Jazz to the Rescue?
Stanley Crouch and the majesty of musical tradition
Stanley Crouch, the American essayist and critic, died in September at 74. Now in the wild rush of post-election commentary his absence is conspicuous. There are few writers left of comparable personality and flair; Crouch shot straight and with dangerous erudition.
Though his public profile faded in his final decades, Crouch’s thinking on race and music — his favorite, intertwined subjects — is startlingly relevant in 2020. Read today, his work is no stale record of past controversies, but instead signals a way out of America’s dangerous cultural mire.
The full significance of the debates in which Crouch engaged, and the tragedy that his ideas did not prevail, is clearer now than ever.
Reviewing an early ’90s TV confrontation on the value of hip-hop, the depth of divide between Crouch and his three young music-industry interlocutors is striking. Much to their distress, he dismisses rap as a second-rate form: “if you can sing you will sing,” he teases.
But something more than personal taste stands between them. There’s a separation of basic outlook, grounded in the way they speak and the way they think. And a lot that’s gone wrong for America since can be found in the difference.
