the primitive, he lived in the enormous present, he subsisted for his Saturday night kicks, relinquishing the pleasures of the mind for the more obligatory pleasures of the body, and in his music he gave voice to the character and quality of his existence to his rage and the infinite qualities of joy, lust, languor, growl, cramp, pinch, scream and despair of his orgasm.
Like It Is: Bob Dylan Explains What Really Killed Rock ’n’ Roll
Brent L. Smith
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This is clearly a perspective only a white man could see.

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