Muzak To My White Ears
So, I live in one of those grocery story wastelands. Pretty nice neighborhood surrounded by not-as-nice neighborhoods (a topic for another day) means that the people who sell food don’t give a shit about any of us in this ‘hood. The large demographic of underclass minorities means we get the last and the least. That’s fine. I’m not complaining, mostly because about two years ago, we got a Wal-Mart neighborhood grocery store.
Diss Wal-Mart all you want. When you live where I live, for groceries, it is a considerable upgrade from the crappy Food City chain that has taken over my city. Hey, it’s my neighborhood, and now it’s my Wal-Mart, and I cruise through there comfortably several times a week with the good people of the world, knowing I can reliably get a ripe avocado or a six-pack of Modelo.
And while I’m doing that, I’m listening to the whitest mix of music you can imagine, even though I may be the only, or one of the few, white people in the store. I’m talking Journey and the Cars on the rock side, maybe “Dancing In The Moonlight” or other drek when the playlist shifts to pop. Classic pop, that is. And classic rock. And now, both are only muzak.
NPR ran a piece a few year ago called “Who Picks The Music You Hear At The Mall” which interviewed a man who works for PlayNetwork, which fashions most of those playlists. Scan the article, and you’ll get a quick sense of where I’m about to go with this: every example of matching songs to stores or products or whatever involves the selection of white music.
Is this a big deal? I think so. It’s kind of a cultural deappropriation — rather than co-opt the art of your race or ethnicity, someone has deemed it not worthy for public performance.
That’s what’s happening at my Wal-Mart grocery store. However bluntly, the grocery products may be geared towards the clientele, but the music is not. Take Gil Scott-Heron’s notion that the “revolution will not be televised” and give it a little tweak: the music of discontent will not be queued up in the safe places where we buy our food (or clothes or stuff).
Even though I am the “minority” in the grocery store where I buy my food, the playlist is all for me. Unless, and this is maybe even worse, corporate America has decided the the soundtrack of the nostalgic past is white(washed). Either way, they don’t want me scared when I walk through the doors, and Jefferson Starship is thought to be of great comfort for me.
Usher grew up two blocks from the store. Why not play some Usher? Do they really think that if “California Love” came on while I was deciding which brand of tortilla chips to buy I would go running from the store? If that is the fear, play some Marvin and Tami. B.B. King. Al Green. Cassandra Wilson. Duke Ellington. Anything.
At least have some understanding that different places and different people have different heritages, and that those heritages are important validations in a country that feels cold and unforgiving right now. Ever wonder why that guy next to you buying gas is blasting that rap so loudly? Because if he doesn’t represent, who will? And where?
FOR YOUR PLAYLIST: When the Temptations went psychedelic, they pulled out all the stops. Also recommended are “Papa Was A Rolling Stone”, “Pschedelic Shack” and “Cloud Nine.”
IDEAL LISTENING: At the grocery store, of course!
